The best way to answer that question is to examine a culture that actually has fewer color words than English -- namely, the Himba people of northern Namibia. They group colors into just five categories: most dark colors (from red to green to purple) are zoozu, white and yellow are vapa, blue is borou (and also some greens, but not those described by zoozu), and dumbu is reds and browns (and also some greens, but not those described by zoozu or borou). Now, watch how this limitation affects their actual perception of color:

BBC

Seem like all the same color to you? The Himba man in the clip could, without a moment's hesitation, tell you that the upper-right square is dumbu, while the rest are borou.

How about this one?

BBC

You probably picked out the blue square instantly, while someone of the Himba tribe would be much slower to distinguish it. Because, while infinitesimally varying shades of green have been delineated by their culture, their language (and, in turn, their brains) tell them that certain shades of blue and certain shades of green are one and the same.

Just imagine all the historical nastiness we could have avoided, if only our stupid language combined all shades of white and brown into one word. Why, we'd have to learn to hate each other based entirely on personality traits! A utopia!

That's because the Jahai culture places a huge emphasis on smell -- their language is overflowing with terms to describe even the tiniest variations in scent. And they're not alone: The Ongee people of the Andaman Islands off the coast of India employ a smell-based calendar, dependent on when flowers bloom throughout the year. Western cultures, meanwhile, treat smell like the redheaded stepchild of senses. Telling someone they "smell" is never a compliment, while no such derogative connotations exist for the other senses. In fact, in some Arab nations, social gatherings are capped with a sharing of fragrances -- a good host ensures that guests leave smelling better than when they arrived. American parties, however, usually end with guests smelling like schnapps and shame (which the Jahai could tell you are actually the same thing.)

Babies cry. It's what they do. It's estimated that the average child will log a whopping 4,000 crying sessions before they turn two. Try telling that to a Sioux mother, however, and she'll gesture to her perfectly calm, serene little baby. As if to rub it in your face. Sioux women vocally criticize the American hospital practice of immediately separating a baby from its mother, because it makes them "cry like a white baby." Hear that, white mothers? You had a racial stereotype all along, and you didn't even know it! Congrats!

Heyn Photo

In fact, in most other cultures -- from Africa to Asia and beyond -- babies simply don't cry as much. When shown videos of a typical American diaper change (rife with squirming and shrieking and urine streams with sniper-like accuracy), Kenyan Gusii women were aghast at the Westerners' utter inability to soothe her baby. A study of Mexican babies found that intensive crying was virtually nonexistent, while researchers who traveled to South Korea to study colic had a bit of a rough time doing so, because colic didn't goddamn exist there.

skynesher/iStock

While driving with Kenge, Turnbull's young Mbuti assistant, the pair spotted a herd of buffalo in the far distance. Kenge, having lived his entire life within densely packed vegetation, lacked the concept of size constancy, and asked Turnbull what type of insects they were. He even accused Turnbull of witchcraft when they drove closer and -- to Kenge's eyes -- the beasts rapidly grew in size. Kenge, quite literally, couldn't see the forest for the trees.

Kenge wasn't stupid -- he had depth perception down within days of his buffalo mishap -- it's just that much of what we consider innate about our perception of the world is actually, at least to some degree, subjective. Kenge had never seen anything farther away than his bow and arrow could reach, and thus his brain hadn't yet downloaded the size constancy app. It's not like we Westerners aren't without similar visual deficits -- ever seen the Muller-Lyer illusion?

via cognitionandculture.net

If so, you know that the two horizontal lines above are, in fact, the same length. But because we grew up in a world of cubic buildings and right angles, our brains tell us that the top line is longer. Just like the Mbuti, our environment defines our perception. We laughed at Kenge, and in turn, somewhere out there is a race of round people, laughing at us and our inability to distinguish simple lines.

A recent ethnographic analysis found that, of 168 cultures studied, less than half of them practiced romantic kissing. And in spite of what Mentos commercials may have led you to believe, North America is not the world's kiss capital (well, Detroit notwithstanding). That distinction belongs to the Middle East, where a full 100 percent of cultures are practitioners of first base shenanigans. Asia comes in second at 73 percent, North America (despite our ample make-out points and roomy back seats) slips into third at 55 percent, and tailing the list with a big fat zero is Central America.

Lorraine Boogich/iStock

And not all kissing is the same: The Oceanic kiss, for example, involves moving open mouths near one another without actually touching, like they're all saying "I'm not touching you; you can't get mad." Still other cultures, from the Tsonga in southern Africa, to the Melanesian Trobriand Islanders, to the Brazilian Tapirape, simply don't kiss at all. They regard it as a puzzling -- even silly -- behavior, and when they first witnessed European kissing they were appalled, wondering why people would want to "suck each other," and "eat each other's saliva and dirt."

Nobody tell them about the internet.

For more things that get lost in translation, check out 5 Innocent Gestures That Make You Look Like A Dick Overseas and 7 Innocent Gestures That Can Get You Killed Overseas.

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