1. I stopped wearing shoes in the house.

My Japanese teacher wasn’t just focused on teaching me Japanese; I had to learn my manners too. I walked into her apartment for my lesson and she smacked me with the might of an 80-pound 60-year-old woman. Hitting was a loving way of letting me know I messed up and never to do it again. Sumo wrestlers go through the same training.

I made the mistake of asking her why it was so important to take off my shoes. This time I got smacked in the back of the head and yelled at with her characteristic “Eh” before she painfully repeated my words, as if to say,”Are you dumb enough to ask why your shoes are dirty? You wear them outside!”

I walked past a row of neatly lined-up slippers. Without turning her head, she continued walking through the hallway and said “Put the slippers on, it’s cold.” I soon had slippers in my Genkai as well.

Months down the road I had her over for dinner, and she put on the slippers as she nodded at me. That was the most praise I was going to get.

2. I stopped worrying about being naked in front of strangers.

Walking into the onsen was intimidating. In Japan, there is a proper way to do everything, and now I had to do it without clothes on. I figured I could wing it, so I watched other women and copied every move. Those women were staring at me too, but for different reasons, I was a fat white girl in rural hot springs. Uneasiness aside, I enjoyed the beautiful natural rock facilities, with waters brought in from Atami that were of different temperatures and colors. There were also sauna and steam rooms to detox and clear the mind. It was relaxing enough to make me forget I was naked. I went back every month to unwind. I still have the habit of fully showering before I go into clean bath water so that it doesn’t get nasty for those after me, like my son jumping in with his bag of toys.

3. I stopped being “late.”

One time I took a closer train station into Shizuoka — I didn’t want to walk in heels to Shimizu station, which was one kilometer away from my apartment and figured I would get to my meeting faster this way. It was a terrible mistake, and I lost my way the moment I stepped out of the station in Shizuoka. Cautiously, I began walking around the city trying to find my way with no success. I had to call my manager, and she talked me through the route there. I was sweaty and gross, but I got there — and with 5 minutes to spare. The other foreigner teachers looked worried as I set my things down. A new teacher said, “Shibucho didn’t think you were going to make it. They called your manager.”

The trainer and Shibucho walked in and ripped into me for being late. “You are only 5 minutes early, in Japan that means you are late. You must be 15 minutes early to be on time.” There was no argument I could make. When I got to my office, I was greeted with disciplinary paperwork stating why I was “late” and how I could improve my behavior.

4. I stopped sitting in chairs at the table.

Who needs a tall table with chairs when you can sit on the floor with the food closer to your face? It’s the smart way to go — less spilling…except for the ramen juice that started to build up on my laptop screen.

5. I found alternatives to swearing.

Mendokusai is my go-to Japanese word for laughs. It translates as “bothersome” and is a word that gangsters or the yakuza use. There are many profane words in the Japanese language, but this one is mostly used by delinquents and teenage boys — who didn’t think I would understand if they used it in class. Think my lessons are mendokusai huh? That’s when I would break out in my insane yakuza character and mimic them. Mendokusai, mendokusai while exaggerating the endings with a crazy look on my face — like that show My Boss My Hero that was always on the only channel actually clear enough to watch. My students always burst out laughing — the levity was enough to get them to start working again.

6. I stopped saying hello to strangers.

Bam! This poor kid I said hello to rode his bike into an electric pole. Until the people in my neighborhood got used to me, they would cross the street when I walked by. This bothered me because I like to be friendly and smile a lot — I was always told these were positive things about me.

My friends warned me about the Gaijin bubble, but I was determined to pop it. I would make it a point to sit next to people on the train and watch them jump up the second another seat was available.

7. I stopped expecting people to bag my groceries for me.

It was never consistent — sometimes the clerk would bag my stuff, the next time she would give me the stink eye and point to the table with bags and tape.

8. I stopped driving a car.

My first bike had a basket for me to put groceries in. Every bike I had was special somehow, and each one was stolen — always gone in the stealth of the night. My manager said the only people who steal are the elderly, and no one is going to arrest them. So I eventually gave up on my bikes and started walking.

