9 Shockingly Normal Things I Had To Relearn In Every New Country

The Basics Will Break You Before the Culture Ever Does

From Grocery Stores to Showers, Moving Abroad Reminds You What It’s Like to Start From Zero!

Ever feel like a complete idiot in a grocery store?

Not confused. Not curious.

I mean a full-on meltdown in front of the dairy aisle.

In Tbilisi, I once stood inspecting a mystery bottle like it was radioactive, trying to figure out if it was milk, yogurt, or fermented sheep goo.

It was kefir.

This is the part they leave out of their YouTube travel vlog.

Moving abroad doesn’t just shift your timezone.

It factory-resets your ability to function like an adult.

Suddenly, you’re a grown adult who can’t buy groceries, take a shower, or do laundry without solving a riddle.

In North Macedonia, the washer in my Airbnb had so many buttons I thought I’d launched a satellite.

In Albania, my landlord smiled, pointed to a sticker above the toilet and a tiny bin beside it, and said, “Toilet paper goes there.”

That bin wasn’t decoration.

It was the only thing standing between me and a plumbing disaster.

And in Kyiv? 

My first year, no washer.

After twelve months of tub-washing like it was 1897, my landlord gave me a Soviet-era plastic washing box powered by rubber bands and hope.

I never did figure it out.

But, like everyone else in Ukraine, I stuck it out on the balcony and moved on with my life.

Every country I’ve lived in, Ukraine, Georgia, France, Albania, has its own twisted version of “Guess That Basic Task.”

This isn’t culture shock. That’s when your coffee’s too strong.

This is culture humiliation.

The kind where throwing out a yogurt cup in Germany feels like a high-stakes exam, or tipping someone in Spain turns into an accidental insult.

So here are 9 painfully normal things I had to relearn in every country I’ve lived in.

If you think expat life is all wine and sunsets, wait until your only shower in Georgia is a hose next to the toilet.

1. How to Buy Groceries Without Panic

First time grocery shopping in Georgia, I walked in confident and walked out with a tomato, a jar of pickles, and a carton of what I thought was milk.

It was plain kefir. Again! 

Dinner was ruined and so was my confidence.

Nothing screams “outsider” like standing in front of a wall of unfamiliar labels trying to decode dairy with Google Lens.

France was no better. I once asked where to find peanut butter and the shop assistant reacted like I’d requested chlorinated chicken.

In Bulgaria, a cashier silently stared at me for holding up the line while trying to bag my own groceries.

Apparently, in that store, they do it for you.

Unless they don’t.

What helps: Learn the word for “milk” and “no, thank you” in at least three languages.

And accept that grocery shopping abroad is basically a slow-motion lesson in trust.

2. Using the Washing Machine (Good Luck)

In Ukraine, a plastic rubber-band powered washing box sounded like it was possessed by a Soviet ghost.

You’d turn it on, and it would disappear into a dual-cycle that included moans that brought back childhood nightmares from the 1973 horror classic, “The Exorcist”.

In North Macedonia, the dial had 32 cryptic icons. None looked like clothing.

Georgia?

The washer locked my laundry inside like it was being interrogated.

The worst part? You don’t know if it’s working, broken, or simply protesting your choice of socks.

What helps: Take a picture of the settings and send it to a local.

Or better yet, use it as an excuse to buy more underwear and delay laundry for another week.

3. Tipping Rules You’re Definitely Getting Wrong

Tipping is a cultural minefield. In France, I left 20 percent once and the waiter gave me a look that said, “Sir, this is a wine bar, not a GoFundMe.”

Meanwhile, in the U.S., leaving anything under 18 percent gets you side-eye so sharp it could slice through your receipt.

In Spain, tipping is optional. In Mexico, it’s appreciated but not expected everywhere.

In Ukraine? 

Depends on the place. I’ve tipped cab drivers, waiters, even tried tipping a woman at a fruit stand near the Metro, she just looked at me like I’d asked for her hand in marriage.

