Living Abroad Isn’t What You Think! 7 Realities I Never Saw Coming!

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The Myths vs. The Realities: What Living Abroad Really Means

“Everybody’s got a plan until they get punched in the face”- Mike Tyson. Expat life sounds like living the dream…until you actually live it. Here’s what you won’t see on Instagram.

1. Goodbye Comfort Zone, Hello, “Where the Hell Am I Going?”

I arrived in 1999 Ukraine, suitcase packed and ready to conquer the world, until the local transport system knocked me down a few pegs.

Store signs looked like cryptic puzzles, and the Cyrillic alphabet? Pure hieroglyphics.

With no Google Maps, every trip was a scavenger hunt, where the “prize” was simply finding my destination without a city-wide detour to nowhere.

Then there were the taxi drivers. They could spot a clueless foreigner from a mile away, grinning like they’d hit the jackpot as they calculated my inflated fare.

Asking for directions didn’t help much either. I’d attempt my best Russian, only to get squints that suggested I’d just requested a trip to Mars.

Navigating Kyiv wasn’t just about catching the right trolleybus, it was a daily adventure in translation fails, surprise detours, and negotiating my way out being ripped-off by cab drivers.

And if you think figuring out transportation was tough, just wait until you hear about my first encounter with local cuisine…

2. When Familiar Foods Become Exotic Delicacies (and Not Always in a Good Way)

As a self-proclaimed food lover, I thought I was prepared for all the culinary surprises Kyiv had to offer in 1998.

But nothing quite prepared me for the moment I ordered pizza and it arrived…with mayonnaise artfully drizzled on top.

And then there was the infamous fish holodets, fish encased in a quivering layer of gelatin.

Let’s just say it didn’t exactly evoke a craving.

But while I missed familiar comforts like plain ol’ pepperoni pizza, I started to discover the charm of Ukrainian dining.

My ex-girlfriend’s mother introduced me to an old Soviet favorite, plov, a rich and hearty rice dish from Uzbekistan, and I quickly fell in love.

Weekends at their dacha brought endless jars of homemade jams made from fresh berries, perfect for spreading on thick slices of black bread with fresh butter.

I never would have guessed that these would become my go-to comfort foods.

If you think my food discoveries were strange, just wait until you hear about the wild Ukrainian holiday traditions that would soon turn my calendar upside down…

3. Holidays You’ve Never Heard of, with Enough Drinking to Make It Through Them All

Back in 1998 Kyiv, it felt like there was a holiday for everything, from historic anniversaries to days that seemed dedicated solely to celebrating professions.

And every celebration came with enough vodka to ensure you’d never forget, or remember, the festivities.

My introduction to these holidays started with a minor event that ended in a major hangover, and it only escalated from there.

There was International Women’s Day, which I quickly learned was a national spectacle, complete with flowers, toasts, and a full day dedicated to honoring women.

Then came May Day and Defender of Ukraine Day, each with their own rituals and, of course, rounds of vodka.

The enthusiasm was infectious.

But it wasn’t just the drinking; it was the pressure to dive in and celebrate like a local. “Why aren’t you drinking more?” they’d ask, as if two shots were just the warm-up.

By the end of my first year, I was the one raising a toast to obscure saints and Ukrainian traditions I didn’t fully understand.

My favorite moments were always the toasts to women.

There I’d be, pausing dramatically, then suddenly springing to my feet like the eager foreigner I was, because tradition says you stand when toasting the ladies.

Without fail, every time, the men around the table would forget, leaving me standing there, grinning smugly as they scrambled to follow.

It became my own little act of “foreigner revenge,” a subtle way to remind everyone that, occasionally, I could out-Ukrainian the Ukrainians at the table.

And if you think the holidays were unpredictable, just wait till you hear about the unintentional insults I delivered while trying to speak the language…

4. The Art of Accidentally Offending Everyone Around You

Living abroad is like playing a never-ending game of “What Did I Do Wrong This Time?

I learned this the hard way when I made the mistake of giving an even number of flowers to my girlfriend’s grandmother.

Apparently, that’s only done at funerals. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have survived that awkward bouquet incident.

Trying to dodge a drink was also like trying to escape a tidal wave, you either got swept away or made a desperate excuse.

And trust me, there were no half measures.

If you picked up a glass, you’d better be ready to go all in, because there’s no graceful way to pace yourself.

Any attempt at a polite “no thanks” was met with offended looks. So, my go-to excuse quickly became “doctor’s orders.

Let’s just say people started to wonder why I seemed to always be on some sort of medication.

Navigating local customs was always a delicate dance of trial and (often hilarious) error.

Every gesture, every phrase carried weight, and it seemed like every social interaction came with hidden rules I was bound to break.

It took a while, but eventually, I learned when to smile, when to nod, and, most importantly, when to raise my glass.

By the time I figured it all out, I could blend in just enough to pass for a seasoned expat. Or so I thought….

And speaking of blending in, just wait until you’re navigating healthcare in a foreign country without the luxury of Google Translate…

5. Healthcare Adventures: Or, How a Soviet-Era Massage Cured My Sciatica

Imagine this: 2002 Kyiv, the dead of winter, and I’d managed to throw out my back working out. The pain?

Sciatica, a burning ache shooting down my leg that had me hobbling like a 90-year-old.

My colleague recommended an old polyclinic at the University, so off we went, half hopeful, half certain this would end badly.

Inside, I was led to Zhenya, a towering woman with the physique of a 1970s Olympic shot-putter, and a demeanor to match.

She didn’t waste a word, just pointed at the rickety massage table and barked, “Undress!”

The room was frigid, and as I lay there shivering, I glanced around at the relics of old Soviet medicine, machines that looked more suited to a mad scientist’s lab than a polyclinic.

I began to wonder if I’d made a grave mistake.

But then, Zhenya got to work.

With hands like magic, she kneaded every last bit of pain out of my back, and by the time she was done, I practically floated off the table.

It was miraculous! I signed up for three more sessions, and by the end of them, my sciatica was nearly a thing of the past.

Zhenya might have looked like a Soviet warrior, but she was my healer, my hero, and I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for her.

Think that was my strangest experience abroad? Just wait until you hear about the joys of time zones and how coming home becomes a jet-lagged, feverish dream.

6. The Joy of Time Zones: When Coming Home Feels Like a Costly, Jet-Lagged Feverish Dream and Being a Guest Makes You Feel Like a Fish!

Living and working around the world has its perks, but coming home? Brutal!

Flights alone feel like I’m funding a small country for a weekend dinner.

A wise man once told me that, “guests are like fish, both start to stink after three days”.

But after a global trek, a three-day stay is impossible.

Every homecoming became a jet-lagged marathon, with me wide awake at 4 a.m. and dozing off at dinner.

Family and friends would plan dinner meetups, and I’d be struggling to stay awake by the appetizer, nodding off by dessert. “We’re so happy you’re here!” they’d say, while I tried to remember what day it even was.

And if jet lag was disorienting, these trips eventually made me question what “home” really means…

7. The Ultimate Reality Check: Redefining “Home” and Realizing I Can’t Go Back the Same Person

After a year of surprises, struggles, and countless mishaps, I realized the biggest change was in me.

Home was no longer a place but a feeling, wherever I was. Living abroad taught me to adapt, laugh at my mistakes, and embrace adventure.

When I returned to my hometown, everything looked the same, but I had changed in ways I’d never imagined.

Maybe that’s what expat life is all about.

Are you ready to take the plunge and find out what expat life has in store for you?