In 2012, I packed my bags, my sarcasm, and my dual-citizenship passports, and headed across the Atlantic to the United States. The land of oversized soda cups, relentless optimism, and people who will tell you “Have a nice day” whether they mean it or not. Technically, I wasn’t a stranger. My passport already said: “Welcome back, citizen.” But here’s the thing: I grew up in Germany, raised on punctuality, direct communication, and bread so good you could cry. Stepping into the U.S. as an adult felt like sneaking backstage at a concert for a band you technically belong to but have never rehearsed with.
Smiles vs. Stoicism
The very first thing that hit me? Smiles. Everywhere. Americans smile like it’s a competitive sport. Grocery store clerk? Smiling. Random jogger on the street? Smiling. CBP officer confiscating my food? Smiling. In Germany, we save smiles for special occasions: weddings, Christmas, and maybe when your soccer team wins a championship. In the U.S., smiling is practically a social currency. It says, “I’m approachable! I’m friendly! Please don’t think I’m weird!” I quickly learned that the German art of looking serious (some call it “resting efficient face”) was often mistaken for being unfriendly. So yes, I practiced smiling. My cheeks hurt for weeks.
Small Talk, Big Shock
Then there was small talk. Germans don’t do small talk. We do big talk. Politics, history, philosophy, weather patterns tied to climate change – those are the topics that make sense for a five-minute elevator ride. In America? Weather. Sports. Weekend plans. And all delivered in rapid-fire bursts of enthusiasm. “How’s it going?” is not actually an inquiry. It’s code for “Please say ‘good’ so we can both move on with our day.” At first, I answered honestly. “Well, I’m a little jetlagged, mildly confused about the taxes added to the price, and possibly dehydrated.” Cue awkward silence. Lesson learned: in America, “good” is the only acceptable answer unless someone is legally obligated to treat your problems.
The Land of Big
Everything in America seemed bigger. Cars, houses, portion sizes, parking lots that felt like small countries. I ordered a “medium” soda and received something that could water a family of four for a week. In Germany, efficiency is the law of the land. Why use three napkins when one will do? Why build a house with five bedrooms if two suffice? America, on the other hand, thrives on abundance. More is better. Supersize it. Add bacon. Why not? The downside? After one week of “medium” meals, I realized my jeans were not as expandable as American hospitality.
Rules vs. Freedom
In Germany, rules are sacred. The pedestrian signal is red. You wait. Even at 2 a.m., even if there’s no car in sight, even if the next bus is in seven minutes. In the U.S., jaywalking was not only common, but it was also practically a competitive sport. I stood at the corner like a good German, waiting for green, while Americans breezed past me with iced coffee in hand. At first, I gasped. Then I envied. Then I joined. And I must admit: crossing on red gave me a thrill that roller coasters could never match.
Customer Service: A Culture Shock
Customer service in America is a phenomenon. People actually seem happy to help you. “Welcome to Target!” “Thanks for coming!” “Did you find everything okay?” In Germany, customer service is more… transactional. You enter. You purchase. You leave. If you dare ask for something not on the shelf, you may get a shrug that says, “Tough luck, pal.” The American version felt suspicious at first. Why are you so nice? What do you want from me? But eventually, I learned to enjoy the illusion that every cashier cared deeply about my day.
Directness vs. Diplomacy
One of the starkest differences: communication style. Germans are direct. Brutally direct. If your haircut looks like a lawnmower accident, your German friend will tell you. “It will grow back,” they’ll add for comfort. Americans, however, have mastered the art of softening the blow. “Interesting haircut!” “Wow, you’re really trying something new!” Translation: “What happened to your head?” As a dual citizen, I often felt like a cultural translator, toning down my German bluntness so I wouldn’t accidentally crush an American ego.
Patriotism on Steroids
Another surprise: patriotism. Flags. Everywhere. Front yards, schools, even on bathing suits (which, by the way, still feels vaguely disrespectful to me). In Germany, patriotism is… complicated. Our history makes us cautious with flags. In the U.S., patriotism is part of the wallpaper. Fourth of July fireworks, pledge of allegiance in schools, anthems before every sports game—it was like living inside a perpetual national holiday. I admired it, but also felt like I had stumbled into a pep rally that never ended.
The Dual Citizen Dilemma
Here’s the catch about being a dual citizen raised in Germany: you belong, but you don’t. You understand the language, but not always the subtext. You know the rules, but you don’t always know when to break them. In 2012, America became my second classroom. I learned to smile more, talk smaller, eat bigger, cross on red, and accept that maybe (just maybe) customer service employees don’t want to be my therapist. But I also realized something else: straddling two cultures means you can choose the best parts of both. German efficiency and American friendliness. German bread and American barbecue. Sarcasm in both languages.
Final Thoughts
First impressions are rarely accurate. My first impression of America was that it was loud, big, and overly cheerful. A decade later, I’ve learned that those first impressions weren’t wrong—but they were incomplete. Behind the cheerfulness is real kindness. Behind the excess is genuine generosity. And behind the small talk, there are sometimes big conversations waiting—if you’re patient enough to get there.
And if all else fails, there’s always a smile. Even if it makes your cheeks hurt.
Frankly Speaking 