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Going Dutch in Beijing: The International Guide to Doing the Right Thing is published by Profile Books. Buy it on Amazon.

A worldwide survey was conducted by the UN. The only question asked was:‘Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?’

The survey was a failure. In Africa they didn’t know what ‘food’ meant; in India they didn’t know what ‘honest’ meant; in Europe they didn’t know what ‘shortage’ meant; in China they didn’t know what ‘opinion’ meant; in the Middle East they didn’t know what ‘solution’ meant; in South America they didn’t know what ‘please’ meant; and in the USA they didn’t know what ‘the rest of the world’ meant.

This little joke, circulated on the Web by disaffected UN staff, points up a central problem of our hi-tech, easily spanned globe. Even as we reach a time where a woman in Latvia can communicate in a second with a man in Patagonia and, if she can afford to, fly to see him in twenty-four hours, age-old local manners and attitudes remain deeply rooted. The possibility of making an embarrassing or downright offensive faux pas becomes ever more frequent.

Some intercultural boo-boos will cause little trouble. The fairminded Finn who insists on ‘going Dutch’ with Chinese business colleagues at a restaurant in Beijing can be tactfully put right; the polite Japanese who arrives at a Parisian dinner party bearing a bottle of fine vintage wine may suffer no worse put-down than a quizzically raised eyebrow; and the Californian who goes out for an evening in Togo wearing the beautiful native beads around her neck will be no more than an embarrassed laughing-stock. Other mistakes may make for bigger problems. The American businessman who arrives at a meeting in Saudi Arabia wearing a tie covered in jokey pink pigs may well find that he’s lost his contract. Likewise the Englishman who gives the hoot of a fellow driver in Sardinia a cheery ‘thumbs-up’ shouldn’t be surprised to find himself being run off the road at the next roundabout.

More innate differences go deeper. However much you tell a Briton or a Swede that queuing is regarded as a waste of time in Italy, China or the Middle East, their cultural DNA will still insist that there is something immoral about a person without the basic sense of fairness to wait their turn, while a German who is kept sitting in an outer office for an hour and a half before a meeting in Brazil may find it hard not to treat the lack of punctuality as a personal slight.

The march of globalisation is being held up all over the world by similar misunderstandings about the importance of deadlines, the respect paid to rules and contracts, the morality of favouring family over outsiders, and the right work–life balance. There’s no escaping these variations in attitude and ways of behaving, which have grown up over centuries and are as attuned to local circumstances as the indigenous flora and fauna.

Ever-increasing travel and migration are, of course, changing things everywhere – leaving aside the powerful cross-cultural influences of film and TV. In Japan people point and catch each other’s eye in a way they never used to; new Russians look on the old strictures of nyekulturny (uncultured behaviour) with an ironic chuckle; in the Middle East young women wear clubbing gear under their abayas. But as far as underlying culture is concerned, we do not yet live – as some pundits would have us believe – in a ‘global village’ or a ‘flat world’. Even if most Asians are now thoroughly familiar with the Western handshake and shrewder American business people have learned not to rush things in China, you can still offend a driver on a Greek back road with the wrong kind of held-up palm or cause embarrassment in a Japanese home by stepping on the genkan in your socks.

This book takes a gentle look at everything from first greetings to last rites, covering key areas of potential misunderstanding along the way. Gestures, conversation, clothes, gifts, toasts, eating habits: there are just so many easy ways to offend people – or to be offended yourself. After a look at some of the underlying ways of thinking that can puzzle and confuse the outsider – from the importance of keeping ‘face’ in Asia to the need sometimes for a little baksheesh in North Africa – I move on to the cultural differences that can ruin a business trip, before considering what happens if you stay long enough to get involved in a different way: dating, romancing, even getting married. If you don’t do it yourself, perhaps you’ll be invited to a wedding – and what, really, could be worse than putting 40,000 yen in the shugibukuro? God forbid that you should fall ill or die on your travels, or be the companion of someone who does, but I couldn’t resist including some of those attitudes and rituals too, as well as a glance at the underlying belief systems.

