8 Uncomfortable Truths I Only Realized About Americans After 25 Years Abroad!

How Leaving the U.S. Taught Me More About Being American Than Living There Ever Did!

I didn’t realize how American I was… until the mayonnaise hit the pizza.

Kyiv, 1999. I’d just landed, armed with no job, one contact, a suitcase full of misguided confidence, and barely enough Russian to ask where the bathroom was.

Then came the moment: a limp slice of “pizza” drowning in swirls of mayo. I stared. It stared back.

And that’s when two things hit me, right between the taste buds:

One: I was definitely not in Kansas anymore. (Okay, Connecticut, but Kansas rolls off the tongue better.)

Two: I had absolutely no idea what it meant to be American… until I left America.

I didn’t move abroad to “find myself.”

I moved for love, a shot at European life, and how to catch a marshrutka without getting yelled at.

But somewhere between Spain, France, and Ukraine… and of course, this was post-Soviet Ukraine, where even flowers follow strict funeral math, I started noticing something.

It wasn’t my accent that gave me away. It was everything else.

The unsolicited small talk.

The baffling urge to smile at people who very much do not want to be smiled at.

Nobody pulled me aside to explain it.

I learned the hard way… from babushkas, bartenders, border guards, and fellow expats who had already survived the baptism-by-culture-shock.

These aren’t just quirks I spotted. They’re life lessons… usually delivered with a raised eyebrow and a side of judgment.

Here are 8 uncomfortable truths I never knew about being American… until I became one abroad.

1. We’re Loud… and We Don’t Even Know It 

I knew I was in trouble the first time I stepped into a small café in France and was met with actual silence.

Not “quiet,” but the kind of silence where you can hear a spoon clink three tables over and feel personally attacked by your own voice.

I wasn’t shouting.

I was just… talking. At what I thought was a normal American volume.

Within minutes, half the café had turned to look.

One older man actually removed his glasses to stare at me longer, like I was some rare bird he’d only seen in documentaries.

It happened again in Poland, and then again on a marshrutka in Ukraine, where a grandmother actually shushed me with the international sign of “zip it or die”: a raised finger and narrowed eyes.

American Lesson Abroad: If you want to blend in abroad, pretend you’re sharing a state secret every time you speak.

Whispering is the new normal.

2. Speed Over Quality Is Practically a Religion 

Back in the U.S., waiting ten minutes for a coffee is grounds for a Google Maps reviews rant.

But try that impatience in Spain? You’ll be laughed out of the café.

I learned the hard way in León that coffee isn’t just a caffeine hit, it’s a sit-down, slow burn ritual involving conversation, people-watching, and possibly a pastry you didn’t order but now mysteriously appears.

Same with food, relationships, even conversations.

Americans want the shortcut.

Abroad, the long way is the way.

American Lesson Abroad: Sometimes the best things take time.

Or in Spain’s case, at least two hours and a bottle of wine.

3. The Cult of Individualism Runs Deep

In America, we’re taught to “do it yourself,” “make it on your own,” and “be self-made.”

But in places like Albania and Georgia, there’s a quiet, unspoken code of community.

When I was sick in Tbilisi, my landlady (whom I only saw once a month to pay the rent) brought me soup, aspirin, and a gentle lecture on why my balcony plants were dying.

In the States, most people don’t even know their neighbor’s name and landlords hope they never here from you, except when the rent’s due.

I once asked a friend in Georgia about her job prospects.

Her answer: “My cousin knows someone.” That’s not nepotism, it’s survival.

It’s interdependence. It’s normal.

American Lesson Abroad: You’re not a one-man show.

Somewhere along the way, the rest of the world figured that out.

4. Patriotism Abroad Feels… Awkward

Wearing red, white, and blue in the U.S.? Festive.

Doing the same at a bar in France?

Let’s just say it draws attention… and not the “You go, you proud American!” kind.

Once, during a Fourth of July get-together that the American Chamber of Commerce put together in Ukraine, a local asked why we were celebrating a country we’d all left.

Fair question.

Don’t get me wrong… patriotism is fine. But abroad, it sometimes feels like showing up to a birthday party wearing your own face on a t-shirt.

American Lesson Abroad: Love your country, but maybe tone it down when you’re a guest in someone else’s.

5. Our Customer Service Is Actually Insane (in a Good Way) 

Ever try to return a broken product in France? 

Pack a lunch.

You may be there a while.

In Kharkiv, Ukraine, I once tried to explain a problem with a hotel room. The woman at the desk listened patiently, nodded, and said, “That’s a shame,” before turning away.

That was the end of the conversation.

For all I know, the place was still State-owned, even 20 years after the Soviet Union collapsed.

Say what you will about the U.S., but the land of “the customer is always right” does make life easier when something goes wrong.

American Lesson Abroad: Next time someone hands you a receipt with a smile and a “Have a great day,” remember… it’s not like that everywhere.

6. America Has Engineered Life for Peak Convenience… Maybe Too Much

I didn’t fully appreciate Amazon Prime until I spent a sweaty August afternoon in Georgia hunting for a RAM card for my ancient MacBook Pro.

Six shops later, I ended up in a dimly lit back-alley electronics shop, halfway up a hill, where no one spoke English.

But thankfully, Russian worked.

And shockingly, they had the exact part… for a 10-year-old laptop.

Back in the U.S., we’ve got drive-thrus, curbside pickup, and groceries that arrive before you’ve even closed the app.

Everything’s built for speed.

But here’s the thing, life didn’t fall apart without all that convenience. It just slowed down.

And honestly? It kinda got better.

American Lesson Abroad: Convenience is great… until you realize it’s an addiction.

Struggle a little. It builds character… and patience.

7. We Avoid Discomfort Like the Plague 

In America, we panic if the air conditioning is two degrees off or if we have to walk more than one city block.

But after sweating through a summer metro ride in Paris, where deodorant use is… negotiable, or freezing through a winter in Ukraine because the city’s heat hadn’t been turned on yet, you start to realize: humans can survive discomfort.

Imagine that.

We medicate every ache, dodge every awkward conversation, and ghost anything that makes us feel less than perfectly at ease.

Abroad, you face it… or you stay home.

American Lesson Abroad: Stop running from discomfort.

Sometimes, the growth is on the other side of the awkward.

8. Reinvention Is Our Superpower 

If there’s one thing Americans do get right, it’s this: we’re not afraid to hit the reset button.

I’ve seen it in myself, starting over more times than I can count.

Whether it was moving to Ukraine with just a suitcase and a phrasebook, or reinventing my career on the road.

In France, a former colleague of mine from the States, in her mid-50s, quit her job, moved to Lyon, and opened a jam shop.

No experience. No plan.

Just guts.

The last I heard she was making killer fig preserves and spoke French with a Brooklyn accent, in all its glory.

American Lesson Abroad: The ability to start fresh is a gift. Use it.

Abroad or at home, reinvention is baked into the American DNA.

You Can Leave America, But It Doesn’t Always Leave You

(Trust me — I tried.) I came abroad chasing something: adventure, meaning, escape.

Maybe all three.

But what I found instead was a mirror.

A very loud, over-apologizing, convenience-obsessed mirror.

Living abroad didn’t just open my eyes to other cultures, it forced me to reckon with my own.

I saw what made America unique.

I saw what made it flawed.

And most of all, I saw how much of it lived inside me… even when I tried to leave it behind.

But maybe that’s the point.

You don’t know where you’re from until you see it from the outside.

And once you do, you can never unsee it.

Now, it’s your turn!

What did living, or even just traveling, outside your home country teach you about where you came from?