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What Living in Nine Countries Actually Taught Me About Not Judging

Beyond the Passport Stamps: The Real Meaning of Cultural Openness

I used to think having an international mindset meant collecting passport stamps and knowing how to order coffee in three different languages. How wonderfully naive that seems now, after nearly two decades of calling nine different countries home. The truth is, developing a genuinely international perspective has very little to do with the places you’ve been and everything to do with how you choose to see the world around you.

When I tell people I’ve lived in nine countries, I can almost see the assumptions forming in their minds. They picture someone who floats effortlessly between cultures, perhaps sipping champagne in business lounges whilst discussing the merits of Milanese fashion versus Parisian chic. The reality is rather different, and infinitely more valuable.

My international journey began somewhat accidentally in childhood, moving through different places including the Cheshire countryside, where I spent formative years that would later shape my understanding of what “home” really means. Each move taught me something new, but it wasn’t until my adult years, working in aviation operations across continents, that I began to grasp what an international mindset actually entails.

It's not about being cosmopolitan or well-travelled, though those things can help.

 It’s about developing a fundamental curiosity about why people do what they do, coupled with the humility to admit that your way isn’t necessarily the best way. This realisation hit me particularly hard during my time in Kenya, where my British efficiency and directness, traits I’d always considered strengths, sometimes created barriers rather than bridges.

I remember sitting in a meeting in Nairobi, watching a colleague handle a complex logistics problem in a way that seemed completely backwards to my project management-trained brain. My instinct was to intervene, to suggest the “proper” way to approach it. Thank goodness I held my tongue, because not only did his method work brilliantly, but it also accounted for local factors I hadn’t even considered. That moment taught me that having an international mindset means checking your assumptions at the door, every single time.

The aviation industry is particularly good at humbling you in this regard. When you’re coordinating operations across multiple time zones and cultures, you quickly learn that what works in London might be disastrous in Lagos. More importantly, you learn to ask “why might this approach make perfect sense from their perspective?” rather than “why are they doing it wrong?”

This shift in thinking extends far beyond work. Living authentically in different countries means accepting that your neighbours might have completely different approaches to family, time, money, and relationships, and that these differences aren’t character flaws to be corrected. In some places, being ten minutes late is rude; in others, being exactly on time suggests you don’t have a life worth living. Neither approach is wrong, but understanding both makes you infinitely more effective at navigating the world.

One of the most persistent myths about international living is that it automatically makes you more open-minded.

I’ve met plenty of expats who’ve lived abroad for decades whilst maintaining an impenetrable bubble of their home culture. They shop at international supermarkets, socialise exclusively with other foreigners, and complain bitterly about local customs. Physical proximity to other cultures means nothing if you’re not willing to be genuinely curious about them.

True cultural openness requires a certain amount of vulnerability. You have to be willing to look foolish sometimes, to ask questions that might seem obvious, to admit when you don’t understand something. I’ve made countless cultural blunders over the years, from wearing the wrong colours to a celebration to completely misreading social cues in business settings. Each mistake taught me something valuable, but only because I chose to be curious about it rather than defensive.

The most profound shift in my thinking came when I realised that not judging doesn’t mean not having opinions. I spent years trying to be so culturally sensitive that I became wishy-washy, afraid to express any preferences or standards. That’s not cultural openness; it’s cultural paralysis. Having an international mindset means being able to hold two seemingly contradictory thoughts simultaneously: I can respect your way of doing things whilst still preferring my own.

This nuanced thinking becomes particularly important when dealing with practices that challenge your fundamental values. Living internationally means encountering ways of life that sometimes conflict with your core beliefs about equality, individual rights, or social responsibility. An international mindset doesn’t require you to accept everything as equally valid, but it does require you to understand the context in which these practices exist before forming judgments.

I learned this lesson acutely during my years in more conservative societies, where women's roles differed significantly from what I'd grown up expecting.

My initial reaction was often frustration or anger at what seemed like obvious injustices. But taking time to understand the historical, economic, and social factors at play helped me develop more nuanced responses. I could advocate for change whilst still respecting the complexity of the situation and the agency of the people living within it.

Perhaps the most unexpected aspect of developing an international mindset is how it changes your relationship with your own culture. Living abroad makes you acutely aware of your cultural programming in ways that staying home never could. You notice your own assumptions about politeness, efficiency, family obligations, and personal space. Sometimes this awareness is uncomfortable, you realise that traits you considered universal human values are actually quite specific cultural preferences.

This self-awareness is liberating, though. Once you understand that your way of seeing the world is just one of many valid perspectives, you become less defensive about it and more curious about alternatives. You can appreciate the directness of Dutch communication whilst still valuing British understatement. You can admire Italian approaches to family relationships whilst preferring your own boundaries around personal time.

Living internationally has also taught me that cultural adaptation is a skill that improves with practice, but it’s not a performance to be perfected. Early in my international journey, I exhausted myself trying to become a perfect cultural chameleon, adapting my behaviour so completely to each new environment that I lost sight of my authentic self. I’ve since learned that successful integration means finding the sweet spot between respect for local customs and honesty about who you are.

The aviation industry taught me something crucial about this balance.

In crisis situations, cultural differences become less important than competence and clear communication. The best international teams I’ve worked with weren’t those where everyone acted the same, but those where people brought their cultural strengths to bear on shared challenges whilst communicating clearly about their different approaches.

This experience shaped my understanding of what true cultural integration looks like. It’s not about disappearing into another culture, but about contributing your authentic self to a multicultural environment whilst remaining genuinely curious about and respectful of other approaches. It’s about being proudly British whilst loving London’s incredible diversity, appreciating Italian warmth whilst valuing Nordic efficiency.

The real test of an international mindset isn’t how many countries you’ve visited or how many languages you speak. It’s whether you can remain genuinely curious about people whose lives look nothing like yours. It’s whether you can hold space for the possibility that practices you find strange or uncomfortable might serve important purposes you haven’t considered. It’s whether you can disagree with someone’s choices whilst still respecting their right to make them.

After nine countries and countless cultural encounters, I’ve come to believe that an international mindset is really just an extreme version of a quality that serves us well anywhere: the ability to remain curious about other people’s experiences rather than immediately judging them. Whether you’re navigating cultural differences in Lagos or trying to understand your neighbour’s choices in Lancashire, the same principles apply.

The world becomes a far more interesting place when you approach it with genuine curiosity rather than preset judgments. More importantly, you become a more effective person, better at problem-solving, more resilient in the face of change, and infinitely more capable of building meaningful relationships across any kind of difference.

That’s what I’ve really learned from my international journey: the best parts of having a global perspective have very little to do with geography and everything to do with maintaining an open, curious mind wherever you happen to call home.

Take Care, Ellie xx

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