I sincerely hope that by the time you’ve got to my chapter on goodbyes you will no longer look askance at that Japanese gentleman who stares at your shoes when he shakes your hand or sits through your meeting with his eyes closed, nor feel affronted by the African who never says please or thank you. By the same token, that you won’t be too extravagant with your gestures in China, that you’ll take your coat off in a theatre in Russia and never hold hands with your partner in Iran (unless they’re of the same sex). And if you’re invited for a meal at eight o’clock, that you’ll turn up on the dot in Cologne, but not till at least nine in Caracas, that you’ll leave a little food on your plate in Cairo but never, please, in San Salvador.

Usually, of course, the locals will make generous allowance for outsiders. A friendly manner and a smile will work wonders anywhere in the world. Being genuine and wanting to learn about a culture will get you much further than sticking rigidly to a list of do’s and don’ts. But it’s surely better to be aware of the pitfalls than not, to know when a ham-fisted attempt to use the local language is going to cause delight (and when offence) – quite apart from how to say skål properly or what not to do with chopsticks.

I’m all too aware that many of my observations about other cultures are necessarily generalisations, completely failing to take account of the modest Californian, the loud-mouthed Japanese, the feminist Saudi Arabian, the punctual Brazilian and the snobbish Australian – at least three of which individuals I’ve had the pleasure to meet. But as anyone who travels knows, sometimes sweeping remarks about a country can be true: for example, if an English person bumps into you, they will generally say sorry.

One day soon, no doubt, we’ll all live in a world that is the global equivalent of the contemporary British high street – grimly uniform and anodyne. Then this book will be a quaint reminder of days gone by. In the meantime our planet remains a vast and extraordinary place, to the bizarrely varied behaviour of which this can be no more than the most modest of introductions.

As they say in South Korea: 즐기십시요!*
* ‘Enjoy!’

From Chapter 6: Oogy Wawa! Toasts and Drinks

The cementing of acquaintance, friendship or the success of a business deal with a shared drink is something that happens in almost all cultures, even where alcohol is not drunk. (In Islamic countries tea or coffee will be offered.) If only it were as simple as picking up your glass and putting it to your lips …

Wee Willie Winkie
Getting your toast right is a potential minefield. ‘Cin cin’ (chin chin) may sound fine in Galicia, Tuscany or even a pub in the Home Counties but may not be quite the thing in Tokyo, where cin-cin is a word that a mother might use to her little boy in the bath to describe a certain key part of his anatomy.

Skull!
The words of most toasts centre round wishing ‘good health’ or ‘long life’ to your surrounding acquaintances or friends. The Scandinavian skål, however, is more sinister, originating from the Viking custom of drinking from the empty skull of a recently conquered enemy. To do this toast properly, you should raise your glass in an arc from waist to lips, while looking your host directly in the eye. Then say ‘Skål’, drink and make a wave of the glass before your host’s face, before bringing it back down to the table, always keeping that eye contact. If you’re gathered in a group, even if your shot is poured and waiting temptingly on the table in front of you, everyone must wait for the host to say skål before drinking.

Bad sex
There are local variations everywhere. In Switzerland you must clink glasses with everyone within reach before drinking. In Japan you should never fill your own glass; wait for your neighbour to offer, and when his is half-empty fill it in return. In China, if your host proposes a toast, you must immediately reciprocate with one of your own. In Germany an old superstition holds that if you don’t look into your counterpart’s eyes when clinking glasses, seven years of bad sex will follow.

