What are the origins of cultural customs, rituals and rules, I wondered, as it was politely suggested that I remove my shoes as I entered a friend’s dwelling.
I knew this was a thing in Japan, and therefore would have prepared accordingly if I was attending a function in Tokyo. Or had I been tramping out in the snow in Toronto in a pair of Uggs or Doc Martens, I would not have planted my ample behind on the living room Chesterfield without divesting myself of my footwear. But this no-shoes policy – when did it become the norm elsewhere, including Cayman? I think it was about five years ago when I was first asked to comply. I was taken aback, because I was wearing closed-toed shoes for a reason. If I switch out my strappy Louboutins (Ha, as if… ) for a cheeky pair of Skechers, it’s because I’m going through the Hobbiton feet stage between pedicures.
The idea of exposing my tootsies in public chilled me to my core. I waited until I was no longer surrounded by others, then carefully kicked my shoes off, while at the same time pulling the hems of my jeans down to Shaggy of Scooby-Doo levels. For the rest of my visit, I appeared to glide from room to room on a denim hovercraft.
When I go through airport security, I now wear socks with my shoes. It was not the case at the beginning, when putting footwear on the belt became mandatory, but then I quickly learned a valuable lesson. Joking about the state of your bare feet in such a situation is never a good idea. I remember saying something like, “Oh? I have to take them off? Okay, but it’s your funeral!” Cue the full body search and a stern talking-to.
You’d think that when you travel to foreign countries, learning the language should be top of your to-do list. My advice would be to familiarise yourself with the different customs so you don’t get caught out, or stumble around like a bull in a china shop.
Here’s a simple example: When best friend Lynne and I were in Rome, we stopped at a restaurant, as one does, and asked for menus. As is customary in many Cayman and US restaurants, a server came over with a basket of bread and put it on the table. We nibbled at it a bit, but weren’t particularly bothered, because our focus was on the homemade pasta. Imagine our surprise when our bill came at the end, and we were charged for the bread. I didn’t speak much Italian, but I knew enough to work out that we owed four Euro for an item we hadn’t ordered. Apparently, like the Mandalorian, this is the way. You have to wave it away when they’re bringing it over, otherwise you’re forking out at the end of the meal. I should imagine Americans feel a similar shock when they discover that free refills of sodas are really only available in Cayman at Subway.
When it comes to using the toilet in countries like Greece, flushing loo paper is verboten. Why? Because the pipes are narrower and will clog easily. I don’t know that I would call it a custom that people throw their used paper in a bin, rather than in a toilet bowl, but it’s certainly a rule. Trust me, when you’ve spent most of your adult life flushing toilet paper away, it takes a conscious effort to remember that it’s a no-no in some European countries and elsewhere. Don’t also be surprised to find facilities that are simple, three-walled buildings housing glorified holes-in-the-ground out in the countryside. Two pieces of advice: Make sure you carry a light, and check the strength of your thigh muscles before you engage.
We discovered another interesting difference in cultures when we visited the Old City of Jerusalem in Israel, home to the Western Wall (also known as Wailing Wall) and four quarters representing four distinct groups: The Jewish, Muslim, Christian and Armenian Quarters. Our tour guide took us through the local markets in this spectacular setting, and as we passed one stall, Lynne happened to notice a top that took her fancy. The man running the small shop welcomed us in with a big smile, and got the cotton blouse for Lynne to try on in the back. Unfortunately, it really didn’t suit her. The cut was wrong and basically she looked like a shapeless doily in it.
She asked me what I thought, and I said something to the tune of, “No, it doesn’t work on you.”
In the Gap, Macy’s or any other retail store, the assistant would usually have just accepted this pronouncement and seen if there was anything else they could find that might be a better fit. Not here. Our new friend sensed that I wasn’t approving of the top on Lynne, and his personality changed completely. He carried on like his mother had made the garment and I’d just called it a bag of turds. Rather than sensing the obvious – that he wouldn’t see reason unless we bought something – Lynne actually decided to try and placate him by choosing something else to try on. Was she kidding? No way this ended well.
When she emerged from the changing area, it was clear that no matter what looked good on the hanger in this stall, it did not translate on her body. I’ll admit I took some glee this time around in saying, “Absolutely not,” as I watched him turn purple. Yeah, it was time for us to skedaddle.
Making yourself aware of the customs in other countries by doing some research in advance is always a good idea, so you don’t come across as some disrespectful foreigner. It can also save you money (“No, grazie” to baskets of bread you don’t want).
On my own turf, I’ve learned that if I’m going to a friend’s house, I should check about the shoe policy in advance or make sure I have the feet of a goddess. Just FYI, it’s the complete opposite if you come to our place. I actually highly recommend you keep your shoes on at all times, lest you end up with a soggy hairball betwixt your toes. We call it cat culture.
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