From Big Gulps and Bathroom Stalls to Ancestry Claims, Living Abroad Revealed Just How American I Really Am

It happened in a café bathroom in Montpellier. I was staring at the stall door, completely shut, sealed tighter than a Soviet-era border. 

No ankle peep show. No awkward eye contact with the poor soul outside waiting to use it next. Just full, uninterrupted dignity.

And that’s when it hit me.

This wasn’t just a nice bathroom. This was a cultural awakening.

See, I had lived over two decades in the U.S. without questioning why our bathroom stalls are basically designed like confession booths.

Until I spent time living in France, Albania, Georgia, and Ukraine, I honestly thought that was normal.

Like tipping 20 percent no matter how bad your burger was.

Calling yourself “Irish” without owning a passport or knowing where Cork is on a map.

Saying you’re “Italian” while calling mozzarella, muzzadell, manigot for manicotti and gabagool for capicola…

Or finally, being born in the USA, calling yourself Mexican and everyone else “Gringo”, when in all irony, Mexicans from Mexico call anyone north of the border “Gringo” including Mexican-Americans…

But once you leave the States, even just for a few weeks in places like Romania, Ireland, Italy or Mexico, you start to notice things. 

Subtle and strange things. 

Things that seem so perfectly reasonable back home, but suddenly feel absurd when viewed from a sidewalk café in Timișoara or Brescia.

This isn’t one of those rants about how “everything is better in Europe.”

Trust me, I’ve stepped in my fair share of Balkan street puddles that could swallow a goat. 

But the longer I lived abroad, from Ukraine to Albania, the more I realized how much of what I thought was just the way the world works was actually just… American.

So if you’ve ever wondered whether the rest of the planet is quietly judging us for our red Solo cup nostalgia, giant “Big Gulp” sodas, or obsession with personal space, keep reading.

Here are 8 things I didn’t realize were totally, unmistakably American… until I left.

1. Giant Drink Sizes and Our Ice Addiction

I ordered a Coke in a café in Tbilisi once and got what looked like a shot glass of cola with precisely two ice cubes, each the size of a kidney stone.

That’s when it hit me,

“Americans don’t drink beverages, we host Ice Capades in our Big Gulps.”

In the U.S., we fill the cup with ice and then drizzle some drink on top, like the soda’s just there to keep the ice company.

Abroad, people want flavor, not frostbite.

When I asked for more ice in Kyiv, the bartender looked at me like I had just asked for his grandmother’s meager pension.

What to remember: If you’re headed abroad, adjust your ice expectations.

You’re not being stiffed. You’re just not in Kansas anymore.

2. Elbow Room: The American Love Affair with Personal Space

In Spain, standing in line feels like an exercise in synchronized breathing.

If there’s more than six inches between you and the person in front of you, someone will assume you’re lost or about to faint.

Meanwhile, in the U.S., we treat space like property. 

I once moved slightly closer in a grocery store queue in Ireland and immediately felt I had broken some invisible intimacy barrier.

The man turned and looked at me the way I looked at Ukrainians putting mayonnaise on pizza, suspicious, confused, deeply offended.

What to remember: Outside the U.S., standing close doesn’t mean aggression.

It just means you’re in line… like everyone else.

3. Dorm Life and Red Solo Cups: Hollywood Lied to Us

I brought up “dorm life” to a friend in France and he blinked like I had said “fraternity paddle.”

Dorm culture? Frats and Sororities? Keg parties? 

Most students there either live at home or rent a flat with a few friends, although there are Student Housing options similar to our “Dorms”, but they’re nowhere near the same.

I mean no RAs, no hallway dramas, and definitely no themed keg parties with neon togas and beer pongs, let alone fraternities and hazing.

You mention “red Solo cups” abroad and you’ll get one of two reactions.

Either confusion or a bad memory of an American party gone wrong.

What to remember: College life outside the U.S. is more about classes and less about competitive drinking games.

Crazy, I know.

4. Bathroom Stalls with Gaps: Why Are We OK With This?

France. A public bathroom. A door that shut completely. I felt like I was in a hotel suite.

Total privacy.

No eye contact. No peekaboo gap that gives strangers a clear view of your socks, shoes, and existential crisis.

In the U.S., it’s like stall doors were designed by someone who hates boundaries.

For a country that loves its “personal space”, I’ll never understand how we got so advanced with technology and yet can’t manage to fully enclose a toilet.

What to remember: The next time you’re in a fully sealed stall abroad, take a moment and appreciate the dignity. It’s earned.

5. Flags, Flags Everywhere

In America, you’ll find the flag on T-shirts, bikinis, truck decals, and yes, even beer cans.

I once counted six flags on one suburban street before I even reached the mailbox. I never really took note of our flag obsession phenomenon until I had guests over staying with me from France for a month.

Contrast that with a street in Spain or France. Flags come out on national holidays, official events, and maybe the odd soccer match. That’s it.

Patriotism exists, but it’s less… merchandised.

I remember flag days from school, so it’s ingrained in us early in life.

What to remember: The stars and stripes might fly high at home, but abroad, less is usually more when it comes to national branding.

6. Pharmaceutical Ads on TV: Only in America (and New Zealand…)

I was watching TV at a friend’s place in France and commented that there were hardly any drug commercials.

He looked puzzled and said, “Why would you advertise medicine like a bag of chips?”

Back in the U.S., you can’t go five minutes without hearing about a drug whose side effects include: 

• Spontaneous blindness.
• Headache.
• Dry mouth.
• Liver damage.
• Gambling addiction, cheating on your spouse.

Or possible death, while a man flies a kite with his golden retriever in slow motion.

What to remember: If you’re abroad and not being pitched pills every seven minutes, don’t worry.

You’re not missing out. You’re detoxing.

7. Tipping Culture: A Constant Math Test

You ever try explaining 20 percent tipping culture to someone in France or Germany?

They’ll stare at you like you just suggested paying extra for the air you breathed during dinner.

I once tipped a waiter in Kyiv and he ran after me thinking I had overpaid by mistake.

In many countries, service staff are paid a living wage and tipping is a small rounding up way of saying an extra “thank you”.

It’s not a compulsory math quiz disguised as a morality test.

What to remember: Check local norms before leaving a tip.

Sometimes your generosity might just confuse the hell out of someone.

8. Calling Ourselves “Irish” or “Italian” Without Ever Leaving Connecticut

Only in America can someone say “I’m Italian, Scottish, Irish or German” while never having stepped foot outside the continental U.S.

I’ve heard this claim more times than I’ve heard “free refills,” and trust me, that’s saying something.

In places like Albania, France or Poland, if you tell someone you’re Irish or Italian, they expect you to be from Ireland or Italy.

Not third-generation New Haven, Connecticut.

A friend of mine in France once said, “Why do Americans always say they’re from somewhere else?”

What to remember: When you’re abroad, you’re American. Own it.

The rest is ancestry.com content.

What I Realized Once I Left

The more I traveled, the more I realized how much of my identity was shaped by things I assumed were just “the way it is.”

Turns out, what we call “normal” in America often feels like quirky folklore nostalgia or an inside joke the rest of the world was never let in on.

From toilet stall designs to drink sizes to the strange pride we take in claiming a country we’ve never visited, stepping outside the U.S. offers a mirror you didn’t know you needed.

What about you?

What “totally American” habit or belief did you only notice once you left the States? 

The post 8 Quirks I Never Knew Were Totally American Until I Left The U.S. appeared first on Expats Planet.

From Face-Scan Boarding to Robot Luggage Here’s How to Outsmart Airport Chaos and Travel Like You’re Already in 2030

I didn’t expect my face to be my boarding pass, but there I was at Schiphol, blinking into a camera while the gate opened like I was Jason Bourne. 

That is, if Bourne wore sneakers, clutched a pretzel, and forgot to pack toothpaste.

No passport. No boarding pass. 

Just one deadpan scan and a machine that somehow knew more about me than my last girlfriend.

Schiphol’s been testing facial recognition boarding for years. 

Scan once, smirk once, and boom… you’re at your gate like a VIP who doesn’t need paper or patience.

Then in Warsaw, I saw a coffee robot crank out a latte faster than I could pronounce “Robusta.” 

No barista. No small talk.

Just caffeine delivered with military precision and zero foam art.

And in Paris, I almost tossed my sandwich into what I thought was a trash can… turned out to be a charging locker.

PIN-controlled.

Secure.

And thankfully not craving ham and cheese.

No, I haven’t seen Burek delivered by drone in Tirana yet, but the way airports are evolving, give it six months.

If you’ve ever tripped through security with one shoe on and a crumpled boarding pass in your teeth, read on. 

These 9 airport upgrades aren’t the future.

They’re happening right now.

And the people using them?

They’re already halfway to boarding while you’re still digging for your passport.

1. Face Scan Boarding: Fast, Slick, and a Little Creepy

At Madrid-Barajas, I boarded an Iberia flight using nothing but my face.

No passport. No paper.

Just a green light and the vague feeling the gate knew my secrets.

It’s fully live at select biometric gates in Terminal 4. Just upload your passport and photo in the Iberia app before you fly and walk through like you own the place.

Worried about privacy? If you’ve ever shouted “Hey Siri” while stress-eating a kebab, you’re already on file.

Smart move: Enroll before the airport.

