7 Weird Things I’d Have To Relearn If I Ever Moved Back To The U.S.

When Home Stops Feeling Familiar

Why Tipping, Talking, and Taking Time Off No Longer Make Any Sense to Me

Have you ever lived so long outside your home country that the idea of returning feels more foreign than the countries you’ve been calling home?

That’s me. 

Over 26 years living outside the U.S., across places like Ukraine, Albania, Georgia, France, and Spain, and I’ve built a life that no longer fits neatly inside the old American template I left behind.

The last time I truly “lived” in the States, Blockbuster was still a thing, jeans were loose, and people still used checks to pay for groceries.

Every so often, though, I get this delusional wave of nostalgia.

Usually triggered by a random craving for a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup or one of those over-the-top American breakfast menus where you can order steak and still get hashbrowns and pancakes as a “side.” Remember IHOP…

But then reality taps me on the shoulder like a TSA agent with questions:

• Could I even function in the U.S. anymore? 
• Would I instinctively tip, by rounding up just a few bucks, instead of 20%? 
• Would I forget that “How are you?” isn’t a real question and start giving a genuine update on my life?

The more I think about it, the more I realize I wouldn’t just be returning, I’d be relearning.

Like a foreign exchange student in my own country, fumbling through customs and culture shocks I wasn’t expecting.

So here it is. A list of 7 strange things I’d genuinely have to figure out all over again if I ever moved back to to the U.S.A.

Not because I forgot them, but because they just stopped making sense.

1. How to Make Small Talk Without Sounding European

Somewhere between sitting in smoky Tirana cafés and strolling through backstreets in Strasbourg, I unlearned the art of American small talk.

Not on purpose. It just happened.

You start having slower, deeper conversations abroad.

 You talk about real things, life, love, the cost of onions, while sipping strong coffee that tastes like it survived a revolution.

In France, no one asks how your weekend was unless they genuinely want to hear about it.

In Ukraine, if you lead with “What do you do?” don’t be surprised if the response is a blank stare followed by “Why do you need to know?”

Small talk just isn’t small in most of the places I’ve lived.

Now imagine being thrust back into the high-speed, surface-level banter of the U.S. where “How’s it going?” is a formality and the only acceptable answers are “Good” or “Busy.”

No one wants to hear about your existential crisis or your dog’s pancreatitis.

U.S. Reentry Lesson: You’ll need to reprogram your response speed and emotional depth.

In the U.S., conversation is a ping-pong match, not a therapy session.

2. Tipping Without Calculating Resentment

After years in Europe, I went back to the U.S. I walked into what looked like a regular café.

I ordered a sandwich, paid at the counter, then came the glowing iPad. It wanted to know how much I planned to tip.

The sandwich hadn’t even been made yet!

In modern America, even your lunch comes with a built-in moral dilemma.

In France, Spain, Georgia, hell, even Ukraine during my early years, tipping was a quiet, modest act. You left a few coins if the service was good.

There was no screen staring you down.

No passive-aggressive guilt.

No 25 percent default options “just because.”

Back in the U.S., it felt like every interaction ended with a math test and a moral dilemma.

“Did I just tip someone for handing me a bottle of water?”

U.S. Reentry Lesson: In the U.S., tipping is an entitlement, not a reward.

Just accept that the “service” might begin after the tip.

3. Pretending 10 Days of Vacation Is Normal

Try telling someone in Spain that you only get 10 days of paid vacation a year. They’ll blink slowly and offer you wine out of pity.

In Bulgaria, I met a woman who took the entire month of August off, and she wasn’t even bragging. It was just… expected.

But in the U.S., vacations feel like a luxury that must be justified, apologized for, and negotiated like a hostage exchange.

You’ll check your email in the airport. You’ll feel guilty by day three.

You’ll spend the final two days preparing to go back and convincing yourself it was “enough.”

After years of living in countries where time off is sacred, where people disappear for weeks without a single Slack notification, the thought of pretending 10 days is generous feels surreal.

U.S. Reentry Lesson: If you move back, be prepared to treat burnout like a badge of honor again.

