From Tweets to Temples, These Tourists Found Out the Hard Way That Rights Don’t Cross Borders

Have you ever seen someone barrel into a foreign country like they’re still on home turf, waving the First Amendment around like it’s a VIP pass? 

I have… and guess what? 

It never ends well…

Take a fellow American traveler in Thailand, for example.

He wrote a profanity-laced tweet trashing the hotel that overcharged him for what he swore was “three-star plumbing in a five-star trap.”

The next morning, instead of getting an apology or a free breakfast, he got arrested, charged with defamation, and banned from the country.

Turns out, Twitter tantrums can get you locked up when you’re not on U.S. soil.

Who knew?

I’ve met enough wide-eyed expats, digital nomads, and backpack warriors in places like Georgia, Ukraine (during 2 revolutions), and Albania to know this isn’t rare.

I once watched a guy in Sofia loudly berate a waiter over the Wi-Fi speed.

He thought he was being assertive.

The staff thought he was having a psychotic episode.

And when another tourist in Romania started filming locals without asking, it took exactly 30 seconds before he was called a “Foreign parasite”, and that was the polite version.

Here’s the thing: the Bill of Rights doesn’t travel with you.

Your freedoms? 

They’re checked at customs.

And what starts as “just expressing yourself” can quickly become “please face the judge.”

In this article, I’ll show you 7 times travelers thought they were bulletproof abroad, and how that blind faith in freedom backfired, sometimes spectacularly.

If you’ve ever assumed you’re protected just because you’re holding a “western” passport, buckle up.

This is your cultural wake-up call.

1. The Traveler Who Got Arrested for a Tweet in Thailand

I was only in Thailand for two weeks on this trip, splitting time between Bangkok and Phuket.

Just long enough to learn that tuk-tuks are overrated, street food is underrated, and the humidity doesn’t care how breathable your shirt claims to be.

While sipping a Singha in a beach bar, I heard the story that every local expat seems to know.

An American tourist had a rough stay at a beachfront hotel. Instead of leaving quietly or asking for a refund, he fired off a profanity-laced tweet tagging the hotel.

It went viral for all the wrong reasons.

Thai authorities tracked him down, arrested him for defamation, and deported him.

Lifetime ban. No return flight needed.

What he didn’t understand is something every traveler needs to know.

In Thailand, reputation isn’t just about saving face.

It’s protected by law. Trashing a business online can get you charged with a crime, not applauded for your honesty.

Hard Lesson: If you’re tempted to tweet your rage after a bad hotel stay, don’t.

In Thailand, venting can cost you more than your deposit.

2. Cursing at Police in Dubai: The Tourists Who Learned the Hard Way

I never met these guys, but stories like theirs are worth paying attention to, because nothing teaches you how not to behave abroad like someone else’s legal disaster.

One was an Australian medic on a break from military service in Afghanistan.

He got into it with a Dubai police officer and let a few choice words fly. That quick temper cost him 2,000 dirhams in fines.

Then there was the British tourist at the airport.

When staff were slow bringing a wheelchair for his mother, he lost his cool and let loose with insults.

Instead of sympathy, he got arrested. The court handed him a three-month jail sentence, and when he appealed, they doubled down.

No reduced time, no second chances.

In Dubai, swearing at anyone, especially police or service workers, isn’t seen as frustration. It’s seen as public indecency.

In Dubai, if it sounds offensive, they treat it like you meant every word.

Hard Lesson: If you’re tempted to mouth off in Dubai, bite your tongue instead.

Offending the wrong person can land you in court faster than you can say “It was just a bad day.”

3. Public Protests in Turkey: One Tourist’s Dangerous Miscalculation

A former teaching colleague of mine in Ukraine told me about a time he joined what he thought was a peaceful student protest in Istanbul.

Waving a handmade sign, snapping photos, and livestreaming the whole thing for his followers.

It ended with Turkish police detaining him and going through his devices like they were looking for state secrets.

He thought he was showing solidarity.

The authorities saw a foreign agitator. 

Turns out, being a well-meaning outsider doesn’t give you a hall pass to political expression in someone else’s backyard.

That’s probably why he skipped the 2014 Euro-Maidan protests in Kyiv. Unlike a few clueless foreigners who jumped in like it was a study abroad project and thought waving signs made them locals.

Some guests have to learn the hard way.

Hard Lesson: You might see protest. They might see provocation.

Know the difference, and know when to sit that one out.

4. Filming Strangers Abroad: When Your YouTube Channel Becomes Exhibit A

I didn’t know the guy, but Nguyen Binh Dan’s run-in with police in Vietnam is another solid reminder of what not to do.

He filmed a pagoda in Dong Thap, uploaded the footage to his YouTube channel, and ended up with a $300 fine for posting “religion-dividing” content.

The videos triggered enough outrage that locals reported him.

Dan claimed he was just sharing local culture.

Authorities saw it as disrespectful and damaging.

And just like that, his channel became evidence.

This kind of thing happens more than you think. Travelers wander into religious or rural spaces with cameras rolling, assuming it’s all fair game. It’s not.

Hard Lesson: Ask before you film.

Sacred doesn’t mean cinematic, and your camera doesn’t make you exempt from local rules.

Source: RFA Vietnamese, July 2024

5. Sacred Sites and Drunken Selfies: A Party Photo That Led to Deportation

During a trip to Greece, I overheard a conversation between two Americans about two other Americans who’d been partying hard in Bali a few months prior.

One of them had snapped a boozy selfie on the steps of a temple while shirtless and holding a beer.

The next day, it was all over local news.

By the end of the week, the guy who had snapped that “boozy selfie” was on a plane out of the country, deported for disrespecting a sacred site.

I guess he thought he was just goofing around. The Balinese authorities saw sacrilege.

Intent doesn’t matter when the backdrop is sacred.

Hard Lesson: If you’re half-naked and buzzed, maybe save the selfies for your hotel room.

Temples aren’t your party props.

6. Loud Political Rants Abroad: Surveillance Isn’t a Myth

In Georgia, I stayed at a hostel where a fellow American got into a heated political argument over breakfast with a French backpacker.

What started as a debate over foreign policy turned into a full-blown rant that drew the attention of the front desk staff.

Hours later, local police showed up “just to ask a few questions.”

No charges, but it was a wake-up call for everyone in the building.

In some countries, authorities aren’t just listening… they’re recording.

And you won’t know until they knock.

Hard Lesson: Save the firebrand speeches for your podcast.

Abroad, being loud can mean being flagged.

7. Spray Paint and “Freedom of Expression” = Jail Time in Malaysia

I didn’t know the guy, but a Czech tourist found out the hard way that Malaysia isn’t the place to play street artist without permission.

He was caught on CCTV tagging walls, arrested, and held for four days. Locals didn’t see edgy art, they saw property damage.

Some parts of Malaysia embrace murals, sure. But go rogue with a spray can, and the law won’t care how “peaceful” your message is.

Hard Lesson: If your masterpiece needs someone else’s wall, maybe stick to a sketchpad. In Malaysia, graffiti can get you locked up.

Source: Malay Mail, February 2025

You’re Not in Kansas Anymore

Here’s the hard truth, your rights (U.S. or otherwise), don’t travel with you.

Once you land, it’s their rulebook, not yours.

Free speech, personal expression, your right to protest or complain or film a moment?

All up for negotiation depending on the country you’re standing in.

I’ve seen these mistakes made in places I’ve lived and traveled, Ukraine, Georgia, Thailand, Bulgaria, and beyond.

And I’ve seen the fallout, both online and in person.

Some of it was funny.

Most of it wasn’t.

So next time you travel, remember: you’re not just visiting another place.

You’re stepping into someone else’s laws, culture, and expectations.

Best to learn them before you go full freedom-fighter in a place that doesn’t play by your book.

Have you seen or experienced a culture clash like this abroad?

Someone else’s safety might just depend on it.

The post 7 Shocking Times Travelers Mistook Freedom For Immunity And Got Burned! appeared first on Expats Planet.

These Overlooked Travel Traps Have Left Even Seasoned Travelers Stranded, Delayed and Completely Broke…

I once missed a Ryanair flight out of Dublin because of a made-up rule the airline cooked up in a back room somewhere between customer service purgatory and corporate nonsense. 

I had my boarding pass, my passport, and absolutely zero idea that I was supposed to stand in a separate line to get my non-required visa checked by someone who looked like they’d lost a bet and ended up working the “Document Check” desk.

Here’s the twist, I didn’t even need a visa!

But Ryanair, in their infinite wisdom, decided that all non-EU/EEA citizens, visa or not, have to get their travel documents stamped before going through security. 

If you don’t? You don’t fly.

And the worst part? 

