Leo Dean, Global Business Institute: Sydney, Spring 2026
We were warned on the second day of our program what the progression of culture shock would look like for us as we adjusted. We were given a full timeline of what the experience would look like, peaking around week three of being abroad as the “honeymoon” phase faded and the realities and uncomfortable differences of a new culture started to become apparent.
The worst culture shock I’ve ever experienced was when I lived in the south of France for a month the summer before my sophomore year of college. I lived with a French accountant in a small Mediterranean town and worked on his garden most of the time, along with helping with his household chores. While there, he explained to me the “French” way of doing things, often in direct opposition to the cultural norms of his neighboring countries, which were relatively close. Trying to adjust my daily life to his cultural norms was a difficult transition, but it broadened my personal tolerance to outside stresses while traveling.
In Australia, I never had a moment of culture shock—just moments I found amusing more than anything. People walk to the grocery store barefoot, have extremely well-behaved dogs that they walk without a leash or simply tie outside while they run errands. There’s free sunscreen on beaches, a general level of public trust, with people leaving their belongings out in the open unsupervised, clean streets, and an impressive amount of social cohesion for such a diverse country.
In Bali and Vietnam, things felt more foreign—especially Vietnam. The streets of Ho Chi Minh City had strong smells, constant activity, and the buzz of hundreds of motorbikes passing by. Coming from such a laid-back city like Sydney, this was overwhelming. Even then, I have this itch to go back, feeling that there’s more to see and experience in that country that aligns with the kind of travel and experiences I’m looking for
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