Three Things They Always Know

When people in Tokyo asked where I was from and I answered "Germany"—in whatever slurred combination of drunk English and broken Japanese I was managing that night—the reaction was always warm. Enthusiastic, even. Germany, they’d say. Great country. Beautiful castles. Green hills. Good beer. Everyone wanted to go at least once.

YouTuber Peter Subarashii took that same question out to Yoyogi Park in Shibuya and put it to whoever walked past—ordinary Tokyoites, mostly young, asked what they know and think about Germany. What came back was a mix of cheerful vagueness and surprisingly firm certainties. Some people couldn’t tell you much. But almost everyone had at least three things locked in: sausages, beer, and Hitler.

Which is, honestly, not that far from how Germany tends to project itself to the world—the first two deliberately, the third as unavoidable historical ballast. What strikes me is that those three associations survive the full distance of culture and geography intact. A kid in Shibuya with no particular investment in European history still has them filed away somewhere. History that enormous doesn’t fade just because enough time passes. It compresses into shorthand and travels.

I think about that whenever someone asks where I’m from somewhere far enough away that the answer is still a kind of novelty. The reply is always warm. The associations are always the same three things. You learn to smile at all of it.