Nothing 'sits' well in America

The French city of Strasbourg might not be Europe's heart, but it's at least a ventricle. Walking distance from the Franco-German border; headquarters of the European Parliament; home to medieval, half-timbered houses and global corporations, it provides an ideal vantage point from which to observe the face of the new and improved Europe as it enters the 21st century. So, for the past three-and-a-half weeks, I've been acting as your mine canary, gathering information to help you (and other Americans) come out from your hidey-holes. My goal, to help return to Europe's cobbled streets that age-old cry: "DO-YOU-SPEAK-ENGLISH?"\nThis week's advice is a bit of a warning, something you should know about before you come over. No, it's not about anti-Americanism. Hell, thanks to a series of civil service strikes, the French are back to combating their greatest traditional enemy: themselves. Instead, I am going to let you in on what I have seen to be the No. 1 cultural difference between Americans and Europeans: the pace of life.\nSure, there are plenty of differences between American culture and cultures of Europe's individual countries, just as there are between the European cultures themselves. In fact, according to the latest European Union-sponsored Eurobarometer public opinion survey (March 2003), respondents who favored their European over their national identity amounted to a measly 7 percent, while those poor strange creatures who feel solely European came to a mere 3 percent. For sake of reference, the latter is about the same percentage Ralph Nader won in the 2000 presidential election.\nYet, what do you find on a sunny Saturday afternoon in Brussels, Luxembourg City, Munich, Strasbourg or any European city? Hundreds, even thousands of people at outdoor tables in front of sidewalk cafes, roosting like puffins. They sit, and they chat, and they sit, and they drink a little, and they sit, and they smoke, and they sit, and they eat a little, and they sit, and they sit, and they sit, and they sit ... And, as an American, I honestly don't know how they do it. \nIf you sat for that long in the states without doing anything, someone would come along and bury you. Furthermore, with nearly all the shops closed Sundays, sitting becomes the continental pastime. After awhile, one becomes aware of one's own need for activity, one's own need for constant stimulation; one's own need to do something at any given time. No wonder otherwise normal Americans felt the need to venture off into the vast wilderness of a mysterious continent -- we're hyperactive.\nNowhere is this more apparent than in dealing with restaurants. The general idea over here, of course, is that a meal is an event. Dinner is supposed to be a two-hour, multi-act performance, with the main dish as the glorious climax -- have no doubt, dining is serious business. This sounds pretty good in the abstract, and it is for the first couple of times. But for post-modern Americans, who know that microwaves only achieve top speed when encouraged by a steady flow of foul language, the two-hour dinner quickly becomes a grueling experience of absentee waiters and wallpaper scrutinized more thoroughly than the Mona Lisa's smile. Before long, a region's ancient culinary arts are exchanged for the siren's song of the kebob or, God help you, the Golden Arches.\nThanks to its cultural roots, the American need for haste generally manifests itself with little reflection or conscious thought. It just slips up behind you and starts pushing like a schoolyard bully. But what are we rushing off to anyway? Why the hurry? I already have my hands full with one continent, so I'll leave that to you to figure out. Just don't take too long.