If you’re an American traveling to Europe soon, you may be wondering: As Donald Trump reshapes the USA’s role in the world, are we still welcome abroad?
I’ve been asked this question many times in recent weeks. My short answer: Yes, I really think so. But be prepared for some interesting conversations.
If ever a topic deserved more than a “short answer,” this is the one. So let’s unpack it:
No matter who you voted for, there’s no question that the second Trump Administration is already having a huge impact abroad. And Europeans are, quite reasonably, concerned about how the global geopolitical landscape is shifting. In just the past couple of weeks, the American president had a very public argument with the leader of a country that was, until that moment, considered a close American ally; questioned the USA’s role in NATO; threatened to impose 25% tariffs on European countries, as he already has for Canada and Mexico; and stated that the European Union “was formed in order to screw the United States.” (It wasn’t. The EU was born as a peacekeeping project, in the ashes of World War II.)
All of this is leading many Europeans to wonder — for the first time in generations — whether the United States is a trustworthy partner. While some Europeans might admire Trump, many are frustrated… even angry.
So, then, what does this mean for American travelers in Europe?
Nobody has a crystal ball as we navigate the coming months. Europeans, like Americans, are not monolithic. And I may be telling a different story when I get home from this year’s travels. (I head to Europe in about a month.)
However, based on past travels and recent conversations with European friends, I’m optimistic that I’ll feel as welcome overseas as before — even if the people I meet have a few more follow-up questions.
My confidence is rooted partly in a series of conversations I recently enjoyed. On Inauguration Day, I hosted a special installment of our 2025 Travel Festival about this very topic. Along with my co-host, Ben Curtis — a political scientist and American expat living in Prague — we discussed our new political reality and spoke to our colleagues in France, Hungary, England, and Italy.
The conversation produced a wide range of perspectives and opinions. But one consistent idea resounded clearly. When I asked each of our guests whether Americans would still be welcome in their country, they all said the same thing: Yes, of course! Why on earth wouldn’t Americans be welcome here? Some of them seemed perplexed, even offended, by the premise of the question.
I think that’s because, broadly speaking, Europeans have the wisdom to treat each individual traveler as just that — an individual — rather than an accomplice to their leader’s actions.
While the Trump phenomenon feels unprecedented to many Americans, much of the world has seen figures like him before. Many Europeans have had firsthand experience — whether recent or generational — of chafing under a leader whose politics they find outrageous. In recent years alone, we’ve seen the rise of right-wing politicians across Europe who can broadly be described as “Trump-like,” from Hungary’s Viktor Orbán to Italy’s Silvio Berlusconi and Giorgia Meloni, and from France’s Marine Le Pen to the Netherlands’ Geert Wilders. Trump is merely our local manifestation of a global trend.
While Americans tend to be idealistic, many Europeans are steely-eyed realists. A hard history has taught them that you can’t always judge a person by their current leader. And they recognize that more Americans voted against Trump than voted for him; even if they’re alarmed at the actions of America, they don’t paint all Americans with the same, broad brush.
Of course, Americans fretting about “how we’ll be treated abroad” is nothing new. To be honest, this persistent worry is a pet peeve of mine, mostly because it stands in such stark contrast to the reality I’ve always experienced in Europe. So what’s behind it? For some of us, maybe it’s that we’re terribly conscientious to avoid being “Ugly Americans” — which puts us on a hair-trigger for disapproval. Others may travel with a chip on their shoulder, having been assured our whole lives that we hail from the greatest country on earth — so naturally, people abroad must be jealous or resentful.
I recall this being a concern even on my earliest travels to Europe, back in the late 1990s, when I was a grubby backpacker bunking in hostels. In those budget dorms and shared kitchens, rumors and urban legends flew fast and furious: Don’t go to Poland on a night train, or you’ll get “gassed” and robbed! You can use an erasable pen to fill out your rail pass, and extend it as long as you want! And, of course: If an American wants to be treated better in Europe, we should sew a Canadian flag on our luggage!
All those nuggets of “travel wisdom,” of course, were specious and probably apocryphal. While everyone claimed to “know someone” who’d cosplayed as a Canadian, I never met anyone who actually did it. But it does reveal the deep insecurity we Yankees have always felt abroad. (And it begs the question: If we want to be treated like Canadians by the rest of the world… well, then, perhaps we should behave more like Canada?)
Since those earliest travels, I’ve spent more than a hundred days every year in Europe, through both highs and lows: the aftermath of 9/11; American wars in Afghanistan and Iraq; the economic crisis of 2008/2009; the giddy hope of the Obama years; Trump’s surprising, sobering first term; and the final stages of the COVID-19 pandemic. And looking back now, I can’t recall ever noticing that I was treated differently in Europe because of current events. In fact, quite the opposite: My experience as an American abroad has remained strikingly consistent.
Over that span, the time that felt most like our current situation came in 2002 and early 2003, when President George W. Bush began to pressure European allies to join the I-can’t-believe-we-actually-called-it-that “Coalition of the Willing” to invade Iraq, based on what turned out to be false claims. When France was reluctant to join our fight, the response of the American public was as immediate and intense as it was nonsensical. Many Americans, who insulted the French as “surrender monkeys,” pledged to rebrand French fries as “Freedom fries” and boycott French’s mustard… which is based in Rochester, New York. Sales of our tours and guidebooks in France took a significant hit.
At the time, I was appalled by how quickly Americans could turn on an entire country, just because of the policy of their elected leader — ironically, exactly the thing we’re so terrified they’ll do to us. And yet, traveling in France during that time, I never felt that I was treated badly because I was an American. The French refused to reciprocate our one-sided, snarky, reductive view; rather, they continued to welcome me as a visitor who happened to be from the USA, rather than sneer at me as a symptom of the USA’s disorder.