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You’re probably thinking “pretty easy” and you’re probably right.

Serve us food French-style.

Of course, I must start with food.

We’re a nation recognized by the Guinness Book of World Records for making the largest food dishes on the planet. So, do not serve me bite-sized food. Unless you want my (not-so-positive) opinion before you even bring out the actual plate.

“But are you Muslim? …Aren’t you all Muslim?”

Contrary to popular belief, most Muslims aren’t Arab and millions of Arabs aren’t Muslims. There are more than 20 faiths in Arabia. In fact, religion is the reason behind many civil wars — current and past — in the Arab world.

Trying to determine the religion of an Arab is a very irritating issue. Asking a person wearing a cross or a hijab annoys them because if she’s a hijabi (covered woman), then obviously she’s Muslim. If she has a big fat cross, then obviously she is Christian! If she’s not sporting an obvious religious symbol, then don’t ask because she’ll think you’re trying to judge her.

“Do you ride camels?” “Do you have a tent back home?”

Yeah, a camping tent that takes me two hours to set up because I lost the instruction manual.

No, we ride Ferraris. We have more BMWs on the street than Germany. We have custom-made sports cars in funny colours.

Not impressed?

Fine, we’re suffering from a large number of abandoned luxury and sport cars here in Dubai. You know why? ‘Cause we don’t live in deserts and sleep in tents.

Diss another Arab in front of us

Look darls, we’re all cousins and you can’t just insult my cousin and expect me to sit there and smile.

Refuse to let us treat you

Arabs will never take no for an answer, so let’s not argue about it. Just allow me to pay the bill and next time you want to meet up tell me it’s your treat beforehand.

“Where the black-gold money at?” Ha-ha. No.

Saying all Arabs have oil money is as true as saying all British people have had tea with Queen Liz the second.

The sad reality is we are 22 countries (if you count one Sudan but not the other), and one of them is Somalia, which is rock-bottom poor and has oil. We have the Gulf countries that have varying amounts of oil and rich people. We have Le Grande Maghreb with not much oil and even those who have great oil supplies aren’t rich. Yemen and Sudan are struggling with everything. You get the picture. We’re not one huge bag of money called Arabians.

Asking me, “What do you mean by you’re broke? Where that oil money at?” will piss me off. Stop expecting me to be immune to going broke just because I’m Arab.

Rip us off

Don’t try selling us something from the 2012 autumn collection in summer 2014 and call it “special edition.” Forget offering us a “special discount” when we know you’re actually charging us more.

There is an Arabic proverb, “If your friend is made of honey don’t suck him all up.” Nobody likes to be taken advantage of, and out of every other race on planet we tend to take everything a bit too personally.

“You’re Arab!? How come you don’t have an accent?”

Ok, I agree that some Arabs have thick accents, but that’s because they learned the language late, or from a second-language speaker. That doesn’t mean we all do.

A massive amount of us speak perfect English and French, so give us a break will you?

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1. Hang out with extroverts.

For me, my favorite extrovert is my friend Liz. She’s the person who knows that I don’t like huge crowds, who understands that I need time to myself, and who always has my back in daunting social situations. She’s there to get me out of my shell. When I was living in Banff, one night out with Liz had her jumping up on stage with the band, singing along while shaking a tambourine.

When she came off the stage that night she was buzzing. Seeing my embarrassment Liz laughed and said, “No one cared what I looked like, I was just having fun.” I’ve learned that in these kind of social situations, while I expect to be publicly humiliated, Liz goes in expecting to have fun.

2. Do the opposite of what your instincts tell you.

Sometimes following your instincts isn’t the right choice. In situations where we feel uncomfortable or awkward, introverts have the urge to run. There have been a number of times when I have walked into a crowded bar or party, and immediately scanned the room for the nearest exit to slip out of.

