It wasn’t an exchange student exactly, but I did host a guy in his very early 20’s from India who worked for the Indian office of the company I work for. He was pretty sheltered and young, and here for a while, so my company paid me to host him while he was here. It was basically non-stop culture shock. His English sucked too, which didn’t help things.
Weird things to note:
Terrible bathroom habits. Pee everywhere. Very awkward discussions about how to use the toilet didn’t rectify things. Pantomimed peeing like a westerner and everything. How to dispose of used toilet paper at least did stick.
Weird oil stains in his room after he left. It was like he was applying it to his body and it went everywhere. I replaced the carpet upstairs shortly after he left anyways, but yuck.
He thought I was crazy or incredibly poor because I didn’t have someone cooking and cleaning for me. We had dinner one night at the president’s house and I honestly think my Indian guest thought the president’s wife was a servant.
Deathly afraid of African-Canadians. Shaking, eyes like saucers, etc. We passed a black guy on the street who was wearing camo pants and my Indian friend literally hid behind me until the guy passed. Once asked about the “trouble with the blacks” but I had no clue how to answer. We had lots of conversations that ended with blinking from me.
Despite having way worse English than the average Indian, he would talk at length incomprehensibly in broken English. I took to just saying “ah, wow!” at pauses.
Hugging or touching was really uncomfortable for him. I hugged him as he was leaving the house for the last time, and the president’s wife hugged him as he left their place after dinner. Same reaction both times; stand stiff with arms at sides, and stare wide-eyed into the distance.
I did a lot of his dishes and washing up for him because he simply wasn’t doing it/didn’t know how. He usually ate basic food that required no cooking. Tried to make rice one time while I was out of the house, and I came back to rice burned to the bottom of the pot, a perfect circular hole in my tablecloth, and a circular burn mark in my kitchen table. The rice had started to smoke, and he simply took it off the burner and placed it on the table. I made sure to smile and tell him it was OK, but that sucked. I tossed the table when my fiancee moved in with me.
Less than a year after he left, he got married in a huge Indian wedding. Invited a good chunk of the company in Canada (especially upper management) and didn’t invite me. No one made the trip (for obvious reasons) but I said a quiet “fuck you” under my breath when I heard that invites had gone out and I was left off. Dickhead.