You’ve landed in your new country.
You’ve got a local SIM card.
You know which café has the good coffee.
You can order lunch without panicking.

And then it hits you.

You don’t actually know anyone.

Not the barista. Not the neighbor who nods politely. Not the Uber driver who helped you practice your accent for five minutes. You’re surrounded by people—and somehow still alone.

Nobody really warns you about this part of life abroad. Making friends sounds like it should be the easy chapter. It’s always romanticized in expat stories: spontaneous dinners, deep conversations, instant connection in foreign places.

But in real life?
Friendship abroad is one of the most misunderstood—and emotionally complex—parts of living overseas.

Let’s start with something deceptively simple: small talk.

In places like the U.S. or Canada, small talk is social glue.
“How’s your day?”
“Crazy weather, huh?”
It’s not meant to be deep—it’s meant to be warm.

Now try that approach in Germany. Or Finland. Or Japan.

In many cultures, talking just to talk feels strange. A casual question about someone’s weekend can come across as intrusive, fake, or confusing. Silence isn’t awkward—it’s neutral. Sometimes even respectful.

Then flip the script.

In places like Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Italy, small talk isn’t optional—it’s expected. You greet everyone. You chat with the cashier. You exchange pleasantries before getting down to business. Skipping that step can feel cold or dismissive.

This is where expats get tripped up.

You might think you’re being friendly—and accidentally come across as invasive.
Or you think you’re being polite—and accidentally come across as distant.

Same words. Totally different meanings.

And that disconnect can quietly keep people at arm’s length.

One of the biggest surprises for expats and nomads is how long real friendships take to form.

Especially in cultures with tight, long-established social circles—think France, Denmark, Japan, Sweden—people often already have full lives. Friends they’ve known since childhood. Families nearby. Long-standing routines.

It’s not that locals are unfriendly.
It’s that they’re… complete.

Breaking into those circles doesn’t happen through one good conversation. It happens through consistency.

Over time, familiarity turns into trust. Trust turns into recognition. And eventually—sometimes months later—connection happens.

In other regions, especially parts of Latin America or Southeast Asia, friendliness comes fast. Invitations happen quickly. You’re welcomed into group settings easily.

But here’s the twist: quick warmth doesn’t always equal deep friendship.

You may feel included—but still not quite inside.

For most people abroad, their first real friendships are with other expats.

And that makes sense.

They understand the visa stress.
The cultural whiplash.
The shared jokes about bureaucracy and “why is this so complicated?”

Expat friendships can feel intense and immediate. You meet someone on a Tuesday and by Friday you’re planning weekend trips together.

These friendships can be lifesaving.

They can also be temporary.

People leave. Contracts end. Visas expire. Life paths shift.

One nomad once told me something that stuck:

That’s the beauty and the exhaustion of expat friendships. They’re real. They’re meaningful. But they often live on borrowed time.

Some turn into lifelong bonds.
Others are chapters—not the whole book.

Every culture has social rules that nobody explains—but everyone expects you to follow.

A few common surprises:

None of these are better or worse. They’re just different.

The mistake expats make isn’t breaking the rules—it’s not realizing the rules exist at all.

Making friends as an adult is already hard. Add a new language, unfamiliar social cues, and the knowledge that “this might be temporary,” and it becomes a real challenge.

Here’s what actually works:

Group learning creates shared struggle—and shared struggle builds bonds fast.

Language cafés, tandem exchanges, and local meetups attract people who want to connect across cultures.

Hiking groups. Sports teams. Dance classes. Coworking spaces. Friendship grows faster when you’re doing something together.

Few things break barriers like working side by side toward a shared purpose.

Same café. Same park. Same schedule. Familiarity does a lot of social heavy lifting.

This might be the most underrated tip of all.
Time matters. Roots take time. The longer you stay, the more natural friendships feel.

Here’s the upside—and it’s a big one.

When friendships abroad do form, they’re often deeper than expected.

They’re intentional.
They’re honest.
They’re built on shared growth and vulnerability.

You didn’t just meet—you crossed cultures to get there.

And that kind of connection sticks with you, even if the geography changes.

Friendship abroad isn’t about being instantly liked.
It’s about learning how connection works somewhere new—and letting yourself be changed by it.

That’s when the small talk finally turns into something real.