When it feels like all eyes are on me, my natural instinct is to get out. But as good as it feels in the short term to remove myself from a crowd, it really does me no favors in the long run. So I’ve learned to fight my instincts, to stay with the feelings of discomfort and eventually I’ll feel my anxiety levels dropping and leveling out. I’ve found that the more I stick it out, the easier it gets to have fun at that party.

3. Stop asking yourself: “What will people think?”

As introverts, we tend to live in our heads most of the time. We make the assumption that everyone around us is watching every move we make — judging us, waiting for us to embarrass ourselves. They aren’t. I remember being in Jeffrey’s Bay watching the Billabong Pro, when I turned around and saw Kelly Slater standing behind me. I desperately wanted to ask him for a photo, but my first thought was, I can’t do this, it’s too embarrassing. What will he think? What will the people around me think?

But I fought it. And now I have a framed picture with Kelly Slater on my wall, which serves as a constant reminder to not worry about what other people think.

4. Accept, but don’t settle for being an introvert.

Many of us spend years wishing we weren’t shy or introverted. In my case, I wanted to be the life of the party, the girl who can talk to anyone in the bar, the one who walks into a hostel and makes friends straight away. But I am not that girl.

I will never be Liz — who is the life of every party and chats to strangers on a regular basis. I am me, an introvert who does like to socialize, as long as it’s on my terms. I’ve accepted this. I know that it’s important to push myself to try new things, but I don’t need to change the core of who I am.

5. Stop waiting for the “perfect moment.”

I’m terrified of being put on the spot. I remember going to a theme park as a kid, and being chosen to be a princess during a live show. Thirty years later, I can still remember the mortifying feeling of being singled out from a crowd. I also remember saying no — and the feeling of disappointment that I felt afterwards, knowing that I let my fear stop me from being a princess. If you wait for the perfect moment — to speak, to share, to try something, to say yes — you’re going to lose an opportunity. And you’ll be left with a lingering moment of regret — of having missed out on a moment that you’ll never experience again.

6. Take off your headphones occasionally.

I love walking around with my headphones on — I can hide from the world, I won’t seem rude if I don’t engage in small talk. It’s difficult to start a conversation with a person wearing headphones, which is why so many introverts love wearing them.

The downside is that you get trapped in your headspace, and that’s where introverts spend most of their time. So challenge yourself to engage with the people around you. Take a break from the music on your next commute.

7. Sing karaoke.

Singing karaoke used to be that one thing that terrified me the most. Up until recently, my experiences with singing in public had ended up in embarrassment, resulting in me swearing to never do it again. On a recent visit to Kauai, that all changed. With Liz The Extrovert by my side, I finally tried again. I changed my expectations from potential public humiliation to simply having fun. I didn’t wait for the perfect moment when the crowd had cleared out, I didn’t ask myself about what people would think, and I ignored my instincts to say no.

Instead of running, I started to sing. Now when I find myself wanting to flee from awkwardness and self-conscious feelings, I put on my Karaoke Super Cape and do the opposite.

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Live in a city? Want to find out how safe you are? The Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) has got you covered.

The EIU released its Safe Cities Index 2015 this week, which rates 50 cities based on how well they do in four safety-related factors:

1. Digital security: cyber security, privacy, safety from identity theft

2. Health security: cost and quality of health services, environment and air/water quality

3. Infrastructure security: condition of roads, bridges, and buildings, transportation safety

4. Personal safety: crime and violence, perceptions of personal security

Tokyo, the world’s most populous metropolitan area, took the prize for safest overall city, and also won for best digital security. Zurich was tops in both health and infrastructure, and Singapore in personal security.

Across all the EIU’s indexes, which include “liveability,” “cost of living,” “food security” and more, the undisputed heavyweight champion of the world is…

Toronto.

Here’s the grain of salt. You’ll probably notice that some cities dubbed the most liveable are missing from the list of safe cities. Where’s Vancouver? Vienna? The report doesn’t make fully clear why many cities that top EIU’s Global Liveability Index fail to show up on the Safety Index.

