Hi,
I just came back from my very first trip to Germany and what better reason to go than Oktoberfest? It was an incredible experience, full of laughter, music, and energy. A after nearly a year of peaceful routines in Finland, it was nice to be surrounded by so many people, experiencing the same happy chaos. “Prost!!!“
To be honest, after just one beer, my eyes seemed to downgrade their resolution from crisp 4K (full HD) to a blurry 360p, couldn’t see people clearly. However, the air still was incredible, filled with music, and a strong sense of patriotism, since it also happened to be Germany’s Independence Day. I really wanted to sing along with everyone, but unfortunately, the only German words I knew were the three I’d picked up from airport signs: “Hallo,” “Danke,” and “Ausgang.” (Hello, Thank you, & Exit)
At this point, I felt truly grateful to my friends; they were my tour guides, introduced me to the local culture, and even took me across Bavaria for hiking. I found myself paying closer attention to the shapes of the buildings, the melody in people’s accents, and even the scent of the air that carried the city’s spirit.
To be honest, I can’t really say I understand German culture deeply since my visit was too short for that. And in Finland, I’ve only experienced a glimpse of Sisu during my university days. This blog is a short reflection on what I’ve seen and felt during my years of living in Europe; the small moments, the cultural contrasts, and the ways they’ve shaped how I see the world. Welcome to a bucket list of my stupid questions.
“Why is culture important?”
I had never asked myself this question before — not until after the trip. I was reminded of a saying from back home: “If culture remains, the nation remains. If culture is lost, the nation is lost.” Those words suddenly felt more alive to me than ever. Is that a reason why Korean chose the model “culture first, economics second” to export the idea of “Korean cool” and watch Samsung and LG take the benefits? Or why do big corporations put so much effort into training employees about their working culture? There must be a reason for that, right?
Feel free to share your thoughts or experiences in the comment section below; I’d love to hear your perspective.
Asian in Europe
Back when I was studying in Sài Gòn, I acted as a host (few times) introducing foreign visitors to our local culture, even though I had only just started learning English at 18. Somehow, despite my limited vocabulary back then, they still understood me. Through their curiosity and patience, they came to know our culture and I learned that connection goes far beyond language (all understood the reason why I was there, just skipped the class).
“How did I feel as an international student while studying in Finland?”
I don’t know. When I started studying in Vaasa in 2019, about three out of four of my classmates were also Vietnamese. It felt like a magic trick — one moment I was in an English-speaking class in Vietnam, and the next, I was in a Vietnamese-speaking class in Europe. Somehow, it still counted as studying abroad.
“Is it hard to truly integrate into another culture?”
About eight years ago, a friend invited us to what she called a “special family event” in the west of Vietnam. We rode there by motorbike and arrived around 7 p.m. The moment we got in, everyone was singing and dancing, the music was loud, like a concert. I joined in, singing and drinking with them, then I finally asked my friend:
“By the way, is this your uncle’s pre-wedding party?”
“No, it’s a funeral for one of our family members.” She said.
I was shocked, even though I already knew this tradition existed. In some areas of western/southern Vietnam, funerals are very different from what we have in the north or central regions, where the atmosphere is often heavy and sorrowful. But people in the west believe that if we’re too sad, the soul can’t leave the earth peacefully. So they celebrate instead with music, laughter, and food. Guests can’t refuse to eat, and somehow, I ended up finishing twelve eggs all by myself! (And of course, stopped singing – sat down -and shut my mouth up)
As you can see, even within the same country, people from different regions can experience awkward moments because of the cultural gaps between them. So it’s no surprise that integrating into a completely foreign country can be even more challenging. Yet, I’ve come to see this as something positive. Every moment of confusion or misunderstanding is also a chance to step out of our comfort zone to let go of old mindsets and see life from other new perspectives. Because it’s freaking hard so it’s completely normal.
