Are Parisians ready to welcome these visitors? Like Really Welcome?
France gets a bad rap when it comes to friendliness. There is, of course, the long-standing cliché of the sleazy French waiter or the rotten Parisian, and a viral TikTok earlier this year, when an American woman tearfully said on camera that traveling to France was “isolating” and that the French were unwelcoming, she received thousands of comments – many from people who agreed with her.
“This kind of bad PR doesn’t worry me because it’s anecdotal,” says Corinne Ménégaux, head of the Paris tourism office. “I think maybe 15 or 20 years ago the French were less hospitable, but today we have overcome that cliché. Inevitably you have a small percentage of people who are no good, and there’s not much you can do about it. It’s a reality of big cities, like London or New York.”
That hasn’t stopped France from trying to clean up its rude image before foreigners come to town. Last year, the regional chamber of commerce updated a decade hospitality campaign entitled “Do You Speak Touriste?“, ahead of the Rugby World Cup being held in Paris. The official guide touched on cultural differences, gently reminding the French that “The cultural tendency in France is to show one’s feelings openly, through gestures or tone of voice. […] In other countries, dissent is much less openly expressed.”
“There is still the cafe waiter who doesn’t speak to you and sullenly serves you a Coca-Cola for 15 euros. I’m not saying it doesn’t exist anymore. But we’ve seen a real improvement,” said Frédéric Hocquard, city councilor responsible for tourism and nightlife in Paris. He says the Covid-19 pandemic was the big turning point.
“There was this period when we had no tourists at all. And the tourism industry realized that it had to make a little effort.”
Part of Paris’ effort to renew its reputation is a “hospitality charter”, signed by more than 1,600 businesses in the tourism sector, from hotels to restaurants to tour guides. The agreement is based on three main principles: promotion of sustainable and environmentally friendly measures; Make guest experiences more fluid. and supporting local businesses. Registered businesses will be able to display a sticker or signature on their status so tourists know they are a trusted place. The city is also training workers at newsstands, bakeries and tobacco shops to be able to answer tourists’ questions.
Both Ménégaux and Hocquard agree on one point: Visitors to Paris must also do their part. . In an ideal world, Ménégaux would like tourists to sign their own charter of “good tourist etiquette”. “When people come to Paris, we want them to commit to respecting certain things: respecting the peace and quiet of their neighbors, using a reusable water bottle and not buying plastic and not buying products made in China when you can buy local.”
The differences in etiquette are among the first things some foreigners notice when they move to or visit France. American expats and social media content creators Ember Langley and Gabrielle Pedriani have dedicated a video to the thorny issue of French politeness in their incredible TikTok series, ‘The ABCs of Paris’. In the video, warns Langley, “What is considered polite in the US may not be considered polite in Paris.” The two offer tips like, “Smile less,” “Engage into a dinner conversation,” and “Arrive fashionably late.”
“I see Americans on the subway and it’s like — read the room. Everyone else is quiet!” Langley said in an interview. “When you’re a traveler and you come here on vacation, it’s easy to forget that 2 million people live their lives here. You must respect the local culture and approach your interactions with humility.” But Langley says it’s a misconception that the French are rude. it’s just a matter of cultural differences. “The biggest thing here is that the customer is not always right. in the US, the customer is king.”
Going undercover as an English-speaking tourist
I decided to test the friendliness of Parisians for myself. As a Brit who has lived in Paris for a decade, speaks French and even received French citizenship (with immense gratitude), I put on my best British accent and went to see how I was treated in the French capital.
The experiment started at ground zero: in front of the Notre-Dame Cathedral, which is still blocked off and undergoing renovation work after a huge fire that hit the roof in 2019. With a friend, I headed to the archeological museum in the crypt. “Hello! Parlez-vous anglais?” I asked the woman behind the ticket desk. I was greeted with a big smile and a patient explanation—in English—of the museum and the ticket prices. She wasn’t even bothered by an obviously stupid question about whether we could visit the cathedral. , gently explaining that the site would not be open to the public for months.
We thanked her and walked back into the sunlight.
Next stop: boucunista. These Seine booksellers have to deal with tourist issues day in and day out. The man running his stall opposite the cathedral happily took the time to find books in English for us before recommending we try Shakespeare and Company directly opposite, one of the most famous English-speaking bookstores in Paris. It was the same at the tourist trinket shop where we asked for directions to the Eiffel Tower or down at the metro station where the woman behind the counter told us her English wasn’t very good and yet bravely answered all our transportation card questions in broken but determined English.
At this point, I had even given up my French icebreaker with a bad accent, just jumping up to them and speaking directly in English. And yet, everywhere we went, we were greeted with smiles and a genuine desire to help. I’ll admit I was surprised — it’s been years since I’ve been a tourist in the city, but I certainly remember the stares, the longing, and a certain reluctance to help.
It was time for the ultimate test: asking for oat milk in a Parisian cafe. We chose a tourist spot on Place Saint-Michel, where the waiters were every inch the stereotype, in white shirts and black bow ties. Our server haughtily approached us but didn’t blink when we answered in English, even though he couldn’t understand my question at first. “Warm milk?” he kept repeating. When he finally understood, he laughed, waving his hands dismissively. “No noit’s not possible, soy milk, vegan milk, we don’t have, only la vache.” To make his point, he added with a flourish, “My!”
My request had managed to elicit the famous “possible” — familiar to anyone who has struggled with French bureaucracy and customer service — but said with such good humor (and a complementary animal sound), so how could I be offended?
The more than a dozen tourists I spoke with also had largely positive experiences. Samantha Capaldi, visiting from Arizona with two friends, told me, “We love it here,” before admitting with a wry smile, “We try to get along, but we’re so loud, everyone notices us.” During their four days in Paris, they had noticed the same cultural differences that Langley mentions in her videos — such as not to take tap water automatically with your meal at a restaurant or when you order an appetizer with an entree. “They kind of laugh at us, but not in a bad way,” he continued. “Trying to speak French helps a lot.”
Carla, from Sheffield, UK, was in Paris with her boyfriend Brian to celebrate the anniversary of their first date. She has visited Paris several times and has noticed a marked difference in the way she was treated compared to previous trips. “I’m a bit of a heavier person and I’ve been deliberately ignored in restaurants in the past — other people were given menus before me or served before me. But I rarely get it now. They all look very nice.”
It seems the city’s efforts in recent years are paying off, and Parisians are — dare I say it? — learning that a little hospitality goes a long way. The only thing left is to be able to get oat milk in cafes — but maybe it’s up to Americans to let it go and rely on France’s love of dairy. Moo!
Catherine Bennett is a writer based in Paris.