One of those “small” things that makes a big difference in feeling at home is being a regular.  What I mean by that is, maybe you get your newspaper in the same spot every day, or take a coffee at the same cafe – basically, by frequenting the same place as a paying customer, the store owner or an employee gets so used to seeing you that they might say hello, ask how your day was, or have a conversation with you.

I was reminded of this essential strategy recently.  At the risk of divulging how much I LOVE wine (especially red, and especially Malbec at the moment), I went to the same old liquor store I go to whenever I need something.  Over the holidays, I happened to have a coupon, saving me 20% off any 6 bottles of wine (all gone now!) and treated myself to some Bailey’s Irish Cream, and also got a gift for a few family members who love Tanquerray!  So, when I walked in recently to replace my empty bottle of my new favorite Malbec (by La Madrid, in case you wanted to know!) I sadly learned they were out.  So, one of the employees who happened to help me over the holidays, suggested another bottle.  He brought me to the cash register and, because he knows I shop there a lot, gave me a 10% discount without my asking!

Now, it’s not just the discount, that was a nice bonus, but the point is, because I’m a regular customer at this neighborhood store, one of the managers happens to greet me when I enter, offer to help me, and is exceptionally kind.  Even in a neighborhood I know well, I know how valuable  this level of contact can be to feel “known”.  Now, I’m not saying you need to get lots of alcohol (!), but I am saying, whatever you buy habitually, try to find a place you like, and, after a move, go there as much as possible as one strategy to feel a little more at home.

I’m very excited to introduce the new and greatly improved Expat Coach Association!  For any of you out there that are Expats, Expat Coaches, Businesses, anyone at all involved in the process of transitioning cultures for work, for love, for studies, for religion, for government….we’d very much love to have you on board!

Please click here to visit the new website where you will find an FAQ section, and a video tour on our homepage, and let us know your feedback!

I recently read the book “The Pilgrimage” by Paulo Coelho. It’s a story of a spiritual journey one man undergoes, seemingly for his sword, and everything he learns about himself along the journey.

One paragraph in particular stood out to me with regard to the process of transitioning cultures:

“When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the act of rebirth.  You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you don’t even understand the language people speak.  So, you are like a child just out of the womb.  You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them.  You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations.  And you accept any small favor from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life.”

I liked how this touched upon many of the feelings an expat may have crossing cultures.  Feeling like a child just born one can simultaneously experience great joy at discovering a new culture, and great frustration trying to learn a new language and fit in and find something familiar.  You actually notice your environment because it’s unfamiliar and you’re getting to know what parts you like and dislike, and you pay attention to how people behave, and you wonder who can help you, and even someone who just helps you with directions when you’re having a meltdown because your city map doesn’t have the tiny street you’re trying to find, and you have no idea what to do and you’re running late is like a major hero!

What are some of your memories of your early days as an expat?  Looking for an Expat Coach?  Check out The Expat Coach Directory!

While I’m on my series of “trivial” things that can cause culture shock, I realized on my recent trip to Florida that animals are yet another thing you don’t always think about as causing this common feeling.

One of the things I like best about visiting my mom in Florida is seeing all the lizards everywhere.  I try to slowly approach them and photograph them before they leap (yes, they really leap!) or run off.  Lizards, you see, are not something common to Manhattan, except, perhaps, in my local pet store.  Even then, they do not have all the varieties that exist in Florida, nor the enjoyment of open space within which to reign.

In Australia, I absolutely loved the kangaroos and went to many zoos and refuges to feed them.  Australians I met, however, considered them rats or roadkill!  But, if you are Australian and accustomed to kangaroos and koalas, and you move away from home, you will no longer find these animals anyplace but, perhaps, the zoo.

Seeing animals you have never seen around you in the wild, or the absence of such animals, can easily cause you to miss home.  This can also make you realize how different your current surroundings are from the place you’ve moved.  You might miss them, you might look forward to discovering them, but either way, this is yet another “small” example of the things you might overlook when relocating.

I was reminded of a huge cultural difference between American and French culture on my recent vacation in France.  (I told you, I’d be writing a bunch of posts about this, so bear with me!)  Here it is – Anger Management.

In the US, when you have a problem, and you go to customer service for help – be it for a dispute with a phone bill, a return, unfair treatment, or anything inbetween – there is a pattern and escalation process we all learn.  First, you state the problem.  If the representative helping you doesn’t immediately help you, or remedy your situation, you raise your voice.  If that doesn’t work, you request a supervisor – or, should I say, DEMAND, a supervisor.  You re-state the issue, and start screaming.  The louder you yell, and the higher you escalate, the more likely it is that you will get what you want.  As if you are an angry child they will do anything to placate.