The right glasses
The basic German equivalents of ‘Cheers!’ or ‘Your health!’ are ‘Prost!’ (for beer) or ‘Zum Wohl!’ (for wine). But personalised toasts may be longer or more formal: ‘Ich möchte einen Toast auf Hermann ausbringen!’ (‘I’d like to propose a toast to Hermann!’) More elaborate toasts are used on special occasions and may even include humour:
Hoffentlich hast du soviel Spaß an deinem Geburtstag, daß du ihn von nun an jährlich feierst! I hope you have so much fun on your birthday that you celebrate it annually from now on!
Hundert Jahren sollst du leben und dich freuen, und dann noch ein extra Jahr – zum Bereuen! May you live a hundred years, with an extra year to repent!
Das Leben ist bezaubernd, man muß es nur durch die richtige Brille sehen! Life is wonderful, you just need to see it through the right glasses!

Interestingly, many of these German toasts have their origins in Ireland, where the capacity for inventing whimsical drinking salutations is second to none: ‘May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live’; ‘May the Lord keep you in his hand and never close his fist too tight’; ‘If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, you’re lucky enough!’

From Chapter 7: Sea Cucumber and Reindeer Tongue - The Meal

Waribashi
Not every Asian country uses chopsticks; inThailand they eat with a spoon and fork. But in Japan, China, Taiwan, Korea and Vietnam chopsticks are the norm, and you should learn in advance the right way to use them. It’s not exactly a faux pas to ask for Western cutlery, but many restaurants simply don’t have such utensils available, so this is one area where it’s worth getting up to speed. So: chopsticks should be held two-thirds up, with the sharp end pointing towards the food (the farther away from the food, in fact, the more sophisticated you are deemed to be). The lower chopstick is held stationary between the smaller two fingers and the base of forefinger and thumb. The upper chopstick is held between the top of the thumb and the fore and second finger, and moves, pincer-like, to pick up the food.

You should never spear food with your chopsticks, cross them over each other, rest them on opposite sides of your plate, point at people with them, use them to pull your bowl closer, wave them idly around the food or – worst of all – stick them upright in a bowl of rice. This last is done only at funerals, when bowls of rice with upright chopsticks are placed on the altar of the deceased. Nor should you ever pass food with chopsticks. This, too, mimics a Japanese funeral rite – that of passing the bones of a cremated body from person to person. When you eat in a restaurant in Japan, you will probably be offered waribashi, or disposable wooden chopsticks. Once you’ve removed them from their paper sleeve, you can impress your hosts by doing the local thing and turning that sleeve into a rest for your chopsticks. Fold it in half end-to-end, then tie the resultant strip of paper into a knot: on this you rest the blunt end of your sticks. Waribashi usually come joined at the top. You should separate them over your lap, making sure to keep any little splinters away from your food. When you’ve finished your meal, untie your knotted paper holder and put your used chopsticks back in their case; this tells your waiter that you’ve finished.

You should eat everything with chopsticks, down to the last grain of rice in your bowl. For soup, take out the pieces of food one by one, then drink the remaining liquid from the bowl. The only exception is sushi, which may be eaten with your hands. Dip only the top, fishy side into the soy sauce; if you try it with the rice side down, it will crumble apart and make a most undignified mess. And be careful not to mistake the sharp, green wasabi paste for guacamole, an all-too common mistake that will have you reaching in a hurry for the green tea.

All these rules about chopsticks apply also in China and Taiwan, where your tools will usually be round, non-disposable, harder to handle, and won’t come in a paper case. If you’re not given a ceramic chopstick rest, you should put the food end of your chopsticks by your plate, not touching the table (in Korea and Vietnam likewise). And, if there’s something in your mouth you want to remove – a piece of gristle or whatever – use the chopsticks or the porcelain soup spoon, rather than your fingers. Perversely, spitting it out on a side plate is fine.

From Chapter 8: Holding Hands in the Temple - Out and About

It’s not just the niceties of noshing that require thought. As you settle into your new country, you will find many everyday things done differently. Perhaps the hot tap in your hotel bedroom will be marked C (for chaud, caldo or caliente) while the cold is marked F (for froid, freddo or frio). Discovering that you’re cleaning your teeth with warm water while your longed-for bath is stone cold will not be your only shock. Once you step out of the lobby onto the street, there’ll be numerous other reasons why you may be surprised to the point of outrage. God forbid that that outrage should be directed at you …

Nose shit
The Japanese do not use handkerchiefs as we do. They find the idea of holding on to hanakuso (‘nose shit’) in a cloth in your pocket grotesque. Blowing your nose in public is also regarded as rude. If you must do it, turn away and use a disposable tissue, retreat to the toilet or snort it back inside your body, as they do. Handkerchiefs are strictly for wiping your hands or mouth.