Just make sure your face still matches your passport pic from three haircuts ago.

2. The Robot That “Could” Bring You Coffee (Just Not in Tokyo)

A former teaching buddy swore a robot served him coffee at Haneda. It didn’t.

Haneda has friendly robots, sure, but they give directions, not cappuccinos.

If you want robot room service, head to Incheon, where LG bots actually deliver food to your gate via app.

Over in Barcelona, a robotic kitchen preps meals with the grace of a caffeinated octopus.

So yes, robots are feeding travelers. Just not everywhere, and definitely not at Haneda.

Smart move: Flying through Incheon or Barcelona? Download the app, order early, and let the bots hustle. 

Tokyo’s robots are helpful, but they won’t brew your espresso. 

Not yet anyway…

3. Why Biometric Luggage Drop Is the Future and Already Here

At Madrid-Barajas, I looked at a camera, my bag got tagged, and that was it.

No line. No agent.

No lecture about my overloaded “carry-on.”

After further research I found that Biometric bag drop is not only live with Iberia in Madrid, but expanding in Paris with Air France, and rolling out at Schiphol with KLM.

Your face becomes your boarding pass and bag tag, if you register first.

Just make sure your passport photo still looks like you.

If not, good luck convincing a machine you’re you.

Smart move: Register through your airline’s app, check in online, and bring a printed tag, just in case facial recognition decides you’re “suspicious.”

4. Smart Gates That Tell You When You’re Lost and What to Do

I was in Barcelona when I saw a blinking map panel come to life as I paused in front of it.

A few swipes, and it showed me the quickest route to my gate, estimated walking time, and even suggested a bathroom break on the way.

Smart signage like this is popping up in high-traffic European hubs and works beautifully when synced with airport apps.

Some even adjust based on real-time congestion.

I once got turned around in Warsaw, but a quick glance at a smart map helped me reroute without that sweaty terminal sprint I know too well.

Best move: Download the airport’s app the moment you land.

Most of the good stuff is invisible unless you’ve got Bluetooth and location sharing turned on.

5. Digital Border Gates That Actually Save Time

Last time I landed in Paris, I skipped the long lines and walked straight through one of those slick automated gates, no forms, no stamps, no passport drama.

Just a facial scan, a green light, and that sweet sound of official approval.

France’s PARAFE system, Spain’s eGates, and Dublin’s biometric checkpoints all let you breeze through immigration if you’ve got a passport with that little chip on the front.

But don’t get cocky, take off your glasses, skip the smirk, and give the camera your best “I’m not a threat” face.

Smart move: Keep your passport handy even after the scan.

The random human spot-check is still alive and well.

6. Order Airport Food Ahead and Skip the Lines

At Madrid-Barajas, I used the Aena app’s “Food to Fly” and picked up a jamón sandwich without battling the food court hordes.

No shouting, no fries flying in my face.

Apps like Grab and AtYourGate offer similar perks elsewhere, mostly in the US.

Madrid’s version works just fine when you’re hungry, tired, and not in the mood to chase down a sandwich.

Smart move: Order right after security.

Wait too long and you’ll be sprinting to your gate, sandwich flapping like a boarding pass.

7. Charging Lockers You Can Actually Trust

Last summer in Paris, I nearly tossed my sandwich into what I thought was a futuristic trash can.

Good thing I looked twice… it was a charging locker.

You pop your phone in, set a PIN, and boom, you’re free to roam while your battery gets a lifeline.

These ChargeBox lockers are popping up in major airports like Charles de Gaulle and Orly.

No, you can’t track them from your phone or reserve one…yet.

But they’re secure and wildly convenient when every outlet in your terminal is already claimed by someone sleeping on their backpack.

Smart move: Use it when you see it. They fill up fast.

And don’t forget your PIN, or your phone. Seriously. Someone did.

Not saying it was me.

8. AI Crowd Tracking That Tells You When to Arrive

A German traveler I met on a bus to Skopje said Frankfurt’s airport app showed live security wait times.

I doubted it… until I looked.

Airports like Frankfurt, Heathrow, Seattle-Tacoma, and Cincinnati now use AI to track crowd flow.

Some, like Heathrow and Seattle, even share real-time updates through their apps or websites.

It’s not everywhere yet, but where it is, it saves time and stress.

Smart move: Download the airport’s app and check under “security” or “live status.”

It’s often buried, but worth the tap.

9. Luggage That Follows You Like a Dog No Joke

No, I haven’t bought one. But I have seen them in action.

Most recently in Barcelona, where a guy’s carry-on actually followed him through the terminal like a well-trained spaniel.

Brands like Airwheel and Travelmate are actually selling these things now, complete with GPS, sensors, and a tendency to get confused by toddlers and tight corners.

They work… until they don’t.

Would I trust one to navigate a crowded terminal solo? Probably not.

But would I watch it try, with popcorn in hand? Absolutely.

Smart move: If you use one, keep a hand free.

When they glitch, they tend to freeze… just like the airport Wi-Fi they’re probably connected to.

The Future of Travel Is Watching You

Today’s airports know your name, your flight, and probably your sandwich order.

The chaos isn’t gone, but it’s getting replaced by robots, scanners, and apps quietly waiting for travelers who actually know how to use them.

Next time you’re in Paris or Warsaw, look twice.

That guy getting espresso from a robot? That could’ve been you.

Which upgrade blew your mind, or made you want to cancel your flight? 

The future’s already here, and it just scanned your face.

The post 9 Futuristic Airport Upgrades Most Travelers Don’t Even Know Exist appeared first on Expats Planet.

From Rainbow Bagels to Charcoal Lattes, These Are the Culinary Crimes Europeans Just Can’t Forgive

I once tried explaining a rainbow bagel to a baker in rural France. 

He blinked. 

Tilted his head like I’d just confessed to microwaving escargot. 

Then, with the slow disdain only a Frenchman can pull off, he said, “So… it is for a child’s birthday?”

That same week, I showed a Spanish friend a picture of a glitter-covered donut I saw trending online. She looked genuinely concerned. 

“Is it… safe?” she asked, like I’d just offered her a spoonful of uranium.

After more than two decades living outside the U.S., from the post-Soviet grit of Ukraine to the mountain cafés of the Pyrenees, I’ve learned that America’s culinary creativity is a global punchline.

In France, a croissant is a thing of poetry.

In Bulgaria, yogurt is practically sacred.

Meanwhile, back in the U.S., we’re slapping gold leaf on tacos, stuffing cereal into sushi rolls, and drinking activated charcoal like it’s holy water.

If you’ve ever tried to explain “deconstructed avocado toast” to someone in Albania, you’ll understand the blank stare that follows.

My favorite waitress in my favorite Georgian restaurant in Tbilisi once said it best,

“You Americans like your food to look like art, so you forget it doesn’t taste good.”

In this article, we’re diving fork-first into seven of the most ridiculous U.S. food trends, each one more absurd than the last.

And I promise you, somewhere in Spain, someone is already judging you for your pumpkin spice obsession.

1. Rainbow Everything… Because Beige Is Too Boring

The first time I saw a rainbow bagel, I thought it was a marketing prank.

Bright stripes of artificial color swirled into what used to be a decent breakfast food.

In New York, it’s a trend.

In Europe, it’s a crime against bread…. and humanity.

When I showed a French baker in Béziers a photo of rainbow grilled cheese, he leaned forward like he was analyzing a crime scene.

“Why would you do that?” he asked, not sarcastically, but in genuine confusion.

In places like France, Spain, and Italy, food isn’t just fuel or flash, it’s cultural identity.

You don’t mess with it to get likes.

Bread is sacred. Cheese is serious.

The idea of making it look like something out of a toy store is borderline offensive.

Reality Check: When your food has more color than a Monet painting, expect a European to assume it belongs at a children’s party… not on a plate.

2. Gold Leaf Tacos… Literal Wealth Flex on a Tortilla

I saw a gold-leaf taco trending from a restaurant in Las Vegas.

Price tag? Around $500.

Inside was wagyu beef, truffle oil, caviar, and a tortilla wrapped in 24-karat edible gold. As if anyone actually orders it for the taste.

Meanwhile, in the backstreets of Tbilisi, I once had lobio, pickled vegetables, and fresh shoti bread straight from a tone oven.

Total bill: about $3.

It fed me for hours and still ranks as one of the most satisfying meals I’ve ever had.

Europeans see food as something to nourish and connect.

Americans sometimes treat it like a jewelry display.

In places like France, Spain, Poland or Georgia, excess for the sake of status is something people recognize, and mock.

Reality Check: When your taco is shinier than your future, it’s probably not about the food anymore.

3. Charcoal Lattes… Burnt Wood, but Make It $8

I ordered a charcoal latte in Florida once. It looked like a potion out of a dystopian novel and tasted like warm water filtered through a fireplace.

Supposedly “detoxifying.” What it actually did was confuse every European I told.

A Bulgarian pharmacist I met in Blagoevgrad thought I was kidding when I explained it.

“You drank activated charcoal?” he asked, blinking. “For fun?”

Charcoal is something they use medically in emergencies to absorb poison.

The idea of sipping it recreationally made about as much sense as snacking on toothpaste.

Reality Check: If the thing you’re drinking is usually administered in a hospital setting, it probably shouldn’t be on a café menu.