There’s no big flashing sign. Just a tiny note on the boarding pass and maybe a whisper in the wind if you’re lucky. 

I found out at the gate, too late, as the agent handed my seat to someone who had played the Ryanair roulette correctly.

That wasn’t my first airport ambush, and it certainly won’t be my last. 

In Madrid, I once walked twenty-five minutes between “connected” terminals that may as well have required a Sherpa.

Airports are slick on the surface.

They lull you into thinking it’s all systems go, clear signs, announcements, and smiling agents.

But dig even slightly beneath the polished tile and you’ll uncover a labyrinth of: 

• Unwritten rules.
• Airline-specific loopholes.
• Customs traps that could derail your entire trip before your first overpriced airport coffee.

This is the real airport playbook, the 8 hidden rules they don’t post on signs or tell you about at check-in.

But don’t worry.

I’ve already missed the flights so you don’t have to.

1. This One Transfer Rule Can Cost You Your Flight

If you’re flying to the US from anywhere in the Schengen Zone: Paris, Madrid, Frankfurt, take your pick.

But, brace yourself for the bonus round of airport security no one warns you about.

I learned this while flying from Munich to the US. I showed up at the gate early, only to find I wasn’t at the real gate.

Turns out, flights to the US often depart from isolated, heavily monitored zones in the airport, complete with an extra layer of security screening:

• Bag checks.
• Passport grilling.
• Sometimes even a quick interview about what you plan to do once you land.

Think of it as the airport’s version of a surprise exam, except you don’t even know you’re enrolled in the class.

In Madrid and Paris, they’ve built entire terminal wings just for US-bound flights.

Once you enter that zone, there’s no going back for food, water, or a bathroom that doesn’t feel like a bunker.

Miss the cutoff, and they won’t hesitate to shut the doors early and leave you arguing with a gate agent who’s heard it all before.

What to do: If you’re flying to the US from a Schengen country, find out exactly where your gate is and whether it’s in a special US-designated zone.

Arrive earlier than you think you need to, and don’t assume you’re “at the gate” just because the screen says so.

If there’s a second security check, it’s going to eat your time, and possibly your seat if you’re not ready for it.

2. The Little Code That Can Ruin Your Day

That tiny string of letters and numbers next to your gate?

It’s not just decoration.

“C88 via Shuttle” or “D12 via M” isn’t airline poetry, it’s a warning.

I once saw “via M” in Barcelona and thought nothing of it.

Turns out “M” meant “shuttle to the outskirts of hell.”

By the time I figured it out, I was outside in the wind, surrounded by confused passengers and one suspiciously smug bus driver.

What to do: Don’t trust your gate blindly. Google that code and terminal map before you start munching on your €8 croissant.

If a shuttle or train’s involved, leave immediately.

No one ever regrets arriving early, only late and sweaty.

3. The Paris Terminal Trap

CDG is less an airport and more an endurance sport.

I once had a back-to-back Air France connection: 2F to 2E.

Same airline, different zip codes.

What followed was a panicked relay race through poor signage, a packed shuttle, and a lot of shouting “Pardon!” at people who’d clearly seen too many Americans try this move.

What to do: In Paris, always check the exact terminal: 2E, 2F, 2G, doesn’t matter if it’s the same airline.

If there’s a shuttle, bake in an extra 30 to 45 minutes.

And forget airport signs. At CDG, they’re more decorative than useful.

4. Why You Should Always Ask About Gate Buses in Europe

If you’ve flown out of Spain, France, or even Albania, you might’ve experienced the dreaded tarmac bus.

You check your gate, you walk there, and then you’re herded onto a packed bus that drives you five feet to the plane… after 20 minutes of waiting with strangers breathing directly into your soul.

In Madrid, I once got on a bus, thinking it would take us to the plane. It did.

Thirty minutes later. After a full tour of every other plane we weren’t boarding.

What to do: Ask staff before your gate opens whether the flight uses a boarding bridge or a tarmac bus.

If it’s the latter, plan to be at the gate well before boarding time.

The bus waits for no one.

5. How Airline Alliances Leave You Stranded

A traveler I met in Vienna missed his connection after a United Airlines delay.

His next flight was on Austrian Airlines, bound for Tirana, both part of Star Alliance. Still, neither airline helped.

They pointed fingers, shrugged, and sent him to customer service limbo.

Turns out, alliances are mostly for show. If your flights aren’t booked under the same reservation number, they don’t owe you a thing.

What to do: Book all legs on a single reservation whenever possible.

Even within the same alliance, separate bookings mean separate problems, and zero accountability.

6. What Time Your Gate Closes vs. Your Flight Leaves

In France, I once strolled to my gate thinking I was early. The flight was at 10:30.

It was 10:10.

What I didn’t know? The gate closed at 10:00. My seat was gone.

My bag? Still on the plane.

Me? Stuck.

Airlines are sneaky with this. Departure time is not gate closing time. They just assume you’ll guess correctly under pressure.

What to do: Treat your gate closing time as your departure time.

Many gates shut 15 to 30 minutes before the flight takes off.

If you’re not there, it’s game over.

7. Why International Layovers Need More Time Than You Think

In Kyiv, I once had a 55-minute layover to connect to a flight to Frankfurt.

A solid plan, on paper.

Then came passport control, a baggage re-check, and a surprise bus ride.

I barely made it, drenched in sweat and questioning all my life choices.

Layovers aren’t about flight-to-flight. They’re about flight to immigration to security to terminal to gate… and back again.

What to do: For international connections, aim for at least 90 minutes in the EU, 2 hours in the US, and 2.5 hours if you’re flying in or out of other countries and visa zones you’re not familiar with.

Trust me, the extra time is worth the lower blood pressure.

8. The 24-Hour Rule That Can Save You From Airline Hell

In a late-night haze of confidence and caffeine, I once booked an international flight out of Newark online, forgetting my inbound landed at JFK.

Same day. Different states! And a healthy stretch of I-95 gridlock standing between them. 

By the time I realized, I could already see myself stuck in a taxi on the FDR, passport in hand, praying for a miracle that wasn’t coming.

A friend once pulled the same move in Istanbul, landing at Sabiha Gökçen, booking out of Istanbul Airport a few hours later.

He missed the flight somewhere near a honking match on the Bosphorus bridge.

What to do: As soon as you book, triple-check the airport code, the city, and if you’re flying through New York, even the state.

If you screw it up, don’t panic.

Most airlines give you 24 hours to fix it without penalty.

It’s your one free “what was I thinking?” undo button. 

Use it.

Let’s Hear Your Airport Fails

Which of these surprised you the most?

Have you ever missed a flight because of a visa you didn’t know you needed or a gate that closed ten minutes before boarding?

Let’s build the traveler survival guide no one gave us.

If you’re a Medium Member you can leave a comment here:

“8 Hidden Airport Travel Rules No One Tells You Until It’s Way Too Late!“

The post 8 Hidden Airport Travel Rules No One Tells You Until It’s Way Too Late! appeared first on Expats Planet.

What Global Chains Don’t Want You to Know About Their Secret Menus, Better Ingredients, and Taste Upgrades Outside the U.S.

What if I told you the best McDonald’s fries I’ve ever had weren’t in Chicago, New York, or anywhere near where the Golden Arches were born? 

They were in Obolon, a district in Kyiv, served fresh out of the fryer, golden and crisp. 

Salted like someone back there actually took pride in their minimum wage job.

And Subway?

Forget the yoga mat bread and limp vegetables we’ve all sadly accepted back home. 

In France, and somehow, even in Tbilisi, Subway serves bread with texture. A crust. Structure. The veggies looked alive. The cheese had actual flavor. 

I didn’t even know Subway was allowed to be… decent.

I didn’t set out to become a fast-food snob. 

But after years bouncing between Ukraine, Albania, Greece, France, Georgia, Spain, and a few other countries that still care about food quality, something clicked.

American chains abroad don’t just survive.

They evolve.

It’s like every overseas franchise got the same memo: “Do everything the U.S. doesn’t.”

Even in places where I expected edible regret, like Burger King in Spain or Albania, I ended up impressed.

During my CELTA course in Kraków, one of my classmates practically lived off BK. He swore it was better than anything he’d had in Cleveland.

I laughed.

Then I tried it. 

He wasn’t wrong.

So what gives?

Why do these painfully average U.S. staples suddenly start acting like boutique cafés once they cross a border?

You’re about to find out. 

I’ve rounded up 9 American fast-food chains that go from “meh” to “actually worth eating” overseas, and after this list, you may never look at your local drive-thru the same way again.

1. McDonald’s in Ukraine: Fresh, Fast, and Weirdly… Respectable

Forget everything you know about McDonald’s fries in the U.S.. Those limp, over-salted fries that somehow manage to be soggy and dry at the same time.