Here are the top 10 safest cities, according to EIU. All photos from nighttime because it’s super safe!

1. Tokyo

2. Singapore

3. Osaka

4. Stockholm

5. Amsterdam

6. Sydney

7. Zurich

8. Toronto

9. Melbourne

10. New York City

The remaining cities, in order, are: Hong Kong, San Francisco, Taipei, Montreal, Barcelona, Chicago, Los Angeles, London, Washington DC, Frankfurt, Madrid, Brussels, Paris, Seoul, Abu Dhabi, Milan, Rome, Santiago, Doha, Shanghai, Buenos Aires, Shenzhen, Lima, Tianjin, Rio de Janeiro, Kuwait City, Beijing, Guangzhou, Bangkok, Sao Paulo, Istanbul, Delhi, Moscow, Mumbai, Mexico City, Riyadh, Johannesburg, Ho Chi Minh City, Tehran, and Jakarta.

By Timothy McGrath, GlobalPost
This article is syndicated from GlobalPost.

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1. You start wondering if your 12-year-old tour guide has plans for dinner.

If you’re eyeing that single mom struggling with her spitting up six-month-old in one arm and three suitcases in the other, praying that for just one instant you could trade lives, it’s time.

Unfortunately, the universe isn’t Freaky Friday, so you’ve no choice but to take matters into your own hands. Seize the opportunity to ditch your compatriots when “Rainbow,” that ironically black-haired hippie from the hostel last night, appears across the street from the umpteenth souvenir shop you got dragged into. Bribe your famished-looking tour guide with sodas and sweet treats and get a personal city rendezvous all your own. If odorous, pre-adolescent strangers are starting to catch your eye, there’s a reason for it. And it’s not just that you’re desperate — it’s that they’re probably more interesting than who you’ve been hanging out with.

2. The venn diagram of your priorities and theirs are two separate circles.

It won’t take you very long to assess what your cronies have in mind for their own personal travel needs. If their list consists of chugging Coors Light and running out of cocoa butter when yours is more along the lines of seeing the Northern Lights and running out of buttery croissants, that’s a bit of a red flag. And no need to pass judgment. It’s not that your itinerary is any better than theirs, it’s just entirely different. Heck, it could be that you want to steal apples from your hostel’s complimentary breakfast station and they want to find as many Michelin stars as possible. Whatever it is, the two of you just aren’t jiving. Grab your apple and get outta there. You’ve got some seeing to do and some croissants to run out of.

3. You haven’t checked off a single thing on your to-do list.

We all travel with ideas in our heads. What we want to do, what we don’t want to do, where we want to stay, how we want to feel, the numbers of pictures we want to take — whatever. When it comes to your to-do list, what’s on it? Is it museum-hopping? People-watching? Lattes, pâté, and cloth napkins? Or cheese and the end of a day-old baguette stuffed in your pocket? If time is tickin’ and your to-do list isn’t getting any smaller, you’ll feel better — not to mention happier and more productive — if you just go at it alone.

4. You need to squash that “traveling solo” fear.

We all travel with ideas in our heads. We’ve all got worries and fears. If you’ve never traveled solo before and the idea brings bulldozers to your stomach, it’s best to bite the bullet. You’re already not having a good time — could traveling alone really be any worse? You’ll get to do exactly what you want to do, you’ll meet other travelers in similar situations, and you’ll get home with a unique story none of your friends have. Your traditional “group vacation” just got turned into a hardcore adventure for one. And that’s the kind of story that will be recounted over countless beers for the rest of your life. That’s the kind of story you want.

5. The cons are outweighing the pros.

Okay, okay, sure. Sometimes our traveling buddies are useful. They’re good with maps, they foot half the bill, they speak the language — sometimes. In these circumstances, they might be useful enough that they’re worth the grief. And other times? You’d be better off ditching them in a dark alley. Take a moment when the relentlessly dull conversation hits a new low to zone out and weigh the two. Is it worth the inner angst? Is it worth the quality of your trip? If not, take a hike. You can explain later.