4. Pumpkin Spice Mania… The Seasonal Cult

Pumpkin spice isn’t a flavor. It’s a marketing machine that takes over America every fall.

You’ll find it in lattes, candles, Pop-Tarts, cereal, protein bars, and deodorant.

Yes, deodorant.

And Americans embrace it like it’s a national holiday.

I tried explaining this to a friend in Kraków.

He asked if it was a traditional harvest ingredient or had cultural significance.

I said no, it’s just what we put in everything once the leaves turn orange.

His silence was louder than his judgmental side-eye.

In Europe, pumpkins are generally roasted or blended into soup. Maybe baked with a little garlic.

But you’ll never see a Parisian walking into a café and asking for a pumpkin-scented macaron with a side of Halloween nostalgia.

Reality Check: What Americans see as cozy and seasonal, Europeans often see as a scented candle you accidentally drank.

5. Deconstructed Meals… When Your Food Is Just a Puzzle

A friend of mine from Brooklyn, told me while ranting about how “gentrified” the place had become, used ordering the “deconstructed” burger as an example.

He said it had arrived as raw greens, an undercooked patty, a single tomato slice, and a “pipette” of aioli, all laid out like some Williamsburg hipster forgotta’ finish their shift.

No plate, just a wooden slab.

This kind of plating would never fly in places like Spain, France or Italy, where food comes as a cohesive whole.

I’ve had three-course meals in Spanish bodegas where the plating was minimal, but the flavor was unforgettable.

There’s no ego in the presentation… only pride in the recipe.

Europeans understand minimalism.

What they don’t understand is why Americans are paying extra to do the chef’s job themselves.

Reality Check: If your meal comes with instructions, it’s no longer dinner… it’s performance art.

6. Fake Healthy Ice Cream… 20 Grams of Protein, 0 Grams of Joy

High-protein, low-sugar, zero-fat ice creams are everywhere in the U.S.

They promise all the indulgence without the calories.

What they actually taste like is frozen sandpaper rolled in Splenda.

I once tried to sell the idea to a Spanish friend in Ferrol while we were eating real gelato.

She didn’t even answer.

She just handed me another scoop of turrón and shook her head like I’d insulted her grandmother.

Across Europe, dessert is meant to be enjoyed… not negotiated.

In France, you eat the pastry.

In Spain, you lick the cone clean.

No one is counting macros. No one is asking if it’s keto.

It’s dessert. It’s supposed to make you happy.

Reality Check: If you need a protein count to justify eating ice cream, maybe the problem isn’t the ice cream.

High-protein, low-sugar, zero-fat = Zero taste.

7. Extreme Portions… “Why So Much?” Says Everyone in Europe

Take one French friend to a Cheesecake Factory and you’ll never hear the end of it.

I did.

When his pasta arrived, he looked up at me and asked if it was a mistake.

“This could feed three families,” he said, stunned. “Why do you need this much?”

In the U.S., big portions equal value. More is better. 

In Europe, especially places like France or Poland, the goal is balance.

Meals are sized for one person.

You’re supposed to finish them and feel content, not bloated and ashamed.

Once in rural Bulgaria, I had lunch that included soup, a main course, salad, and compote… all served in human-sized portions.

No guilt. No waste.

And no need for a nap or a wheelbarrow to get home either.

Reality Check: If your entrée requires a second table just to hold it, maybe it’s not a meal… it’s a warning sign.

So, Is It Innovation or Insanity?

There’s a fine line between creative and ridiculous. Some U.S. food trends are clever, fun, and even delicious.

But many feel more like attention-seeking, clickbaity stunts than culinary progress.

Somewhere between rainbow bagels and gold tacos, we lost the plot.

Living in places like Georgia and France taught me that food doesn’t need to scream to be good.

It doesn’t need to be reinvented every season. 

Sometimes, a warm bowl of borscht or a crusty baguette does more for the soul than a glitter-covered donut ever could.

Reality Check: Just because something goes viral, doesn’t mean it deserves a place on your plate.

What’s Your Verdict?

Are we pushing boundaries, or just desperate for clicks? 

What U.S. food trend made you laugh, cringe, or come on, admit it, secretly fall in love with it? 

Unless it’s the rainbow grilled cheese.

Then we need to talk.

The post 7 American Food Trends That Europeans Think Are Totally Insane appeared first on Expats Planet.

Real Stories They Don’t Show You in Travel Vlogs, From Visa Chaos to Fake Taxis and $40 ATMs…

It was 2000, and I was finally leaving Ukraine after a year abroad, already picturing the hugs, burgers on the grill, and stories I’d unload at the dinner table. 

Then I hit passport control with an expired visa and a smile that vanished instantly. 

I stood there sweating like I was smuggling diamonds, my Russian just good enough to catch the officer muttering “problem” but nowhere near fluent enough to talk my way out of it.

That wasn’t the first airport screw-up I’ve ever had and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

Not even close.

Like the time in Georgia when an “official” taxi driver offered me a fixed-rate ride that turned into a sightseeing tour of gas stations and dead-end streets.

Or the magical Airport ATM at London’s Heathrow that gave me cash while disappearing $40 in “foreign transaction fees” without so much as a thank you.

And then there was the so-called “lounge” in Chicago where I paid $60 to sit next to a microwave and a broken coffee machine.

These weren’t just travel inconveniences. They were expensive, stressful, panic-inducing episodes that made me question every travel decision I’d ever made.

No one tells you this stuff on YouTube. Not the influencers in floppy hats and oversized sunglasses.

Not the guy who thinks he’s Indiana Jones because he took a tuk-tuk in Chiang Mai.

If you’ve ever raced through the Warsaw airport with untied shoelaces, gripping your passport and a crumpled boarding pass, you’re not alone.

Maybe you were also juggling a bottle of you’re favorite drink that security just confiscated with zero explanation.

If that sounds familiar, then this article is for you.

Because in this article, I’m going to break down the 7 airport scams, surprises, and screw-ups I had to learn the hard way so you don’t have to.

1. The Visa That Expired While I Was Still in Line

Ukraine, 2000. The border guard stared me down, tapping my passport like a small-town cop ready to make a score.

I tried to smile casually while staring down at my boarding pass and ongoing ticket hoping they had the answers.

Turns out, my visa expired that day, not tomorrow, not next week that day.

I had read the visa dates.

I just didn’t factor in time zones, weekends, or the uniquely creative way some countries calculate “valid until.”

Thankfully, I had a few bucks on me instead of grivnas. My Russian was just good enough to look lost in three languages.

But, luckily, a kind woman behind me stepped in, handled the situation, and gave me a blunt lesson in how things actually work at a Ukrainian border.

But it could’ve gone very differently.

Lesson: Your visa doesn’t care about your itinerary. It cares about bureaucracy. Set alarms. Add calendar reminders.

Assume weekends don’t exist when it comes to government anything.

2. The ATM That Took a Cut Big Enough for Dinner

London Heathrow. I needed some pounds and made the rookie mistake of trusting an airport ATM with a friendly glow and the words “No Commission” plastered across the screen.

It kindly offered to convert my withdrawal to USD “for my convenience.”

What it actually did was skim over $40 in conversion fees on a $100 withdrawal for the convenience of giving me my own money.

Lesson: If an ATM promises convenience, assume it’s code for daylight robbery.

Always take out money in the local currency and stick to machines run by actual banks, not ones designed to fleece jet-lagged travelers.

3. The Fake Taxi Driver Who Looked Like He Was Sent by the Airport

Tirana, Albania. I’d just arrived from the U.S via Vienna, tired, dehydrated, and in no mood for decision-making.

A guy in a vest waved me over.

Clipboard in hand, he looked like one of those “Airport lanyards”. He even had a sticker that looked vaguely official.

He offered a “flat rate” and carried my bag like he worked there.

Ten minutes into the ride, I noticed we were circling the same gas station.

The meter was off, and the route was… scenic. Too scenic.

Lesson: If it walks like a scam and talks like a scam, it probably drives like one too. Use vetted apps, official airport taxi desks or pre-book through a known company.

And no, clipboards don’t mean anything.

I’ve seen a teenager with a clipboard convince people to form a line at a Gelato shop in Florence.

4. The “Airport Wi-Fi” That Was Just a Trap

Bulgaria. I connected to what I thought was the official Sofia Airport Wi-Fi.

It was free, fast, and immediately flooded my screen with pop-ups like it was 2004.

Within minutes, apps were asking for permissions I didn’t remember granting, and my phone started behaving like it had developed a personality disorder.

I turned it off, yanked out the battery (back when that was a thing), and hoped for the best.

Lesson: If the Wi-Fi doesn’t ask for a login, it’s probably asking for something worse.

Use your own data, a mobile hotspot, or at the very least, a VPN.

Airports are already stressful, you don’t need malware flying home with you.

5. The Bag Wrap Lie That Almost Caused a Missed Flight

Mexico City. A former colleague had a layover of about 45 minutes until boarding, and a bag she’d planned to carry on.

That’s when an eager staff member with a giant roll of plastic wrap told her the bag had to be wrapped for “security reasons.”

She panicked. He wrapped it like a Christmas ham. Then charged her. Then said wrapped bags couldn’t go through security and had to be checked.

So she rushed to the check-in counter.

Only to find it had already closed!