The ones I had in Obolon? Golden, crisp, and… brace yourself, served hot! Like someone back there actually cared.

Even back in the late ’90s, McDonald’s in Kyiv was shockingly decent.

Fast service, staff who didn’t scowl, and fries that didn’t taste like they’d been trucked in from a Nebraska freezer.

These days? Still clean. Still consistent.

Still weirdly dependable.

And the menu? Local twists like kartoplya po-selyansky, rustic-style potato wedges that absolutely dunk on American fries.

Oh, and the ice cream machine? Always working.

Always.

Drive-Thru Verdict: In Ukraine, McDonald’s isn’t a guilty last resort, it’s a legit go-to.

Don’t be surprised when you walk out impressed.

2. KFC in Poland: Better Chicken, No Biscuits Needed

First time I hit a KFC in Kraków, I expected regret. A soggy drumstick, a stale biscuit, maybe that weird gray gravy.

But no, what I got was crispy, seasoned chicken that actually tasted like… chicken.

Polish KFCs don’t mess around. Better poultry, regional spices, and coleslaw that doesn’t taste like it’s been bottled and buried.

My students in my CELTA class used to joke KFC was a rite of passage for post-party survival. Now I get it.

Drive-Thru Verdict: Chicken doesn’t have to come with shame.

Poland figured that out.

We’re still working on it.

3. Starbucks in Spain: Class Over Calories

In Spain, Starbucks isn’t your caffeine IV drip, it’s a café with restraint.

No venti sugar bombs, no whipped cream piled like drywall foam.

I grabbed a cortado in Santiago De Compostella that was so smooth I didn’t need sugar.

Didn’t even miss my usual Franken-latte. Mostly because they don’t do that there.

Café culture in Spain is serious, and Starbucks had to evolve or die.

It evolved.

Drive-Thru Verdict: Skip the syrup flood and order like a local.

Your pancreas will thank you.

4. Burger King in Spain: You Want Beer With That?

Picture this: you walk into a Burger King in Burgos (that kinda rhymes, doesn’t it?) and someone’s sipping a cold beer.

At Burger King!

I needed a moment.

But yes, it’s real. Beer. Jamón ibérico burgers. Actual table service.

It felt more like a casual eatery than the fluorescent purgatory we know back home.

I went back twice, before continuing on the road to Santiago…. For research, of course.

Drive-Thru Verdict: In Spain, BK didn’t downgrade, they upgraded.

Fast food and beer? Somehow, it works.

5. Taco Bell in the UK: The Unexpected Underdog

Haven’t hit the UK recently, but a fellow Yankee traveler in Greece couldn’t stop talking about Taco Bell… in London! 

I rolled my eyes.

But he doubled down: fresh tortillas, better fillings, and in his words, not mine, actual flavor.

I didn’t believe him until he showed me a photo.

That burrito looked better than anything I’d had at any Taco Bell back in the States. It was almost on the same level as some of my favorite Mexican hole-in-the-wall joints back in California.

Drive-Thru Verdict: Apparently even Taco Bell can get its act together.

It just has to leave the country first.

6. Pizza Hut in India: Curry, Paneer, and a Spice Explosion

This one comes from a colleague I taught with in Ukraine who’d spent a summer teaching in Delhi.

He swore Pizza Hut there made him rethink the entire franchise.

Tandoori paneer pizza. Masala crusts. A menu that read like an Indian bistro, not a middle school cafeteria.

People actually dressed up to eat there.

Think dinner out, not sad booth seating and sticky tables.

Drive-Thru Verdict: In India, Pizza Hut skipped the bland and went full flavor.

It’s not fast food… it’s food, fast.

7. Subway in France: Fresh Bread, Real Cheese, No Chemical Cloud

In the U.S., Subway smells like sweet plastic and regret.

In Strasbourg, it smelled like someone actually baked the bread.

I walked in for convenience and walked out… a little impressed.

Warm, crusty baguette.

Lettuce that hadn’t wilted into soup.

Tomatoes with color.

And they had actual French mustard, which turned a basic turkey sub into something dangerously edible.

Drive-Thru Verdict: In France, Subway stepped up.

When your ingredients are real, you don’t need footlong gimmicks.

8. Domino’s in Ukraine: Cheap, Fast, and Surprisingly Not Terrible

I didn’t come to Ukraine expecting much from Domino’s. But one rainy night in Kyiv, low on energy and lower on groceries, I gave in.

And to my surprise… not bad. Thin, crispy crust.

Toppings that didn’t all slide off in one sad greasy mess.

Even the spicy salami had a kick.

It showed up hot, on time, and in a box that didn’t look like it had been kicked through a stairwell.

Drive-Thru Verdict: In Ukraine, Domino’s is what it always should have been… fast, decent, and grease-optional.

9. Dunkin’ in Europe: Espresso Over Syrup Soup

In Spain and France, Dunkin’ isn’t a sugar factory in pink and orange sludge. It’s… classy.

Sleek storefronts.

Real espresso machines.

Minimalist menus that don’t involve caramel sludge or whipped cream mountains.

It felt like Dunkin’ had taken a long, hard look in the mirror and decided to grow up.

Drive-Thru Verdict: Dunkin’ went to Europe and got a makeover.

Walk in…you might not even recognize it.

That’s the point.

What’s the Fast Food Capital You Didn’t Expect?

I didn’t expect any of this. I went in for comfort food and came out mildly stunned.

Turns out, American chains don’t just survive overseas… they evolve.

Sometimes shockingly well.

So next time you’re abroad, skip the local hype for once and hit a familiar chain.

You might just find the best fries in Kyiv or a Starbucks drink in Spain that ruins the one you’ve been ordering for a decade.

What country flipped the script for you? 

And more importantly, which version do you wish we had back home?

The post 9 American Fast Foods That Taste Shockingly Better Abroad! appeared first on Expats Planet.

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.

The post 9 Things I Miss Most About America That I’d Never Admit Until Now! appeared first on Expats Planet.

Forget the news! The rawest truths about the U.S.A. come from conversations in cafes, classrooms, and awkward moments abroad…

“Is it true that every American owns a gun?” the French woman asked me, eyes wide, genuinely curious, not afraid, just… curious.

And that’s when it hit me: I wasn’t just traveling…

I was a walking, baseball hat and cargo shorts wearing, full-blown cultural stereotype.

And I didn’t sign up for this, by the way. 

I moved abroad thinking, “I’d be the observer.” 

You know, taste the local food, complain about the lack of high speed internet, maybe teach a few English classes in Ukraine and call it a cultural exchange.

But somewhere between being asked: 

• If I actually knew how to cook (France).
• If I ever didn’t smile (Ukraine).
• And if Americans really do get only two weeks of vacation a year (Romania, where that got a solid, sympathetic gasp).

I realized something uncomfortable.

Living abroad “doesn’t just teach you about them”.

It teaches “what they see in you”.

And let me tell you, some of it stings a little.

I’ve had years of this now. Awkward questions in Romania. Odd compliments in Poland. Sideways glances in Georgia.

I’ve had long, hilarious, and sometimes painfully honest conversations in Ukraine, France, and Spain where people asked me things about my country that I hadn’t even asked myself.

And whether I agreed with their take or not, their questions always made me pause.

So no, this isn’t another piece about how foreigners “don’t get us.”

This is about the moments they did. Maybe better than we do.

What you’re about to read isn’t secondhand analysis from a podcast or a headline.

It’s the raw, unscripted feedback you get from a stranger at a bar in Spain or a fellow teacher over beers in Ukraine.

These aren’t critiques. They’re reflections.

And if you’re American, brace yourself.

You might see yourself a little more clearly through their eyes.

1. Why Are You So Confident

In France, a Brit once told me Americans walk around like they just closed a million-dollar deal and got laid on the way over.

In Poland, it was more subtle, a raised eyebrow when I casually answered a question with “Of course.”

Apparently, that kind of confidence reads as either refreshing or slightly delusional, depending on the weather and your accent.

It wasn’t arrogance, exactly. It was just… American.

The belief that things will “work out,” even if you have no plan whatsoever.

I saw it in myself after years abroad, still strutting into visa offices like I had diplomatic immunity, despite not even knowing what paperwork I needed.

What I Took From It: Confidence is great, until it crosses into clueless optimism.

Sometimes, the most respectful thing you can do in another country is to lead with questions instead of answers.

2. You Work So Hard What’s the Point

While traveling across Romania by train, I mentioned the general two-week U.S. vacation allowance, and the Romanian family I was sitting with, all looked at me like I’d just confessed to a crime.

“Only two weeks?” their daughter said in flawless English (before translating it to her parents), pausing mid-bite during her travel snack out of disbelief.

