This summer, I traveled across Europe, including visits to Vienna and Salzburg. Both are beautiful cities, but as a psychologist who studies time, I found myself becoming fascinated by something much more mundane: the church bells.

Regardless of where I seemed to be in either city, I could hear time passing.

On the hour, the bells would ring. Fifteen minutes later, one ring. At the half hour, two. At 45 minutes past the hour, three. And then, before you knew it, the bells were ringing again to announce the arrival of another hour.

Time was everywhere.

Now, I should admit that I am what I call a classic “clock person.” I have written before about our relationship with clocks and how constantly monitoring time may interfere with our happiness. But even I started to become a little edgy from the continuous reminders.

Another 15 minutes gone.

Another half hour.

Another hour.

It made me wonder: What happens when you grow up surrounded by these signals?

Clock Time Versus Event Time

Psychologists and anthropologists have long observed differences in how cultures relate to time.

Some cultures tend to be more clock-oriented. Activities are organized around specific times, schedules, deadlines, and expectations of punctuality. Germany, Switzerland, and Austria are often associated with this orientation.

Other cultures are relatively more event-oriented. In countries such as Italy, Spain, and France, there may be greater flexibility around when something begins or ends. The activity itself, and the people involved in it, can play a larger role in determining when it is time to move on.

Of course, these are broad cultural tendencies, not descriptions of every individual. There are chronically late Austrians and extraordinarily punctual Italians. But cultural differences in our relationship with time are nevertheless noticeable.

And while traveling through Austria, I began thinking about those differences in a new way.

In Vienna, the trains seemed to leave precisely when they were supposed to. Concert halls closed their doors when performances began. Appointments and reservations operated according to the clock.

Everything seemed to communicate the same message:

Time matters. Pay attention to it.

And then there were those bells.

Every 15 minutes.

Does Culture Shape the Clock, or Does the Clock Shape Culture?

We usually think about cultural attitudes as something transmitted from one generation to another through parents, schools, workplaces, and social norms.

Children learn that being late is unacceptable because adults tell them so. Employees learn that deadlines matter because organizations reward or punish them accordingly. Eventually, these behaviors become norms: This is simply how we do things here.

But perhaps we underestimate the role of the physical environment in reinforcing those norms.

Imagine growing up in a place where, throughout your day, the environment itself announces the passage of time.

You don’t need to look at your watch.

You don’t need to check your phone.

The city tells you.

Fifteen minutes have passed.

Now 30.

Now 45.

Another hour is gone.

Day after day, year after year, generation after generation.

Could something as simple as church bells help reinforce a culture’s awareness of time?

I am not suggesting that Austrian punctuality exists because churches ring their bells. Cultural attitudes toward time have complicated historical, economic, religious, and social origins.

But psychology tells us that our environments matter. Repeated cues can direct our attention and, over time, help shape habits and expectations. What surrounds us becomes part of what we perceive as normal.

And that is what struck me in Austria.

The bells weren’t merely reporting the time. They were continually making time salient.

When the Environment Becomes Invisible

Perhaps the most interesting part is that people who grow up with these environmental cues may barely notice them.

I noticed the bells because I was a visitor.

Someone who has lived in Vienna for 40 years might hear them without consciously registering them at all. Yet something does not necessarily need our conscious attention to become part of the environment that shapes our behavior.

We experience this in countless other ways.

Cities teach us how quickly to walk. Transportation systems teach us how carefully to plan. Store hours influence when we shop. Meal traditions tell us when eating is appropriate. Schools teach children when to work, when to rest, and when to move to the next activity.

Eventually, these external structures become internal expectations.

The environment doesn’t merely accommodate culture. It may also help reproduce it.

And Then There Are the Swiss

This becomes even more apparent when we look across the border.

Switzerland is famous for watches, precision, and timekeeping. Germany has Pünktlichkeit, punctuality, as a deeply recognizable cultural value. Austria similarly has a reputation for adherence to schedules.

Is it a coincidence that societies that historically surrounded people with highly visible and audible systems of timekeeping also developed strong cultural norms surrounding time?

Perhaps.

Correlation is certainly not causation, and I would not want to turn a summer observation into a grand theory of European culture.

But it raises an intriguing psychological possibility.

Maybe culture isn’t only something we teach one another.

Maybe it is also embedded in the things we build around us.

What Is Your Environment Teaching You?

When I finally left Austria, I found myself thinking less about church bells and more about the invisible cues in my own environment.

Today, most of us no longer need a church tower to tell us that 15 minutes have passed. We carry something far more persistent in our pockets.

Our phones display the time. Our calendars alert us that a meeting begins in 10 minutes. Our watches vibrate. Our computers remind us of deadlines. Apps tell us how long until the car arrives, the food comes, or the package reaches our door.

In some ways, we have created our own digital church bells.

And perhaps that deserves more attention.

Because the way we experience time may not simply reflect our personality or culture. It may also reflect the environments we have created—and the cues those environments send us hundreds of times each day.

The church bells of Vienna and Salzburg reminded me of something surprisingly easy to forget:

We create tools to help us manage time. But eventually, those tools may begin to shape how we experience time itself.