Reflections on travel, national identity, and politics
“It’s kind of scary,” she told me. “Like, imagine Trump, but with a lot of political experience and connections.”
We were walking across the Seine River in Paris. The weather was unexpectedly pleasant, and the warm sun filled the river banks with Parisians and tourists alike. The mechanic hum of motor bikes buzzed by and in the distance, Ed Sheeran’s “Shape of You” blasted from a speaker, exciting a crowd of street dancers.
Nisha is living in Paris for a year for her Fulbright program. I shared that I listened to French news during my morning commutes during the two weeks preceding this trip to practice my French. We began talking about Le Front National, Marine Le Pen, and the French presidential primary elections coming up in April.
“Marine Le Pen could actually get some of that stuff done,” she continued.
“It seems no country is immune to national populism,” I said, “and it’s infiltrating the European Union.”
We continued walking, trailing the anxiety of the future behind us.
Tour Eiffel
Night had fallen in Brussels when I finally came to. I’d arrived earlier in the day from Paris after a heartwarming weekend visiting Nisha, and the weight of jet lag mixed with a lack of sleep mandated a moment to repose. It was past 8:30 pm by the time my head felt steady, and I set out into the night to find dinner despite my confused appetite.
I grabbed a bouquet of frites in the city center, followed by juice and an apple from a nearby grocery store to quell the guilt from indulging in such a gluttonous meal. After taking in the sights and sounds of the city at night, I sated my curiosity and switched on the app. We exchanged pleasantries, then met up and dived into our respective curiosities.
“What is it like in the States right now?” he asked.
“In what way do you mean?”
“With the elections and Donald Trump. Are things…okay?”
“Oh gosh. Sorry, I hope you aren’t getting the impression that America is full of hate. Many of us do not agree with Trump.”
He laughed. “It’s so interesting, British people now apologize about Brexit, and Americans apologize about Trump.”
I explained how Americans might respond differently depending on where they live and what they do. I talked about how opinions vary with occupation (i.e., manufacturing vs. business), social class, and race; I delved into the influence of fear and ignorance on current American political discourse, deepening the social divide. He asked if I saw the Dutch comedy segment that had gone viral about making the Netherlands second (which has since inspired many other countries to make their own version). I nodded and laughed.
“How is this acceptable? Isn’t it true that this man propagates lies, telling people what to believe?” He looked down, fidgeting with his fingers. “This is how dangerous people come to power, and we can’t allow that to happen.”
“I think a big challenge is that some people and politicians still support him, despite that behavior,” I said. “Many Republicans see this as an opportunity to make strides in their own political agenda.”
“But we must still cooperate, no? It seems like American politics go one way or the other with each president, and rarely is there any cooperation among political parties. We cooperate out of necessity in so many European countries, because that’s what we have to do and we have to learn to work together if we want to get anything done. We have learned the dangers otherwise.”
“Such is democracy,” I sighed.
“Democracy is such a messy and long process, but we can’t simply give it up.” He paused. “There’s a big day coming up, I don’t know if you’ve heard.”
In two days, Dutch citizens would take to the polls as the world carefully watched how the juxtaposition of national populism and the refugee crisis would shape the direction of politics in the Netherlands. This is one of the few key elections in Europe this year, followed by those in France and Germany, that will reveal just how powerful national populism has become.
We began discussing national identity in Europe. As a Belgian who works regularly with different nationalities, he shared his fascination that a continent of so many small countries, so interdependent, still holds onto their unique heritage, language, and culture with fierce pride. However, this defined pride clashes with the integration and the coexistence of cultures when welcoming immigrant and refugee communities. Whereas America is thought to be an evolving country whose identity can be refined, shaped, and adapted as it has been by generations of natives, immigrants, and slaves in previous centuries (in a brutal and unresolved process), European countries are more defined in their aged history. Does welcoming new communities require integrating into society, or just giving space to be their own? Must they learn the language? How do they reconcile ties with their previous homes, and to whom should their political allegiance belong (such as the recent tensions between the Netherlands and Turkey)? Do they owe it to the country that takes them in?
We didn’t come to a conclusion, but I think many voters in Europe may have reached it on their own when they cast their ballots.