“Is that even legal?” Spain was no better. I made the mistake of checking work emails during tapas hour in Logroño.

The bartender gently slid my phone out of my hand and said, “No.”

Old habits die hard, even along the Camino De Santiago.

Americans treat work like it’s a competitive sport. 

In most of Europe, working through lunch or skipping vacation doesn’t make you a hero, it makes you someone who needs therapy.

What I Took From It: Hustle culture doesn’t travel well. Rest isn’t a reward, it’s a right.

If the whole world is telling you to slow down, maybe it’s not them… it’s us.

3. Does Everyone Really Own a Car

In Ukraine, my ex-girlfriend’s Uncle once asked me if it was true that in America even teenagers have their own cars.

I told him yes, and he blinked like I’d said we all had pet unicorns.

In North Macedonia, my Airbnb host flat-out asked if cars are just handed out at graduation.

We grew up believing a car equals freedom. But abroad, it looked more like dependence.

In countries with decent public transit, people seemed genuinely confused why anyone would want to deal with parking.

What I Took From It: Mobility in America is a necessity more than a luxury. But in the rest of the world it’s the exact opposite.

It’s a reminder that freedom doesn’t have to come with four wheels and a monthly insurance bill.

4. You’re Friendly But Is It Real

In Tbilisi, a woman asked me why Americans say “How are you?” but don’t wait for the answer. Fair point.

In Ukraine, a friend once joked, “Americans smile like they’re being graded on it.” And I couldn’t argue.

I’d definitely turned friendliness into muscle memory after years of sales and service jobs as well as suburban American life.

Our “have a nice day!” culture is charming to some, confusing to others. Especially when it doesn’t come with follow-through.

What I Took From It: Authenticity isn’t in the smile, it’s in the follow-up.

If you’re going to ask someone how they are, maybe hang around long enough to hear the answer.

5. How Can You Be So Divided and Still Function

Over lunch in Georgia, a local asked, “How do you still have a country when half of you hate the other half?”

Fair enough, but this is in a country with 2 breakaway Republics… just sayin’.

Greece wasn’t much gentler. A man there told me American politics looked like a reality show with guns.

Then I remembered the Greek Financial Debt Crisis with their Anti-austerity movement protests, and, well… you get the picture.

Other people from these very same countries sometimes need to take a hard look in the mirror themselves…

But what shocked them most wasn’t even the divisions.

No.

It was that life still went on.

• Flights still took off.
• The lights were still on.
• The Supermarkets stayed stocked.
• The ATMs were still filled with cash.
• And no one stormed the capital… well, I guess we can’t say that anymore after January 6th, 2020.

What I Took From It: America’s chaos is confusing, but strangely resilient.

Maybe because, despite the noise, most people just want to get through the day.

But that’s what possibly keeps the place running, that, or maybe it’s duct tape and denial.

Still unclear.

6. Do You Still Believe in the “American Dream”

In Donetsk, Ukraine, an English student asked me, genuinely, if I still believed in the American Dream. “Does it still exist?” she said.

I paused. Not because I didn’t know the answer, but because I wasn’t sure which version of the dream she meant.

In Ireland, it came up again over a pint. “You guys always believe things will get better,” the bartender said. “That’s not how we think.”

He didn’t say it with envy. More like wonder.

What I Took From It: The American Dream still lives, but it’s got a bit of a limp. Abroad, people see our belief in reinvention as almost mythical.

And maybe, in a world full of realism, myths matter more than we think.

7. I Wish We Had Your Optimism

This was the quiet one. Said to me in a corner of Albania, whispered in a classroom in Ukraine, even once in a taxi ride in Romania. “You Americans… you believe anything is possible.”

They weren’t mocking me.

They were marveling.

Because in countries with deep histories and long shadows, that kind of wide-eyed optimism doesn’t come easy.

What I Took From It: Believing things can improve isn’t naïve, it’s powerful.

And if we’ve still got that spark, maybe it’s our job to use it wisely, not waste it on motivational mugs and LinkedIn quotes.

What They Saw That I Didn’t

The most revealing truths about America didn’t come wrapped in a flag or piped in through a headline.

They came in subtle side comments, in unfiltered curiosity and in one-line observations from people who had no agenda, just honest questions.

Living abroad turned the mirror around.

Sometimes I liked what I saw.

Sometimes I flinched.

But every time, I learned.

Now it’s your turn. 

What’s something someone abroad said about your country that made you stop and think? 

The post 7 Surprising Ways The World Sees Us That Changed How I See America! appeared first on Expats Planet.

What Travel Guides Don’t Tell Us: How Being “Too American” Abroad Cost Me Cash, Dignity or Both

In Tirana, I once tipped nearly half the bill at a sidewalk café because the waiter smiled at me and brought the check quickly. 

Plus, it was surprisingly cheap, I almost felt guilty not too. 

That’s it. 

He wasn’t especially friendly, and the food wasn’t even that great. 

But there I was, handing over my leks like a contestant on “The Price Is Way Too Right”, all because my American programming kicked in: fast service = reward.

In Tbilisi, I nodded enthusiastically through an entire wine-tasting pitch I didn’t understand, only to walk out with three overpriced bottles of wine I didn’t even like, just to avoid the awkwardness of saying no. 

And don’t get me started on the time I ordered a mountain of food in a Krakow restaurant just to keep up with my Polish friend’s cousin, who looked genuinely offended when I tried to skip the third course.

These weren’t scams. These were me being too American.

Too polite.

Too uncomfortable to question the bill, the custom, the logic.

I wasn’t being tricked. I was just terrified of seeming rude.

Sound familiar?

If you’ve ever found yourself sweating through your shirt in a Spanish pharmacy because you said “yes” to a product pitch you didn’t understand, or tipped a Parisian barista just for not glaring at you, this one’s for you.

These are 9 moments abroad where I paid the price, literally and figuratively, for being a bit too American in the wrong place, at the wrong time, in the most awkward way possible.

And no, they don’t teach this stuff in travel blogs.

But they probably should.

1. Tipping Like a King in No-Tip Cultures

In Blagoevgrad, I left a 10 lev tip on a 20 lev dinner because the server didn’t openly scowl at me. That was it.

No singing, no dancing, just a mildly neutral face, and I rewarded it like she’d saved my cat from a burning building.

She looked down at the tip, blinked once, then walked away with all the enthusiasm of a woman being handed a flyer on the street.

No smile, no thank you, not even a nod. Just a “you do you” kind of energy that made me instantly question all my life choices.

It turns out, tipping in Bulgaria is appreciated, but subtle.

A few coins. Maybe 5–10% if the service was exceptional.

Not half the bill like I just won the lottery.

Lesson: Tip with context, not guilt. Learn the local norms or risk becoming the ATM that walks and talks.

Don’t treat tipping like an emotional support gesture.

In many places, it’s a quiet transaction, not a grand performance.

2. Trusting “Friendly” Strangers Who Were Just Salesmen

I was walking around and exploring the various “Soi’s” (alleys) of Bangkok when a smiling local invited me to a “hidden” market just five minutes away.

Thirty sweaty minutes and another side alley later, I was sipping overly sweet tea and being pressured to buy silk scarves, none of which I wanted, and all of which came with “special price for you, my friend.”

I bought two.

Lesson: Smiles aren’t always free. Be friendly, but don’t confuse friendliness with friendship, especially when it ends at the register.

If they’re calling you “my friend” before you’ve said three words, you’re probably paying double.

3. Paying a “Tourist Tax” Because I Didn’t Know to Haggle

In a coastal town in Spain, I once bought a pair of sunglasses from a beach vendor for €25. I was proud of myself, until the guy turned to the next customer and sold the same pair for €10 without blinking.

That look the second customer gave me? Pity mixed with amusement. A face that said, rookie move.

Lesson: Haggling isn’t rude, it’s expected.

And when it’s not, you’ll know by the price tag and the eye roll.

4. Taking the First Price Without Question

In Tbilisi, I walked into a small electronics shop to buy a power adapter.

Nothing fancy, just the basic kind you’d find in a bin at checkout for a few lari.

I picked one up, smiled at the clerk, and asked how much.

He looked me over like he was calculating my net worth, then quoted a price that could’ve covered dinner for two… in Paris.

I hesitated for a second, long enough for him to add, “Very good, very strong. Not Chinese.”

That was his pitch. No brand, no warranty, just “not Chinese.”

I paid it and walked out like a sucker, armed with a new adapter and just enough dignity to pretend it wasn’t a total rip-off…

Got home, plugged it in, cue sparks, smoke, and the smell of “you’ve made a terrible mistake.”

It fizzled out in three days, but not before nearly torching my Airbnb.

