7 Awkward Moments That Made Me Realize Just How American I Really Am

by

I Thought I Was Blending In Until I Totally Wasn’t

I Thought Living Abroad Would Be a Cultural Adventure. It Turned Into a Crash Course in My Own Identity

I didn’t realize how American I was until I tried to order a pizza in Ukraine… and it showed up with a generous swirl of mayonnaise right on top.

Not hidden. Not optional. Just sitting there like it belonged. 

I stared at it like it had personally betrayed me. 

Somewhere deep inside, my stomach screamed. 

But instead of adapting like a seasoned world traveler, I sat there silently offended… by a topping.

That’s when it hit me! 

I wasn’t just reacting as myself, I was reacting as someone raised on ranch dressing, Starbucks customization, and the unspoken belief that pizza should come with rules.

I always thought living abroad would teach me about other cultures.

What I didn’t expect was how clearly it would expose my own.

The habits, assumptions, and knee-jerk reactions I didn’t know were American until the rest of the world gave me that polite, confused look like I’d just high-fived a waiter at a funeral.

This isn’t your typical “Americans are loud and love air conditioning” list.

These are the subtle, uncomfortable, oddly funny moments that made me realize I hadn’t just left the country, I’d brought it with me.

Here are 7 of those moments. You might recognize a few of your own.

It turns out, you can take the American out of America, but good luck taking America out of the American.

1. When I Expected Optimism and Found Silence Instead

In Tbilisi, I once stood in a circle of locals as a conversation about politics turned heavy. Not heated, just heavy. No one smiled.

Nobody cracked a joke to ease the tension.

There was a pause, the kind that made me want to jump in with a motivational Facebook quote or a “Hey, at least we’re all here, right?”

Back home, we’re trained in the art of the silver lining.

Flat tire? Great day to work on patience.

Job loss? A fresh start.

But in Georgia, that silence wasn’t discomfort, it was respecting the gravity of what was being said.

It wasn’t negativity, it was just about being there.

Identity Check: Optimism isn’t universal. In fact, it can come off as downright delusional.

Sometimes, the most honest thing you can do is say nothing and let the weight sit.

2. When I Missed Over-the-Top Enthusiasm

In Spain after I had finished the Camino de Santiago back in 1998, a group of us were spending a few days in Fisterra and someone gave me a birthday gift.

I smiled, gave a warm and cheery “Thank you so much,” and looked around for someone to start clapping.

Nothing.

No “Hope you have the best birthday ever!” or “You deserve the best in life!”

Just polite smiles.

American enthusiasm is loud. Performative? Maybe.

But there’s something about it that says, “You matter. And we’re going to shout it from a rooftop even if it makes us look ridiculous.”

Identity Check: Sometimes I miss the absurd, overly enthusiastic compliments and best wishes.

Because quiet appreciation doesn’t always feel like appreciation at all.

3. When I Kept Looking for a Manager to Fix Things

In Kyiv, a broken ATM ate my card. I walked into the nearest bank branch, ready to do what any American would do, escalate. 

So, I asked for a manager.

The man blinked. “No manager. Only Irina Petrovna.”

Irina shrugged and handed me a sticky note with a number that never worked.

That was it.

In the U.S., we believe in systems. Customer service. Accountability.

If something goes wrong, there’s a manager with a headset and a mission statement ready to solve it.

Identity Check: Outside the U.S., the phrase “Let me speak to someone in charge” often translates to “Good luck with that.”

P.S. I did eventually get my ATM card back by the way, after a labyrinth of numbers and calls… But, that’s a story for another time.

4. When I Realized I See Time Differently in Spain

In Spain, I met a friend for what I assumed was a quick coffee.

She showed up thirty minutes late, kissed me on both cheeks like she was early, then settled in as if we had nowhere else to be until next Tuesday.

I nodded and smiled, but internally I was scanning the café for a clock like it was a hostage situation.

Back home, if you’re not ten minutes early, it’s basically considered an insult.

Time is money. Delays require apologies.

Even meetings are scheduled to the minute so we can squeeze in one more before lunch and still feel productive.

But in Spain? Time is a suggestion and coffee is a ritual.

More importantly, staying longer means you’re doing it right.

No one’s glancing at a watch or a phone.

No one’s “wrapping up.” You’re either fully there, or what’s the point?

Identity Check: Not every culture treats time like a ticking stopwatch.

Sometimes, being “on time” means showing up fully, not just checking a box on your calendar.

5. When My Patriotism Felt Complicated For the First Time

In France, over a glass of wine and a plate of beef bourguignon, someone asked me about American foreign policy.

I took a breath, gave my best answer, and waited for the nod of approval. It never came.

It wasn’t the criticism that stung, it was the realization that I didn’t know how to talk about my country without feeling the need to defend or explain.

Even when sometimes, I agreed with most of what was being said.

Identity Check: Patriotism isn’t about blind pride.

It’s about being able to sit with discomfort and still love where you’re from.

6. When I Thought I Was Open-Minded Until I Wasn’t

In Ukraine, I ordered a pizza for the first time and it came with a generous swirl of mayonnaise right on top. Not on the side.

Front and center like it was the main event.

I stared at it like it had personally insulted my family… I almost barfed.

And that’s when it hit me. I was in another country, judging their food like it had broken some sacred culinary code.

I had shown up thinking I was open-minded, ready for anything.

But apparently, my tolerance had a limit… and it was mayo on pizza.

Identity Check: Open-mindedness sounds noble until it collides with something harmless and unfamiliar… and you instantly recoil.

That’s when you find out if it’s real or just something you liked telling yourself.

7. When I Finally Understood My Accent Is Also an Identity

In Ukraine, while teaching English, I had a student interrupt me mid-sentence to ask where I was really from.

“You don’t sound American,” she said, squinting suspiciously. “You speak too clearly. Maybe British?”

I’ve heard this more times than I care to remember over the years.

The assumption that if you’re articulate, well-paced, and easy to understand, you must be from somewhere else.

Apparently, being American meant fast-talking, gum chewing, slang-slinging, and dropping every other consonant like it owed you money.

But I am American. Born in Connecticut, with a few dusty childhood years in New Mexico, and over a decade of adult life in California.

Add to that years of teaching English, explaining grammar and drilling pronunciation until my speech became so articulate and clear, even my own mother asked me to stop talking like an “English Teacher” every time I cam home.

But what my student was really saying was, “You don’t sound like the Americans I’ve seen on TV.”

Identity Check: An accent isn’t just about sound, it’s about perception.

Abroad, how you speak shapes how people read you.

And sometimes, sounding too American isn’t the problem. It’s not sounding American enough.

What This All Taught Me

Living abroad didn’t erase my American-ness. It illuminated it.

It held up a mirror I couldn’t turn away from.

I didn’t become less American.

I became more aware of what that label actually meant.

That awareness didn’t lead to rejection. Or blind loyalty.

It led to curiosity. About myself. About others.

About how we’re all walking around shaped by systems we didn’t choose but carry like invisible tattoos.

Now It’s Your Turn

When did you first realize you were more American than you thought? 

Was it the coffee size? 

The smile at strangers? 

The instinct to tip?

The impulse to shout “Awesome!” like it’s a meaningful response to anything at all?

Let’s “group hug” our way out of this identity crisis together.