9 Things I Miss Most About America That I’d Never Admit Until Now!

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Living Abroad Is Incredible, Yet Here’s What I Secretly Crave When No One’s Looking…

Have you ever found yourself bargaining in broken Russian with a Georgian taxi driver at 2 a.m., with a check-in bag in one hand and a new SIM card that may or may not be registered to someone named Zurab in the other, and suddenly think, “You know what I could really go for right now? 

A fluorescent-lit Target run and some peanut butter M&Ms.”?

Yeah. Me neither. 

Until I did.

After years of living in Ukraine, Georgia, Albania, France, and a few other corners of the world that seem to have a national allergy to customer service and stable water pressure, I’ve learned to adjust.

I’ve memorized Cyrillic letters, mastered the art of pantomime pharmacy visits, and once navigated an entire Ukrainian grocery store using only facial expressions and the sheer will to find butter.

I even kind of enjoy the challenge now.

Kind of.

But there are moments, usually while arguing with a Ukrainian bureaucrat over whether my middle name counts as a second surname, when I’d sell my soul for the quiet, predictable joy of a drive-thru milkshake and an automated “Thank you for calling.”

This isn’t about hating life abroad.

Far from it.

It’s about those strange, quiet cravings that sneak up on you when you’ve gone too long without hearing a properly functioning automatic sliding door or a toilet seat that stays where it’s supposed to.

So let’s be honest, for once.

Here are the 9 things I secretly, deeply, unapologetically miss about home.

Just don’t tell the French friends I made at that Route des Grand Cru wine tasting event in Beaune .

They’d never let me live it down.

1. Grocery Stores That Make Sense

You don’t realize how much you took Target or Trader Joe’s for granted until you’re standing in a dimly lit Carrefour in Tirana trying to figure out whether kajmak is cheese, cream, yogurt, or some mysterious fourth dairy category no one warned you about.

In France, I once spent 20 minutes walking in circles trying to find peanut butter.

Turns out, they did have it.

Just one lonely jar, hidden behind 18 varieties of foie gras.

The message was clear. Welcome, but you’ll suffer.

Back home, grocery shopping is a task. 

Abroad, it’s a full-contact puzzle game, and you’re always the last to know the rules.

Reality Check: Want to feel smart again? Visit a grocery store back home and marvel at the clarity of aisle signage.

Bonus points if it’s in English and doesn’t involve a translation app.

2. A Shower With Strong Water Pressure

Showers abroad fall into two categories: “Garden hose in a broom closet” or “Scalding jet powered by Satan.”

In my apartment in Saranda, the water pressure is so weak, that sometimes it’s a choice of, getting wet or getting clean.

Not both.

And don’t get me started on Georgian plumbing, where the hot water tank looked like a Cold War relic and sounded like it might explode if you asked too much of it.

You learn to adapt. Or you stop showering as often and call it “adjusting to local customs.”

Reality Check: A powerful shower isn’t just hygiene — it’s therapy. If you’ve got one, treasure it. If not, maybe avoid looking too closely at your towel.

3. Big, Quiet Libraries With Free Wi-Fi

I miss libraries the way some people miss their exes: unexpectedly, for reasons I can’t quite explain, and with the kind of regret that sneaks up on you when you’re tired and alone on a Saturday night.

In Spain, I once ducked into a public library hoping to get some work done.

Instead, I stumbled into what I can only describe as a kindergarten birthday party with a card catalog.

Kids yelling, phones ringing, old men snoring.

And free Wi-Fi? Only if you managed to register online using a Spanish national ID, which, surprise, I did not have.

Reality Check: Don’t underestimate the soul-healing power of a quiet space with strong Wi-Fi and working outlets.

Bonus points if no one glares at you for existing.

That kind of peace is harder to find than Skippy peanut butter in a French grocery store.

4. Late-Night Food That Doesn’t End in Regret

When I lived in Tbilisi, late-night food meant shawarma from a kiosk that looked like it doubled as a front for something much less savory.

Delicious, yes. Digestible? Debatable.

