Regretfully, “well-travelled” is not an adjective that traditionally materialises when describing myself. Most of my family reside a stone’s throw away from the very hospital they spawned from and subsequently classify me as cosmopolitan for moving to Manchester alone. Therefore, with both caution and trepidation in equal amounts is the vocabulary I would use to describe the emotions I approached my year abroad with. Navigating cultural differences on the other side of the channel has therefore been both fun and interesting, to say the least.
It is worth prefacing that I’m currently living in and writing from France, and therefore the lack of exoticism is not lost on me. France is not Morocco nor Singapore and, ultimately, it is still possible to revel in the miscellaneous aisle of an Aldi where one usually finds a glockenspiel next to an off-brand SodaStream.
This should hence be regarded as a guide to navigating cultural differences for beginners or people reluctant to change their skincare routine, let alone move to a different country. If this were on a shelf in Blackwells or Waterstones, it would be, for one, infinitely better written and bear the moniker: moving abroad for dummies (and staunch beans on toast fans alike).
1) To begin, attempt to cease comparisons between wherever you are and the UK. This task has proven particularly difficult for me given that our pokey little nation is my only point of reference. Start by suspending the tendency to mentally form phrases that sound like “Well in the UK…” or “we definitely wouldn’t do X, Y, Z back home.” Frankly, if you’re one of those people who mention your gap year after a drop of alcohol and assume you are far too cultured to conceive such a thought, think again. Nomadic or not, I challenge any Brit to face the wrath of French bureaucracy or lack of organised queueing sans complaints.
Nevertheless, such a comparison generally proves futile. Although humans are creatures of habit by nature, it truly serves nobody to get your knickers in a twist over something you likely cannot control. Plus, I’d rather my subconscious didn’t sound like a Reform UK candidate.
2) Secondly, France has made me realise that I need to book myself onto a yoga retreat because I am proving more uptight than originally anticipated. In many French towns, shops close for up to two hours at lunchtime. If this happened in the UK, I hazard that a spike in hospital admissions would be observed after steam was witnessed billowing from the general public’s ears.
When in France, or another country with decent worker’s rights, wave goodbye to your Tesco meal deal. Instead, enjoy the present and take time and care over the meals you prepare rather than treating your lunch break like an Olympic sport and ramming a hoisin duck wrap into your mouth at a record pace.
In addition, Sunday really is God’s day, not because everybody in France is religious but merely because everybody rests and many shops are firmly shut. Medium to small towns in France resemble the civilisation, or lack thereof, in The Last Of Us on this day. Fear not, there are no zombies to be found, but the same logic applies to human beings. Adjusting to a slightly slower pace of life can be tricky for those who feel a need to be booked and busy, but use this time to spend time with friends, read, exercise, or merely reflect on the anxious attachment you have developed to the unending rat race.
3) Remember which side of the road most of the world drives on when you cross the road! Seems obvious but I am not exaggerating when I say that I have watched my life flash before my eyes on at least three separate occasions. I can only speak for myself when I say the last thing I want to get a glimpse of in my final moments is the bonnet of a Peugeot or Citroen.
4) It is worth mentioning that your sense of humour might not translate quite so seamlessly. Traditionally, I rely upon jokes to worm my way out of uncomfortable situations or to jazz up a room wallpapered in awkward silence. Unfortunately, I had to leave this tactic at passport control when references to Ali G stopped giving the illusion of fun and lightheartedness and started resembling lunacy.
Rectifying this is by no means a quick fix and I acknowledge that even after living here for two months, I sometimes feel like a baby who does not have the means or vocabulary to express their feelings. The best solution is to speak to lots of people, ask questions, and if you find that difficult, watch and read as many things in the original language as possible. Eventually, you’ll get a feel for the different expressions and idioms. For example, a particularly useful phrase for fellow stress-heads, je suis au bout de ma vie (I am at the end of my tether).
Though this solution is relatively textbook and equally embryonic, I have uncovered the antidote for anybody diagnosed with chronic verbal diarrhoea: move somewhere that speaks a language you aren’t fully fluent in. Not even tonsillitis managed to shut me up this effectively.
5) Eat. Everything. No further notes.
6) Wherever you go, you are certain to observe varying attitudes to drinking. For instance, some of the Americans that I work alongside looked at me like I had two heads when I suggested going for an afternoon aperitif in the glorious sunshine. On the other hand, when wine tasting in France, I was introduced to the concept of “breakfast wine.” Traditionally speaking, I am more partial to a flat white or an orange juice before noon but the French have other ideas.
My rule of thumb is that it is probably best to respect whatever is customary. Happily for me, it just so happens that my current location has seen me witness my boss retrieve a bottle of sparkling wine from behind his desk at 11 am.
7) Do your best to ignore stereotypes. I visited Paris a few weeks ago and I found the stereotype about Parisians being rude to be largely unfounded, or certainly that they were no more rude than Londoners in any case. Generally, the trend is that if you habitually attempt to speak to people in their own language they approach you with a warmer demeanour- even if you slightly butcher the pronunciation.
One of my least favourite things about the British is our lackluster attempt to learn other languages or at least a few simple phrases in order to go for dinner with relative ease. In the spirit of ignoring stereotypes about other countries, attempt to defy stereotypes about the British yourself. Effort is always appreciated.
While these tips are characteristically somewhat obvious, they are pretty foolproof. They are tried and tested by an individual who has not climbed the base of the Himalayas with a Tibetan monk or had a run-in with a Colombian cartel, just somebody who has been accused of eating like the Luftwaffe is still flying overhead. Go forth armed with your Lonely Planet guides. Openness, effort, and vigilance when crossing roads should likely be the taglines of this advice. After all, what greater joy is there than learning from people from varied backgrounds and differing walks of life?
