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Heard the one about a worldwide survey conducted by the UN? The only question asked was: “Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?”

The survey was a failure. In Africa they didn’t know what “food” meant; in India they didn’t know what “honest” meant; in Europe they didn’t know what “shortage” meant; in China they didn’t know what “opinion” meant; in the Middle East they didn’t know what “solution” meant; in South America they didn’t know what “please” meant; and in the USA they didn’t know what “the rest of the world” meant.

This wry tale, circulated on the web by disaffected UN staff, highlights a central problem of our high-tech, easily spanned globe. A woman in Latvia can communicate in a second with a man in Patagonia, and, if she wants to, fly to see him in 24 hours, but no amount of modern technology can prepare you for age-old local manners and attitudes that remain set in stone. And as more of us venture to more varied destinations, the possibility of making an embarrassing or downright offensive faux pas becomes ever more frequent.

In general, it’s best, when travelling, to avoid politics, except in a spirit of tentative, open-minded inquiry. Be careful, in particular, about discussing adjacent countries. Whatever they say, New Zealanders don’t like being mistaken for Australians, and Canadians hate to be thought American (especially if they’re wearing one of those little maple-leaf things on their lapels). Indians won’t be happy if you confuse them with Pakistanis, Bangladeshis or Sri Lankans, while Bolivians don’t warm to praise of any of their neighbours – having lost wars with all of them.

“What’s the best way to make a fortune?”’ ask the Uruguayans. “‘Buy an Argentinian for what he’s worth, then sell him for what he thinks he’s worth.”’ In China, keep off current events, and indeed anything controversial. Political nonos include, of course, Tibet, as well as referring to Taiwan as the Republic of China, or, worse, “Free China”. In Arab countries, be wary of talking about the Persian Gulf: many prefer to call it the Arabian Gulf (al-Khalij al).

Being critical of the country you’re visiting, even in jest, is a mistake: Scandinavians, for example, get very weary of outsiders telling them how high their cost of living is. They already know.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do” remains wise counsel. But don’t take it too far – copying local ways of behaving can render you ridiculous. Many Argentinians summon waiters with a loud, lip-smacking kissing noise, but this wouldn’t go down well if it came from an outsider. Australians say “G’day” to each other but can react oddly when they hear the greeting repeated by visitors. Americans from the Deep South feel the same way about outsiders copying their drawling use of “Y’all”.

The temptation for thoughtful visitors to try to speak the host language can be strong, and the gesture is often appreciated. In countries such as Denmark or Botswana, where the native language is unlikely to be used elsewhere, the clumsiest “tak” or “dumela” will bring a smile for your effort. Russians, too, will love your peculiar-sounding attempts to fit in.

But in other, prouder cultures, inadequate efforts may only annoy. Those who’ve tried out their half-remembered GCSE French on a busy Parisian waiter will confirm this. In France in general, unless you speak good French with confidence, your counterparts would probably prefer you to speak English clearly – after a short apology for not being able to speak French, of course.

The risk of getting it badly wrong jumps up a number of levels when you try to tackle languages such as Chinese or Japanese, where correct pronunciation is crucial. Your carefully rehearsed phrase may come out meaning something entirely different, like that of the Americans who toasted their Chinese hosts with the prepared line “Thank you very much for the dinner. I am so full I must loosen my belt”, which poor pronunciation rendered as “Thank you very much for dinner. The girth of my donkey’s saddle is loose”.

In France, questions of the “Are you married?”, “Do you have children?” variety would be considered far too personal on a first meeting. But in the Arab world, these are the appropriate things to ask about. In Asia, likewise, you may quiz people about their age, the age of their spouse, even how much their watch cost – subjects that would be out of order straight off the bat in supposedly forthright North America. In the Far East, such inquiries can be even more intrusive. “How much money do you earn?” or “How large is your house?” would not be considered beyond the pale in Vietnam, Japan or the Philippines.

In Africa, you may have to accept not just questions of the “Are you married?” variety, but advice, too. “Why are you not married?” may be followed by a long insistent wail of “You must marry. You must have children. Who will inherit your house, your car?” In Muslim countries, at least there is a useful answer for this kind of approach: “Allah has not blessed me yet. I wait with patience.”

Israelis are famously direct. They may not only ask you extremely personal questions, but also weigh in immediately with advice. “How much did that suit cost you?” could easily be followed by: “You paid too much.” Don’t let this or any other form of brusque public behaviour bother you: Jews born in Israel refer to themselves as sabra, which is the name of the indigenous “cactus fruit” of the Holy Land. It’s prickly on the outside but beautifully soft and delicious inside.

For those of us who are used to men and women who eff and blind at the smartest occasions, it may be hard to realise that in many cultures swearing is unacceptable – certainly in mixed company. Even in tough-talking Russia, a woman would never use an expletive; she is more likely, when upset, to say “blin” (a kind of sweet pancake), the equivalent of saying “sugar”.

Many African languages have no words for “please” and “thank you”, but this doesn’t reflect an ingrained rudeness; it’s more that such statements are seen as unnecessary between individuals who already have a powerful obligation to provide for each other. A similar bluntness can be found in Germany and Scandinavia, where pussyfooting around with extra little attempts to ingratiate is seen as unnecessary. In all these places it’s all too easy to fall into thinking that everyone’s rude – when from their point of view they’re just being clear and to the point.

Certain cultures use teasing as a way of establishing friendship. Argentinians may be surprisingly derogatory about your weight or choice of clothes, but don’t take offence: it just means they are relaxing with you. Australians, similarly, may have a go at pretty much anything. Don’t take it personally: tease back, within careful limits.

It’s okay for an Aussie to call an Englishman a “whingeing Pom” and be rude about his country’s warm beer, terrible weather or lamentable cricket team; but criticise his wine, his culture or pretty much any aspect of his native sporting ability and the laughter may suddenly stop.

Be careful, likewise, of joining in with self-deprecating cultures. A liberal Israeli in Tel Aviv may laugh at the “beardy-weirdies” of Jerusalem, or an Egyptian mock the tiresomeness of his bureaucracy, but you crack your own jokes about these things at your peril.

Never forget that even within a single language, words have different meanings in different places. In Spain, “adios” means “goodbye”; in Cuba the same word is used on the street as a “Hi, hello” to passers-by. In France, “bonjour” means “hello”; in Quebec, people say it as they leave. In Portugal, a bicha is a queue; in Brazil it means “gay”. If you are constipada in Lisbon, you have a cold; in Rio you have a long time to read the newspaper in private.

The worst old/new world mix-ups probably occur in that “special relationship” between the UK and the USA. Brits travelling to the States should be careful never to say to someone at a party, “Excuse me, could I bum a fag off you?”, while Americans should remember that, in the UK, “pants” are not leg-covering garments, but something altogether skimpier and more intimate. Nor does “fanny” refer to what the English call, variously, a bottom, backside or bum.

Of course, many of the great intercultural faux pas have to do with the unintended use of slang words for sex. Stand beside a beautiful young couple in Brazil and say “Caliente, no?”, and you’ll be innocently talking about the weather; in Spain, the guy will think you fancy his girlfriend. Nor will asking a German “Bist Du heiss?” (“Are you hot?”) be taken as a question about their body temperature.

Telling an Australian you’re “rooting” for them or their team at an Aussie-rules match may not be the wisest thing to do: the word is slang for having sex. Remember, “a good root” is not a turnip.

Extracted from Going Dutch in Beijing: The International Guide to Doing the Right Thing (Profile Books £9.99). To order a copy at the reduced price of £8.99, inc p&p, call The Sunday Times BooksFirst on 0870 165 8585