The French Don’t Talk to Strangers, They Say
Nice, France
It was noon and I was starting to feel weak from hunger. When I checked out of the Sheraton Nice Airport after my first night, the hotel restaurant wasn’t open. I didn’t even see coffee in the lobby. I had to meet my Airbnb host at 1 p.m. It was only a 20-minute ride from the airport to the port area, but since I didn’t know how easy it would be to find the apartment, I ordered the Uber early. When the driver dropped me on the street, I found that the walkaround I’d done on Google Street View before I left home was super helpful. Everything looked exactly as it had looked online.
After a quick review of the apartment, my host Magali suggested I walk up the street to Garibaldi Square. We said goodbye and I stopped at the first reasonable restaurant I could find on the way. Colita had a lot of people seated outside, even at 2 p.m., so I figured it must be good. For the first course I selected poireaux a la braise, braised leeks with passion fruit and cashew nut vinaigrette. The main course was fish, grilled turbot with vegetables.
I’d ordered a coffee to start because I’d missed my morning cup. When that was finished and I was feeling better, I ordered white wine. I had just received my turbot when the man at the next table asked where I was from.
“Texas,” I said.
“I only ask because you ordered coffee with lunch. We never do that in France, but I once had a girlfriend who wasn’t from here, and she drank coffee with her meal.”
This began a long conversation. His name is Flavio. He went to college in Gainesville, Florida, and started his career in the finance world. He has an ex-fiancée who started a job in Houston, but he decided Houston was not for him. He went back to France and started a tourism business on the Côte d’Azur. He now lives near Cannes and has a real estate company selling property in the area. He had a meeting at 1 p.m. but he was going to be late because he took time to eat a nice lunch. I asked if he had many American clients. He did, but said it’s complicated because of the dual tax laws.
He told me about some of the beautiful parts of the area. He strongly recommended that I get out of Nice. “The old town is nice, but beyond that, it’s just a city.” He asked for my number and said he would send me a list of recommendations. I asked if the area was safe.
“It’s very safe. If you’re out at night, going to clubs and wearing a short skirt, you might get a couple of guys who bother you.”
I said I didn’t think that would be a problem. I told Flavio I didn’t used to worry about anything. I just assumed nothing would go wrong. After the COVID pandemic, I started imagining the worst. I’ve been trying to get back to my old worry-free self. Flavio is now married and has a soon-to-be three-year-old son. He said he didn’t used to worry about anything, but now he worries since he is responsible for his son.
He said Americans are quick to talk to strangers. When he moved to the U.S. he was surprised when complete strangers would ask how he is doing.
“Americans will say ‘hi’ in an elevator. It’s easy for them to talk to strangers,” he said. “But then they walk away and don’t think any more about it. If a French person has a conversation, it means something. Once they connect, you will hear from them again.”
Flavio paid his bill and gathered his things. He said he would text me the list of places to see in the area. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear from him again. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt and believing he mistyped my phone number.
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I traveled to France for 30 days in September and October of 2024 to see what it would be like to “live” internationally. The plan was to stay in Nice, spend time writing, and find out what happens when you’re not pressed to see every significant site in seven days.