6. You know that the future you is going to have trip-related regrets.

How many days of your life do you think you’ve spent fantasizing about an upcoming trip, vacation, or just day off? What does it feel like when those days meet — exceed, even — those expectations? Pretty frickin’ awesome. It’s like our minds couldn’t even fathom the wonders the world had in store for us, and we’re left rejuvenated and with a renewed zest for life.

But when the trip practically makes you pray for premature death? Terrible. Not only did we waste all that time wrongly fantasizing about it, but we wasted time not doing anything to improve the situation — we wasted time not enjoying ourselves. That’s just a giant recipe for regret. So if your comrades are on the “I’ll-never-do-that-again” list, it’s time. High-five, future you. High-five.

7. You just want to meet some new people.

Ditching your travel partners doesn’t mean you have to travel solo. If going at it alone ain’t your thing, that’s fine — you’ll just have to lay a little groundwork to find your new groove. Visit a hopping coffee house, hostel, landmark, museum, or even bus stop or street corner. As long as you’re armed with a smile, decent hygiene, and the will to put yourself out there, you could be that interesting foreigner someone else met on their trip, that who’s-that-again person in all those photos of theirs years later. Make yourself useful with information, tips or tricks for discounted rates, or even just have some food to share, and you’re in. Just promise to use your own judgment — you’ve seen Taken, right?

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1. Punter has a totally different meaning to you.

According to Urban Dictionary, a punter is a man known to frequent strip clubs. In Cambridge, a punter is a sexy 20-something in chino shorts and a straw hat who likes to thrust promo flyers under the nose of every person who walks down King’s Parade.

2. You hate St John’s College, and you don’t really know why.

The phrase, “I would rather be from Oxford than St John’s” must have come from somewhere, but you’re not exactly sure why it’s the most severely hated location in the county.

3. Speaking of Oxford, you hate it too.

One sure-fire way to get in a fight in Cambridge is to say Oxford is better. We may not all be calculator-wheeling geniuses, but we do really, REALLY love our university. Plus, lying is wrong.

4. You think bikes have right of way.

No matter where you are in Cambridge, bikes will always have right of way over a car. Cycle rage is a real thing, and road rage pales in comparison.

5. The only food you want after a night out is calamari rings from Gardi’s.

Not only do these delicious treats really hit the spot, if you’re lucky, the guys behind the counter will take a picture of you hammered and put it on the wall.

6. You know over half the population.

Although we’re technically a city, Cambridge has more of a village feel. It’s impossible to walk through town without running into 10 people you know, and Friday nights at Lola Lo might as well be your high school reunion.

7. Your life was changed when Waitrose opened a megastore in Trumpington.

While Tesco and Sainsbury’s did a great job at keeping you fed, Waitrose opened your eyes to the world of “essential artichoke hearts.” Now your mum makes an excuse to go every day, and always emerges with a free cup of coffee.

8. You associate Mill Pond with Smirnoff Ice.

Mill Pond may seem like a beautiful summer picnic location to a visitor, but you know that at night it becomes overrun with drunk 16 year olds swigging WKDs until 10 o’clock — then it’s time to go home.

9. You know the most terrifying way to find out the time.

The Corpus Clock on King’s Parade is a £1 million atrocity likely to haunt your nightmares for years to come.

10. You know that the most dangerous place in Cambridge is the patch of grass in front of the police station.

Parker’s Piece is a lovely place to sit in the summer, but it is also rife with drug dealers, muggings, and the occasional fight. And yes, it’s right in front of the police station.

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1. You put salt on your porridge, not sugar.

Most people need to add extras such as sugar, honey, or fruit to make porridge palatable. There’s none of that malarkey for a true Scot. They like their breakfast oats seasoned not sweetened.

2. You call a sandwich a piece.

Question: “What are you having for lunch?”

Answer: “Piece ‘n’ chicken” or “Piece ‘n’ cheese.” If you’re particularly skint that week, it might be “A jam piece.”

