When we told people we were moving to France, the reactions were often dramatic. Not because we were leaving behind California sunshine for rural fields and fog — but because we were going to live among the French.
“You know they hate Americans, right?”
“They’re so rude over there.”
“There’s a lot of ‘othering’.”
“You’re going to have to whisper in restaurants.”
“They think all Americans are hippies.”
“Don’t ask for ketchup.”
I’d heard the rumors. I’d seen Emily in Paris. I braced myself.
And now, over two years into raising a family in the French countryside, I can officially say: this reputation is wildly overblown.
If you’re loud, entitled, and shouting in English while demanding that someone take your USD at the boulangerie - okay, sure, you might meet a bit of resistance. But if you come with humility, curiosity, and an attempt at bonjour, the French are delightful. Truly.
We are an American family who traded the ease of California life for a 300-year-old farmhouse in western France - and now a château, because we like a challenge - and we have been met with nothing but warmth.
Kindness at the post office. Smiles from strangers at the market. Patient pharmacists helping us decode every obscure lotion and tincture. Teachers who go above and beyond to make our bilingual children feel welcome. And waiters who absolutely do not care if we butcher the pronunciation of chèvre chaud, as long as we try.
The Real Tea: It’s Not the Americans
Here’s something I wasn’t expecting: a handful of French people have actually confided that they like Americans.
We’re not public enemy number one. If anything, we carry a curious bit of international street cred. They admire our music, our movies, our jeans. They ask about New York and California. They reference Beyoncé, Lebron James, and Friends. One mother I met at my children’s school told me, “The French dream of California the way Americans dream of Provence.”
Honestly? If the French have a collective bias against any particular nationality, it’s… the British.
And I say that with affection, because I love my British friends - but the Franco-British rivalry runs deep. Centuries of war. Napoleon. Brexit. Wine vs beer. Driving on the correct side of the road.
And while Americans often have to cross oceans to visit France, the UK is right there - just a ferry or Eurostar ride away. Brits are a major tourist population here, especially in the summer, and have a reputation for buying up entire villages in the southwest, installing Aga stoves, and occasionally forgetting to learn French. It’s all in good fun - and if there’s any lingering rivalry, it’s more historical than personal. In day-to-day life, it feels more like sibling teasing than real tension.
They Love Kids.
One of the greatest joys of living here is seeing how much the French genuinely enjoy children. Kids are not simply tolerated, they’re adored. People smile at them, greet them warmly, and speak to them as if they’re small but fully formed humans with interesting things to say.
But here’s the nuance:
French children are cherished, and they’re also held to high standards.
They’re expected to say bonjour before anything else. To speak kindly, to listen, to not interrupt mid-sentence. Good manners aren’t praised as exceptional; they’re considered the baseline. A cultural norm, not a party trick.
That said, children here are still…children.
They have meltdowns. They get hangry. They shout and squeal and throw rocks into ponds when they’re told not to. Despite the fantasy some expats arrive with - one where French children sit calmly at cafés, wearing berets and solving crosswords - the truth is more grounded and human. Kids here aren’t perfect. They’re just raised in a culture that believes they’re capable of more than chaos.
And that belief makes a difference.
In shops, clerks often greet our kids before greeting us. In bakeries, they’re offered cookies and compliments. At restaurants, children are absolutely welcome, but the unspoken agreement is that they’ll behave like small members of society, not loose cannons with crayons.
It’s not cold or rigid, but rather…intentional.
Children are integrated into daily life here, not sidelined or overindulged. They belong in the world, and the world makes space for them. Parenting in this environment feels deeply supported, because kindness and respect flow both ways: adults toward children, and children toward adults.
So Why the Rude Reputation?
Let’s talk about it, because the stereotype still floats around like an old wine cork in a dusty bottle: the French are rude, they hate Americans, they scowl at you for ordering a café crème after noon.
But here’s what I’ve come to notice:
The “rudeness” is less about Frenchness, and more about Paris in August.
That’s where most tourists go. That’s where most of the stereotypes are born. And frankly? If you’d been working in a cramped Parisian restaurant all summer, with no air conditioning (because France), elbow-to-elbow with sweating tourists shouting over each other in every language imaginable…you might be a little curt, too.
It’s not that the French are rude. It’s that their culture doesn’t revolve around customer service performance. Waiters, for example, aren’t dancing for a tip, because tipping isn’t how they pay rent. They’re doing their job with dignity, not theatrical flair. And there’s something refreshing about that. It feels…fair. And authentic.
French culture values formality, privacy, and calm. Strangers don’t always smile at you in the street, unless there’s a reason. They might correct your French - sometimes helpfully, sometimes not. They won’t gush or overshare. But they’re not unkind.
And when you actually need help? The same person who seemed standoffish might draw you a map, walk you to the post office, or call their cousin who knows someone who can fix your chimney.
The truth is: you get what you give.
If you’re warm, they’re warm. If you try, they notice.
And if you order a second croissant with a decent accent, you’ll probably get a smile.
A Note to Future Travelers (and Overthinkers)
If you’re planning a trip to France and worried you’ll be met with disdain for being American - breathe. You’ll be fine. Learn a few polite phrases. Say hello when you enter a store (always). Lower your voice in restaurants. Try to speak French, even badly.
And let go of the idea that you’re being judged. You probably are, but only for your shoes. (And they’re right.)
So No, the French Don’t Hate Americans.
They just prefer quiet cafes, beautiful facades, and espresso that doesn’t taste like bathwater.
And really…who can blame them?
À bientôt,
Kamille
A note for new readers: we’re an American family living in rural France, restoring a small château, and writing it all down here.
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