We’ve all heard the old proverb, handed down through generations of guidebooks and well-meaning aunts: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” On the surface, it’s a charming recipe for cultural immersion, a call to slip off the cloak of the outsider and embrace local custom. It promises a more authentic experience, a way to show respect, and a path to avoid standing out as a clueless tourist. But I’m here to suggest we retire this well-worn phrase, or at least approach it with a heavy dose of something the Romans themselves famously prized: logic.
The proverb presumes a universal good in conformity. It assumes that local practice is always the wisest, most ethical, or most sensible course of action for you, in your specific context. But culture is not a monolith, and your presence as a visitor comes with its own set of circumstances, knowledge, and responsibilities. Blindly following custom can sometimes range from the unwise to the outright unethical.
Let’s take a practical example. Imagine you’re in a city where the local driving style is famously… assertive. Lanes are suggestions, horns are punctuation, and traffic flow resembles a complex dance with no formal rules. “Doing as the Romans do” here might mean throwing your rental car into the fray with equal gusto. But logic intervenes. You lack the ingrained, intuitive understanding of this dance. Your unfamiliarity with the vehicle and the roads increases your risk. What is a fluid, understood system for locals becomes a dangerous gamble for you. The logical choice isn’t to mimic the aggression; it’s to drive with extreme caution, predictability, and perhaps a healthy dose of humility, even if you earn a few honks.
The need for logic becomes even more critical when local customs brush against your own ethical framework or global understandings of human dignity. There are places where certain traditions, perhaps concerning gender, wildlife, or labor, may be deeply ingrained but cause demonstrable harm. The proverb’s pressure to conform asks you to suspend your moral reasoning for the sake of fitting in. But conscience isn’t a suitcase you leave at the hotel. You can be a respectful guest—observing, learning, understanding the history of a practice—without personally participating in something that conflicts with your core values. Respect does not require complicity.
Even in lighter scenarios, logic is your best travel companion. The Romans might feast on a multi-course dinner at 10 PM, but if your body is screaming with jet lag, forcing down that late-night pasta is a recipe for misery, not immersion. They might take a serene riposo in the afternoon, but if your museum tickets are for a specific slot, blindly adopting the siesta means missing out. The savvy traveler adapts where it enriches their experience and diverges where it serves their well-being and plans.
This isn’t a call for cultural arrogance. It’s quite the opposite. True respect involves more than mimicry; it involves mindful observation and thoughtful choice. Use logic as your filter. Ask why a custom exists. Understand its history and social function. Then, decide mindfully if and how you will engage with it. Sometimes, the answer is a joyful “yes”—eating with your hands, observing a dress code, participating in a festival. Other times, it’s a quiet “no, thank you,” or a modified approach that balances respect for the culture with respect for your own limits and principles.
So, the next time you find yourself in a new place, literal or figurative, don’t just reach for the old adage. Reach for your reason. Be a student of the custom, not just an imitator. You can admire the Roman forum without feeling you must don a toga. You can appreciate the complexity of a culture while still navigating it with your own compass intact. Travel, and life, are far richer when we engage our minds, not just our mimicry.