OPINION

Christina Traar | Special to USA TODAY

Before I came to the United States from my native Austria, the only real gun I had ever seen was a pistol belonging to a friend who is a policeman in Germany. I remember touching the Walter PPK pistol in 2014, but it felt weird so I gave it back to him.

Four years later, I was in Chantilly, Virginia, visiting my first gun show as a reporter for my newspaper back home. As I eyed thousands of firearms in front of me, I instinctively took a step back: It felt forbidden to even look at those arms.

My reaction may seem ironic to many Americans aware that I come from the country that produces the most popular handgun in the U.S. — the Glock. Yet, it would be nearly impossible for me to own a Glock or any handgun in Austria.

Austria has very strict gun regulations. In a country of 8.8 million people, only 306,000 own guns (compared to nearly 400 million guns owned in the U.S.). To obtain a firearm, you have to be a hunter, sports shooter, in the Army or a police officer. You must undergo psychological and gun safety tests and risk a fine of up to $4,000 for misuse of a firearm. So most Austrians never think about owning a gun.

I got used to the guns. Then I found the Nazis.

One of the tables at the gun show displayed hundreds of Glocks. I picked one up and let my finger run over the engraved word “Austria” on its slide. America loves your guns, the seller told me, praising their good quality, fair price and ease of handling. When I said I would go to jail in Austria for buying a Glock without all the hard-to-obtain permits, he looked at me sadly and said he was sorry.

Christine Traar, for USA TODAY

After about an hour I was getting used to the guns. I picked them up, still surprised by how heavy some were. I talked to gun owners and sellers and started to understand their fascination with firearms.

Then, just as I was feeling comfortable around all the guns, I walked by a cabinet and froze. It displayed something made close to home that also would get you in serious trouble in Austria.

The cabinet had an old Nazi flag with a big swastika on in, accompanied by SS medals and badges. Nearby were daggers with swastikas, copies of Hitler's book Mein Kampf and shirts bearing Nazi slogans.

In Austria and in Germany, which occupied my country during World War II, it is illegal to sell Nazi memorabilia or display it. In 1947, two years after the war ended, Austria banned the Nazi party and any actions to revive it, such as displaying swastikas.

As I was staring at the swastikas, the owner of the stand, a man with long white hair and mustache, said my reaction did not surprise him. He said many Europeans freeze, like I did, but that the items hold a different meaning for Americans — they are a reminder of America's triumph over Nazism.

And white supremacists? He said they lose interest when they hear the prices. A swastika dagger was going for $6,000.

I get the fascination but I still don't want a gun

As I thought about items made at home or nearby that I cannot own, I decided that I am fine with that. I don't need a gun; I live in a safe city. I don't need Nazi stuff; I learned about it in school and I detest the Nazis.

Still, my visit and conversations gave me a better understanding of the U.S. culture. Europeans laugh at gun enthusiasts and shake their heads over war memorabilia collectors. Many Americans laugh at Europeans for not having guns and disapprove of their excessive social welfare systems. It is easy to judge, when you haven't experienced it.

Three weeks after the gun show, I shot my first gun at a range. I get the fascination now but still don’t want to own a gun. As my range instructor, Paul Voska, warned, “If you draw your gun, you are bringing your own death to the table.”

Christina Traar, a reporter for Kleine Zeitung, is a visiting fellow at USA TODAY sponsored by the International Center for Journalists.