Soon after, in 2003, I was in Europe just as the horrifying news broke of torture at Iraq’s Abu Ghraib prison by American forces. I remember coming home from a busy day hiking in the Swiss Alps, turning on my hotel TV, seeing images of prisoners humiliated under my flag, and feeling mortified to be an American. But even at that low point — when, if I’m being honest, I would have felt that a less-than-warm welcome would be completely justifiable — I never sensed that I was mistreated because I’m an American.
“Because I’m an American” is a very important caveat. All around the world, most people are kind and generous… but some people are gruff, rude, or dismissive. I’ve noticed a tendency in my fellow American travelers to attribute any impoliteness to “because I’m an American.” But then, moments later, I might observe the same European interacting rudely with someone from another country, or even from their own country. There’s a certain narcissism in expecting to be received warmly by everyone, everywhere you go… isn’t there? Accept it: Sometimes, people are just jerks.
So, if you’re an American heading to Europe in 2025, what can you expect? Here are a few pointers.
First, it’s important to be mindful of how our homeland is perceived abroad. Keep up with the news — especially the European perspective. Get beyond your media bubble; try consuming European news coverage to get in the right mindset.
Then, be prepared to have some serious conversations about what’s going on back home. This varies by culture and by individual. But many Europeans tend to be more straightforward in talking politics, which can be jarring for an American traveler who might prefer to leave all of that at home. (On our Inauguration Special, Virginie Moré explained that French students are encouraged to ask probing, challenging questions. This is not rude; in fact, it’s expected.)
And so, when people realize you’re an American, they may have some thoughts to share. Perhaps you’ll get some raised eyebrows and a semi-good-natured “Trump, eh!” with some colorful gestures. You may even be on the receiving end of pointed questions about who, exactly, are the 49% of Americans who voted for Trump — even if you, personally, did not.
These conversations don’t have to be judgmental or antagonistic. But be patient; they are important. They are important because when we travel — in good times or bad, no matter who’s the president — we travel as ambassadors for our homeland.
Let me be clear: An “ambassador” does not have to be an apologist, who must defend or rationalize things we don’t agree with. Rather, we can be ambassadors for our own American values — even (and, arguably, especially) if our values are in opposition to our president’s.
Why is being a good ambassador for the USA so important? Because, in the end, it’s those people-to-people connections that shape the world’s understanding of us.
Imagine that there are two layers to a person’s impressions of a foreign land: The outer, more superficial layer is based on the public view of that country — its status in the world, its popular culture, its symbols and slogans, and, yes, its head of state. But the inner, more impactful layer is a constellation of people-to-people interactions: The people you’ve met from that country, and how they carried themselves, and how they talked about the world, and how they made you feel. Those individual interactions really matter, much more than fleeting, superficial impressions.
I see each interaction I have in Europe as an opportunity to show that person what an American can be. Even if I’m jet-lagged, cranky, or overworked, this thought inspires me to put my best foot forward. I am representing the USA, and now more than ever, the USA needs representatives who bring out our nation’s best qualities.
You may be a fundamentally “apolitical” person — eager to just go on vacation and leave this baggage home. But international travelers have a responsibility to have these honest conversations. It’s just good global citizenship — an acknowledgment that, like it or not, in good times and in bad, we are members of the family of nations.
And what if you’re a Trump supporter? I believe that, yes, even Trump voters can have a good experience in Europe — provided that they travel with a spirit of empathy, curiosity, and open-mindedness. Your conversations may be a bit more, shall we say, spirited. You may, in a way, provide a real service to curious Europeans who are genuinely trying to understand Trump’s electoral appeal. And if you keep an open mind, you might benefit from hearing some different perspectives. (Some of my all-time-favorite conversations with Europeans — the ones that have taught me the most — challenged my most deeply held assumptions. After all, that’s why I travel.)
If, on the other hand, you travel to Europe with a chip on your shoulder — expecting to convince everyone of your righteousness as you do a victory lap around a humbled continent — then, frankly, you’re gonna have a bad time. Maybe leave the red MAGA cap at home; wearing one around the streets of Europe would be like strutting into a spit-and-sawdust sports pub wearing a rival soccer jersey. You’ll forfeit your credibility to come home and say, “Wow, Europeans are so rude! They just hate Americans.”
Based on a lifetime of travel, I can promise you: Europeans don’t hate Americans. In fact, they are very much inclined to like us. They find us a bit odd (as we do them), and are a little intimidated by the far-reaching influence of our country. At times, they may be perplexed and concerned by our leaders’ actions. But fundamentally, they want to connect with us as individuals, and to understand us better.
Of course, these are good guidelines for international in travel, regardless of the current politics. But it bears repeating, now more than ever: Travel with empathy, curiosity, and open-mindedness. Be an ambassador of your American values. Focus on those priceless person-to-person interactions. Be prepared for tricky questions and challenging conversations, which can be constructive and mutually enlightening. Realize that some people are simply jerks, to everyone (not just Americans). Don’t be defensive. Keep an open mind — try to see things from the perspectives of the people you meet. If you feel your assumptions being challenged, lean into it and learn from it. And prepare to return home with what Rick has always called “the best souvenir”: a broader perspective.
One thing’s for sure: As an American, traveling in Europe just got a whole lot more interesting.
Let’s continue this conversation in the Comments.
Have any of you traveled to Europe since our new president took office? Share your experiences.
And if you’re a European, do you think I’ve fairly characterized what an American visitor might find upon visiting your country? Any other advice or insights to share? Anything I got wrong?