Lesson: Just because something seems too small to question doesn’t mean it’s not overpriced.

Whether it’s a trinket, a taxi, or a two-dollar plug, ask around, compare prices, and never assume a smile means fairness.

5. Over-ordering to Avoid Awkwardness

In Paris, my French was shaky, my confidence worse, and the menu was a mystery. I nodded when the waiter asked if I wanted to try the local delicacies.

Big mistake.

Out came foie gras, escargot, a duck dish with something gelatinous I still can’t explain, and a bottle of wine I didn’t ask for but somehow agreed to.

The bill looked like a weekend getaway.

Lesson: Don’t be afraid to ask questions or admit you don’t understand the menu.

Trust me, the embarrassment is short-lived.

The foie gras regret? That lingers.

6. Buying Things Just Because Someone Guilt-Tripped Me

Years ago in a touristy part of Cancun, a kid selling bracelets came up to me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen. I wasn’t interested, but I smiled and said “Maybe later.”

Five minutes later, he found me again.

This time with a smaller kid. Same bracelets. Sadder eyes.

Guess who walked away with three bracelets, a small wooden turtle, and a lingering sense of being emotionally mugged?

Lesson: You can acknowledge someone’s hustle without buying their entire inventory.

A polite no isn’t a crime.

7. Mistaking Aggressiveness for Service

In Athens, a waiter physically pulled out a chair for me and sat me down before I even looked at the menu.

He then rattled off dishes in Greek and walked away.

Minutes later, food I hadn’t ordered appeared.

It wasn’t until I spoke with a fellow traveler from Georgia (the country, not the state) that I realized, “this wasn’t service, it was sales by force.”

Lesson: Cultural assertiveness can feel like rudeness. Don’t confuse control with care.

You can speak up, it’s your stomach and your wallet on the line.

8. Assuming the “Customer Is Always Right” Everywhere

In Kraków, I tried to return a sweater that was the wrong size. The cashier looked at me like I’d asked her to rewrite the constitution.

She called over a manager.

The manager called over someone else.

After a full five-minute meeting, they handed me a store credit and a printed reminder of their return policy, in Polish.

I didn’t fight it. I just stood there, quietly clutching my sweater coupon, feeling like a child in a time-out.

Lesson: American retail rules don’t travel. In some countries, returns are a rare courtesy, not a right.

Read the policies. Or don’t return anything at all.

9. Being Too Embarrassed to Say No

In Ukraine, I was once offered a shot of horilka at 10 a.m. by a colleague’s uncle. I said yes.

Then another.

Then a third.

Because, “When in Kyiv,” right?

Wrong!

By noon, I was in a philosophical debate about the collapse of the Soviet Union, and by 2 p.m., I was asleep on a floral couch with a doily stuck to my forehead.

Lesson: You’re allowed to say no, even if someone looks personally offended.

Especially if what they’re offering is 80-proof regret.

What Travel “Really” Teaches You

Most of these mistakes weren’t about money.

They were about me, my discomfort with conflict, my need to be liked and my inability to just say “no thanks” without smiling like an idiot.

Travel has a funny way of showing you your blind spots.

Not with lectures or Instagram quotes, but with receipts, hangovers, and politely judgmental stares.

So here’s my question to you:

When have you “paid the price” for being too polite, too trusting, or too American abroad?

The post 9 Times I Felt Ripped Off Abroad Because I Was “Too American” appeared first on Expats Planet.

From glowing snacks and drinks to marshmallows for breakfast… here’s what makes Europeans gag.

When I offered a French friend I’d met along the Camino de Santiago a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos during lunch (tucked safely in my backpack as an “essential”), he didn’t just decline. 

He held the bag like it was radioactive. 

“Why do Americans eat food that glows?” he asked, genuinely baffled.

At first, I laughed. But then I realized… he wasn’t joking.

What started as a lighthearted snack break and a comical “cultural exchange” along the Camino, quickly turned into a full-on comedy roast of American snack culture.

The Flamin’ Hots were just the opening act.

Soon we were onto neon-colored cereals, squeezable cheese, and microwave pancakes in plastic trays.

As someone who’s spent time living in places like France, Georgia, and Ukraine, I’ve learned the hard way that what we casually call “snack time” in the U.S. often gets classified abroad somewhere between “science experiment” and “chemical warfare.”

You think Americans get roasted for our politics?

Wait until you pull out a Lunchables in a Irish hostel kitchen near the Cliffs of Moher. One fellow traveler from France actually asked if it was a toy.

For years, I thought this kind of food was just a harmless indulgence.

Nostalgic, convenient, a little over-processed, sure, but fine.

That is, until I saw those same foods through European eyes.

Eyes that squint at Pop-Tarts like they’re an industrial accident.

Eyes that demand to know why your milk doesn’t expire until next year.

In this article, I’m pulling back the foil wrapper on 7 everyday American snacks that Europeans find downright outrageous.

And if you’ve ever innocently eaten spray cheese on a cracker, you might want to brace yourself. You may love them.

You may have grown up with them. 

But overseas? 

These snacks are getting laughed out of the room, and you might never look at your pantry the same way again.

Let’s dig in! But maybe not with your fingers… especially if they’re coated in radioactive orange dust.

Mmmmmm, good!

1. “Wait…You ‘Eat’ That?”

I once cracked open a pack of Reese’s in a shared pilgrim’s hostel kitchen in Spain, thinking I was offering a little piece of Americana.

A guy from Italy paused mid-pasta-stir, looked at the chocolate-peanut butter combo, and asked, “Is that dessert or a protein bar?”

When I said “both,” he backed away slowly like I’d just weaponized dessert.

That was the moment I realized many beloved American snacks aren’t just weird to Europeans, they’re wildly offensive to their palates, logic, and sometimes their moral codes.

Reality: What we see as comfort food, many Europeans see as a culinary red flag… and your favorite snack might be more shocking than you think.

2. The Great Pop-Tart Mystery

During a French friend’s visit to the U.S., I once made the mistake of offering Pop-Tarts as a “quick breakfast” before setting off for the day.

My friend stared at me like I’d called a Snickers bar a salad. “That’s not breakfast. That’s dessert for people in a hurry to die,” he muttered.

He wasn’t wrong. Pop-Tarts contain more sugar than some French pastries, minus the artistry and butter.

It’s a frosted brick of childhood nostalgia… and in Europe, it’s filed under “dessert or dangerous, depending on the flavor.”

Reality: In Europe, pastry is an art.

In America, it’s shelf-stable for two years and doubles as drywall insulation.

3. Spray Cheese: The Ultimate Culinary Crime

Ah yes, fromage en aerosol. I’ll never forget trying to explain Easy Cheese to someone in Lake Lucerne, Switzerland.

“Wait… you press a button and cheese comes out?” she asked. “Like shaving cream?”

Followed by, “And you put that on what, exactly?”

Spray cheese is America’s answer to artisanal food, if the question is, “How can we get dairy into a can and make it last until the next century?”

Reality: Europeans treat cheese like a sacred ritual. We shoot it onto crackers like culinary graffiti.

4. Mountain Dew and the Neon Beverage Apocalypse

In Poland, I grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew at a gas station. The cashier did a double take, then said in Polish (with genuine concern), “You know that’s not juice, right?”

Yes. Yes, I do.

But I also know it’s one of America’s finest chemical triumphs.

With its electric glow and questionable ingredients, Mountain Dew isn’t a drink, it’s a dare.

To many Europeans, it looks like coolant.

And, in all honesty, it kind of tastes like it too.

Reality: If your drink could double as a glow stick, don’t expect it to be taken seriously outside the U.S.

5. Cheetos: Why Your Fingers Are a Red Flag

During a language exchange in Ukraine, I once brought a snack bag of Cheetos I brought back from the States to share with my fellow language exchange members.

One girl took one look at my fingers, now coated in radioactive orange, and said: “Are you okay? Did you touch something toxic?”

I offered her one. She sniffed it, frowned, and whispered: “Is this real food?”

Reality: In Europe, food isn’t supposed to dye your skin.

In the U.S., we treat snack residue like a badge of honor.

6. Lucky Charms and the Breakfast Candy Scandal

In Spain, I once described Lucky Charms as “a cereal with marshmallows.” I got a polite but horrified stare. “Marshmallows… for breakfast?” one fellow pilgrim said. “In Spain, that would get you a doctor’s referral.”

And he was right. Even the sweet cereals in Europe look like adult food.

Lucky Charms, on the other hand, looks like something you’d feed a unicorn, if that unicorn had a sugar addiction and a death wish.

Reality: European kids eat bread with a little jam. American kids eat rainbow marshmallows and call it fiber.