In Albania, the options were slim after 10 p.m. unless you counted that morning’s re-heated burek or mystery meat Albanian souvlaki with so much mayonnaise they deserved their own postcode.

Back home, I could pull into a drive-thru and get a milkshake, fries, and maybe a little self-respect.

Abroad? I’m risking both dignity and digestion.

Reality Check: Craving comfort food at 2 a.m. isn’t a weakness.

It’s a biological cry for help.

Listen to it.

5. Customer Service That Actually Serves

In Tbilisi, I once returned a cracked coffee mug souvenir and the woman behind the counter looked at me like I’d personally insulted her ancestors. “You broke it,” she said, stone-faced.

“No, it came like this,” I said, showing the receipt.

She didn’t even blink. “Yes. Still your problem.”

It’s not just Georgia.

In parts of Ukraine, the concept of the customer being right is as foreign as tipping at a McDonald’s.

Reality Check: Back home, customer service might be scripted, but at least it exists.

Abroad, you often leave an interaction unsure whether you’ve resolved the issue or declared war.

6. Being Understood Without Explaining Myself

I speak French. I speak Russian. Spanish too, though lately it’s just sitting there, quietly rusting in the corner of my brain.

But nothing beats the humiliation of stressing the wrong syllable in a foreign language and turning your sentence (and you) into a laughing stock.

Like in Kyiv, when I proudly told my students I loved to пИсать (write) short stories.

What I meant was писАть (pissAHT) to write.
What I actually said was пИсать (peesat) to pee.

So instead of “I love writing short stories,” I announced, “I love peeing little stories.”

Class dismissed!

Don’t even get me started about the lesson when Scotland’s legendary Loch Ness Monster was involved.

Thank god I don’t have a Scottish accent or that would’ve been a real hoot!

Reality Check: In foreign languages, the line between “writer” and “urinator” is sometimes just one stressed syllable.

Being understood without footnotes? That’s the real luxury.

7. Reliable Delivery Services

In France, I once waited three weeks for a package that was “out for delivery” every day.

By the time it arrived, I had forgotten what I ordered.

In Georgia, I used to get cryptic texts from delivery companies telling me my package was in “box 38.” That was it.

No address. No location. Just the mystery of box 38.

Reality Check: Back home, you get a delivery window. Abroad, you get a riddle.

And maybe, just maybe, a package… eventually.

8. Not Having to Convert Currency in My Head

In Thailand, I spent the better part of a week thinking I was getting the deal of a lifetime from this “hidden gem” of a currency exchange booth, until I realized I’d flipped the exchange rate backwards.

That “cheap” lunch? 

Basically the cost of a steak dinner back home.

In Romania, I once tipped a waiter what I thought was 10 percent.

Turns out it was nearly half the bill. He almost hugged me.

Reality Check: Currency conversion is math under pressure. Get it wrong and you’re either wildly generous or deeply confused.

Usually both.

9. The Comfort of Total Familiarity

There’s a particular kind of homesickness that hits you in the produce aisle of a foreign grocery store, holding a weirdly long cucumber and wondering if this is your life now.

It’s the ache for things that don’t require effort: 

• Cultural fluency.
• Small talk with a cashier.
• Knowing which streets to avoid at night without having to learn the hard way.

I love the chaos of living abroad. 

I really do.

But sometimes I miss the comforts of home, the kind you don’t notice until it’s gone.

Reality Check: Familiarity isn’t boring. It’s soothing.

And after months or years abroad, it’s the thing you crave most, right behind peanut butter and not having to Google “how to tip in Bulgaria.”

What Do You Secretly Miss?

Living abroad rewires you. It stretches your limits, sharpens your instincts, and forces you to laugh when everything goes sideways.

But it also leaves a quiet space, an invisible craving for the things that once seemed ordinary.

So here’s your chance.

What do you secretly miss when no one’s looking?

No judgment. No shame. Just honesty.

I’ll be right there with you, nodding along, probably from a café that doesn’t have Wi-Fi and serves pizza with mayonnaise.