When I was packing my bags to come to Iceland, one criterion stood out
in particular: “Don’t look like an American tourist. Don’t look like an
American tourist,” I told myself, weeding out hiking boots and
flip-flops in favour of nondescript sneakers and sandals.


There is a general stigma that comes with being an American in a
foreign country. When I went to China a few years ago, we were taught
that to avoid a nasty confrontation we were to announce that we were
Canadian if out nationality ever came up. Americans are frequently
dismissed as obnoxious and inconsiderate. There’s the classic example
of the American foreigner asking for directions from a bewildered
local, shouting in highly annunciated English as if he were addressing
someone who was mentally disabled. Americans can also be considered
manipulative and opportunistic, shoving people aside who would get in
their way of fully exploiting a situation.

When considering these stereotypes, it's not difficult to see a
parallel with American international policies. America has a habit of
only acknowledging the rules put forward by the rest of the world when
it is in its best interest (e.g. the Kyoto Protocol, the authority of
the UN, the Geneva Conventions). America is often compared to a bully,
headbutting its way through regulations, asserting its superiority over
other countries and the preeminence of its opinions. America has a lot
to answer for, and when an American arrives in your country, that
burden falls on them to redeem.


So then, how does Iceland hold up on the scale of prejudice against
Americans? Are they higher or lower than normal? I had read (for the
sake of honesty, in my travel guide) that Icelanders were a tolerant
people and slow to make assumptions. Likewise, I’d heard stories of
Americans being physically assaulted by Icelanders. What to believe?
This issue, Grapevine decided to get to the bottom of this prejudice
among Icelanders. We sent me, an American, out in the world to document
my experiences in Iceland, the adversities or lack thereof that I would
face with regard to my nationality.


However, there were still a few hurdles. Generally speaking, I’ve never
been supportive of the path our nation has taken in recent years; I’m
kind of a hippie, and I’ve had a few “I’m going to move to Canada”
moments. In other words, I don’t quite “fit the mould.” In fact, I’m
often mistaken for an Icelander. And having picked up a significant
amount of Icelandic, I can perform daily tasks like buying groceries
and saying hello to people on the street without exposing myself.
Somehow, I needed to become more American.



Doing Double-Duty

But, America is a big place. I can even name a lot of distinct Americas
within that America. The only national trend I can identify would be a
strong sense of capitalist ambition, which is a bit abstract to wear on
one’s sleeve. I looked and acted like most of my American friends, but
this clearly wasn't effective enough in displaying my nationality.
Unable to conceptualize my national dress, I asked a few Icelanders for
help. To appear American, they recommended I do the following: I should
wear flip-flops, shorts, a windbreaker, a baseball cap, running shoes,
polarized athletic sunglasses, a polo shirt, and tote a big fat camera
around. I should be obnoxious where I am mild, be rude where I am
polite, say I’m a Republican when I am a Democrat, and talk with a
southern accent when I am actually from New York. Giving me a
look-over, they said

“How are you going to pull this off?”

“I don’t know.” I said.

I tried anyway. For a few days I tried my best to look less like me,
and more like an “American”. I wore plainer clothes – jeans, a t-shirt
and sneakers – along with more touristy things – windbreaker, camera,
and a travel guide poking out of my pocket. I spoke only distinctly
American English, but I chickened out on all the acting like a jerk
stuff. Even in the tourist outfit, I gathered no more (or less)
attention than I necessarily deserved. I behaved decently, and so did
everyone else I met. Apart from getting funny looks for wearing what
appeared to be a raincoat in the warm sunshine, I was just an American
guy walking around Reykjavík minding his own business. I soon started
getting bored with the article, angry even. What had I been expecting?
If I was going to be polite, everyone else would be polite to me, too.
If I was going to act like a jerk, people would just treat me like a
jerk. What was there to be gained? The only thing I could make from
acting like a boor would be a just another poor example of my own
countrymen. The persona I had tried to put on myself was not American
but a hollow caricature based on the prejudices not only of my friends,
but me as well. I might as well only be myself. Wasn’t that American
enough? I dream big, celebrate my freedom, and have a soft spot in my
heart for my mother’s apple pie. Despite how Icelandic I may seem or
how progressive I am, that can be American too. It is. I’m living
proof. I put windbreaker and camera away.



It All Starts with You

One weekend when I was in my normal clothes, I was having a drink in a
bar with a few friends. Like a moth to a candle a very drunk Icelandic
man, hearing my American English, came up to me, stuck a finger in my
face and began growling:

“And hey you, I’ve seen you, I’ve seen you take off those glasses I
know you don’t need them, they make you look gay, you fucking gay
American…”

And then a few people pulled him away and he skulked off grumbling to himself.

After a round of uncomfortable laughter, we composed ourselves, watching him disappear back into the crowd.

“You should put that in your article,” my friends said to me.

“Perhaps I will” I said. And I have.

But what does it prove? All Icelanders, if drunk enough, will reveal
that they are definitively and irrevocably prejudiced against
Americans? I may have discovered one man’s prejudice, but then
discovering a nation’s prejudice, isn’t that… well, a little
prejudiced? I can’t justify that every Icelander in the bar that night
was thinking that exact same thing. In seeking Icelandic prejudice, I
just happened upon my own. Damn. Every beast devours its own tail.

As self-evident as it seems, no country, no group of people are
uniform. It isn’t as if they act under a singular entity making the
same decisions and opinions for everyone. Nations and groups are
collections of individuals, and you can meet all sorts of those. There
are prejudiced Icelanders, just as there are rude, pushy, obnoxious
Americans somewhere in that big country. And there are polite and
friendly Americans, and Icelanders who will pull a rowdy drunk away
from a stranger. Each of us is our own person; we all make our own
actions. Also, everyone makes judgements, and we must all be
ambassadors of our groups and mind our manners. America needs to work
on its diplomacy, true enough. So does everyone.