The next day, my appetite better aligned with the local time. Christian was here for an extra day after a large winter storm menaced the east coast back in the States and canceled his flight. We met up for dinner at a cozy Belgian restaurant at the edge of the city center. To my left was a table of Californian travelers also stuck in Brussels for the day. Amidst the Flemish-Dutch and French, American English reverberated the walls the loudest this evening.
After ordering his meal in impeccable French and hearing our conversation in English, the tall European Parliament worker to my right revealed himself as an anglophile. “Say, what is it that brought so many Americans here?”
We scanned the restaurant, and the Californians paused. The woman seated diagonal to me looked at the tall man and responded, “Hah, there sure are a lot of Americans here, aren’t there?”
“Were you also impacted by the storm on the east coast?” asked the man seated to her right.
“Yeah, my flight was changed to tomorrow,” Christian said.
“So, what do you guys think? Think he’ll make it through all four years?”
We glanced at one another, then back at him. I winced. “Oh geez, who knows… I mean, I hope not.”
“What do you think it’ll be that will get him kicked out?” he roused. “Sexual assault? Lies?”
The table of Californians exhaled a half-hearted chuckle. “I’m sure something will come up,” the woman retorted.
We paid the bill and left shortly after, wishing our fellow anglophiles a restful evening. “Why do people always want to talk about Trump?” Christian said as we stepped outside. “I don’t always want to talk about Trump; I’m on vacation.”
I agreed. Even on vacation, it was inescapable. This is now part of being an American.
“The Dutch elections,” she sighed, angling her newspaper toward me. “What a relief this is.”
Two days after the election, we were in a bright, modern specialty coffee shop on the west side of Amsterdam. She sat across from me, sipped on her latte, and gently consoled her energetic two-year-old son. Originally from France, she married a Dutch man and is now living and teaching French at a Montessori school in the neighborhood. We struck up a conversation in French when I responded “Bonjour, ça va ?” to her son’s friendly greeting. She commended me on my French accent.
“Ah yes,” I said, “I heard the news.”
“I imagine there must be some parallels to the U.S. currently. Are tensions high in the country? Most Americans oppose him, right?”
I paused, reflecting on the barrage of scandalous headlines and vivacious demonstrations over the past few months that have become all too normal. “Yes, there is strong dissent by many, but also strong support by some Americans. Similar to here, there is a divide that is hardening, like cities compared to rural areas.”
Her son turned to me, pain au chocolat in hand with a large chocolate-covered smile. She stroked his back with her hand and told him, “Il parle français ! Tu peux dire bonjour ?” I smiled back. Similar to many multilingual European youth, he understands French and Dutch, with English as a third language farther down the road.
She sipped her latte and set the newspaper on her lap, looking out the window. “These certainly are trying times.”
Vacation and travel are often associated with escapism. We unplug, we flee, and we divert our energy to pleasure and leisure. When the weight of our world becomes too heavy, we slough it off momentarily lest we forget sensations of joy.
Yet that weight never actually eases, nor does the world cease to progress when we hit pause. Politicians around the world continue to propagate harmful legislature. Gentrification still happens in vulnerable neighborhoods abroad. Transportation infrastructure projects still run past deadlines and over budget in major global cities. And the challenges back home will greet us when we return.
So perhaps one does not travel to become free of that crushing weight, but rather to gain perspective to wrestle with it; to insert leisure into our daily battles to become better warriors, and to hear voices that otherwise wouldn’t be at the table. The weight doesn’t ease up, but we hold it better.
I am humbled to see the small part I play in this incredibly interconnected and globalized society. Our world is expanding, yet our distance is shrinking. These conversations and my trip were a timely reminder of the need for international cooperation. When we turn our backs, we lose opportunity. We should love thyself, but we must also love thy neighbor. When we love, we grow; when we listen, we learn. The power granted to our leaders must be checked to seek the best interests of humanity, for there have been unimaginable devastation and destruction against people of the world, and we cannot afford to fall victim to such violence again. We must carry the weight of our bloody history and keep fighting for the world we deserve to live in: an equitable world for the two-year-old Dutch-French boy in Amsterdam, for the immigrant communities living on the edges of Paris, and for the young global citizens who will one day work together to guide the world.