Lesson: Panic purchases are almost always a mistake. If someone insists something is “required,” go verify with the airline yourself.

Also, don’t wrap your bag unless you’re hiding something sketchy or just really hate zippers.

6. The Exit Fee She Didn’t Know Existed… Until It Was Too Late

A friend of mine was flying out of Punta Cana, thinking she had everything sorted.

Boarding pass in hand, bags checked, passport stamped, security cleared.

She was already mentally at her gate sipping overpriced airport coffee.

Then came the surprise checkpoint. A stern-looking man asked for a “departure fee.”

She smiled, reached for her card.

He frowned and pointed at a faded sign that may as well have read “Cash or cry.”

She paid in crumpled dollars she found in a sunglasses case.

No receipt. No explanation.

Just a shrug and a wave like this was completely standard procedure.

Lesson: Always check if your departure tax is included in your ticket. 

Only pay at real counters and not some random guy with a clipboard. 

Never hand over cash unless you’re 100 percent sure it’s legit. 

And for your own peace of mind, do a quick search before your trip so your airport goodbye doesn’t turn into a shakedown.

7. The Airport Lounge I Paid For… and Immediately Regretted

Chicago O’Hare, Terminal 5. My flight was delayed and hope was running on fumes.

The Swissport lounge promised “relief” with comfy chairs, Wi-Fi and maybe a decent drink.

But it was more like comic relief… and not the funny kind.

What I got was flickering fluorescent lights, carpet stains older than some passengers, and a “snack bar” that looked like a vending machine exploded.

No restrooms, barely any outlets, and instant noodles passed off as cuisine.

A guy next to me was eating granola bars like they were part of the wine pairing.

The espresso machine? Out of order.

The mood? Depressing.

Lesson: If the lounge feels like a sad DMV with stale snacks, it probably is.

Check LoungeBuddy or recent reviews first, and always peek in before paying.

If there’s no bathroom and the food looks like it came from a high school exam survival kit, spend that money somewhere else.

What’s Your Worst Airport Screw-Up?

Airports are supposed to be the start of something great… adventure, exploration, escape. But sometimes, they’re where the travel horror stories begin.

If you’ve ever found yourself confused at customs, conned by a “helper,” or quietly crying into your overpriced airport sandwich, you’re in good company.

What’s the wildest airport scam, surprise, or screw-up you’ve ever experienced? 

The post 7 Airport Scams, Surprises, & Screw-Ups I Had To Learn The Hard Way appeared first on Expats Planet.

Forget the Influencers! Here’s What Instagram Doesn’t Show You About Real Expat Life

You think you’re ready to move abroad just because you’ve binge-watched a few travel vlogs, memorized Duolingo phrases, and have a Pinterest board labeled, “My Future Expat Life”? 

Let me stop you right there.

I’m currently living in Albania where stray dogs understand traffic laws better than most drivers. 

I’ve stood in line at government offices in Ukraine so long I started recognizing people from previous lifetimes. 

And yes, I’ve even tried to explain to a taxi driver in Georgia why I didn’t want to share the ride with three strangers and a goat. 

You think “moving abroad” just means “escaping the Matrix” and unlocking the next level of your “best life”.

What it actually unlocks is your patience threshold, identity crisis, and a daily craving for whatever snack you can’t find anymore.

Most people don’t crash and burn overseas because they ran out of money or got denied a visa.

That’s the easy stuff. 

But, no one tells you how soul-wrecking it is to be misunderstood on every level. That it gets painfully quiet when you no longer have your people around.

And you quickly realize just how much of your confidence was built on things like Amazon’s free delivery, Costco and unlimited data plans.

In this article, I’m going to walk you through the 10 brutally honest signs that you’re not actually ready to make the leap… even if you think you are. 

If you’ve ever fantasized about sipping wine in France or working remotely from a beach in Thailand, this one’s for you.

Just know the wine won’t come with ice cubes, the Wi-Fi might be weak, and you might want to throw your laptop into the Aegean Sea by week two. 

Let’s begin.

1. You Think Culture Shock Is Just Jet Lag

I thought culture shock was a punchline people exaggerated in travel blogs.

Then I moved to Ukraine in the late 90s.

Imagine stepping off the plane and realizing you can’t read a street sign, the water smells vaguely metallic, and everyone looks at you like CIA for smiling too much.

Culture shock doesn’t knock.

It hits when the honeymoon ends and you’re in a Kyiv supermarket, staring at a slab of mystery meat, wondering if it’s pork or pigeon.

What to remember: Culture shock isn’t about distance. It’s a full-on identity dislocation.

And it sticks around long after your jet lag fades.

2. You Can’t Function Without Amazon Prime

A friend in France nearly cried when her curling iron adapter fried the plug and Amazon wouldn’t deliver a new one until next Thursday.

In the U.S., we’re spoiled.

Click. Confirm. Next day delivery.

Try that in Tbilisi, where I waited two weeks for parts to fix a 2010 MacBook Pro through a local Amazon forwarding service.

No overnight delivery.

If you break or lose something, you improvise.

Or wait.

What to remember: Moving abroad means swapping convenience for creativity.

3. You Hate Being Alone and Offline

There were days in Georgia when I had no Wi-Fi, no data left on the SIM, and no one nearby who speaks English.

So I did what any lonely expat would do: walked to a café, tortured patient waitstaff with broken Russian, and journaled like it was 2003.

Isolation isn’t just a lazy afternoon.

It’s a regular state, especially in the first few months.

If you can’t sit with yourself in silence, living abroad starts to feel less like and escape and more like a sensory deprivation tank.

What to remember: If you crave nonstop stimulation or approval, you’re going to unravel faster than a cheap hostel blanket.

4. You Crave Predictability and Routine

In Ukraine, I tried to set up a bank account with paperwork, ID, proof of address, and a utility bill.

The woman barely looked up and said, “Come back tomorrow.”

I came back and…

She was gone.

No reason. No follow-up.

That’s not an exception. That’s the rule.

The routines you took for granted like schedules, structure, and familiar groceries?

Gone!

Expecting a clean 9 to 5 system will leave you pacing outside a closed office with your to-do list and no one who gives a damn.

What to remember: Flexibility isn’t optional. It’s survival.

5. You Panic Without Customer Support

I once bought a prepaid SIM in North Macedonia that stopped working two days later.

I went back to the shop, receipt in hand, and explained the issue.

The guy shrugged. “Try another one.” That was the support.

Forget about hotlines and live chat.

In many places, “customer service” is either nonexistent or laughably unhelpful.

If something goes wrong, you either solve it yourself or live with it.

Sometimes both.

What to remember: You’re not in Kansas anymore.

And there’s no 1–800 number to fix that.

6. You Can’t Stand Bureaucracy or Paperwork

Registering my residency in Ukraine felt like auditioning for a low-budget spy thriller.

Multiple trips, rubber stamps, a hand-drawn map to the local office, and a woman behind a glass window who looked like she hadn’t smiled since the Soviet era.

If you hate paperwork, don’t move abroad.

Because the paperwork never ends. Visas, permits, registrations, renewals. And it’s rarely in English.

Bonus: nobody tells you the rules until you’ve already broken them.

What to remember: Bureaucracy is the hidden full-time job of every expat.

7. You Take Everything Personally… Even Stares

I’ve been stared at on public transport in Ukraine like I just landed from Mars, too many times to count.

I used to call it the “Ne Nashe” look, which in Russian, roughly translated, means, “not one of us.”

For me it was always strange. I’m a blue-eyed white man in one of the whitest countries I’ve ever been to.

Yet I was still, physically, considered “an outsider.”

Then came the double-takes when I ordered in Russian with an American accent.

But nobody’s trying to insult.

You’re new. Different.

Taking it personally will exhaust you.

Not everything is a microaggression.

Sometimes people are curious. Or they think you’re a lost celebrity from a B-list American sitcom.

What to remember: If you expect the world to understand and automatically give you validation, you’re going to be disappointed.

8. You Expect People to Get You Immediately

In Ireland, humor is dry and subtle. In Spain, it’s loud.

In Ukraine, sarcasm is a second language, but so is suspicion.

If you think being clever, kind, or smooth at home means you’ll thrive abroad, think again.

I’ve told jokes that landed nowhere, shared stories that missed entirely, and ordered soup in Romania that turned out to be pickled tripe.

It’s humbling and part of the deal.

What to remember: Abroad, you’re a foreigner first. The rest takes time.

9. You Get Easily Frustrated When Plans Change

I once had a bus to Tirana canceled two hours before departure. No refund. No explanation. Just a shrug and a smoke break.

My plan? Gone.

My backup plan? Improvised at a café with slow Wi-Fi and a stale pastry.

In many places, plans are more like suggestions.

Delays, strikes, holidays you’ve never heard of, these will wreck your calendar.

If your stress response is tightly wound to timetables, you’re going to come undone.

What to remember: The only constant abroad is change.

Sometimes sudden, often inconvenient, always unavoidable.

10. You Think It’ll Be Cheaper and Easier Than Home

A friend of mine who had relocated to Mexico once said to me, “You can live here cheap. Or you can live here well. But not both.”

And she was right.

While cost of living may look better on paper, the reality often involves trade-offs.

In Albania, my rent is low. But utilities are separate, prices for many other things are higher than I had expected, and my attempts at being frugal just make things harder.