3. If the chippy asks “Salt ‘n’ sauce?” You know he’s not talking about ketchup.

When in Edinburgh, as the guys behind the counter at the local chip shop are wrapping up your order, they’ll ask if you want salt ‘n’ sauce. What they’re referring to is a watered-down version of British brown sauce, similar to HP Sauce.

Don’t be surprised when ordering chips anywhere in Scotland though if you’re also given a huge choice of extra toppings. Most popular are chips ‘n’ cheese, chips ‘n’ beans, chips ‘n’ curry, and chips ‘n’ gravy. You can even have triple combinations. Chips, cheese ‘n’ beans anyone?

4. You know the words juice and ginger have nothing to do with fruit and vegetables.

Ordering any kind of meal deal in Scotland will probably include the question “What juice / ginger do you want?” They’re referring to fizzy drinks like coke or Fanta. In Scotland, there’s a big chance the answer will be “Irn Bru.”

5. You swear Irn Bru is the world’s best hangover cure.

Irn Bru (pronounced Iron Brew) is a bright orange, vanilla-flavoured ‘juice’ that’s so popular in Scotland it outsells the mighty Coca-Cola. If you’re a young Scottish male, you buy it by the litre bottle and can quite easily get through it in a day. For everyone else, it’s the first thing you reach for the morning after a big night out.

6. Your salmon is not imported.

If you’re eating it here, it’s local. Salmon is Scotland’s biggest food export, with farms sending their produce to over 60 countries worldwide.

7. Your granny made you stovies when you were a kid.

Traditionally, stovies are made from the leftovers from a Sunday roast: beef, tatties (potatoes), carrots, onions, and any other vegetables you have, all stewed with a whole load of lard. As an adult you might order stovies for a trip down memory lane, but it’s more likely you’re a workie (builder) or football fan in winter looking for a hearty meal at the pub to both warm and fill you up.

8. You think deep fried pizza is a perfectly acceptable late night grease fix.

Most chippies will serve pizza this way, sometimes battered, but more often than not it’s simply a piece of dodgy frozen pizza thrown straight into the deep fat fryer. Your arteries won’t be happy, but you probably won’t care since you’ve just stumbled out of a nightclub at three in the morning.

9. You think that deep-fried Mars bars are only for tourists.

But you’ll happily admit they’re delicious.

10. Putting fruitcake batter in a cloth sack and boiling it doesn’t seem weird.

The result of the above is called a clootie dumpling and is what you’d traditionally be served for dessert at Christmas or other festive occasions. It starts out very similarly to regular fruitcake mix, but it’s then put in a ‘cloot’ or cloth sack, boiled, then finished off in the oven to get a slight crust. You eat it warm, served with whisky-laced cream, custard, or ice cream. Yum.

11. You know haggis is delicious.

To be fair, sheep’s offal mixed with oats and spices, stuffed in a sheep’s stomach lining, and then boiled don’t sound very appetising. But Scots know better. These days it’s easier to become a fan of haggis.

Firstly, it’s more likely to be encased in a sausage skin than a sheep’s intestine, and today it’s eaten in all sorts of new ways. My favourite is the haggis bon bon; haggis that’s rolled in breadcrumbs then deep fried. You might also find it as a meat substitute in Italian dishes like ravioli and lasagne, or at the good old chippy, where you can get it battered and deep fried. There’s even a vegetarian version.

12. Your ‘go to’ alcohol isn’t whisky.

There’s a perception that whisky is all a Scot drinks. Not so. Firstly, good whisky is expensive, so it’s hardly what many people can afford to go on a weekly bender with. Secondly, have you tried the stuff? It’s very much an acquired taste — more likely to be something you’d learn to truly appreciate in your later years. But it’s common for a Scot to have a ‘wee dram’ of whisky as a beer chaser or just as a warming shot in winter.