In general, it’s best not to blow your nose in front of others right across the East, from Saudi Arabia, through China to Malaysia – especially at mealtimes.

Spitting is much more acceptable. In China people happily spit out bones on the tablecloth during meals; out and about, even on buses and trains, it’s a free-for-all, particularly in rural areas.

Public display of affection
In Iran, Saudi Arabia, Egypt or Thailand you may well see two men walking arm in arm or holding hands. This is nothing more than a sign of friendship. But for a woman and a man to do the same in the Arab world would be unthinkable – in Saudi Arabia illegal, punishable by flogging. Heterosexual couples visiting Gulf Arab countries should be aware of these strictures, as they apply to foreign nationals as well as natives. In Thailand, however, nobody much minds what foreigners get up to; in rural areas farangs (foreigners) and their odd behaviour are a source of continuing amusement to the locals.

Gasper
Smoking is generally on the retreat in Western society. Even at tables outside cafés and bars people often ask for permission to light up, something that would have been highly unlikely even five years ago. And it’s now illegal to smoke inside a restaurant or bar in London, Dublin and New York. Frustrated puffers are even denied their own private smoking zones and are forced out onto cold streets, where (in New York) the bar may be fined if they make too much noise.

Those who object to this healthification of public space should consider emigrating to the Middle East. In Arab countries, particularly those of the Levant and Maghreb, a man’s right to smoke is still non-negotiable. If you do see ‘No Smoking’ signs in waiting-rooms, lifts and on trains, you will also see Arab men ignoring them. The only exception to this is during the month of Ramadan, when smoking is forbidden between dawn and dusk. In China, too, smoking is still regarded as a right; indeed, as rather a macho habit. If another man offers you a cigarette at a meal or party, he’d expect you to take it.

Corrective
In Singapore the authorities have taken the control of public conduct to the extreme. Uncivilised behaviour – from dropping litter to not flushing public toilets – is illegal, and attracts a big fine, followed by a Corrective Work Order (CWO) on a second offence. So you could be faced with a fine of up to S$1,000 (about £330) for a first offence of dropping litter, while a second could cost S$2,000 and see you working off your CWO picking up other people’s rubbish for a day in a public park or on a beach. Offenders are made to feel their shame: they have to wear bright jackets, and the media may well be called to report the event. Gum chewers beware: the import, sale and possession of that confectionery is banned – you’re not even allowed to bring in a small amount for personal consumption. As for drugs, the prohibition is total. The death penalty is mandatory for anyone convicted of trafficking or importing more than 15g of heroin, 30g of cocaine, 200g of cannabis resin or 500g of cannabis, and possession is taken as prima facie evidence of trafficking.

Privy secrets
Visitors to Continental Europe should remember always to be carrying small change when they’re likely to be caught short: using the loo is often not free of charge. Those Sanisette booths that lurk like Tardises on the streets of Paris cost €0.50 to access, and even toilets in bars and restaurants generally require a token from the waiter. The state of French toilets may also come as a shock, given the sophistication of the French in other areas. Even the plushest Parisian restaurant, which takes infinite trouble over food, wine and service, may have a grim toilette out back (sometimes, still, just a basic hole in the floor). Westerners travelling east of Istanbul should be aware that tissue is a rare commodity in some countries, where water from a bucket or nozzle and the left hand are often regarded as adequate cleaners of the nether regions. In Korea and many parts of China, if you are lucky enough to find toilet paper, you should not flush it down the drain, but throw into the wastebaskets provided (low water pressure and poor-quality paper means that drains are easily and often clogged). Footprints on the rim in Russia may cause surprise, but in a country where many toilet seats have been stolen, some Russians prefer to squat over the bowl.

