Two days in Frankfurt opened my eyes to Brits’ ignorance abroad.
In December I turned 30 and took a family trip to Frankfurt to celebrate. It ended up being a jolly good time, with shopping, spicy Bratwurst and boutique Christmas market stalls on the itinerary. Not endowed with the quaint, Bohemian charm of Munich, Frankfurt is more like New York and other American cities than fairy‑tale European ones such as Bratislava or Tallinn.
In my mid‑twenties I began to travel more around Europe on budget‑friendly city breaks to places like Barcelona, Prague, Budapest and Krakow (I live and die by budget airlines). Germany was the latest stop in my quest to cover the continent, and after only a few hours in the city a worrying trend began to appear — one I had noticed on earlier travels but could no longer ignore.
Everyone spoke English.
I was standing in the queue in the middle of Frankfurt’s Römerberg Christmas market on a chilly Saturday afternoon, waiting to buy a cheese pretzel, when this realisation hit home. The couple ahead of me spoke German while I had to point and smile sheepishly at what I wanted with quintessential British awkwardness, suddenly mute as my lack of German made itself apparent.
That’s not to say everyone we met was fluent. Many locals couldn’t hold a conversation that lasted longer than ten seconds, and only a few went beyond brief greetings and the simplest of questions, punctuated by helpful hand gestures and awkward smiles.
However, what I began to notice was this: whenever I was in need or had a burning question, there was always someone — often a German someone — who could answer in perfectly serviceable English. From the staff at our hotel to the waiters and baristas in Frankfurt’s delightful coffee houses and restaurants (not to mention the workers at all the major tourist attractions we visited), communication was never an issue because their level of English was so good.
Eventually my awkwardness turned into guilt. I had no German phrases to fall back on, so I continued speaking my mother tongue knowing it would be understood despite being hundreds of miles from home. My mum and sister had no problem with this; they were simply grateful to enjoy their holiday free of language barriers, while I felt lazy and more than a little embarrassed. It went beyond personal pride — every question or request felt like a burden.
These feelings stuck with me.
This is no anti‑colonialist tirade against the domination of British culture across the world. However, my experience did lead to a small epiphany that made me grateful to speak a language so pervasive. English really doesn’t have borders, and while there may not be as many native English speakers as there are Spanish or Chinese, English remains dominant across the world.
So I returned from Germany feeling far more fortunate, but hoping that, as time goes on, more Brits will at least try to engage with local languages. It’s no good going around the world armed only with an “Hola” or “Bonjour” and expecting others’ knowledge of English to make up the rest.
That’s not to say some progress hasn’t been made. Most children have compulsory lessons in either French or Spanish until they leave school, normally with a qualification in the subject. However, like most things we learn in those hazy years, it tends to slip away and leave only the faintest of traces.
Herein lies the problem. It’s not educational or political; it’s cultural. We allow ourselves to let the knowledge slip away because we know that wherever we go, from Panama to Prague, someone will be there who speaks our language better than we speak theirs.
Personally, the tragedy of speaking English abroad is that, while it may feel safe, it leads to a sanitised experience — like a holiday on rails where nothing spontaneous or exciting happens because you’re trapped by a safety net. Some of my most hilarious and memorable holiday moments have come from interacting with locals, most of whom are delighted when foreigners take the time to learn just a few words and phrases of their mother tongue.
The only true solution to this linguistic mess is humility. We need a drastic cultural shift that allows the public to view other cultures and their languages as just as valid and worthwhile as our own. Unless that happens, most of us will continue sleepwalking through our travels while the rest of the world sits in silent judgement of our arrogance.
If we are not more honest with ourselves and more open to learning new things — rather than expecting everything to fall into place before us — all we can expect is more of the same. Hopefully the type of guilt I felt in Frankfurt will inspire the necessary change to make us all more open to learning some new lingo.