While vacationing in Saitama Prefecture recently, two cheerful-looking elderly gentlemen politely inquired about my nationality after complimenting my 5-year-old daughter¡¯s cuteness. When I told them I¡¯m from Germany, one of them exclaimed in joyful, if slightly misguided recognition, ¡°Ah, Copenhagen!¡± The other one straightened his back, offered a mock military salute, and said, ¡°Heil Hitler!¡±
OK, I thought, I guess I¡¯ll take Copenhagen. I smiled awkwardly and ushered my daughter away, hoping she hadn¡¯t picked up a new catchphrase (thankfully, she seemed entirely preoccupied with a group of mushrooms she had just detected on a nearby tree).
Later, I realized that I was still silently fuming over the fact that I hadn¡¯t been a worthier warrior in the face of cultural stereotyping. All I could do is replay the scene with alternate endings in my head and vow to do better next time.
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