7. Flamin’ Hot Everything: “Do Americans Hate Their Mouths?”

Over dinner at cookout at a family dacha in Ukraine, I once pulled out a bottle of Sriracha I’d brought back from the U.S…. a small act of culinary self-defense.

My Ukrainian hosts looked on with a mix of confusion and concern as I added a few drops to my plate.

My ex-girlfriend’s father, who once declared ketchup “too spicy,” watched me sweat and sniffle like I was having a medical episode.

In my experience, Ukrainians have an uncanny aversion to anything that even flirts with heat.

I almost pulled out the bag of Flamin’ Hot Doritos I had tucked away, but that felt like a bridge too far.

If I had tried to push my luck, it might’ve been a long walk back to Kyiv.

Meanwhile, back home, we treat spice like a competitive sport.

Reality: If your condiment requires tissues, milk, and makes people question your sanity, it might not travel well.

What This Says About Us… And Why It Stings

So why are these snacks such a cultural punchline abroad? Because in places like France, Spain, and even Ukraine, food is still a daily ritual… something shared, savored, respected.

In America, it’s often engineered for shelf life, sugar spikes, and convenience.

We’re nostalgic for the stuff we grew up with. We crave flavor, fun, and food that fits in a cup holder.

But sometimes, what feels normal at home looks like an edible warning label abroad.

Reality: Cultural blind spots don’t just show up in politics or language, they live in your snack drawer too.

Before You Pack That Snack Abroad…

If you’re headed overseas, maybe don’t bring the Cheese Balls. Or do, but be ready for commentary. Probably a lot of it.

American snacks are bold, colorful, over-the-top… and in Europe, often considered edible comedy.

But hey, some of them taste like childhood. And rebellion.

And, yes, maybe a little radiation.

Which snack do you refuse to give up… even if the rest of the world thinks you’re insane for loving it?

So, Are We the Weird Ones?

The next time you crack open a bag of Cheetos abroad or unwrap a Pop-Tart in a Paris café, take a moment.

Notice the stares. The judgment, and the slow recoil.

Then smile, and maybe offer them a bite.

If they’re brave enough.

Because as I learned writing “8 Shocking American Foods Banned in Europe”, this conversation goes way beyond what’s legal.

It’s about what’s normal, and just how different that can look, depending on where you open your lunchbox.

What’s the one snack you’ll never quit… even if it’s the food equivalent of an international scandal?

The post 7 Ordinary American Snacks That Europeans Think Are Outrageous! appeared first on Expats Planet.

Why Your ‘Politeness’ Abroad Might Get You Glares Not Gratitude and How to Stop Accidentally Insulting Locals When You Travel

Have you ever come back from a trip abroad wondering why the locals seemed cold, standoffish, or just plain off?

It might not have been them.

It might’ve been you.

Americans aren’t out here slapping waiters or flipping tables, we’re offending people with smiles, small talk, and good intentions.

And half the time, we don’t even know we’re doing it. 

That’s the scary part.

When I first moved to Ukraine back in ’99, I thought I had charm. 

I smiled at strangers. I cracked jokes with waitresses. 

I even patted a guy on the back at a bazaar after haggling for a leather belt I didn’t need. 

He did not smile back. In fact, he looked at me like I’d just insulted his grandmother’s borscht recipe. 

That was the first time it hit me.

I wasn’t being friendly, I was being American.

And not in a good way.

France, Ukraine, Georgia, Albania, it didn’t matter where I was.

Every time I tried to inject a little good ol’ American enthusiasm into a conversation, the room temperature dropped ten degrees.

Meanwhile, a former teaching colleague of mine in Kyiv told me he also once got side-eyed for asking “How are you?” too cheerfully to a shop owner.

The guy thought he was either mocking him… or trying to sell him life insurance.

For years, I treated travel like a performance, smile big, talk fast, tip well, connect instantly. 

But somewhere between the cracked windows of a summer dacha in Ukraine and the slow, silent service in a French café, it hit me.

The more I acted like a tourist, the less I actually “experienced” the places I was in. I wasn’t connecting… I was performing.

In this article, I’m going to break down 7 seemingly “normal” American behaviors.

Things we do without thinking, that can make us look completely rude overseas.

Not malicious.

Not mean-spirited.

Just… culturally tone-deaf.

If you’ve ever left a restaurant abroad wondering why your server avoided eye contact, or why the couple next to you suddenly got up and left mid-conversation… this might explain why.

1. Interrupting People Mid-Sentence

In the U.S., jumping into a conversation can feel like excitement. We overlap, interrupt, and finish each other’s sentences like it’s some kind of verbal group hug.

But in France, that same habit reads more like, “Shut up, I’ve got something better to say.”

A former colleague of mine, a German teacher I met while working in Ukraine, once sat through a roundtable discussion with American expats.

By the end, she looked like he needed a cigarette and a nap. “Why do Americans argue like they’re in a courtroom?” she asked. “It’s like you’re all trying to win a debate, not have a conversation.”

Reality Check: In many cultures, especially in parts of Europe, pauses are intentional.

Silence is space to think… not an invitation to pounce.

If someone’s talking, let them finish.

You’ll look more respectful, and bonus… you might actually hear something worth responding to.

2. Smiling Too Much at Strangers… It Creeps People Out

In Ukraine, I once made the mistake of smiling at every passerby like I was running for mayor. After all, that’s what we do in the States, it’s called being polite, right?

Wrong.

In Kyiv, I learned that unprovoked smiling can make you look mentally unstable… or suspicious.

A woman actually furrowed her brows at me, clutched her purse, and quickly crossed the street.

In her defense, I was wearing cargo shorts and a baseball cap, so I probably looked like the kind of clueless American who’d ask where the nearest McDonald’s was, in perfect English.

Reality Check: In much of the world, especially Eastern Europe, smiling is reserved for people you actually know.

Want to blend in? Save your megawatt grin for when you’ve earned it.

3. Speaking Loudly in Public Spaces… Your Voice Screams Tourist!

Americans love to project. And not just emotionally, we literally speak louder.

On a tram in Strasbourg, I once overheard an American couple debating whether a croissant could count as an actual breakfast.

The entire car did too, silently of course, but with the kind of collective judgment only the French can pull off without saying a word.

In Greece, I was tucked in a corner of a quiet café when an American tourist practically shouted his breakfast order across the room.

The waiter flinched like he’d just been handed a subpoena.

Reality Check: Volume is culture-specific. Abroad, loud voices can signal aggression or entitlement.

Want to avoid the side-eye? Lower the volume.

You’re not narrating a documentary.

4. “Being Too Nice” with Staff or Strangers Can Backfire Abroad

In the U.S., we bond with our baristas. We joke with cashiers. We ask waiters where they’re really from.

It’s not just friendliness, it’s a sport.

But in Spain, when I asked a grocery clerk how her day was going, she stared at me like I’d asked for her bank PIN. “Is everything okay?” she finally asked.

I think she thought I was hitting on her. I wasn’t.

A Spanish Airbnb host once told me, “We don’t talk to strangers unless we have to. It’s not rude. It’s respectful. People have lives.”

Reality Check: What Americans call friendly, others call intrusive.

Start formal. Observe.

If locals warm up, great. If not, it’s not personal.

5. Rushing Service… Think the Waiter’s Ignoring You? Think Again

“Can we get the check?” I asked in a cozy café in France.

Then again.

And again.

Bueller… Bueller… Bueller… (in reference to the 1986 classic Ferris Bueller’s Day Off)

It never came.

In the U.S., restaurants rush you out before your appetizer is cold. But in France, Spain, and Georgia, dining is an event.

There’s no passive-aggressive hovering or check-dropping before you’re halfway through your coffee.

The waiter finally brought the check after we’d been sitting for what felt like a season of Stranger Things.

And he looked a little offended when I apologized as I smiled awkwardly and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take up your table this long.”

He looked genuinely confused. “But, you are supposed to stay,” he said.

Reality Check: Abroad, service isn’t slow… it’s intentional.

It’s designed to let you relax. If you’re in a hurry, go to a fast-food place.

Otherwise, slow down and savor the moment.

6. Oversharing Personal Information Too Quickly… Too Much, Too Soon?

In the U.S., sometimes it seems like it’s completely normal to trauma-dump on someone five minutes into meeting them. “I had a rough childhood, my ex just ghosted me, and here’s my therapist’s number, just in case.”

But try that in Ukraine and watch people edge away like you’re contagious.

I once went on a first date in Kyiv and made the mistake of oversharing.

She nodded politely, then said, “You know… we just met.” Fair.

I had, in fact, led with a story about being stopped on the street by the police for a random “You look foreign, show us your ID” check, at the time.

Not exactly romantic.