In France, however, if you have a problem, and if you start yelling, the effect is completely the opposite.  You are ignored, treated like a 2-year old having a tantrum, and told “No, I can’t help you.”  I had to remember this when I had an issue with my flight on the return home.  When I phoned Air France in the evening, I got someone who, after a short conversation, told me she couldn’t help, right away.  She didn’t offer me any solutions, no other numbers, nothing.  I got upset, and she just repeated, “I can’t help you.” until I hung up.  The following day, at the airport, I remembered the culture, took a deep breath, and smiled my way through one hour of discussions with an Air France representative, a check-in agent, and her supervisor.  I remained calm, smiled, continuously thanked them for how helpful they were being, and they did what they could for me.  But, that was a hell of a challenge!  It’s pretty tough to tuck away years of cultural habits, even if you have to in order to get what you want.

For more help adjusting to new cultures, click here!

On my recent vacation in France, I took note of a few things that really stood out to me as culturally different. One of them was healthcare, and I realized, it’s not just how different the systems are, it’s how differently we behave in reaction to them.

In a recent post, I mentioned that I cut my finger open several weeks ago (sheer stupidity – literally, I was using sheers…) and had to go to the Emergency Room to get stitches. I was relaying this story to my host family in Normandie, and we were discussing how, if they have something wrong, or need a doctor, they just go, and it’s taken care of, that’s that. I recollected my experience, and couldn’t believe how ridiculous it was in comparison.

My finger was bleeding, it wouldn’t stop. I wrapped several layers of paper towel around it after it became apparent that ice wasn’t working. I prepared myself for the fact that I had to go to the ER. However, what did I do first? I got frantic over WHETHER OR NOT THE STITCHES WOULD BE COVERED BY MY INSURANCE! Yes, I was literally bleeding and shaking a bit at the fact that it wasn’t stopping, and my first reaction was to find my insurance card, call the number on the back of it, wait on hold, and ask not only if the procedure was covered, but whether I would be able to go to the hospital nearest my home, or someplace else! (Mind you, being able to use only one hand to do all this was somewhat of a challenge as well.)

My host family and I agreed that this was absolutely ridiculous, as they would have just gone and had it treated. They have no concept of in and out-of-network coverage, and the plausibility of paying thousands of dollars out of pocket if you fail to check in advance whether you’re covered.

Ironically, when I went to get my stitches out, I learned that I was NOT covered for this procedure by my insurance, unless I went to my doctor. So, I called my main doctor, and he informed me he does not remove stitches, and referred me to a surgeon. The surgeon was out on vacation, so I called the ER to find out if they would even charge me, and was told they would not. So, I went to the ER, waited 2 hours and the doctor felt my stitches were too trivial for his attention, and sent me a medical student who, yes, cut my finger with the scissors! So, I told her if she would show me what to do, I would do it myself, and I did.

The other interesting thing is that, in France, the people behind the counter at a pharmacy are all highly trained in medecine – the result, I have always felt very comfortable allowing them to diagnose my symptoms and take the medecine they advise, and it has always worked. In the US, however, those same people, in my esteem, are not as well studied or knowledgeable, and I would only allow my primary care physician to diagnose me.

What kinds of experiences have YOU had with healthcare in different countries?

I have a habit of crossing during red lights which a friend recently pointed out to me.  She said it’s dangerous to cross at a red light.  That got me thinking.  The truth is, it’s dangerous to cross the street when cars are approaching you!  I explained to my friend that although I wasn’t right to cross at the red, I surmised that her feeling safe to cross at a green light meant she didn’t bother looking left or right when she crossed – something she would do at a red light.  She agreed, and was soon crossing whenever I did, even at red lights!

This whole experience got me thinking about rules and safety, especially while abroad.  I spent some time in Paris earlier this month and realized this is where I got my street-crossing habits.  Several times, though I had the right of way AND a pedestrian traffic light indicating I could cross, a car sped through nonetheless – thereby undermining my trust in the green light alone.  I’ve also been to Rome where one literally crosses the street at your own risk as cars do not seem to have any intention of slowing for anything but a turn, or their intended destination!

I think America is such a litigious society that our actions are made in the hopes of avoiding a lawsuit, whereas in Europe, it’s more “every man for himself”, so behaviors are different. 

So, I’m not advocating that you endanger yourself by crossing streets whenever you please, rather, think about the fact that safety goes beyond seeing a green light.

