I’d like to second Loach’s point. Paris thrives on its (well-deserved) reputation of being one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But unless one is visiting during the dead of winter, one must be prepared for a welcome that is less than enthusiastic on the part of the vendors, restaurateurs, government officials, police, and everyday citizens. I know that the same weariness towards visitors may be found in most any tourist Mecca, yet the Parisians seem to have elevated their disdain to a high art. The single day I spent in Paris back in April of 93 proved a gourmet feast of sneering condescension. The gentleman who cashed my travellers cheque; the vendor who sold me a croissant; the none-too-helpful guide at the Louvre; the clerks at most of the stores I ventured into; and finally, the guard at the Musee D’Orsay, who had decided to close up the Renoir Exhibit half an hour early. I may be a clueless tourist at times, but I’m never deliberately rude, even in situations where a rude response would be entirely understandable. Once I boarded a train and left the City of Lights, most of its grander sights unseen, the situation changed. I spent the next day in Nice and Cannes, where I met a far more cordial reception.
From what I’ve been told, my experience would probably have been even worse were it not for the fact that I had taken a couple of years of French and at least made the attempt to speak and understand in that language before switching (when possible) to English. My parents, for example, were once kicked off of a bus in Paris by a driver who seemed outraged that a pair of non-Francophones would dare sully his spotless vehicle. My high school French teacher (who visited Paris every summer) warned us that that Parisian police have been known to ignore pleas for help from mugged tourists who failed to lodge their requests in the proper tongue.
Do I hate the French? Naw. I may laugh at the “cheese-eating surreder monkeys” jokes, but I don’t munch on Freedom Fries or boycott brands of mustard bedecked with a certain tri-color banner. But, on the other hand, I have no plans to donate any more of my hard-earned money to the citizens of Paris.
I’ve spent roughly eight weeks in Paris as a tourist over the years, and I’ve never once been sneered at condescendingly, Kizarvexius. Sounds like you had a bad day of it! Might you have misinterpreted some of the reactions/responses of the people you interacted with?
It’s entirely possible. I will say, though, for argument’s sake, that I’m pretty difficult to offend. You’ve got to work hard at it, and I felt slighted and insulted at every turn that day.
Incidentally, I have been told by a source I consider reliable that any American sick of being made to feel unwelcome in France has only to visit Normandy for a while. The people there, as I understand it, have not forgotten about the little beach party we threw back in 1944, together with a number of British Islanders, Canadians, Poles, Greeks, and assorted others from varying nationalities.
My brother served in Vietnam, and had no love for the French (until he actually visited the place about 5 years ago). His shorthand account of the war’s history is that the French got us to bring in troops/advisers to bolster the last gasp of their colonial influence, pulled out themselves in a craven manner, and then talked trash about “American imperialist warmongers.” It could give one people an attitude about another people.
I think the French do resent us because they were a preeminent world power at one point and are now, well, formerly important. I’m sure we’ll have that experience ourselves in another generation or two.
I think this is often the case with those who come away with a hatred of France or the French or just the Parisians. I went to Paris with an American three years ago, and I found them to be polite enough and tolerant enough, while my companion was put off by them. Of course, we both had different takes on how to behave; it would never occur to me, for example, to ask a waiter if I could return something to the kitchen in exchange for a different dish simply because I decided, after tasting it, that I didn’t like it. I believe in suffering through such bad decisions and chalking it up to experience; my companion did not, and really rubbed the waitstaff the wrong way. I don’t find this behavior acceptable anywhere, and I felt embarrassed to be around it. I don’t think it was just because I lived in France before; I always found this kind of preciousness offensive. It’s not that I had a falling out with my friend, but that behavior is understandably off-putting.
I met another American who told me he hated France because “they won’t speak English there.” I said, “Well, it’s France. What do you expect?” He replied, “They should speak the language of the world, which is English.” The global provincialism of this guy is probably more common among France-haters than among the rest of us. Such arrogance, to deign to be different from us!
I’m going to jump in and say that it’s never a good thing when someone harbors generalized negative sentiments towards an entire nation or people, but it’s hard for me to get on the side of those who would judge poor rural people who hate the Japanese because their entire village was destroyed, raped and pillaged by the Japanese. I’m not going to say that they are RIGHT, but the damage was done and the wounds are not going to heal.
This is very different than someone who is educated, successful, middle class, and dosen’t know any Japanese people, hating Japan, or an analagous situation with any other race or nation. This person I would absolutely judge. He is an idiot.
But my girlfriend’s Filipino grandmother who won’t buy Japanese products? I’m going to give her a pass.
I also want to say that I briefly forgot this was in GQ, so I apologize sincerely for steering the discussion away from the original topic and into debate territory.
Slightly off topic, but along the lines of ‘in the eye of the beholder’
About 10 years ago I and my s/o visited her sister and brother in law in Munich, they had been there some years.
Both moaned about how rude the locals were, I found them very polite and friendly. It occurred to me that I dressed as very British, while the outlaws had taken to wearing local gear and looked like natives.
Two points to make with regard to the whole tourist experience thing -
1 The Parisians (whoever they are, only 31% of people living in the capital were born here) are just as “rude” “stand-offish” and “sneering” to each other and other French folk it is neither anti-American nor anti-tourist. How can I put this - every waiter knows he is trained as a waiter and so in a restaurant he is superior to you, likewise the bus driver, the shop assistant knows her shop inside and out you do not, therefore she is superior.
2 Perception is all. We (read “Brits, Yanks & Frogs”) have shared experiences of major 2Oth C events, but we didn’t experience exactly the same thing. Don’t forget, we have different cultures and different expectations.