Reality Check: Not every culture prizes vulnerability as an icebreaker.

Abroad, emotional intimacy takes time.

Don’t rush it.

7. Treating Cultural Norms Like They’re “Weird”

Mayonnaise on pizza. No dryers. No AC in July.

These were the things that once had me emailing friends and family back home like, You’ll never believe what I just saw.

But then I realized, I, was the weird one.

I was the guest.

And loudly mocking someone’s way of life just made me look like a tourist who couldn’t adapt.

In Italy, when my sister visited, she nearly lost her mind at the lack of air conditioning. “Do they want us to die?” she said.

The Italians? Unbothered.

Just fanning themselves like the heat was part of La Dolce Vita.

Reality Check: Curiosity is good. Judgment is ugly.

If something surprises you, ask about it. Don’t mock it.

You’re there to learn, not compare Yelp reviews with your home country.

You’re Not Rude… You’re Just Unaware

The truth is, most Americans abroad aren’t trying to be rude. But intention doesn’t erase perception.

I’ve embarrassed myself in enough countries to know that cultural faux pas aren’t about being “bad”, they’re about being unaware.

And awareness is fixable. It starts with watching, listening, and dropping the assumption that our way is the right way.

So next time you catch yourself demanding the check, cracking jokes with strangers, or giving a TED Talk about your childhood trauma to a server in Ukraine… pause. Breathe. Adjust.

Travel isn’t just about where you go. It’s about how you show up when you get there.

Now it’s your turn!

Have you ever done something abroad that you thought was normal… only to find out it was wildly rude? 

We’ve all been there.

And if you haven’t yet… you will.

The post 7 Innocent American Behaviors That Offend People Around the World! appeared first on Expats Planet.

Why Following the Wrong Trends Could Wreck Your Next Trip, and How Savvier Travelers Are Outsmarting the Crowd!

Back when I first traveled to Europe, the only “travel trend” was getting lost on purpose. 

No VIP passes to secret olive groves, no staged “authenticity” tours, and definitely no influencers trying to turn every crumbling alley into the next Amalfi Coast. 

You just showed up, winged it, and maybe came home with a story about questionable tapas and train schedules that defied the laws of physics.

Fast-forward to 2025, and travel looks more like performance art. 

It’s not enough to visit a place anymore, you have to optimize it for TikTok, drop $300 on a “local experience” run by an intern who calls himself a “journey architect,” and fight through crowds bigger than Paris’s metro at rush hour just to snap a photo nobody will believe is real.

One of my former teaching students from Ukraine tried booking a “slow travel eco-retreat” in southern France.

For $800, they got three nights in a glorified goat shed, no hot water, and a carbon footprint guilt-trip delivered by a college kid wearing a “Save the Earth” T-shirt made in Bangladesh.

Turns out, chasing trends doesn’t guarantee authenticity, it just guarantees you’ll get scammed with better marketing.

So if you’re dreaming of the perfect trip this year, maybe hold off before blindly following the latest “must-do” list clogging your feed. 

Because behind the hashtags and drone shots, there are landmines just waiting to blow up your vacation, and your wallet.

Here are 8 brutal ways travel trends could be wrecking your trip before it even begins, and how to dodge the fallout.

1. The “Hidden Gem” Hype Is Creating Tourist Traps Overnight

The first time I wandered into a dusty little bar in León, Spain, was in 1998 while I was walking the Camino de Santiago.

It was empty except for a bartender polishing glasses and a soccer game blaring in the background.

Nobody cared who I was.

Nobody took photos of their drinks. It was perfect.

Fast forward to 2015: That same alley now had a velvet rope, a themed cocktail menu, and an “experience curator” at the door asking if you ha a reservation, for a bar that once didn’t even have chairs that matched.

I can’t even imagine what it’s like now…

What happened? Social media happened. Camino tourism happened.

Hollywood happened!

Every so-called “hidden gem” has been blown sky-high by a thousand TikToks promising “authenticity” and Martin Sheen’s 2010 movie “The Way”.

Translation: crowds, prices tripled, locals visibly wishing you would all vanish.

How-to Dodge: Don’t believe the hype. Always check recent visitor reviews on local forums, not curated travel lists.

A true hidden gem doesn’t need branding, and probably doesn’t have Wi-Fi either.

2. Slow Travel? Great… Until It Becomes Expensive Procrastination

When I lived in large town outside of Strasbourg, France, I thought I was slow traveling like a wise old sage.

I spent days sitting in cafés where coffee cost less than a deep breath back home, practicing terrible French, getting lost in cobblestone alleys, and loving minute of it.

By week three, “slow travel” started feeling suspiciously like slow motion bankruptcy.

My “deliberate cultural immersion” basically meant bleeding money on overpriced pastries and museum tickets I kept meaning to visit but somehow never did.

The romantic idea of “taking your time” sounds noble until you realize you’re just floating aimlessly through someone else’s daily grind while your budget quietly dies.

How-to Dodge: Give your slow travel some structure.

Set goals: a museum visit, a language lesson, even just a hike outside the city.

Otherwise, you’re not slow traveling… you’re just renting boredom at a premium.

3. The Revenge Travel Backlash: Crowds, Chaos, and Cancellations

I used to think nothing could top the mosh-pit density of Kyiv’s metro system during a snowstorm: shoulder to shoulder, unspoken agreements about bodily contact long since abandoned.

Then I made the mistake of visiting Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter at noon one summer. 

Imagine the same shoulder-to-shoulder crush, but now everyone’s wielding a selfie stick, live-streaming bad flamenco moves, and yelling at security guards about why they can’t fly drones over 600-year-old cathedrals.

No wonder why locals have been up in arms over the tourist invasion.

Meanwhile, hotels were overbooked, airlines pretended boarding passes were optional, and customer service agents developed the thousand-yard stare of soldiers in trench warfare.

How-to Dodge: If you must travel during peak season, book mid-week flights, avoid Instagram-famous sites during daylight, and always, always confirm every single reservation twice.

Otherwise, you might end up sleeping on the airport floor next to a guy live-streaming his suffering for views.

4. Eco-Tourism Gone Wrong: The Hidden Carbon Costs No One Talks About

In Thailand, I once signed up for an “eco-tour” that promised minimal environmental impact.

They handed out plastic water bottles, packed us into diesel vans, and drove four hours to an “untouched” jungle outpost sandwiched between a shack masquerading as a convenience store and a billboard for luxury condos.

I calculated later that my “green experience” burned more fossil fuel than if I had just stayed home binge-watching documentaries about whales.

How-to Dodge: “Eco” isn’t a sticker someone slaps on their website… it’s a set of actual, painful choices.

Want to be eco-friendly? Walk more. Fly less.

Stop mistaking green marketing for green behavior.

5. Luxury Hostel Scam: Paying Hotel Prices for a Bunk Bed

During a trip to Milan, I got lured in by ads for a “luxury hostel experience.”

What they meant was colorful LED lights, wobbly IKEA bunk beds, and a “gourmet breakfast” that turned out to be instant coffee (in Italy!) and a rock-hard Cornetto, all for $75 a night.

And the air conditioning? Coin-operated, of course.

Meanwhile, in the shared kitchen, backpackers fought over two pots and a stove that only worked if you jammed a fork under the burner, while someone butchered Wonderwall on a beat-up guitar at 2 AM.

How-to Dodge: If you’re paying hotel prices for the privilege of communal showers and 3 a.m. drunken serenades, you’ve been had.

Always read the hostel fine print. “Boutique” is not a synonym for “basic human decency.”

6. Authenticity Theater: How ‘Local’ Experiences Are Now Scripted

A fellow traveler in Tuscany swore she had booked the “ultimate Italian cooking class with a local grandmother.”

In reality: the “grandmother” turned out to be a twenty-something drama major “dude” who spent more time flirting than explaining why his “secret family recipes” looked suspiciously like they came off Pinterest the night before.

The whole thing felt about as authentic as a theme park parade, but with worse pizza.

How-to Dodge: If an experience feels suspiciously tailored to look good on Instagram, it probably was.

Trust your gut: real local interactions don’t come with choreographed photo ops.

7. Subscription Travel Clubs That Promise the World… and Deliver Headaches

One of my former students got sucked into a glossy subscription travel club offering “luxury stays at unbeatable prices.”

They spent $1,700 for a week at a hotel so bleak it made Soviet-era buildings look festive, located next to some recycling plant in the outskirts of Brussels.

When they tried to cancel, the club responded with a 14-page PDF outlining their “extensive satisfaction protocols.”

And guess what? None of them involved refunds.

How-to Dodge: Travel subscription clubs are often like gym memberships: easy to join, impossible to escape, and full of sweaty disappointment.

