The five things travel has taught me: Barry Keldoulis, CEO, Art Fairs Australia

LANGUAGE

I've learnt to be careful making assumptions around expressions that may be common usage in the Anglosphere. When visiting Santiago, Chile, I met a wonderful gallerista, Carla, who constantly referred to her "partner", Maria (names changed to protect the innocent). Carla was a lot of fun, her English was very good, and our correspondence included much banter and a fair bit of innuendo. Maria was unable to come to the fair, so I invited Carla to stay at my place after the event, "as long as Maria won't be jealous". What I thought was hilarious banter continued, then at a restaurant one evening she asked me to step outside for a minute. "Are you gay?", she asked. "Yes", I said. "Aren't you?!" To her and I suspect most South Americans, partner means business, not life.

SUBTEXT

When on a driving holiday through the spectacularly beautiful south west of the United States, we stopped at a fairly regular diner. I can't remember what I ordered but I do remember that a particular condiment I like wasn't in the rack on the table. A lovely local girl was our waitress. "Do you have any horseradish?" I asked. She had obviously been to hospitality school and knew the customer is never wrong in America, and should not be disappointed. As a disarmingly brilliant smile spread across her face she replied, "We sure don't." In my momentary confusion I thanked her, she slipped away and I was left with ketchup and American mustard, both with convenient squeezability.

OBEDIENCE

I was flying with friends from New York to a wedding outside New Orleans; it was Jazz Festival time and we were in high spirits. The flight went via Texas, and we were stuck on the tarmac for some time as a quasi-hurricane hit. Now, to be fair, domestic flight attendants in the US are paid less than waitresses on the ground since Ronald Reagan quashed their unions. But it was still a surprise when I asked an attendant if I could have another drink please and she bared her teeth, more snarl than smile, and screamed over her shoulder as she continued up the aisle, "Get it your f--king self!". There was an audible communal gasp among the passengers. The clutch of attendants behind the curtain were similarly surprised as I snapped it open and poured four healthy vodka and tonics before thanking them politely and returning to my allocated seat.

CHILL

While enjoying a drink in the lobby bar of a hotel in Oaxaca, Mexico, with my brother Ian and a local friend, I spied an American woman approaching reception. I don't like eavesdropping but sometimes you can't help it. (And I've been told it helps with learning a language). As far as I could tell, there was a problem with the little bottle of complimentary shampoo in her room, or something. Whatever minutia it was, she was clearly furious, as if the incident might ruin her whole holiday. The look on the faces of the hotel staff was something else. Concerned, yes, ready to help, yes, but also more than a little perplexed. Ian's friend Alma explained that Mexicans just don't "get" the neurotic, anxiety-laden behaviour so common north of the border. I mused that indeed there was plenty of time to chill and enjoy my beverage, particularly if on holiday but even if not. And plenty of time to build that wall to keep out those complicado gringos.

The director of the Sydney Contemporary art fair has more than three decades' experience in contemporary art, spanning New York, Europe and Australia. He recently travelled in South America, undertaking research for the next Sydney Contemporary, which will run from September 12 to 15 at Carriageworks. See sydneycontemporary.com.au