Sometimes “cheaper” means cold showers, power cuts, bad internet, and more problem-solving than sunset watching.

What to remember: Cheaper is relative. Easier is a myth.

What Are You Really Getting Into

Still dreaming of expat life? Good. You should.

Just make sure it’s not a fantasy propped up by social media reels and beach photos with suspiciously perfect lighting.

Living abroad is powerful, perspective-shifting, and one of the most rewarding decisions I’ve ever made.

It’s also messy, unpredictable, and sometimes lonely.

Those who thrive abroad are the ones who walk in with their eyes wide open and their expectations checked at the door.

So what about you? 

What surprised you most when you moved abroad, or what fear is holding you back now?

The dream is still alive.

But it only works when you show up for the hard parts too.

The post 10 Hard Truths You’re Not Ready To Move Abroad Even If You Think You Are appeared first on Expats Planet.

From Funeral Flowers to Insulting a Man’s Wife, These Awkward Moments Will Make You Laugh and Teach You What Not to Do Abroad

The Art of Being Gloriously Lost in Translation

Have you ever confidently ordered a local dish only to discover it’s made of something you didn’t know was edible? 

Welcome to my life abroad, where every interaction is a potential SNL comedy sketch and cultural confusion follows me around like a bad credit score.

Take Ukraine, for example. 

I once congratulated a woman on her birthday by giving her a bouquet of even-numbered flowers. 

She looked at me like I’d just cursed her bloodline. 

A former colleague of mine in Spain once tried to say “I’m embarrassed” (“Estoy avergonzada”), but instead told an entire classroom she was pregnant (“Estoy embarazada”).

Language barriers don’t care how many apps you’ve downloaded.

They will find you and they will humble you.

After years of living in and traveling through places like Georgia, Albania, Bulgaria, Ukraine and France, I didn’t just collect passport stamps.

I built a personal blooper reel of cultural facepalms that still make my former students laugh harder than anything I ever taught them.

And I taught English, mind you. Professionally!

So no, this isn’t a survival guide. It’s a cautionary tale.

A chance for you to laugh at my mistakes before you make them yourself.

Or if you’re like me, to make them anyway and just have better stories to tell at dinner parties.

Let’s get into the nine most ridiculous misunderstandings I’ve had abroad. 

And guess what? 

One involves pharmacy laxatives, and none of them involve dignity.

1. The Birthday Bouquet That Meant “I Hope You Die”

In Ukraine, giving flowers is a lovely gesture… unless you give the wrong number.

I showed up to a birthday party with a big smile and a perfectly arranged bouquet, twelve roses, no less.

Her face froze. The room went quiet.

Turns out, even-numbered flowers are for funerals.

I may as well have handed her a sympathy card with a cupcake.

What to remember: When buying flowers abroad, always ask a local first.

In some countries, your bouquet might be a celebration.

In others, it’s a funeral arrangement.

2. The “Bathroom” That Was Actually a Brothel

In a small town in Bulgaria, I desperately needed a bathroom. I’d just downed a bottle of mineral water, and I was panicking.

I walked into a café and confidently asked for the “banya.”

The woman behind the counter raised an eyebrow.

Then she smirked. 

What I didn’t realize was that in this part of town, “bathhouse” was a code word for something else.

It wasn’t about washing up or relieving yourself in the usual way, but more about questionable decisions and services charged by the hour.

What to remember: Not every word-for-word translation lands the same.

Just because it’s in the dictionary doesn’t mean you should say it out loud.

3. Calling a French Man’s Wife “Good” and Instantly Regretting It

In France, I once thought I was giving the perfect compliment.

We were at a dinner party in town outside of Strasbourg, the wine was flowing, and I raised my glass to honor our host’s wife.

I called her a bonne femme, thinking I was praising her as a “good woman.”

I thought I was being charming yet again, right?

The room went silent. She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.

Her husband gave me a look I can only describe as politely murderous.

Later, a friend pulled me aside and explained I hadn’t just complimented her. 

I’d reduced her to a 1950s housewife or, worse, made it sound like “I was calling her hot in a sleazy kind of way”.

Turns out, “bonne” in France isn’t always a compliment. Sometimes it’s just… creepy.

What to remember: Words don’t always travel well.

In France, calling someone “good” might earn you a smile, or a slap.

When in doubt, just stick to “charmante.” It’s safer.

4. Google Translate Said Chicken Skewers. It Meant Cold Liver Soup with Mystery Floaties

In Georgia, I was starving. I opened Google Translate, typed in “grilled chicken,” and pointed to the result like a confident tourist who thought he’d hacked the local food scene.

The waiter nodded, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with a bowl of greyish broth containing something that looked like it had its own opinions.

It wasn’t chicken and it wasn’t grilled.

It might have been liver. It might have been brains. Who knows?

It was cold, slightly gelatinous, and the waiter looked thrilled to present what was probably his grandmother’s prized recipe.

I smiled, nodded, took a bite, and briefly reconsidered every life decision that had led me to that moment.

What to remember: In Georgia, don’t trust Google Translate with your stomach.

When in doubt, ask a real human. Technology can get you in trouble and your stomach will thank you.

5. Toasting to Death Instead of Health in Georgia

At my first supra in Tbilisi, I wanted to impress. I asked the guy next to me how to say “to your health” in Georgian.

He was a few glasses deep and clearly not loving the spotlight I was getting as the token foreigner.

Whether it was his twisted dark sense of humor or a subtle attempt to knock me down a notch, he leaned in and whispered something that sounded impressive enough.

I stood up, repeated it proudly, and delivered what turned out to be a toast… to death. Sikvdilze.

The room went silent, then burst out laughing. I joined in, but only because crawling under the table felt too dramatic.

What to remember: In Georgia, toasts matter. So does your source.

Never trust the guy with wine-stained teeth and something to prove.

6. The Sauna That Taught Me to Never Assume Anything About Nudity

In Poland, I was invited to a local spa just outside Kraków. I packed my swimsuit, towel, and the deeply ingrained modesty of an American raised to fear high school locker rooms.

Imagine my surprise when I stepped into the sauna and was greeted by three completely naked strangers who barely looked up.

They were relaxed. I was… not.

I tightened my towel like it was body armor and tried to look European and unbothered.

I failed.

What to remember: Nudity rules change by country, region, and even spa.

When in doubt, do a little recon before walking into a steam-filled cultural ambush.

7. Lost in Translation at the Pharmacy: Cough Syrup or Colon Cleanse?

In Albania, I came down with a cold. I marched into a pharmacy, pointed to my throat, and mimed coughing.

The pharmacist nodded, handed me a bottle, and gave me a thumbs up.

Twelve hours later, I was nowhere near cured, but I was extremely… empty.

What to remember: Always read the label, and if you can, bring a bilingual friend.

Your digestive system will appreciate the extra effort.

8. The Backpack That Made Me Look Like a Threat

I was on a Swiss train headed toward the Italian border, riding in second class with a large backpack, a duffle bag, and the unmistakable air of a slightly disheveled traveler.

Just before the border, two stern-faced Italian officers stepped into the carriage and made a beeline for me like they’d been waiting all day for this moment.

They asked for my documents, then unzipped every compartment of my bag like they were expecting a black-market espresso machine to fall out.

I smiled nervously, which apparently made me look even more suspicious.

If I had said a single word in Italian, I might have gotten away cleaner.

Instead, I just sat there thinking, “Should’ve worn something less… backpack-y.”

What to remember: On cross-border trains, looking like a tourist is fine.

Looking like a mobile garage sale? That gets you searched.

9. Trying to Haggle in a No-Haggle Country

At a souvenir stand in France, I tried to negotiate the price of a small figurine.

The vendor looked offended. I thought he was joking.

He wasn’t.

I offered a lower price again, smiling.

He took the figurine back and told me, in very clear French, that this was not Morocco.

What to remember: Haggling is a sport in some places. In others, it’s an insult.

Know the rules before you start playing.

The Universal Language of Embarrassment

Living abroad is equal parts adventure and accidental comedy.

You can study the culture, learn the language, and still end up toasting to someone’s funeral or gifting them grave flowers on their birthday.

But that’s the beauty of it.

These moments are reminders that you’re human, that you’re learning, and that the best travel stories come from the worst misunderstandings.

What’s your most awkward cultural fail abroad? 

I’ve already embarrassed myself, now it’s your turn.

The post 9 Ridiculous Misunderstandings Abroad That Made Me “That Foreigner” appeared first on Expats Planet.

From Hustle Culture to Healthcare, Here’s What Broke Down and What I Found on the Other Side…

Ever been laughed at for your definition of “success”? 

I have.

In fact, it happened over fondue and a second bottle of red at a Couchsurfing host’s place just outside Dijon.

My French hosts nearly dropped their fondue dipping bread, forks and all, into the pot.

I had just told them that back home in the U.S., people brag about surviving on five hours of sleep because they’re “grinding.”

One of the host’s just stared and asked, “Why would you do that to yourself… on purpose?”

That was the moment something cracked.

Before moving abroad, I thought I had it all figured out. 

Success meant chasing titles, filling every minute with tasks, and collecting material proof that you were winning.

A house. A car.

A schedule so tight you had to pencil in your own breakdown.

Then came Ukraine. France. Albania. Spain. Georgia.

And suddenly, my “normal” started looking suspiciously like insanity.

