With travel restrictions being ditched at a rate of knots, the world will soon – once again – be welcoming millions of sunseeking French folk. But how do their holiday habits differ from ours? Less booze, more pretentiousness and better clothes are the order of the day, as our expat experts explains.
Where they go
The French holiday overwhelmingly in France. Why wouldn’t they? France offers almost the entirety of Europe crammed into one country – from Germanic and Flemish via Celtic to Mediterranean, from world class mountains and rivers to an unbeatable coast. It’s the world’s most visited country. It would be perverse to go elsewhere. Though figures are slippery, it seems that, in normal times, some 60-70 per cent stay in their home country. For obvious reasons, that figure has soared to around 90 per cent in our pandemic era. That’s why it has been taking a fortnight to get around Lyon in recent summer months.
These holidaymakers are great ones for campsites. They love them. France has more, around 8,300, than anywhere else, bar the US. An ever-popular TV series, “Camping Paradis” (think “Hi-de-Hi”, with softer edges) and a hit run of Carry-On-style films – “Camping I, II, and III” – surf this yearning for summer conviviality. Campsites have gone sharply upmarket in recent years – 20 per cent have four or five stars (thus, ace water-slides) – but they remain relatively affordable and have a lot of “outside”, so have pulled through Covid in better shape than other tourist sectors.
Unusually, also in recent times, domestic French tourists have also been following the TV. Three daily soaps – all more murderous than ours – have been furnishing visitors for Marseille, Montpellier and Sète, all three of whom have laid on telly-related tours.
If not in metropolitan France, incidentally, the French favour their own long-distant islands, notably Martinique and Guadeloupe in the West Indies. Or they did. Covid dealt the first blow – few wanted to be that far from home. Late last year, the killer punch came when the islands erupted in social unrest – blocking roads, looting shops, the usual – in protest, initially anyway, against the French vaccine passport programme. This was not good PR.
And, if they’re not staying on national territory, the French prefer – in this order – Spain, Italy and then the UK. They come to us for all sorts of reasons. The Royal Family help: having shortened their own, they’re fascinated by ours. Buckingham Palace and Windsor are key points on French itineraries. History in general and culture are vital attractions. We’re talking Shakespeare in Stratford but also the Beatles in Liverpool and Sherlock Holmes in London.
As you’d expect, London is their favourite British city destination by a country mile, then come Edinburgh, Brighton, Bristol and Manchester. Least-visited regions are the North-East, the bit between Yorkshire (itself rather popular) and Scotland (ditto), followed by the East Midlands. Apparently, the charms of Northampton have yet to cross the Channel.
How they behave
In France, the gap between word and deed is unusually large. French people claim never to shop in hypermarkets, eat fast food – or lie around on holiday beaches. Except that they mostly do, most of the time. Almost, but not quite, as many French people holiday by the seaside (Med, Atlantic, Breton, Norman and Northern coasts) as holiday anywhere else in the country. Naturally, a pretentious minority does the cultural thing, generally with stupefying seriousness. Bone-achingly tedious visits of châteaux and similar invariably eschew human interest (sex and violence) to concentrate on Renaissance cornices. This may be why everyone else is by the seaside. Which, in their way, they also take quite seriously. Beach picnics may come in four courses.
More mature French holidaymakers give the impression that, as they travel, they are marking everything out of 20. Which they are. They don’t so much eat in restaurants or visit exhibitions as “test” them. Meanwhile, younger French vacanciers get stuck in – and I don’t mean to vodka shots at 10am. No-one has told them that the purpose of pleasure is to be paralytic, so they bring a Tiggerish bounce to bungee jumping, hill-trekking and volleyball on the beach.
Bone-achingly tedious visits of châteaux and similar invariably eschew human interest (sex and violence) to concentrate on Renaissance cornices
Credit: Getty
What they wear
They are French. They wear whatever is appropriate. And, whatever it is, it will fit.
Dining and drinking habits
Vital elements of a French holiday. Back to the figures, which suggest that gastronomy is crucial to holiday choice for almost 50 per cent of French. Anecdotal evidence backs this up. I don’t know a single French person who would join me for a tuna sandwich and packet of crisps at lunchtime. They consider it a peculiar form of Anglo-Saxon masochism. Then they head off for the three-course lunch menu at the seafront fish restaurant.
They are, however, open and enthusiastic about new and foreign cuisine on the grounds partly that nothing can be more disgusting than andouillette, partly that they’re so interested in food that they don’t want to miss out on anything.
They favour dining later than do Britons – but not as late as the Spanish, for whom dinner runs directly into breakfast. Meanwhile, drinking is – again by British standards – moderate. Downing eight pints of beer would, for them, constitute water torture with added hops. And, as they don’t eat in restaurants, but “test” them, so they don’t drink wine, but “taste” it. It’s rare to come upon a Frenchman flat out at 2am, crying: “I’ve tasted four bottles tonight.”
How to get along with them
1. Don’t criticise France – its strikes, alleged idleness, loose morals, Napoleonic tendencies, etc. They will only hit back with words about our ever-boiled food, “ultra-liberal economy” which wipes out the poor, and limping health service which kills off the rest. PM Boris Johnson might also get a mention, not invariably glowing.
2. But do exploit Britishness; the French are fascinated by Britain as they aren’t by any other European nation: monarchy, rock music, comedy, interesting soccer teams. Stick to these subjects and you’ve friends, if not for life, then probably for a fortnight.
3. Politeness requires that you try a little French. Even the most bone-idle among us can manage “Bonjour, ça va?” But, if you’re not very good, don’t persist. It’s truly painful – and almost every French person speaks better English than any British person speaks French. They’re generally happy to practise and also, incidentally, to indicate their linguistic superiority.
4. Don’t hold back on Brexit. The French aren’t offended. Few of them care much about the fish and not a single one understands the Irish border issue. At any event, they’ve got their own concerns to be offended by – by the bucketful, as the presidential elections roll into view. No, really. For them, Brexit is simply another manifestation of British idiosyncrasy like jam roly-poly, James Blunt and black taxis.