In the souk
Some cultures have set prices for goods in their shops, and it would be regarded as strange to question them. In Great Britain, Germany, Portugal and Chile, if that dress you want costs £45, it costs £45. You might offer less in a charity shop, but even that might bring a frown. But in such places as Mexico, Morocco and Myanmar everything is up for grabs. There are no written prices, and the figure quoted by the shop or stall owner may be many times what he or she wants for it. To get the result you want in the souk or at the stall you should take a deep breath and divide the quoted price by at least ten. So to buy that hand-embroidered Qarawiyyin thobe your charming Berber vendor is asking 400 dirhams for, you offer 40. This will be met immediately by a practised look of astonishment, accompanied by remarks of the ‘What are you trying to do, rob me/send my mother to an early grave?’ variety. But in fact your man will now respect you as a serious player, as you haggle back and forth until you reach the price he’s after, generally somewhere between a quarter and a third of the asking price, say 130 dirhams tops. Walking off when he will drop no lower is also a good tactic; he’ll almost certainly follow you and offer you an even better price. If he doesn’t, then you know you’ve pushed him as far as he’ll go. You can always call back later. Bear in mind, too, that in haggling cultures it’s good luck to be the first or last shopper at a stall. At the tourist-free markets of Myanmar the cries of ‘Lucky money, lucky money!’ from stallholders who have yet to make a sale will follow you hauntingly as you walk away, your kyats still in your purse. If you do buy, they will bless their remaining goods by tapping your notes on them.

From Chapter 9: Jeitinho and Nyekulturny - Customs and Attitudes

Some attitudes go deeper than the kind of thing that can be explained or prohibited by a sign on the wall. As you watch everyone barging past you and helping themselves to the best treats from the buffet; as you hand over a few rupees to a beggar and are surrounded by a horde demanding the same treatment for them; as you look through your taxi window at the remote district your taxi driver has brought you to and realise he was being highly economical with the truth when he said he knew where your hotel was – you could be excused for harbouring feelings of confusion, if not resentment. But you have only yourself to blame. All these situations are the result of entirely understandable cultural differences. As the visitor, it’s your call to do the understanding …

Wait your turn
Queues are generally religiously observed in the UK, Australia, New Zealand, Sweden and other Nordic countries, where ‘barging in’ for any reason at all is completely unacceptable, with an almost moral dimension to the objection. However discreetly you try and get ahead, you will be noticed by people further down the line, who will start to mutter threateningly. If you persist and refuse to wait your turn, you may be shouted at or even physically manhandled. A more informal system exists in countries such as Spain and Israel. People don’t line up, but they know exactly who’s next, rather as Britons do at the bar of a pub. So if you arrive at a stall in a Spanish market, you should ask who the last person waiting is, then keep an eye on them until they’re served. In Cuba they shout out ‘El último?’ (‘Who’s last?’). But in places as different as Italy, the Middle East and South Korea queuing just doesn’t happen. Nobody waits in a slow line for a buffet in Italy, for example. They’ll pile in and help themselves from the dishes they want, resulting, they would say, in everyone getting served quicker. This impatience about waiting your turn is perhaps most surprising in Germany, where public behaviour is otherwise extremely orderly, with men opening doors for women, younger people walking closer to the kerb than older, and signs which read Geschlossen (‘closed’), Kein Zutritt (‘no entry’), Ruhe (‘silence’) and Nicht Rauchen (‘No Smoking’) treated with respect.