The more time I spent abroad, the more I saw that many of the beliefs I carried weren’t universal truths.

They were just American programming I never thought to question.

But the world did.

And it did so loudly, often with wine, beer or whatever tipple was on hand to lubricate the topic.

Occasionally, with sarcasm.

And once during a very honest late-night conversation in a Dublin hostel that ended with a fellow traveler from Australia saying, “Mate, that’s the most American thing I’ve ever heard.”

This article isn’t about culture shock.

It’s about identity shock.

These are the ten American beliefs I had to let go of the moment I stopped living in the United States, and why letting go felt like finally coming up for air.

1. Hustle Equals Worth

In the U.S., if you’re not exhausted, you’re doing it wrong. I once prided myself on how many jobs I could juggle.

Ukraine was my wake-up call.

During my early days in Kyiv, I tried keeping that pace.

I saw nothing but opportunities everywhere for the taking.

My teaching colleagues thought I was either broke or insane.

But I was hustling! 

Classes at school, then private lessons, followed by weekends of examining.

As an old boss back in the US once told me, “You gotta make hay while the sun is shining.”

However, one day during a break between classes one of my teaching colleagues in Kyiv leaned over in the staff room and asked, “Why do you work so much? Do you have one of those U.S. student loans you have to pay off?”

That’s when it hit me.

Here, burnout isn’t admired, it’s avoided.

If you need rest, you take it.

No guilt.

No “grindset” post on Instagram.

What I Learned: If your value is tied to how little you sleep, you’re not winning. You’re just tired.

2. Bigger Is Better

Back in the States, my friend once bragged about buying a fridge so big it had an ice dispenser and Wi-Fi.

In Poland, my CELTA colleague’s fridge looked like it was made for Barbie.

And guess what? She still managed to host a few dinner parties during the course that didn’t involve a single drive-thru bag.

In Ukraine, I lived in an apartment the size of an American garage, but the life that filled it was anything but small.

Wine and beer with friends, long meals, and laughter that filled the room, softened slightly by the carpets hanging on the walls for soundproofing.

No one cared about square footage.

They cared about connection.

Lesson: Small spaces can hold bigger lives.

3. Freedom Means Choice

In America, more options mean more freedom. Or so I thought.

That belief cracked in a tiny café in Pamplona on the Camino de Santiago.

The menu? Café solo or café con leche.

No oat milk. No double shot extra foam anything.

I ordered, sat down, and actually tasted my coffee.

No decision fatigue. No performance.

Just a croissant, some caffeine, and a quiet moment.

A Spanish pilgrim beside me called it “life, not a performance.” I called it clarity.

What I Learned: Real freedom isn’t about having endless choices.

It’s about not needing them.

4. Money Buys Happiness

I used to think the more money I made, the better my life would feel.

Until I met my Georgian landlord who spent every evening playing dominoes, drinking coffee or wine, and laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

His apartment was modest. His life was rich.

Meanwhile, I knew Americans who made six figures and barely had time to breathe, let alone enjoy a sunset.

Money helps, sure.

But past a certain point, it just buys clutter and stress.

What I Learned: Happiness isn’t bought.

It’s built, through time, connection, and choosing what matters.

5. Success Is Linear

The American dream has a checklist: graduate, get a job, buy a house, retire before your knees give out.

But living in Spain and France showed me that success doesn’t have to follow a straight line.

In Ferrol, I met a guy who left a corporate job in Madrid to open a tiny bookshop near the port.

In Dieppe, France, my Airbnb host made his living running his own driving school and moonlighted as playing in a local band.

No titles. No hustle. Just lives shaped around joy, not job titles.

Success doesn’t have to come in a suit.

Sometimes it looks like morning markets, homemade jam, and no alarm clocks.

What I Learned: Life isn’t a ladder.

It’s a map, and you get to draw it.

6. Time Should Be Maximized, Not Enjoyed

In the U.S., free time is suspicious. Are you sick? Lazy? Unemployed? In France, taking time off is a right. In Spain, it’s an art form.

Lunch in France wasn’t a 20-minute inhale at my desk.

It was a 90-minute affair with friends and wine. 

My French friends at one of those long lunches once told me, “We work to live. You Americans live to work.”

I laughed. 

Then I stopped laughing.

What I Learned: Time isn’t just for productivity. It’s for presence.

7. Strangers Are Dangerous

Stranger danger was drilled into me as a kid. But in post-Soviet Ukraine, it was normal to hitch a ride from the side of the road.

Strangers with cars would stop, and if they were going your way, you’d agree on a price and hop in.

It was basically Uber before there were Ubers or apps.

I always got where I needed to go, and it was a great way to practice my Russian while trading stories along the way.

What I Learned: Be cautious, yes. But don’t let fear cheat you out of human kindness.

8. Healthcare Is a Privilege

In America, getting sick feels like gambling with your bank account.

In Ukraine, I got a dental cleaning for the price of a sandwich.

In Georgia, I saw a private doctor for less than what I’d tip a barista back home.

No forms. No “networks.” Just care.

A former colleague from the UK once told me his American friends didn’t believe him when he said an ambulance ride didn’t cost thousands.

He laughed. I didn’t.

What I Learned: Good healthcare shouldn’t be a luxury. It should be a baseline.

9. The U.S. Is the Gold Standard

I used to think other countries were behind. That America was the model.

Then I saw working-class families in France eat better food than some of my wealthier friends back home.

I saw public transport in Spain that made LA’s system look like a prank.

The myth only holds if you never leave.

Once you do, you realize that America isn’t the center, it’s just one version.

Sometimes efficient. Sometimes chaotic. 

Often both.

What I Learned: The world isn’t trying to be us. Sometimes, it’s better off not trying.

10. Comfort Means You’re Winning

Back home, comfort is the goal. Big couch. Big TV. Everything delivered in under 15 minutes.

But in Romania, I once got lost in the rain with no umbrella, no language skills, and a dying phone battery, and it turned out to be the best night of my trip.

I met two students who helped me, invited me for tea, and showed me parts of the city I would’ve never seen otherwise.

If I’d stayed comfortable, I would’ve missed it.

What I Learned: Growth doesn’t live inside your comfort zone. Adventure doesn’t either.

What Beliefs Changed for You?

Leaving your country doesn’t just reveal the world. It reveals you.

The real shock isn’t culture, it’s realizing how many beliefs you never chose.

Once that cracks, you start asking, “What else did I believe just because I was told that’s how the world works?”

What shifted for you abroad?

The post 10 American Beliefs That Didn’t Survive Life Abroad appeared first on Expats Planet.

These Industry Myths Are So Deeply Ingrained You Probably Still Believe Them

“Processed food is totally safe.”

“If it’s on the shelves, someone tested it.”

“The FDA would never let us eat something harmful.”

That’s what I thought, too… until I moved to France.

Within a week of arriving, my bread actually went stale after two days, which I took as a good sign.

The butter tasted like, well, real butter.

And the strawberries didn’t look like they were grown in a Franken-lab or taste like bland disappointment.

I wasn’t even trying to eat healthier.

I was just eating normal, everyday food from the supermarket.

Yet my stomach felt calmer, my energy more stable, and for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I was digesting a lab experiment.

Then came Spain. Then Poland. Then Georgia.

And the pattern kept repeating itself: basic food tasted better, fresher, and didn’t come with the side effects I had just accepted as normal back in the U.S.

After years of living across Europe, I kept hearing the same question from whether it was from confused fellow Americans, my former students in Ukraine or fellow travelers swapping stories over beers from Dublin to Tbilisi.

Why does the exact same product taste and feel so different depending on which side of the Atlantic you’re on?

At some point, I stopped blaming jet lag and started digging for answers.

Well, here’s the truth: it’s not your imagination.

And it’s not just the ingredients, it’s the lies behind them.

Because what most Americans don’t realize is that we’ve been sold a narrative. 

A very convenient one. 

And in this article, I’m going to walk you through the seven biggest food industry myths that Europe exposes without even trying.

If you’ve ever eaten a box of cereal and wondered why it tastes like childhood and regret, this one’s for you.

1. If It’s Legal, It Must Be Safe

I used to believe this one too.

Then I moved to France and realized their food safety philosophy isn’t “Let’s see what happens” but more like “We’d rather not risk turning our population into lab rats.”

Over there, if an ingredient might be harmful, it’s either banned outright or slapped with a warning label big enough to make you think twice.

Meanwhile, in the U.S., we wait until something causes cancer in rats, disrupts human hormones, and shows up in every bloodstream study before we consider a recall.

Even then, it’s usually “voluntary.”

Lesson learned: Just because something’s legal doesn’t mean it’s safe, it just means the right lobbyist got paid.

Because in the U.S., profit is often prioritized long before public health ever enters the conversation.

2. Processed Food Saves Time Without the Health Cost

When I spent a few months in Spain, I grabbed a frozen meal from a local grocery store, half expecting it to taste like microwaved sadness.

To my surprise, it had recognizable ingredients and didn’t give me that weird bloated “what-did-I-just-eat” feeling I used to get back home from even the “healthy” options.

Back in the States, a frozen lasagna might save you 20 minutes, but it’ll cost you three hours of energy and possibly a week’s worth of gut stability.

What I figured out: The shortcut only works if it doesn’t set you back later.