For me, language wasn’t really a barrier at that time (I mean when I studied in Vaasa in 2019). With curiosity, patience, and the great efforts of my friend Jarko, I gradually began to enjoy the culture in Finland. Honestly, I probably learned more Finnish vocabularies in the sauna (with a beer in hand) than in three Finnish 101 courses combined at university. After a few drinks, I somehow started to understand what that “spede” (Jarko) was talking about even though he was speaking Finnish. “Kippis!”
That was just a small part of learning about Finnish culture. I believe experience is the best way to truly understand or dive deeper into another culture. I still feel like I’m living on the surface of society here; yeah, it’s not easy, but it’s fun to keep discovering more.
In conclusion, I wouldn’t say I represent the whole continent or all people from Asia. Everyone has their own experiences and feelings some enjoy it, and some simply don’t.
Other perspectives
There are many reasons why it’s so hard to integrate into foreign cultures like language barriers, customs… and countless small things we might not even notice but still feel.
In my opinion, education is one of the key factors that shapes our mindset and how we see the world.
In short, since the age of four, I began learning how to read and do simple math and I also did spent like 10 liters of tears learning proper table manners, such as how to use chopsticks or how to invite the elders to eat first. We grew up believing that teachers were our second mothers guiding us not only in lessons but also in life. From primary school, weekends stopped meaning cartoons or lazy mornings. Instead, many of us spent them in extra classes at our teachers’ homes, chasing better grades and higher hopes. At that age, our nightmares weren’t about ghosts or monsters hiding under the bed; they were about the neighbour’s children. Every Asian family seems to share the same saying: “Look at the neighbour’s son!” the universal benchmark for comparison. As I grew older, I started competing to get into the talented or “gifted” classes in secondary and high school where students focused deeply on specific subjects like Math or Physics. The higher you went, the more intense it became. The smarter you were, the more competitions you joined. Luckily I was a bit dumb & wild comparing to classmates so I used to rank in mid. The most intensive level is grade 12 when we all have the entrance exam to the university, a normal day started at 6 a.m, went home around 9 p.m and was followed by homework until midnight or even later.
I’ve just briefly described the study journey it’s impossible to capture everything in one blog, so maybe I’ll share more another time. To be honest, I don’t write this to make it sound stressful or to show how hardworking we were. Not at all. It’s simply the kind of education we have in Vietnam neither good nor bad. And I didn’t really feel any pressure or stress back then everyone around me was doing the same thing, or even studying harder.
And what about the neighbor’s children here? One thing I truly admire about kids in Finland is how easily they can speak more than one language — sometimes two or three, like Finnish, English, Swedish, or even German. The relationship between students and teachers is also much more equal. Students can call their teachers directly by name and are encouraged to share their opinions openly. On the top of that, students even wear whatever they like to school, while back home we all had to wear uniforms (to my understanding, wearing the same uniform is meant to ensure that all students are treated equally, no matter whether they come from rich or poor families).
I’ve kept this part brief because my experience in Finland mainly comes from my Bachelor’s and Master’s studies. What I’ve written is just based on my own observations — a small window into a culture I’m still learning to understand.
In my point of view, Vietnamese style of education is mostly about filling our minds with as much knowledge as possible. It’s called “Giáo Dục.” – the word “Giáo” means to teach, instruct, or guide sometimes even to instill certain beliefs or values. The word “Dục” means to nurture, to raise, or to give birth. According to the Chinese etymology, the pictographic origin of “Dục” actually depicts a mother giving birth a beautiful symbol of care and creation. I can’t say I fully understand the Finnish education system yet, but to me, it seems to carry the same essence as the English word “education.” The word originates from two Latin verbs: educare means to nourish, to instruct; and educere means to draw out, to bring forth one’s potential from within. That might be why many of us find it hard to study here. It’s not necessarily the curriculum itself — the challenge often comes from adapting to a different style of learning. This naturally leads to the question of how we integrate into a new culture. At this point, I admit that some of my observations might be biased, coming from my own perspective.
Both methods are same same but different. Actually, you probably already know about the differences, but not so much about what they have in common. Lemme tell you a secret: we’ve all listened to our grandparents’ stories about going to school 70 or 80 years ago, and those experiences often sound surprisingly similar across cultures.
Be positive,
Nguyen