13. You order your tattie scone on a roll.

Tattie scones are a sort of flatbread made from mashed potato, butter, and flour, and are usually found as part of a full Scottish breakfast. But they’re even better eaten in a roll. If you want to turn it up yet another notch of deliciousness, ask for some bacon and square sausage on your roll too.

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1. Crossing the road is no longer second nature but a dangerous and terrifying ordeal.

That’s not because your home roads are crazier than in Asia — far from it. It’s that several months of alternating between right and left-hand driving (left in Thailand, Indonesia, and Malaysia; right in Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia) has inevitably taken its toll and left you distinctly confused, whilst the moped madness of places like Ho Chi Minh, Hanoi, and Bangkok have firmly erased the concept of a pedestrian crossing from your mind.

2. Your ankles, wrists, fingers, and toes are covered in wristbands, half of which you no longer remember getting.

From that lucky-charm anklet you just had to buy (how else are you going to achieve peace and prosperity?) to the YOLO-embroidered wristband you now regret (I speak for myself here), to the wristbands proudly lining your arms as well-deserved marks of Laos tubing achievements, the majority of your body is now covered in string — and maybe even the odd elephant tattoo, done with a bamboo needle and lots pain the traditional Thai way.

3. You’ve forgotten how to use toilet paper.

The ‘bum gun’ is the holy grail of toilets in Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. It’s a hose which squirts out high-pressure water to clean the nether regions (arguably more hygienic than the classic Western wipe). Toilet paper is a rarity — to the extent that when you return home you no longer know how to use it (and maybe even find yourself reaching for the shower head).

4. You try bartering for everything.

Southeast Asia without bartering is a bit like Britain without rain — unheard of. Trying out bartering back home, however, is a different matter and all it’s likely to get you is evacuated from the premises.

5. Every time you splash the cash, you think of what it could have got you back there.

In Thailand, you can have a heaping plate of pad thai for the same price as your cereal bar back home, five fresh fruit shakes for the cost of your bus fare, or a suit for the price of some (nice) socks. A restaurant dinner in Cambodia costs around four dollars (if you’re pushing the boat out). A whole day canyoning in the beautiful town of Dalat in the mountains of Vietnam costs $25.

6. You try to find a moped taxi, or at least a tuk-tuk, but can’t see one anywhere.

In the major cities of Thailand, Vietnam, and Cambodia, tuk-tuks and moped taxis are often cheaper and more adventurous alternatives to standard cabs. Tuk-tuks are a first choice in Cambodia, whether for a trip to the harrowing Killing Fields, or to spectacular Angkor Wat. Traditional taxis just don’t cut it anymore.

7. You’re now the proud owner of an entire tailored wardrobe.

If you’ve been to Hoi An in Vietnam, chances are you’re currently sporting something you got custom-made there. It’s tempting to return with a new piece of luggage stuffed with bespoke clothing because it costs around a tenth of the price you’d get it for in your home country.

8. You can’t remember what potatoes taste like.

Rice with curry, rice cakes, rice balls — a typical Southeast Asian diet consists largely of rice, noodles, and rice noodles. That’s not to say there’s no variety from Vietnamese pho (flavorsome noodle soup) to fresh spring rolls, Thai green curry to coconut soup, Cambodian amok to stir-fried tree ants, Southeast Asia offers delicious cuisine with something for every palette — except potatoes and bread.

9. Talking to random people on public transport is no longer acceptable.

Travelling in Asia means talking to anyone and everyone. But you’re no longer on a night bus in Southeast Asia, it’s a city commuter train in rush hour. Your neighbor has her head buried in her tablet. Another is bobbing his head up and down to the music blasting out of his hipster headphones.

10. You’re already looking up flights back.

Life in Southeast Asia is so vibrant — the streets are alive with smells, sounds, and sights, the architecture is sparkling and colorful, floating markets glide over the rivers as vendors sell produce from their boats, outdoor culture is king, and street food vendors are everywhere. You yearn for those crazy travelling days and that impulsive lifestyle you once led on the shores of paradise (from Cambodia’s Koh Rong to Thailand’s Koh Tao) and realize the only way of rediscovering that version of yourself is by hopping on a plane back over there — and fast.