In Europe, even shortcuts have standards.

3. Artificial Sweeteners Are Harmless

A former colleague of mine who taught in Poland once made the mistake of packing a suitcase full of “sugar-free” snacks from the U.S. for her semester abroad.

Big mistake.

Every time she offered them to her local friends, the response was some version of “Why would you eat chemicals that mess with your brain?”

Turns out, sweeteners like aspartame and sucralose are treated with a lot more skepticism over there. France, for instance, has warning labels on them.

The U.S., on the other hand? We just slap a “Zero Calories” label on it and call it a health product.

The eye-opener: Just because it says “diet” doesn’t mean it’s doing your body any favors.

Most of the time, “diet” just means cleverly marketed junk in disguise.

4. Organic in the U.S. Means Clean

When I lived in France, I remember buying carrots from a farmers’ market and being mildly horrified at how dirty they were.

I’m not talking about sanitation or hygiene, I mean the actual soil still clinging to them.

I then realized that dirt was a sign they hadn’t been pressure-washed, waxed, or chemically treated into submission.

In the U.S., the “organic” label can still sneak in certain pesticides, and if it’s processed, forget it.

You can have “organic” breakfast bars with enough sugar to make a horse act like it’s on Crack.

Meanwhile, in most of Europe, if it says “organic,” it actually means something, starting with how the soil is treated before anything even grows in it.

Here’s what shifted: The word “organic” is only as clean as the system behind it.

In the U.S., that system is built more for marketing than for meaning.

5. Calories In, Calories Out Is All That Matters

Back when I was living in Georgia, where food is basically a celebration served three times a day, I couldn’t believe how much bread, wine, and cheese people were eating.

By American logic, half the population should’ve been rolling down the cobblestone streets.

But they weren’t. And the reason became clear: their food was real, not a Franken-meal of synthetic additives, preservatives, and lab-engineered textures.

I stopped counting calories and started eating like a local, and somehow felt better.

What really matters: It’s not just how much you eat. It’s what your body is eating with it.

Because when your food comes loaded with chemicals, your body isn’t just digesting calories, it’s battling chaos.

6. All Labels Are Regulated the Same Way

In Spain, a fellow Pilgrim on the Camino De Santiago once pointed to the back of a juice box in a grocery store we were browsing around in and said, “Look at this. Every single ingredient is just fruit. No mystery words.”

I nodded and laughed, vaguely remembering the U.S. version of that same juice, which had “natural flavors” listed… followed by 15 things that sounded like rejected chemistry experiments.

In Europe, if it’s in the food, it’s on the label.

In the U.S., companies can hide ingredients behind phrases like “proprietary blend” or “natural flavors, which could mean literally anything.

The big difference: One system wants to inform you. The other wants to confuse you just enough to keep buying.

Because the more confused you are, the more profitable you become.

7. Europe Is Just Being Overcautious

I used to think so too. Until I looked around and realized that people in France weren’t obsessing over macros, buying detox teas, or lining up for colon cleanses.

They were just eating actual food. Slowly. With friends. And they weren’t miserable doing it.

Meanwhile, in the States, we call any regulation on food “government overreach.”

But maybe what we call freedom is actually just an open invitation for industries to put profit over public health.

Food for thought: Caution isn’t the enemy.

Sometimes it’s the reason people live longer, feel better, and don’t need a pantry full of supplements just to get through the week.

It’s not “over-regulation” that’s making people sick, it’s the illusion that none is needed.

What Else Have You Swallowed?

So much of what we believe about food in America isn’t science, it’s salesmanship.

And the more time I spent in Europe, the more I realized how many of those ideas were completely avoidable.

We didn’t just get sold a product.

We got sold a belief system.

Now that you’ve seen the differences, I want to know:

Which of these lies did you believe before reading this?

What shocked you the most?

The post 7 Lies American Food Companies Hide That Europe Already Exposed appeared first on Expats Planet.

You can take the expat out of Europe, but you can’t take the Europe out of the expat.

Have you ever returned to the U.S. and suddenly felt like an alien not because you’ve changed your accent or wardrobe, but because you now function on an entirely different cultural operating system?

I have.

The first time it hit me, I was in a restaurant in Florida and asked for a glass of tap water instead of ordering a drink.

The waiter looked at me like I’d stiffed him on the tip before I even ordered.

In France, asking for a “une carafe d’eau” (a carafe of tap water) is a perfectly normal request.

Back home, it feels like breaking some unspoken rule.

In the U.S., it’s apparently a felony-level offense against customer service expectations.

Then there was the time I refused to apologize when someone bumped into me at a grocery store in Fort Lauderdale.

In Ukraine, you’d get a medal for that kind of emotional efficiency.

Back home?

I got the full slow-blink and head tilt combo, American for “Are you okay, honey?”

After living in places like Ukraine, Georgia, Albania, or France, your instincts get rewired without you even realizing it.

Then you come back to the U.S., where people smile too much, apologize for existing, and eat dinner before the sun sets.

It looks like home, but it smells…off.

I didn’t just pick up habits abroad. I absorbed a new operating system.

Now I move through American life expecting quiet to be comfortable, dinner to start after sunset, and strangers not to talk to me unless someone’s bleeding.

If any of that makes you sound weird too, keep reading. 

This list is for us.

The ones who came home fluent in another culture’s rhythm, and now get side-eyed for it in our own.

1. I Say “Sorry” Way Less Now… and It Freaks People Out

In France, if you say “sorry” too much, people assume you either just committed a crime or you’re Canadian.

And in Ukraine? Apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault makes you look suspicious.

I learned early on to ditch the auto-apology reflex.

Like that time I bumped shoulders with a guy in a Kyiv metro tunnel and instinctively said “sorry.”

He looked at me like I’d just asked him to smile for a selfie.

Back in the U.S., though, not constantly apologizing comes off like I’ve gone full sociopath.

I’ve had cashiers, Uber drivers, even old friends stare at me after a silence, waiting for that good ol’ American fake polite “sorry”.

I’ve got nothing to give them. It’s not rudeness.

It’s just that the word actually means something to me now.

The shift? Not saying “sorry” every five seconds might make you seem cold in America.

But in Europe, it makes you honest.

And a little honesty never hurt anyone, except maybe a few fragile egos.

2. I Pack for Grocery Stores Like I’m Going Camping

After a stretch in France, years in Ukraine, and living a short mountain hike way from any store in Saranda, Albania, I don’t just walk to the grocery store anymore.

I prepare for it like a multi-day trek through the Pyrenees.

• Reusable backpack? Check.
• Foldable bags tucked into coat pockets? Check.
• Emergency cash for when the credit card machine suddenly stops working mid-transaction? You better believe it!

One time in Kyiv, I showed up to a local market with nothing but optimism and a plastic bag. Big mistake!

I left juggling eggs, cabbage, and what I think was a live carp.

Lesson learned.

Now, even at my local Trader Joe’s in the U.S., I pull out my backpack and start packing my own groceries before the cashier finishes scanning.

People either think I’m ex-military or on the run.

But if living abroad teaches you anything, it’s that being prepared isn’t weird, it’s smart.

What changed? I stopped expecting convenience. Abroad, no one packs your bags or offers free anything.

So now, I operate on muscle memory. And I don’t apologize for it.

3. I Eat Dinner at 9PM and My Friends Think I’ve Lost It

In France, dinner at 9PM is perfectly civilized. In Spain, it’s early.

In America, people look at me like I’ve joined a cult.

Suggest dinner after 8 and you’ll get the same reaction as people who bring tuna to the office microwave.

While I was living in France, I slipped into the rhythm: coffee, errands, a bit of work, then dinner that didn’t even start until the sun had long past set.

Food wasn’t just fuel.

It was conversation, connection, a slow unraveling of the day over wine and second helpings.

Back in the U.S., I have friends who think a 5:30 dinner at Applebee’s is cutting-edge indulgence.

The difference? In Europe, dinner means connection. In the U.S., it’s a refuel stop.

I’ll take the long, late dinners every time.

4. I Expect Trains to Be On Time… Oops

In Poland and Germany, when a train is two minutes late, there’s an apology on the loudspeaker.

In the U.S., if your Amtrak shows up at all, it’s considered a blessing.

After years of using public transit across Europe, I developed this wild expectation that things might run on time (except trains in Germany). My bad.

Now, when I hear an announcement that my train will be arriving 27 minutes late, I instinctively look around for a staff member to apologize.

Instead, I find empty vending machines and broken speakers crackling something unintelligible.

What stuck with me? Punctuality isn’t just about being on time. It’s about respect.

Back home, my expectations just make me look uptight.

But I still can’t unlearn what a working system feels like.

5. I Don’t Smile at Strangers Anymore… And I’m Okay With That

In Ukraine, smiling at someone for no reason gets you either a suspicious glare or trigger a passport check.

I got used to saving my smiles for actual funny moments or connection.

Now, back in the States, people think I’m either in a bad mood or plotting something.

I’ve had multiple store clerks ask if I’m “doing okay today” just because I didn’t beam like I was auditioning for a toothpaste commercial.

The cultural shift? In many places abroad, a smile means something.

In the U.S., it’s often just default setting.

I’ve learned to appreciate sincerity over performance.