About face
Protecting ‘face’ – or the dignity of yourself and others – is central throughout the Middle and Far East. Losing your temper at a meeting or in public, for example, is a shameful loss of face: if you do this in Asia, you’ll be neither trusted nor respected. Being confrontational, insulting people, calling attention to someone’s error or otherwise creating embarrassment will all result in a loss of face – for both you and your counterpart. In short: you should never do anything in the East that makes you or anyone else look foolish. On a trivial level this can lead to some comic extremes. If you’re out in a bar in South Korea with a group of business associates and buy a particular brand of beer, you may find that all those with you will do the same, so there’s absolutely no danger of you ‘losing face’ over your choice. The trick here is to let them have one round the same as you before graciously suggesting that everyone should choose their own brand.

I’ll think about it
Often for reasons of ‘face’ many Eastern cultures find it hard to say no. In Japan, for example, the best face must always be put on the worst situation, so if this means not offending someone by not saying no, then so be it – whatever confusion may result. Tales of Tokyo taxi drivers telling their foreign customers they know where they’re going when they have no idea are sadly all too true.

‘That may be difficult’, ‘I’ll think about it’, ‘I will seriously consider it’, ‘I’ll give it my utmost consideration’ – in Japan all these expressions mean ‘No’, as does the almost silent sucking of breath through the teeth. And the Japanese word hai (‘yes’) is more likely to mean ‘I’m listening, keep talking’ than ‘I agree with everything you say’.

The same applies in Thailand. People may make unlikely excuses, pretend that they don’t understand English or even invent a non-existent superior they have to ‘check with’ in order to avoid saying no. In Indonesia things are even worse: the Bahasa language has no fewer than twelve ways of saying ‘yes’ but meaning ‘no’.

Yes and no
It’s not just in the East that people have a problem refusing others. Nja is a Swedish word that combines both ja ‘yes’ and nej ‘no’, but in fact really means ‘no’. This gentle negative has less to do with face, though, and more with the need for consensus in a famously co-operative society.

‘No, no, you go first’
In Iran taarof is the display of extreme politeness that accompanies almost all dealings with others in everyday life. A group of men approaching a door, for example, will show taarof by competing to insist that the most senior of them goes through first. After a business meeting, taarof may mean that your counterpart insists that you don’t go back to your hotel but join him at his house for dinner. In a shop taarof may even mean that a shopkeeper will insist you pay nothing for an item you’ve expressed interest in buying.

Do by all means enjoy the respect paid to you, but don’t take it too seriously. ‘Come to my house for dinner’ is the Iranian equivalent of ‘Let’s do lunch’ – only if your new associate is still insisting after several refusals might he just possibly mean it. As for shopping, there are tales told in Tehran of shopkeepers who’ve insisted on handing over goods to foreigners for nothing only to have them arrested for shoplifting once they’ve left the premises.

Not done
Nyekulturny is a Russian word which means that something is uncultured or ‘not done’. The classic example of nyekulturny behaviour is to wear your overcoat inside a public building – say a restaurant, theatre or concert hall. Traditionally you should leave both your coat and boots in the garderob (cloakroom). As concerts and the theatre are still ‘occasions’, you dress up for them. Older people in Russia would likewise still regard it as nyekulturny to stand with your hands in your pockets, slouch, sprawl in a chair, raise your voice, laugh loudly or whistle during applause. Public displays of affection, eating lunch on a park lawn or telling someone you have to go to the toilet were all once equally frowned upon. But times are changing, and, though the idea of nyekulturny still exists, the new generation of Russians are unlikely to take such Soviet-style gentility too seriously.

The little way round
In Germany rules are made to be obeyed. Paying attention to street signs, waiting at traffic lights, not using garden machinery on a Sunday – there is a reason for these restrictions; they have been generally agreed on by the democratic society everyone is a part of, and one should stick to them. In other parts of the world, however, great stock is made of getting round the rules that the state or society lays down. In Brazil they have a word for it: jeitinho, which means ‘the little way round or through’. Cariocas (those who live in Rio de Janeiro) are always looking for a jeitinho and will congratulate themselves when it’s found. In its broader sense jeitinho means that there’s always an alternative to the official way: humans respond to humans, palms can be greased, favours can be called in and the tedious demands of bureaucracy and the law can be avoided.

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