As a European who moved to the US at age 16, I would expect that a simple visit to the U.S. will take care of the problem itself. In my mind, it was all Honey Nut Cheerios, cantaloupes, and shiny land yachts until I actually set foot in the place. Then, the day after stepping off the plane, the reality check set in:
- The rental car was cheaply made, with lots of hard plastic.
- There were utility poles with cables everywhere, remotely resembling the third world.
- The first meal at a restaurant was utterly atrocious, with rubbery greasy meet and unseasoned vegetables served by a morbidly obese waitress. The drinking water had so much chlorine in it, it might as well have come from a swimming pool.
- Going to the bathroom, the door was hollow and flimsy, with a jiggly doorknob that felt like it was made of cheaply pressed metal. The actual bathroom stall door had a one inch gap in it.
- The next day, more morbidly obese people and more flimsy bathroom stalls.
- Most of the houses and buildings looked run down and ill-maintained. The nicer neighbourhoods looked like nobody lived there, all with giant garages facing the street.
- Everything is car-centric, with nary a person on the street. It feels like all the people have disappeared.
- Excessive churchiness. As a European teenager, I had never met anyone my own age who was religious before and thought believing in God is something that old people do. Coming to the U.S. and seeing teenagers participate in church groups was very strange.
On that trip, the best experiences were:
- Air conditioning. To this date, I believe that this is the single biggest advantage to American life. Oh my, do I love air conditioning.
- Free water and drinking fountains. A close second to air conditioning.
All in all, I was immediately shocked how everything felt cheap and not befitting of an industrialized western economy. Every time I am back in Europe it still always seems like such a relief that houses and cars are solidly built, food actually tastes good, utilities are buried, bathroom stalls are private, and the the people don't like look like like caricatures of the stay-puft marshmallow man. Then of course, the temperature invariably climbs to 30 degrees Celsius or more and I long for my air-conditioned condo...