Your family’s normal dinner is somebody else’s culture shock.

Whatever happens at your table feels like the default way of eating, because it is the only one you have done thousands of times. The food, the volume, who serves whom, whether anybody prays, whether phones are allowed: all of it is specific, and all of it would be strange to somebody in the next street. Normal is just the water you happen to swim in.

Invite somebody over and watch your own house through their eyes for an evening. Then accept an invitation elsewhere and keep your opinions quiet while you learn something.