A word about snooty French service: it's gone, or almost. With one exception (infra), every server I've met here has been cheerful, helpful and polite. My only complaint is that they all seem to speak English, so I don't get a chance to practice my dreadful French. Or if the server doesn't, the guy behind you in line does, and will chime in to help.
Only exception: the five-star Pigonnet Hotel in Aix-en-Provence, where they were mostly sullen and passive aggressive in the old-fashioned way. I was loudly American in the old-fashioned way, which didn't help.
Otherwise--hey, the guy who serves me my espresso in the morning flashed me a smile of recognition when I came back on the second day, and said "au revoir" when I left. What kind of country is that?
1 comment:
All that damned nouvelle politesse is ruining France for those of us who feel we've wasted the airfare unless we get insulted at least once a day by the French. Those insults are a valuable part of the brand experience.
Once one gets a smile instead of a sneer from a concierge; detailed instructions on how to get from here to there instead of a classic gallic shrug from a passing Parisian; and a coquille St. Jacques that a restaurant on Lexington and 75th Street can beat, what the hell is the point of going any more?
I mean, I've seen the damned Winged Victory and Mona Lisa. What I come to France for is the theater of manners. Is France going to deliver on that any more? Or not?
Fortunately, two trips ago we rented an apartment where La Concierge, angrily displaying half a mouthful of teeth (left side only) and trailed by a pet dog that growled at her softly-but-constantly followed us like Inspector Javert each time we entered the building, furiously accusing us of conspiring to break her elevator. It was like France used to be, and is supposed to be.
Last month we visited Paris again and stayed uneventfully at the Lutetia. Everybody was very nice. Ditto the service in nearby restaurants. Z-z-zzzzzz!
Yours very crankily,
The New York Crank
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