If you can’t see flexible terms upfront, run.

8. Social Media-Fueled “Must-Sees” That Are Actually Major Letdowns

If you think the Cinque terre is going to look like those pristine influencer shots you see online, prepare yourself.

It’s a full-contact sport: elbowing for photo space, dodging aggressive tour operators, and contemplating your travel choices as you pay $15 for a lukewarm espresso in a café that spells “cappuccino” wrong.

I know because I lived it, one overpriced gelato at a time.

How-to Dodge: Skip the trending hashtags.

Some of the best places I’ve ever seen, back alleys in Pamplona, sleepy side streets in Krakow, were never trending, and thank God for that.

Ditch their Hype, Find your Story

In 2025, real travel isn’t about where you go… it’s what you refuse to chase.

It’s that sleepy square in Spain no one’s snapping selfies in.

It’s the crooked little bookstore in Avignon that smells like dust and freedom, not marketing.

Before you book that influencer-approved “dream trip,” ask yourself:

Are you chasing your dream… or someone else’s highlight reel?

What trend burned you the most?

Because the smartest travelers in 2025 aren’t following trends.

They’re quietly outsmarting them.

The post 8 Sneaky Travel Trends Ruining Trips In 2025 And How To Outsmart Them! appeared first on Expats Planet.

Tired of crowds, inflated prices, and Instagram-fueled mobs? Here’s how I dodged the madness, and found peace where no one was looking.

Have you ever stepped off a plane expecting peace, and instead landed in the middle of a travel influencer summit you never signed up for?

Last July, I arrived in one of my favorite towns in the Balkans, a place I’d written about before, praised for its quiet charm and unpretentious cafés.

The kind of place where the barista remembers your order and your existential crisis.

But this time? I barely recognized it.

The café where I used to sit for hours scribbling into a notebook was now cluttered with ring lights, camera gear and wannabee influencers.

I later saw one of them piloting a drone around the courtyard like it was just another Wednesday.

YouTube channel couples rehearsed ice cream shots with the focus of a wedding photographer, while their boyfriends wilted behind the camera.

• Every alley had a tripod.
• Every viewpoint had a waiting list.
• Buses unloaded with the coordination of synchronized swimmers.

I didn’t just feel out of place… I felt evicted.

It was like the whole town had been rented out by hashtags and high-season Instagram hysteria.

And that’s when it clicked!

We’re not just traveling wrong.

We’re all chasing the same “hidden gems” at the same time, following the same lists, fighting the same crowds, and wondering why it feels fake, exhausting, or worse…forgettable.

I needed out. Not just out of that town, but out of the whole revenge tourism echo chamber.

Here’s how I did it, and how you can too.

1. I Ditched “Hidden Gems” the Moment I Heard the Term

I once stumbled across a quiet Albanian town where the loudest thing was the wind and the most exciting attraction was an old man feeding pigeons in a wool vest.

No Google reviews, no craft beer.

It was heaven.

Naturally, I wrote about it. 

Thought I was being clever.

A few months later, some big-name blogger called it a “hidden gem.”

This summer, my prediction? It’ll have more selfie sticks than trash bins.

What I Do Now: I steer clear of anything screaming “hidden” these days.

(Though full disclosure, I’ve shamelessly used “hidden gems” in my own writing. Let’s keep that between us, ok? Wink, wink.)

If it’s nicknamed “The Venice of X” or pops up on a Top 10 list with recycled stock photos, I’m already halfway to the exit.

If it sounds mildly depressing or totally unappealing… jackpot.

If it sounds unappealing or mildly depressing… perfect.

2. I Stopped Relying on “Best Time to Visit” Lists

“Go in shoulder season,” they said. “You’ll beat the crowds,” they said.

So I went to Mestia in what every guide described as the “sweet spot”.

It was me, a dozen groups of backpackers dressed like sherpas, and an Australian guy who’d drone-shot every inch of the Caucasus before breakfast.

Shoulder season, it turns out, just means everyone had the same idea.

What I Do Now: I go when no one wants to.

I’ve embraced damp November’s and weird late January’s.

No one’s taking sunrise shots at 6am when it’s sleeting sideways… and that’s exactly when the city’s yours.

3. I Traded Trendy Towns for Cities That Just… Work

Saranda was the final straw.

Half the year it turns into a construction site, which lucky me, is when I live here.

The other half it morphs into a budget Ibiza on three Red Bulls, which is when I run for the hills.

The views are still here, but so is the guy DJing on the beach at 10am like he’s getting paid by the decibel.

So I started looking for cities to escape to that locals actually live in, Passau, Gyor, Skopje, Blagoevgrad.

Places with pension offices and shoe repair shops. Places that weren’t trying to impress me.

What I Do Now: If a town has more dentists than digital nomads, I stay long

4. I Started Booking Like I Was Broke… Even When I Wasn’t

The best sleep I ever had abroad was in a $9 guesthouse in Kutaisi run by a retired music teacher who made wine in recycled Sprite bottles.

The worst? A boutique hotel with a Scandinavian toilet and a front desk staff who looked personally offended by my presence.

Expensive doesn’t equal good. Instagrammable definitely doesn’t.

What I Do Now: I filter low to high, not high to sad disappointment.

If reviewers say, “The host treated me like family,” I book it.

If they say, “Stunning rooftop infinity pool,” I know it’ll be $120 a night to feel completely alone.

5. I Took the Long Way On Purpose

In Ukraine, I once caught a train that left a few hours late, stopped for no explained reason, and turned the aisle into a full-blown stock exchange for pickled food at every pit-stop.

One guy hustled cucumbers any pickled form of food you could imagine, hot or cold.

It wasn’t public transport, it was Wall Street for pickles.

The entire ride smelled like hot cabbage and existential dread.

I loved it!

The journey became the memory, not the destination.

And certainly not the Instagram post.

What I Do Now: I take the bus, the train, or anything with no schedule and a “what-the-hell-you-only-live-once” vibe to it.

If it’s a hassle and might involve multiple stops, with hawkers selling everything but their shoes, odds are it’ll be the most human moment I’ll have all month.

6. I Left the City Before I Was Done With It

I left Ioannina too soon. Not because I was ready to go, but because I wanted to miss it.

That sounds dramatic, until you’ve stayed too long somewhere and watched the charm fade into repetition.

There’s a fine line between memory and fatigue.

What I Do Now: I leave while I still want one more coffee. One more walk.

One more awkward attempt at speaking the language.

That way, the city sticks with me, without the burnout.

7. I Learned to Love the Boring Days

There was a day in Tbilisi where all I did was drink coffee, buy bread, and have a stilted five-minute chat with a neighbor who offered me a bag of apples and unsolicited political opinions.

Nothing happened, and it was perfect.

No attractions. No pressure.

Just life, at its own pace.

What I Do Now: I “kinda” schedule “non-days.” No to-do list, no expectations. Just spur of the moment stuff.

Sometimes I just walk.

Sometimes I stare out a window and think about cheese.

Whatever happens, happens.

And that’s the point.

8. I Talk to Locals Like They’re People, Not Props

I once watched a tourist ask a Georgian shopkeeper to “pose more authentically” while he took a photo of her selling herbs.

She gave him a look that could level a grown man.

Connection isn’t something you extract, it’s something you earn.

And no, you don’t need to record it.

What I Do Now: I show up with questions and curiosity, not a script.

If someone shares their story, I listen.

Not everything has to be content.

Sometimes it’s just a conversation.

9. I Stopped Trying to Escape Tourists… And Just Stopped Following Them

You can’t avoid tourists completely, unless you plan on spending your trip in a basement.

But you can stop letting their path dictate yours.

I stopped following the influencer circuit, unsubscribed from travel trend emails, and started planning based on feel.

The weirder the name, the better.

The fewer blog posts and YouTube videos, the more intrigued I am.

What I Do Now: I travel the way I write, going with my instincts first and ignoring all the FOMO hype.

No itinerary. No validation needed.

The Reset You Didn’t Know You Needed

What if the problem isn’t the crowds or the influencers or the cost, but the idea that travel has to mean something?

That it has to be justified, documented, or posted with a caption about “living your best life”?

What if travel was allowed to be quiet? 

Simple? 

A little boring?

The best places I’ve been didn’t give me a sense of achievement.

They gave me stillness and space.

A reminder that the world doesn’t need to perform for me, and I don’t need to perform for it.

You don’t need to escape travel.

You just need to escape the noise.

So, tell me, what kind of traveler do you want to be this year? 

• Chaser?
• Escape artist?
• Lingerer? 

Let’s rethink what travel actually means in the 21st century.

The post 9 Ways I Escaped The Revenge Tourism Chaos And Found Real Travel Again! appeared first on Expats Planet.