Leo Dean, Plus3 Germany Summer 2025
Germans tend to carry a specific stereotype, at least from an American perspective: serious, direct, detail-oriented, and focused on efficiency. Before we departed, we had the chance to ask a panel of previous participants about their experiences with the locals. I raised my hand. “Are Germans as literal and serious as people say they are?” I asked. They told me yes, they tend to be. Not a great start for beating stereotypes. Now I had to worry that the Germans wouldn’t have any fun with our group. I even pictured myself making a joke and them all staring blankly at me.
Fast forward two months. It’s about 10 in the morning, and we’ve just gotten off the bus from the airport to the hotel. Standing in the lobby are two people: one is a woman who looks to be in her late 20s or early 30s—who I later learn is Elizabeth, a professor at the University of Augsburg. Last year was her first time with the program. The other is a young guy who looks
about my age, dressed in jorts, a white T-shirt, and a Ralph Lauren jacket. Maybe it was the jet lag and sleep deprivation (I don’t sleep well on planes—who does?), but after he introduced himself, I immediately forgot his name and was too nervous to ask again. Instead, I just kept chatting with him as we were taken on a tour of the city.
Eventually, we were brought to dinner to meet the German students who would be working with us during the program. My friend Marshall and I ended up in a booth with three of them. In a moment of awkward silence and a desire to keep the conversation going, we launched into a long-winded explanation of American college football culture. At one point, one of the German students asked, “Is there anything you’d like to ask us about Germany?” We paused and gave an awkward “no.” At the time, it was the truth—we had just arrived, had German culture classes beforehand, and were so exhausted that nothing came to mind.
The next day, though, we started getting to know our foreign companions much better. We had a quick scavenger hunt around town that turned into more of a tour/hangout. I had been calling the young guy “Johnny” the whole time, only to find out I’d gotten it completely wrong. In German, the letter “J” is pronounced like a “Y” in English—so his name is actually “Yoni.”
While Joni went to work with the professors, the rest of us students headed to a biergarten for a tasting. While sipping our drinks, Lusia—an Augsburg student who’s coming to Pitt in the fall—asked whether the U.S. is socially open to foreigners. I assumed she was referencing the current political climate, but I assured her that American college students would love to get to know her and that she’d have no problem making friends. My roommate, a Chinese international student sitting next to me, backed me up and said he’d felt very welcome on campus. We promised to reconnect at Pitt later in the fall.
Joni turned out to be the easiest German student to connect with. He had both proximity and enthusiasm on his side. He accompanied us on all of our company visits and chatted with us along the way. We could joke with him, go out to eat with him, and he even acted as a translator. He really made us feel at home. We grew close enough, in fact, that on the last structured day of the trip, many people stayed out late with Yoni just to give him a proper goodbye before heading off to different activities the next morning. But the truth is—I was one of the few who didn’t go. And I do sometimes regret it. But I don’t regret all the other nights I made the effort to spend time with Yoni and his friends, to ask about their language and their lives. Because, as it turns out, no stereotype can ever be completely true. These people taught me that.
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