Yasso believes this is because Spain is more accepting of adults who are financially supported by their families. “I think a different man wouldn’t have been able to do it,” she says. “I’ve always supported myself, and when I couldn’t earn a living in Spain, I had to leave because I just couldn’t deal with that. But Fernando doesn’t have that machismo about money. He knew our relationship was the most important thing.”

Compromise is a part of every relationship, but it’s absolutely essential in a cross-cultural dynamic. “You have to be openminded, and be prepared to give a little all the time,” says Autumn Bangoura, 33, a French teacher who lives in Burlington, VT. She and her husband, Ismael, 32, a traditional drum instructor from West Africa, were raised with very diff erent notions about the division of labor in a marriage, especially when it comes to caring for their two children, Khadija, 7, and Gracie, 2.

“I’m a feminist at heart, and I always had this sort of white picket fence vision of a husband who does everything with the babies and isn’t grossed out by a changing a diaper,” Bangoura says. “I really had to let that go, because Ismael was never like that.”

Today the couple has made changes: she’s content to be the main breadwinner and primary caregiver when they’re both home, and he stays with the baby during the day. “You would never see a father doing that where Ismael
comes from,” Bangoura explains. “It’s considered woman’s work.”

Cultural differences may be readily apparent when it comes to balancing finances and raising children, but opposing national identities can also affect the way couples relate to each other on a very subtle level, says Dugan Romano, author of Intercultural Marriage: Promises & Pitfalls.

“We are socialized from the day we are born to expect certain ways of relating to others,” she says. “When these ways differ, there can be problems and misunderstandings.”

I’ve experienced this firsthand—particularly in the way my husband and I each deal with conflict. I come from a post-’70s northeastern American culture, where men and women are pretty comfortable talking about their feelings. But in Richard’s traditional northern English culture (think The Full Monty), a man who cries in front of his wife or admits to seeing a shrink is considered effeminate.

In the beginning, whenever we had a significant disagreement, I wanted to talk things through right away. Richard’s response was to clam up and hope that things would blow over. I resented his silence, and he resented having to bare his soul in countless 3 a.m. discussions.

It took months of patiently working through our differences before we both adapted. He’s now a lot more communicative, and I try to give things a little more room. Living in the English countryside has helped me understand that for a man from Batley, West Yorkshire, Rich is downright touchy-feely.

Tackling differences at home is one thing, but dealing withthem in public is another. I’ve found that many Brits tolerate unpleasant situations stoically, even cheerfully—an off shoot of the “stiff upper lip” that served the English population well during the years of wartime rationing.