I recently cut my finger out of sheer stupidity while making a handbag.  I had to go to the Emergency Room for stitches (happily I’m ok!), and since none of my closest friends/family were nearby, I had to get there by myself.  Luckily, I was able to joke around with the doctors, which took some of the edge of my fear off, but the experience got me thinking about those of you who are in another country, where a different language is spoken.

I’ve mentioned before that there simply is no way around the need for learning the language of your host country if you want to fit in.  Medical experiences are one of the things that can really make or break a stay in another country.  Imagine you injure yourself, or are in pain, or have some other ailment.  All your friends are the same nationality as you because you haven’t felt comfortable enough with your language skills to try and meet local people, so you have to go the hospital or doctor by yourself, or with another person who also doesn’t speak the local language.  Once you get there, you are at a complete loss of words – so now your body is suffering, and you can’t even explain what’s wrong.  Or, you manage to explain it, and then the doctor tells you something, and you have no idea what he/she said.

One of my good friends had this happen to her in Germany – her husband was fortunately able to take her (he is German) – but he took control of the conversation for her, relaying everything in German with the doctor, and she felt a bit powerless having to leave it to her husband to communicate for her, and having very little comprehension of what they were discussing.

This is just one of many reasons to learn a foreign language.  And, to anyone out there that says, “Sure, but I’m not good at languages,” you learned the one you’re speaking now, so you are obviously better than you think!

* For some helpful strategies to learn a new language, click here. *

I came across an interesting quote from Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love -

” I had long ago loearned that when you are the giant, alient visitor to a remote and foreign culture it is sort of your job to become an object of ridicule.  It’s the least you can do, really, as a polite guest.”

I thought that was an interesting summation of the early days of an expat experience.  Your ways are different than those around you.  Your voice, your accent, your language, your dress….everything is different.  And, as the guest in that country, if you look and dress differently than everyone else, you may find yourself subject to a certain amount of ridicule – not necessarily malicious, just noticing your differences and thinking they are funny. 

I remember my first summer living with a French host family, they found it hillariously funny, (and a bit pathetic) at how much I loved Coca Cola, and Laughing Cow processed cheese.  My host mom would buy them for me, and everyone would laugh as I happily drank coke in the place of good French wine and cheese.  (Believe me, I more than make up for these mistakes now!)  I found it funny that my host brother, Jean-Charles, who laughed loudest and longest, was helping himself to my Coca Cola after some time, but continued to laugh at me!

On one of my first trips to England, I couldn’t find Gloucester road.  I was with two friends, and since none of us had a clue where we were, I asked the nearest policeman, “Hello, could you please help us find Gloucester Road?” I asked.  But, I pronounced it as “Glow-chester” which had the officer doubled over in laughter and poking his colleague to get in on the joke!

I like Ms. Gilbert’s point – if you can get to a place of peaceful understanding that it is to be expected that people in other cultures will probably laugh at you for how you dress, behave, etc. – you won’t feel so alienated, rather, you’ll take it in stride.

What experiences have you had where you “accidentally” made someone laugh, just by being yourself in another culture?

I recently had a fascinating discussion with several people from several different countries.  It was about “the truth”.  The essence of our conversation revolved around what the truth is because each of us will define a single moment, event, thing, etc a different way.  We considered a napkin on our table – it could be described as folded, white, beige, dirty, crinkled, a tissue, and more.  Each of us was describing the same napkin in a different way, but all ways could be considered truthful.  So, we came to an agreement that the definition of the truth would be the convergence of where we all see the same thing – whether that might be the color of the napkin, in this case, and that it was folded.

That got me thinking about crossing cultures.  Often times, one of the core challenges we face as an expat is how different our truth is from our new neighbors.  This can happen with things like hand gestures or greetings – in the place you come from, a handshake is perhaps normal and expected, but in another place, it could be hugely insulting if their truth is that touching is reserved for intimate relationships, or that only the right hand can be used, and you offer your left.  It can happen with conversation – where your language and culture are more casual, and your new culture demands more formality.

The place I get bent out of shape over “the truth” is where we DON’T accept one another’s truths.  Consider religion, as one big example. It seems to me that each of us has our own personal truth – whether that be religious practice, how we eat, political affiliation, etc.  Each of us is convinced that our way is the right way – our truth is THE truth.  Is it just the human condition that “forces” us to move from accepting different truths, to changing them?  What I mean is, again, in the example of religion – if one person is Jewish, another Catholic, and another Muslim – why is it that we cannot agree to follow a different belief system, and let one another do so, instead of forcing one another to convert? (I know, religion is a BIG can of worms…)

I realize that this discussion may be a bit “deep”, but the repercussions of how we each behave, based on our own truths, when transitioning cultures, or dealing with different cultures, seems hugely important.  What are your thoughts?