Author: nsurendr

An Englishman, a Swiss woman, a Korean, and an Indian walk into a Biergarten. No, this isn’t the beginning of a bar joke. This motley group walking with me into my favourite Biergarten on the banks of the river Isar are friends from my German class at the Goethe Institut in Munich. We are, each of us, the farthest thing from the stereotypes associated with our countries. I am an Indian doing a PhD in British poetry at a US university. My compatriots at the Institut all have equally complex cultural backgrounds and histories. However, that doesn’t seem to stop anyone from gently mocking each other’s national stereotypes, especially when it comes to language and accents. Students from the US and UK particularly like to get into arguments about the way the other pronounces the word ‘water,’ among other things.

My own speech betrays the paths I have travelled – an Indian accent from my upbringing, a British slant to some words thanks to phonetics lessons on the British received pronunciation (RP), and a hint of American English that I have been forced to adopt this last year to ease my transition into living in the US. My Englishman friend informs me that even during my brief time in Germany, my American accent has started to fade. “You sound far less American this week than you did the last,” he said in a tone that suggested he meant it as a compliment.

When I bring up Americanness with my European and Asian colleagues, the adverb “too…” is one that comes up frequently…”too intense”, “too big,” “too enthusiastic” and so on. My in-betweenness makes it easier for non-Americans to talk to me about American stereotypes, although my own feelings on the subject are far from resolved. The general impression seems to be that Americans are more invested in communicating their regional identities than people from other countries. My South Korean friend does not usually explain that he is from a small town near Busan. If you were to believe the cultural stereotypes, however, the American will tell you right away where in the US they are from. Having lived in the US for a year, I now know that regional identities in the US are sometimes a shorthand designating a person’s cultural background. A friend telling me about his ‘Mid-Western-ness’ is confessing that he has had limited experience in multicultural settings. For the Englishman, accents seem to be a similar indicator of one’s place in the world. He explained that his UK colleagues often mistake him for being “posh” due to his Oxford accent.

When the subject turns to US universities, however, there is a decided shift in everyone’s attitudes to the country. No matter how much anyone makes fun of the American school system’s general lack of interest in teaching global geography, the universities are undoubtedly regarded as among the best in the world. The Swiss student, studying to be a veterinarian in Geneva, admitted to considering applying to a university in the US. “It’s the top university in veterinary studies. I feel most top universities in any field are in the US,” she said. Talking to my international group of friends about their views on the US university system, I realise that these are the standards that I am held up to now as a student at Notre Dame. Not an easy stereotype to live up to.

“Excuse me, but…isn’t the cow…sacred (“heilig” in German) for Indians?”, the hostess at my accommodation in Munich asked hesitatingly. She was surprised that my culinary adventures in Germany included a beef Döner kebab, that delicious example of Germany’s multiculturalism (for the complex history of the döner kebab in Germany, see this article). A popular belief, even within India, is that beef is forbidden for practising Hindus. While most historians agree that Vedic texts do not explicitly ban the consumption of cattle, the passages referring to cows have been interpreted differently over the years on economic, cultural, and political grounds (see the first chapter of James Staples’ book on the politics of meat in India for a brief historical overview). Notwithstanding the contentious and bloody debates around meat consumption, many Hindu Indians like me happily cook and eat beef.

My hostess, curious as well as sensitive about cultural differences, had not expected an Indian to talk happily about trying out the beef preparations of the world. Forced to articulate the socio-political complexities of the sacred cow in my elementary school German, I realised how cultural stereotypes homogenise the complexities of any practice.

In just my first week in Munich, I encountered quite a few stereotypically German ways of going about life. Except for the trains, most things are on time. Though it might be rather alarming to the newcomer, drinking beer or smoking in public is usual here. When they are not smoking or drinking alcohol, the Germans I have met so far have all been extremely health conscious and make sure they spend some time every week hiking, jogging, or cycling. A favourite German activity seems to be biking. I have seen people of all ages, dressed in anything from mountain-biking gear to a full formal suit, zipping away to work, the supermarket, or to places that offer more opportunities for physical exercise. Pedestrians must stay off the bicycle lanes or they will get yelled at by the extremely fit cyclist.

And yes, most people are very direct and like to follow the rules. It was quite stressful for me as a newcomer in Germany to keep track of all of the new rules of social etiquette I was expected to follow. My classmates in my language course, all of them from outside Germany, shared incidents when they were greeted with stern looks or polite rebukes when they crossed the boundaries of acceptable behaviour that might not have been a problem in their own countries. With a little time, I have come to believe that underlying this cultural stereotype is a deep sense of social responsibility inculcated in people from a young age. An example is the Tagesschau, a daily 15-minute review of the news of the day aired at 8 p.m. that Germans watch religiously. My hostess, who remembers watching the show with her parents and grandparents, now watches it with her 16-year-old daughter. Mother and daughter comment daily on the show’s coverage of Germany’s energy crisis, cyber security measures, or refugee policies. These are not vague, distant issues but immediate concerns that affect their daily lives. The Germans I have met so far have a clear awareness of the interconnectedness of all things social and their adherence to rules is an expression of this care. I am sure that some more time living here will alert me to new facets of German cultural stereotypes. For now, I have realised that sacred cows are not always as they seem.

I have lived most of my life in a coastal town in South India that has just two types of weather — pouring rain and scorching sun. The books I read, however, were set in the strange environs of the stuffy Victorian parlour or the unforgiving moral climate of Hawthorne’s 17th century New England. My initial encounters with British and American culture were mediated by the distorting influences of cultural distance and the literary narrative. In August 2022, I moved to South Bend, Indiana, USA, to do my PhD in English. While the last few months have brought me many enriching academic experiences, the unfamiliarity of South Bend taught me lessons that I had not quite anticipated.

Take the weather, for example. Before coming to the US, I assumed I understood what fall, winter, or spring meant from having previously experienced milder versions of seasonal changes. Needless to say, I was surprised by the distinctness of seasons and the speed with which they change. The contrasting perspective made me recognise the influence of geography on culture. Surviving the South Bend winter and experiencing first-hand the relief of the first sunny days of spring helped me understand the biting irony of T.S. Eliot’s famous opening line from The Wasteland, “April is the cruellest month” — an irony I may have missed completely when reading it in the summer heat of my hometown Kochi.

Moving to the US has widened my cultural awareness, which in turn makes me a better scholar of American literature. As I get ready to travel to Munich for a four-week intensive German course, I do so in the knowledge that travel and first-hand experience can teach me things that no amount of research can prepare me for.