I was back in the U.S. recently, after nearly a year away. Whenever I’m gone for an extended period, I underestimate how it feels to return, and it still somehow takes me by surprise that there is a palpable difference.

This time, my port of entry was Atlanta. The first customs agent I encountered wasn’t sitting all uptight and proper with a sour look on his face like the ones I encounter in many other countries. He exuded a chilled vibe that made me think he was patiently waiting for a concert to start, not about to interrogate me. He asked me something about where I live, then, having heard enough before I could finish my sentence, waved me through with a casual, “You good.”

As I made my way to the connecting gates, another airport worker directed traffic. “All my connectings right here!” she instructed cheerfully. “Oh, beautiful, you staying?” she said to a woman heading for the exit. “Ok, well, welcome back!”

After one more flight and a brief car ride, I landed in a little beach town. One of my Uber drivers was Furio from Italy—Tuscany, to be precise. His wife is a Cuban doctor, and together, they came to the U.S. for her work. They have two children, and their family fluidly switches between three languages. He told me about how hard he’d worked in the ten years since he’d arrived in the U.S., earning more in that decade than he had in 25 years in Italy. Furio really loves America. He displays his “I voted” stickers on his dashboard and was eager to tell me he is now a proud citizen. After working tirelessly for so long, he wants to start exploring other states via road trips, particularly to our national parks. Predictably, his main critique is our “unacceptable” Italian food, but he was thrilled to find a “real, authentic” Tuscan spot nearby. Though not affiliated, he carried their business cards and gave me one, offering a free bruschetta.

The area I visited had a sort of “Anytown, USA” vibe. Many of the locals work in service-oriented industries, oozing warmth and kindness. Like Furio, they were eager to share pieces of their lives, like the waitress who is also an aspiring artist, creating installations with mannequins, or the waiter who can proudly memorize the orders of a dozen patrons without writing down a single word. I witnessed strangers from wildly different backgrounds becoming friends, making jokes, and bonding over some small, insignificant observation that served as the connecting bridge.

One evening, I stopped by a restaurant for dinner. The hostess called me sweetie and sat me outside in the courtyard. The Eagles and Billy Joel played on the speakers while the cicadas sang backup in the steamy August heat. A woman stopped me to chat about my summer romper. “I feel like a little kid in it,” I admitted. “It’s as close to naked as I can get and still feel socially acceptable.” We shared a knowing laugh.

Guests in my hotel struck up conversations, wanting to hear about my life, and the friends of my client made an effort to get to know me on a personal level—I was certain they were about to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner.

I don’t know the detailed biographies of any of these people, but I’m fairly certain we’ve lived very different lives. Our backgrounds are so diverse you might struggle to find overlaps. And yet, we weren’t tripping over the details; just embracing our joint humanity.

If you’re American, these interactions might seem...normal. Is there anything particularly remarkable about this? But I can assure you: there is. More strangers smiled and spoke to me in those five days than in my last two years in Europe.

We in the United States are often disparaged internationally for being heavy consumers. What they fail to realize is the number one brand in America isn’t packaged on shelves. It’s not even for sale.

It’s our niceness.

You might think that quality is globally revered and celebrated. Sadly, it often is not.

 

Anna Akbari

The number one critique I hear of Americans while abroad is that we’re “too nice.” That we’re fake and superficial in our kindness. They assume that because we are open and chatty, we must want something, as if we’re all sleazy salespeople, just biding our time until we can sneak the latest multi-level marketing scheme into the conversation. They struggle to understand why strangers might want to talk and exchange stories… just because.

This comment, which I hear on a weekly basis (almost exclusively from people who have either never been to the U.S. or have only briefly visited), makes me laugh—and roll my eyes. I explain that most people have nothing to gain for their displays of kindness. Sure, some are hoping for a nice tip. But mostly, our kindness is a survival mechanism. When life is hard, we find a way to ease the pain. Friendliness is a free remedy.

As Americans, unless we’re embedded in other cultures for long stretches of time, it might be easy to miss how rare this is—this American openness. The longer you spend outside of the country, the less you take it for granted. These small things accumulate over time. They are moments that shape our days, brightening otherwise mundane pockets of time and softening the rough edges of our lives. The question becomes not “why are we so nice to strangers?” but “why aren’t you?”

Temporarily thrust back into a culture of openness, I found my own self-protective shell melting. The “chameleon effect” kicked in, as I started mimicking the attitudes and behaviors of those around me, operating with more openness, more patience, and more excitement at the possibility of these micro-connections.

The energy is just different in the U.S. And it’s contagious.

Yes, there are things that make me sad and angry about our country. Facepalm-inducing things that leave me dumbstruck and devastated. We all have some personal grievances tied to our nation, no matter how much we love it. But the longer you spend outside its borders, the more you appreciate it. A smile from a stranger is not a given in many parts of the world. Sure, we have our grumps and crazies, but that is not a majority—not even close to it.

I am not trying to sugarcoat our big, complex, often problematic country. But to ignore these beautiful aspects does us a disservice in trying to improve the things that ail us. Calling out the good as often as we do the bad is key to making progress. Recognizing strengths doesn’t obliterate the weaknesses. But it does show us a path forward for improvement.

As I ate at the bar at a little bistro, the chef came out to chat about my thoughts on his food, and a server—who was not mine—stopped by to talk. “Live your best life!” she encouraged me as she headed back to work. “Really love your shorts!” one woman said as I walked by her.

I have lived and traveled widely. There are, of course, nice people everywhere, though some are more geographically concentrated (hello, Canada!). I’ve come to appreciate that this type of open chattiness is pretty uniquely American. We don’t always set the example we could in the world, but on this, we shine.

In the spirit of celebrating more great aspects of American life, I want to shout-out the things I really appreciate when back in the U.S. and greatly miss while I’m away.

1. Humor! We are quick to share a laugh or a silly moment, even with strangers. Levity is a welcome balm for the weariness of everyday life.
2. Incredible service industry workers. Bartenders who never let your glass stay empty, restaurant servers who chat you up, friendly rideshare drivers, and so many other hard working people who brighten the days of those they encounter.
3. Wellness resources. Yes, our medical system has lots of issues, but the resources, options, and expertise that exist here are on another level compared to what you can find in most other places.
4. Consumer efficiency and choice. I’m not talking about rampant consumerism, but the ability to (mostly) find what you want and need, when and where you want it. Consumer efficiency isn’t about acquiring more: it frees you to follow my mantra and focus on doing what makes you happy or makes you money.
5. Swagger. At our best, we’re flirty and fun. Perhaps it’s not always earned, but that “fake-it-'til-you-make-it” charm is infectious.
6. Fitness culture. A truly underrated asset. We have killer workout classes in the U.S., and the most popular classes I attend abroad are taught by Americans.
7. Diversity. We’re blessed with so much human variety on so many levels. We’ve got a little (or a lot) of everything.
8. The NBA. Yes, the rest of the world may have soccer (“football”), but thankfully, we’ve got the NBA.
9. Our unrivaled ability to entertain. Movies, TV, music, books, podcasts—the U.S. still dominates as the titans of entertainment.