For example, by omitting to say a general “bonjour” when you enter a shop you have been incredibly rude by French standards which will have an effect on the service you receive. If you ask someone for help/ information and don’t say Bonjour same thing applies - on occasion I’ve done this “Excuse me where …” and the reply starts with a reprimanding “Bonjour” before continuing.
The French are honest, they have a form of “you” which shows respect so they don’t have the need for softening words we have in English. My first day back in France after an absence of 10 years (during which time my French had been "polluted with Italian and Spanish influences) I asked the woman at the ticket desk if I would get into trouble if I didn’t have a photo on my travel pass for one journey (photo machine broken) she replied “Not with your accent”. Now I was upset but she didn’t mean “your French is crap” she meant “no, it is obvious that you’re foreign” but she said it in a French way.
On the subject of “service” let me give you a European perspective - when eating in the States why won’t the staff leave me alone !!! if I want something I’m grown up enough to ask ok ?? Give me what I asked for and bugger off.
Well, I don’t know the guy; I just met him once while traveling in Prague. He was making an anti-France rant, but you might think that other countries were implied there, too. Personally, I suspect he was just in step with that outmoded superficial populism I mentioned a few posts up.
In Prague, I noticed that there wasn’t much English spoken, but I could sort of get by with the very little amount of German that I know. This rightie wasn’t griping about that, though, nor did he rail against any other country, which makes me question the honesty of his anti-French sentiment.
Yes! I was born and raised here in the States, and that constant “How you doin’?” “You okay?” “You still workin’ on that?” garbage drives me up the wall. In France, the wait staff takes your order, serves you, and you’re pretty much on your own after that. A waiter might be sitting two meters away from your table, with nothing to do, but he’s not going to get up just to fill his time with offers of service, service, service. I love it! When I go to a restaurant, serve me and leave me the hell alone. If I want dessert or more coffee, I’ll let you know. Lord, I love the European concept of service. It’s like Polish cake: sweet, but not too sweet, and substantial where it counts.
Alors! Ceci, c’est ma millième poste! Sans doute on s’en fîche, mais j’en suis fier, moi!
If you believe this stuff, you’re an idiot. I am not really gonna comment on the global competitiveness, but the thing about chicks with hairy pits is NOT true anymore. Get out of the 60’s okay? French girls are very nice and refined. The riviera is also a very beautiful place. Sorry it ain’t Malibu but I prefer the riviera. The fact that you only prefer things that are nearby means that you really have no idea about anything outside your little world.
Amen. I am mono-lingual (and my command of english is sometimes suspect), but when I travel I make an effort to learn greetings, common questions, and a phrase apologizing for my poor language skills. I’ve found that when you walk into just about any shop or restaurant and offer a greeting in the local language you are given credit for the effort. Once I walked up to the counter in an internet cafe in Florence and, without thinking, began speaking to the clerk in english. Though he understood me, and he was certainly not rude, I could tell by his response that he was a bit put off.
Speaking of the language thing, is the US the only country that doesn’t mark their coins with the numeric value?
In restaurants, I think most Americans are accustomed to the phenomenon of staff trying to turn the table over several times during dinner service. It’s not that the service in restaurants is poor, it’s that they expect a party to sit, sip their drinks, enjoy the food, and occupy the table for the evening.
Yeah, you have to get out of the USA, to realize just how mass-market American culture is! Like my comment about fast food-it’s crap compared to the food you get in a typical French bistro. And French girls-most are slim and VERY attractive-can’t say that about a LOT of American girls (its that fast food!). And French cinema-the films are designed to provoke thought-not the typical shallow, childish plot lines that Hollywood churns out.
This isn’t to say that everything French is great-they have their problems. But American mass market stuff is made to appeal to the lowest common denominator-which is why most of it is crap!
So do yourself a favor-take a trip to France-have a nice meal, experience some culture, and forget the morons for a change! :smack:
In my experience, the snooty French thing is largely a sham. My first trip to Paris I broke my foot. I spent four or five days by myself in the hotel hoping it would heal because I thought it was just a really bad sprain. The first night, I limped downstairs to get dinner using a camera tripod I had with me as a crutch. It was awkward, and the pain was unbelieveble, and it took me five minutes to get down two flights of stairs, but I hadn’t eaten all day and I didn’t have a lot of options. The next day when I came down, the hotel manager handed me a cane. He didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak French, but I smiled and thanked him. It was a really beautiful wooden cane with a bronze handle carved to look like a bird’s head. The hotel didn’t have a real restaurant, but twice a day they had a kind of light buffet spread of fruit, cheese, danishes, bread, etc. in the lobby. That afternoon, someone brought a plate of food from the buffet to my room, and after that they kept bringing stuff twice a day. A couple of times there were sandwiches and lunch meats and stuff that I’m pretty sure wasn’t even part of the buffet. After a few days I started going down to the lobby sometimes to watch the tv there. Everything was in French, and my foot was still swollen up like a pineapple, so the stairs were hard even with the cane, but after days alone in a hotel room with nothing any stimulation seemed worth the effort. One day there was another guy sitting in the lobby watching tv who spoke a small amount of very broken English. I never figured out if he was a guest or staff or what, but he told me that the cane I was using belonged to the manager’s grandfather, and he had brought it from home after he saw me hobbling around on my tripod. I swear I almost cried.
That manager was just one of several truly wonderful people I met in Paris, like the doctor who spent ten minutes pointing at anatomical charts and pantomiming words like ‘casse’ to try to explain what had happened to me, and the couple who owned the travel agency where I bought an emergency plane ticket home that took me out to dinner because they couldn’t get me a flight out until the next morning and they didn’t want me to spend my last night in Paris alone. I find it hard to imagine someone would find the same compassion in LA or New York, and it always gets my hackles up a little when people start running down the French.