What helps: Ask a local or watch what other people do.

When in doubt, err on the side of gratitude, not guilt.

4. Crossing the Street Without Getting Killed

In Albania, crosswalk signals seem to function more like mood suggestions.

Cars slow down only if you walk like you have nothing to lose.

In Vietnam, based on a tale from a fellow teacher who still flinches when he hears motorbikes, you need Jedi-level instincts.

Back in Ireland, I kept looking the wrong way when crossing.

By the third near miss, I just started pretending I was sightseeing every time I stepped off a curb.

What helps: Look both ways. Then look again.

Then wait for someone else to cross and follow them like you’re in a nature documentary about urban survival.

5. Figuring Out Where to Throw Trash

Trash sorting abroad is a puzzle. In Switzerland, I walked around with an empty yogurt cup for twenty minutes because I couldn’t find a bin.

In Germany, I once got scolded for putting paper in the glass container.

In Spain, I was staying above a row of color-coded bins that might as well have been labeled in Klingon.

What helps: If the bin has a diagram, follow it.

If not, just do your best and run away quickly before someone corrects you in three languages.

6. How to Ask for Help Without Sounding Dumb

You rehearse the phrase. You get the courage. You say it perfectly.

And then the person responds with a 400-word answer in native-levels of French or Ukrainian.

When I first asked for directions in Spain, the guy answered me in what felt like one breath.

I nodded like I understood every word and then confidently walked in the exact opposite direction.

What helps: Ask younger people. They’re more likely to know some English.

Or just point at your phone, shrug, and smile.

It’s universal for “Please help me. I am not okay.”

7. Navigating Public Transport With 0 Clues

In Poland, the tram map looked like it was designed by someone in a fever dream.

In Ukraine, marshrutkas didn’t seem to follow any posted schedule, they arrived when they felt like it and left when they were full.

Once in Romania, I confidently boarded the wrong train and ended up in a town on the Serbian border two hours away.

I told myself it was an “intentional detour” as I wandered around looking for a way back.

What helps: Trust the locals over the apps. Google Maps lies (hey, what do expect from “Big Tech”).

Ask where people are going before boarding and make sure it aligns with your general life goals.

8. Showering with a Wall Hose (Yes, Really)

In Albania, the shower was a hose hanging next to the toilet.

No curtain. No barrier.

Just a cold jet stream of humility.

In Georgia, there was a nozzle sticking out of the wall with no clear purpose.

I stood there for five minutes turning knobs like I was decoding a safe.

Half the time you either get scalded or sprayed in the face.

The other half, it’s a trickle that makes you question your life choices.

What helps: Lower your expectations. Embrace the awkward.

And if the drain is in the middle of the room, just accept that everything will be wet forever.

9. Knowing When to Say “Hello” or Stay Silent

In Spain, not greeting someone is rude. In Ukraine, greeting someone you don’t know can feel intrusive.

In France, you must say “Bonjour” but only once.

Say it twice and you’ve entered creep territory.

I once said “Bonjour” to the same woman twice in a day and she looked at me like I’d just proposed marriage.

Meanwhile, in Albania, a simple nod seems to be enough, unless it doesn’t.

What helps: Watch how the locals do it. When in doubt, smile faintly and pretend you’re just lost in thought.

Which, let’s be honest, you probably are.

Why the Basics Break You First

Moving abroad doesn’t test your adaptability with major cultural shifts. It breaks you with the basics.

It humbles you at the checkout line, in the shower, on the sidewalk.

Every country you land in resets something you thought you had nailed back home.

And that’s the real adventure.

Not castles or beaches or hashtags, but the small, silent victories.

Like finally figuring out how to turn on the hot water in a French village without setting off a small appliance fire.

So what about you? 

What’s one absurdly normal thing you had to relearn in a new country that made you feel like a baffled beginner? 

Misery loves company. And we’ve all been there.