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Featured photo by Brent Danley

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I was born and raised in Zimbabwe to Zimbabwean parents. I had little to no idea what to expect when, in 2002, in the midst of a political and economic crisis, my family made the difficult decision to leave our home and move to France. My adopted country was full of surprises.

1. The French are hairy.

This one is a little outdated. While my groovy French aunt didn’t shave and went topless on the beach, the younger generations have completely rejected the freewheeling heritage of the soixante-huitards.

In truth, business is booming for waxing salons in France. There’s even a pubic hairstyle called the Metro Ticket, in honour of the famous Parisian tickets — minuscule little white rectangles that you can find clogging up the city’s drains.

2. France is just like in the Flight of the Conchords song “Foux Da Fa Fa.”

In Zimbabwe, I was taught French out of old 1970s exercise books that my school had inherited from Europe. They were filled with fine line drawings of an outdated, almost mythical France. “Pierre et Marie” always seemed to be on their bicycles and their neck-scarves were always aflutter. Their only concerns were baguettes, saucisson, and TGV trains taking them to colonies de vacances.

As you can imagine, this left me utterly unprepared for the real place. But if there was one thing that lived up to my expectations, it was the SNCF trains that ran along the rural lines of Lot-et-Garonne where my family suddenly found itself. They had mustard-colour leather seats. The fluorescent strip bulbs above the windows invariably flickered and the pleats of the tweed train curtains reminded me of the creases down old-man trousers. I could just imagine myself with “Pierre et Marie” on the way to my very own colonie de vacances.

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1. The French Revolution’s legacy is alive and well.

A family friend from my parents’ university days found us a housesit. It was a rambling old farmhouse in the middle of dry yellow wheat fields. The owner was straight out of the pages of history: an old-money aristocrat living in a state of metaphorical ruin, a relic from the downfall of the French Aristocracy.

Her countless cats ran wild throughout the house. They left scat on the marble feast-length table. Instead of cleaning up their mess, she would cover it with pot lids. She was a fervent Catholic, received fax messages in Latin, and harboured dreams of sainthood.

Her family’s wealth was such that her son would never have to work a day in his life and yet her ex-husband owned a château that clung to a cliff and was slowly falling into disrepair.

2. France is the epicentre of seduction.

I might not have had much to go on before arriving in France, but its reputation for romance and mystery hadn’t escaped me. Paris is internationally considered to be the capital of love and a candlelit dinner on the terrace of a chic restaurant is one of the archetypal images of seduction.

What I discovered is that the French consider this to be misguided. For them the Italians are the romantic ones. When they dub Pepé Le Pew into French, they give him an Italian accent. In fact, that’s their go-to solution for most French characters in Anglophone movies and cartoons.

There are so many things that we consider to be quintessentially French, but once you get here you realise it’s all just a question of perspective. What English speakers consider to be a French plait, the French call an African plait. What we call a French manicure, they call an American manicure.

3. The French love France.

While I’d heard of France’s reputation for romance, I was completely oblivious to its reputation for arrogance. Suffice to say I discovered it for myself.

After several years of living here, I travelled to Cape Town to visit a cousin and happened to pick up his copy of The Onion’s satirical, tongue-in-cheek atlas. I opened it up to the entry about France, it began: “One Nation Above God.” While the writing was snarky, I couldn’t believe how spot-on most of the comments were. I felt like they’d read my mind.

The Académie Française is one of the oldest institutions in France. Created in 1635, it’s made up of 40 members called the Immortals. Their job is to safeguard the French language from the influx of English and “bastardized” French from the Maghreb, the old sub-Saharan colonies, and Canada. The literature syllabus is cluttered with dead, French, white males. The history syllabus emphasizes De Gaulle and de-emphasizes Pétain to an alarming degree.

To the mind of many French, there’s no better language, no better cuisine, and nothing better to watch than the Dupont family at their traditional campsite in July on the news.

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