Forgetting my Canadian plumbing privilege
So, when I first arrived in France (Marseille specifically), I quickly developed some strong opinions about the bathroom situation. In bars and restaurants, a toilet seat isn't always guaranteed. Toilet paper is also not a given. And with older plumbing, there's an unspoken understanding that you need to be strategic about what (and how much) you flush.
Never have I ever felt more like a princess than when I realized bathrooms suddenly had to meet a very specific set of standards I didn't even know I had. I didn't fully grasp how high-maintenance I sounded until I heard myself complaining about it, especially when no one around me seemed even remotely bothered.
To be fair, bathrooms in Canada are generally more equipped, but that's because the infrastructure is newer in general. Still, nothing like a public bathroom abroad to humble you a little.
Stopping to gawk at… everything
I've been in Europe for around six months now, and I still can't help but stop at every single aesthetically pleasing building, fence or statue I see. I take photos, post on my Instagram stories, and can't help but be astonished by the detail and history in front of me.
The same goes for the plant life here. There's some crossover, for sure, but so much of the vegetation is new (and absolutely stunning) to me, so I can't help but stop and smell the flowers.
Meanwhile, everyone around me is completely unfazed. This is just their everyday backdrop, their norm. But I'm pausing every 10 metres as if I've just stumbled into a movie set.
Being the only one who can't drive stick
There may be plenty of Canadians who know how to drive a manual car, but I'm simply not one of them. In fact, I didn't even get my driver's license until I was in my late 20s. I grew up in Toronto, so having a car wasn't really necessary.
Now, I'm driving more than I ever have, and finding an automatic isn't all that common. Meanwhile, most of my friends drive manual with zero hesitation, like it's second nature, and seem to get a fair amount of entertainment out of the fact that I don't.
That being said, I am learning. But there's something mildly terrifying about trying to coordinate your hands, feet, and will to live when you're trying not to stall on a steep hill during a traffic jam.
Taking my water bottle everywhere I go (and it being kind of weird)
Something interesting I've noticed about living in Europe is that only tourists and expats (including myself) seem to tote around a reusable water bottle. Like, you can spot us instantly.
In Canada, it was completely normal (pretty much expected) to have one on hand at all times. Running errands, meeting up for coffee, going for a walk — gotta stay hydrated, right? But in Europe, it's just not as much of a thing. Unless someone's heading to the gym or out for a hike, most people aren't walking around with their H2O like it's an essential accessory.
Being remotely bothered by second-hand smoke (I know, how dare I?)
I love the outdoor seating culture across Europe. Long lunches, buzzing terraces, a glass of wine at noon. It's pretty dreamy. But as someone who's quit smoking more than once, I've realized I can be a bit sensitive when it comes to the constant cigarette smoke. Because on pretty much every patio, there's a steady stream of it.
Smoking is still very much the norm here, and asking someone not to light up while you're both sitting outside enjoying lunch? Yeah, good luck.
But what's been slightly embarrassing is realizing how quickly I default to my Canadian mindset. The one where smoking on patios is banned, and being bothered by it feels completely justified. Here, though, that reaction just makes me look a little uptight. Like... how can I possibly expect an entire terrace to adjust to standards that don't exist? So instead, I sit there, trying to act unbothered, doing my best to subtly angle my chair away from the nearest plume.
Being overly affected by the lack of screens on windows
I'm starting to learn I have less chill than I previously thought. Particularly when it comes to the outdoors seeping into my indoor space. In Canada, it's pretty much a guarantee to have windows that also have screens. But my experience in Europe so far has shown me it's a luxury that doesn't really exist here.
Sure, it's not really a big deal… but the sad truth is that mosquitoes are universal, and turns out, window screens do a lot of heavy lifting when it comes to insect control.
I'm the only one who loves air conditioning
So many people I've talked to in the south of France despise air conditioning. I've been told it gives people headaches, makes them feel sick, dries out the air… the list goes on. There's a real resistance to it.
Me, on the other hand? As a typical North American, I absolutely adore it. And miss it intensely now that it's not so available. But every time I make that statement to my French friends, I can feel the judgment.
Realizing that clothes dryers aren't really a thing
Another princess moment I had was realizing how much I miss having warm, fluffy, bone-dry laundry. For context, it's super hard to find a rental in Europe (at least from my experience in France) that has both a washer and dryer.
People here usually hang their clothes up outside or use a fold-away drying rack. It's fine (at least that's what I've been telling myself), but I've definitely caught myself complaining. Which is exactly when the self-awareness kicks in. Because nothing makes you feel more ridiculous than realizing you're genuinely upset about the texture of your laundry.
Not having cash or change (and somehow always needing it)
In Canada, I almost never carried cash with me. In the south of France, it's a different story. I've learned pretty quickly that having a few coins on you isn't optional. My local boulangerie (bakery) is not thrilled about tapping a card for a one-euro croissant, and if you're heading out to see live music, there's usually a small, cash-only cover at the door. The same goes for public restrooms, which is a whole other experience (yes, you have to pay to use the bathroom sometimes).
It's not a huge deal, but it does take some getting used to. I've definitely had a few moments of standing there, empty-handed, doing that awkward half-shrug like… "Par carte, s'il vous plaît?" knowing full well the answer is no.
The views expressed in this Opinion article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.
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