Oh and no, asking for three weeks won’t “send the wrong message” unless that message is “I value my sanity.”

4. The “Hi, How Are You?” That’s Not a Question

When I first moved abroad, I answered “How are you?” like a normal human being (in the U.S. that is…).

But after years in France and Ukraine, I stopped expecting the question, and I certainly stopped answering it.

You don’t lead with feelings there.

You lead with a nod, or if you’re lucky, a handshake that feels like a firm “don’t mess with me.”

So the last time I was in the U.S. and someone chirped “Hi! How are you?” at the checkout line.

I replied honestly, just to see their reaction.

Something like “Actually, kind of weird today. Existential dread mixed in with some back pain. I had a long flight, yadda, yadda, yadda”.

The cashier looked at me like I’d confessed to arson.

Because in the U.S., “How are you?” isn’t a question. It’s part of the cultural script.

You respond, “Good.” They say, “Great.”.

No one expects an impromptu therapy session.

U.S. Reentry Lesson: Save your honest feelings for friends, therapists, or confused café owners in Bucharest.

In the U.S., keep it short, sweet, and suspiciously upbeat.

5. Driving Everywhere, Especially When You Don’t Want To

Living in cities like Strasbourg, Tbilisi or Kyiv taught me one beautiful thing: freedom is not having to own a car.

You could walk, hop on a metro, grab a tram, or even hail a guy named Sergei who drives a rusty hatchback with questionable suspension.

No insurance. No gas. No parallel parking anxiety.

In the U.S., though, not having a car makes you look like either a criminal or someone who’s “going through something.”

Public transit exists, sure, but good luck finding it outside of a handful of cities. Even then, you’ll be asked, “Wait, you took the bus? Are you okay?”

U.S. Reentry Lesson: If you move back, driving won’t just be an option. It’ll be your passport to groceries, social life, and basic survival.

Just brace yourself for the DMV and $5 gas.

6. Bracing for Political Landmines Everywhere

In Georgia and Ukraine, I’ve had full-blown political debates with strangers over beer and khinkali, then clinked glasses like nothing happened.

Same in France, where heated arguments about capitalism and Unions often end in another round of wine and a smirk.

In the U.S. now, politics aren’t avoided, they’re everywhere.

At the dinner table. At the grocery store. In line at the DMV.

Even your barista might slip in a campaign reference while steaming your oat milk latte.

Everyone has a side, and everyone assumes you’re either with them or against them.

It’s not a conversation anymore. It’s a test.

I’d have to remind myself not to assume political talk ends in a friendly toast.

In the U.S., it might end in a group text blowup or someone storming out before dessert.

U.S. Reentry Lesson: Back home, political opinions aren’t just shared. They’re worn, shouted, and occasionally served with pie.

Choose your words like you’re walking through a field of rakes.

7. Remembering That Medical Bills Are a Thing Again

A few years ago in Kyiv, I walked into a modern private clinic with no appointment, got treated for an ear infection, picked up a prescription, and was out the door in 20 minutes.

The bill was less than a decent bottle of wine.

That same visit in the U.S. would involve three referrals, a pre-authorization code, hours on hold with your insurance, and a surprise invoice from someone called “Out-of-Network Technician.”

After years of affordable, efficient healthcare in places like Ukraine, Georgia, and Albania, the idea of launching a GoFundMe over a sprained ankle is genuinely nauseating.

Your “health” insurance company in the U.S.?

“Deny, Defend, Depose” isn’t just a legal strategy. It’s a customer service script.

U.S. Reentry Lesson: Relearning America means setting aside rent-level money for healthcare.

Also, expect a separate bill from the guy who opened the ambulance door.

7. The Strangest Homecoming of All

If I moved back, it wouldn’t feel like going home. It would feel like stepping into a version of my old life where everything looks the same, but I no longer speak the language.

America didn’t change much. I did.

Living abroad rewired my sense of normal. 

Assumptions became questions. Habits turned into choices.

That’s why going back feels less like returning and more like starting over.

What about you?

If you moved back after years away, what U.S. Reentry Lessons would you have to relearn?