6. I Bring My Own Bag Everywhere… and Judge Those Who Don’t

Living in France, Ukraine and Georgia cured me of the American habit of expecting bags, straws, and cutlery to magically appear.

You bring your own, or you go without.

It’s not a political statement. It’s just common sense.

Now, when I see someone double-bagging a bottle of water in the U.S., my eye twitches.

I’ve literally handed strangers my spare tote bag before.

One woman at Whole Foods thought I was trying to recruit her into a pyramid scheme.

Why it matters? Once you see how easy it is to not waste stuff, it’s hard to go back.

Europe taught me the quiet dignity of carrying your own bag like an adult.

7. I Can Sit Quietly Without Panicking (A European Skill)

Silence used to make me uncomfortable. I’d fill every pause with chatter, jokes, questions, anything.

But after spending time in cafes in places like Georgia or Ukraine, I realized not every second needs to be filled.

There’s a certain calm in being around people who don’t fear the silence.

I’ve sat through full lunches where no one said more than a few words, and not once did I feel awkward.

Back in the U.S., a ten-second pause sends people scrambling to check their phones or change the subject.

What I learned? Silence isn’t emptiness. It’s presence.

And once you get used to it, it’s actually kind of nice.

You Don’t Come Home the Same Person

Living abroad isn’t about reinventing yourself. It’s about slowly realizing that the way you used to do things wasn’t the only way.

The habits I picked up in Albania, Ukraine, Georgia, and beyond didn’t just change my routines.

They changed my instincts.

And that’s the weirdest part.

You don’t even notice it happening, until you come home and start getting side-eyed for not smiling enough or for eating dinner when everyone else is brushing their teeth.

What about you?

What cultural habit followed you home and now makes you feel like a stranger in your own country?

The post 7 Habits I Picked Up Abroad That Make Me Look Weird In America appeared first on Expats Planet.

What Sounds Friendly in the U.S. Might Be Fighting Words Overseas

“Is it safe here?” I asked half jokingly, perhaps just to see what kind of reaction I would get.

But that was the question that nearly got me tossed out of a café in Tirana.

The waitress, who had just served me the best byrek I’ve ever tasted, froze mid-step.

She looked at me like I’d accused her grandmother of stealing my wallet. “Safe?” she repeated (in perfect English), eyebrows doing acrobatics. “You’re literally eating. In peace. With free Wi-Fi.”

I smiled awkwardly, sipped my espresso, and mentally kicked myself.

Again.

See, growing up in America, asking questions is second nature.

It’s how we break the ice, fill awkward silences, and prove we’re “just curious.”

But after living in and traveling to places like Ukraine, Georgia, France, Albania and a string of other locales that don’t end their sentences with “Have a great day,” I’ve learned something most Americans haven’t:

Some questions come with baggage. 

And not the kind with wheels.

The truth is, what sounds like harmless small talk in, say, Ohio, can land like a punch to the throat in Skopje or Tbilisi.

That happy go lucky, “So, what do you do?” you blurt out at a communal dinner table on the Camino De Santiago in Spain? 

It might get you a cold stare and a quick subject change.

Or worse, a long answer you weren’t emotionally prepared for.

And it’s not just the obvious ones like politics or religion.

Sometimes it’s the subtle stuff.

A badly phrased question.

A curious tone.

Or the assumption that English should be spoken by default, like it’s some kind of global setting everyone forgot to enable.

In this article, I’m laying out 8 questions Americans love to ask that can go spectacularly wrong abroad.

I’ve learned some of these the hard way.

Others came from stories shared by fellow teachers and travelers I met in expat dive bars and late-night train stations from Germany to Greece.

You’ll laugh.

You’ll cringe.

You might even rewrite your mental checklist of “safe” conversation starters.

And if you’re heading abroad anytime soon, this list might just save your next conversation from ending in silence, side-eyes, or an unexpected sprint to the exit to avoid getting punched in the mouth.

And if you’re planning to travel or live abroad, trust me, this list might just save your next taxi ride from turning into a hostage negotiation.

1. “Do You Miss the Old Regime?”

I once asked this to a shopkeeper in Tbilisi. He looked at me like I’d just praised Gorbachev for banning wine and letting the KGB bug his living room.

In my American brain, I thought it was a curious little history question.

To him, it was a flashback to shortages, blackouts, and a government that made people disappear.

In places like Georgia or Ukraine, Soviet nostalgia isn’t small talk. It’s loaded.

You’re not just chatting, you’re poking at scars.

Better approach: If you’re genuinely curious, try, “What’s one thing people say has changed the most since the Soviet days?”

That way, you’re opening a door instead of sticking your foot in your mouth.

2. “Why Is It So Poor Here?”

I once heard an American blurt this out on a train from Sofia to Vidin, like he was complaining about bad service at Applebee’s.

Yikes! I cringed for him.

But, the Bulgarian guy across from him looked ready to shove his Lonely Planet down his throat.

Here’s the thing, poverty isn’t just a number.

It’s history, war, corruption, and the luck of being born in the wrong zip code of the world.

Say this out loud and you’re not making an observation.

You’re insulting every person hustling to build something from scraps.

Some smarter asks:

• “What kinds of things are improving?”
• “What people are hopeful about?”
• “What’s changed in the last decade?”

These open the doors to stories, not stares.

3. “Why Don’t People Smile More?”

Ah, the classic American smile crisis. I remember walking through Kyiv in the winter, face half-frozen, when a fellow traveler from California whispered, “Why does everyone look so angry?”

I wanted to explain that it’s January, it’s Ukraine, and nobody smiles at strangers because they’re not insane.

In many parts of the world, smiling for no reason is weird. 

Smiling too much? Suspicious.

In some cultures, people reserve smiles for genuine moments, not as a default setting.

That doesn’t mean they’re unfriendly. It means they have resting real face.

Here’s the fix: Don’t ask. Just smile if you want.

If they smile back, great. If they don’t, you’ve still got your teeth.

4. “How Do You Feel About [Insert Neighboring Country]?”

In Skopje, I once asked a guy at a bar what Macedonians thought of their Greek neighbors to the south.

Specifically, the Greeks whose province named, “Macedonia”, forced his country to tack on “North.”

He took a long sip of beer and and launched into a 20-minute historical monologue about language, identity, and why certain statues were built facing certain directions.

It ended with, “But I don’t like to talk about politics.”

Yeah. Okay.

In the Balkans, and in parts of Eastern Europe where history still breathes down people’s necks, this question is a landmine.

You might be hoping for a quick opinion.

You’ll get a doctoral thesis.

Try this instead: “Are there cultural similarities between countries around here?”

It shows respect, invites comparison, and won’t turn your dinner into a TED Talk on ethnic tensions.

5. “Is It Safe Here?”

I asked this exact question to a woman in a hotel in Albania. She raised an eyebrow, leaned in, and said, “You’re from the U.S.. You want to talk about safe?”

Touché.

Asking about safety can easily sound like you’ve been watching too much cable news.

Most people take pride in their homes and their country.

Nobody wants to hear that you think their city is a scene from a Liam Neeson movie.

What works better: “Are there any local customs or areas I should be aware of as a visitor?”

That’s practical, respectful, and less likely to trigger an eye-roll.

6. “Why Don’t You Just Leave?”

I’ve heard this question in cafés from wide-eyed nomads in Romania and Georgia.

They can’t fathom why anyone stays somewhere with low wages or political chaos.

Here’s the thing.

People don’t just “leave.” They have families. They have roots.

They have rent that’s not $2,500 a month.

And sometimes, believe it or not, they actually love where they live.

What to ask instead: “What do people value most about life here?”

It opens up a completely different conversation, one about pride, identity, and resilience.

7. “Is That Like a Real Job?”

This one makes me really cringe. A tourist in a tapas bar in Spain once laughed and asked the bartender if mixing drinks all day was “just a temporary thing.”

The look on her face said everything. 

It wasn’t temporary. It was her profession, her craft and her pride.

Just because something doesn’t come with a 401(k) and a nametag doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

From musicians in Albania to language tutors in Ukraine to street artists in Tbilisi, work looks different around the world.

And that’s the point.

Ask this instead: “What’s your day-to-day like doing this kind of work?”

You might learn something. 

You might even respect it.

8. “Why Doesn’t Anyone Speak English?”

Said every American ever in a rural pharmacy, probably holding hemorrhoid cream and hoping it’s toothpaste.

Guess what? It’s not their job to speak your language. You’re in *their* country.

You don’t walk into a tapas bar in Spain or a boulangerie in France expecting subtitles.

In Obolon, during my Kyiv first year, I got by on bad Russian, miming, and facial expressions that deserved their own Academy Award.

It was humbling.

Former Language Teacher Tip: Learn a few phrases, In fact, go ahead and mangle a few local phrases.

People will forgive your grammar. 

They won’t forgive your entitlement.

The Line Between Curiosity and Conflict Is Thinner Than You Think

The problem isn’t curiosity. It’s assumption.

Americans are taught to speak quickly, fill silence, and show interest by asking questions.

But abroad, silence is sometimes the respectful choice.

Observation is a better first step than interrogation.

A question can open a door.

It can also slam it shut.

Have you ever asked something abroad that triggered a reaction you didn’t expect? 

Or heard a question that made you cringe inside your bones? 

The post 8 American Questions That Can Get You In Big Trouble Abroad appeared first on Expats Planet.