The French Resting Face

After being here for a month, I’ve learned a lot of things about the French way of life. As an American who is constantly in a fast-paced, “need to be doing something at all times” routine, I’ve had to adjust to the big (and small) cultural differences. From the speed at which people walk on the sidewalk to the three-hour-long meals, I’ve adopted a new way of living while keeping some of my habits from back home. 

Upon my arrival in France, I immediately noticed that everyone here has an effortless “I’m not in a rush” energy, masked by a stone-cold stare, or at least, that’s how I interpreted it at first. Entering a shop without saying “bonjour” is considered rude - a faux pas - but asking how the shopkeeper is doing usually is too. Learning the social etiquette of what to say and when to say it seemed like a daunting task, and the French resting face alone is truly a sight to behold. 

Back in the U.S., I’m used to smiling at strangers on the street or giving a nod of acknowledgment to a person who passes by. In France, however, this doesn’t happen. And if it does, it’s very infrequent. At first, I interpreted this difference as unfriendliness or indifference. It was only later that I realized friendliness here isn’t expressed through random smiles but through ritualized greetings. It wasn’t until very recently that I had a realization about social etiquette here. Unlike back in the United States, kindness is expressed through genuine and intentional interactions, versus small-talk or obligatory half-smiles. In other words, the French seem to value sincerity over surface-level politeness, and once I recognized this, my entire perspective shifted.

One of the most meaningful examples in my time here has been with a young worker at a flower shop. During one of my first days here, I went into the store with a friend. Having not researched any flower-related vocabulary, nor having any data to look up the words on the internet, I panicked about what I should say. Just as I was ready to leave the shop to spare myself the awkward interaction, the woman asked if we needed any help deciding. I worked up the courage to reply, fearing that I would be met with a sideways look or an immediate switch to English; and I have never been more glad to be wrong. To my surprise, she didn’t correct me impatiently or laugh. Instead, she came close, listened intently, and allowed me to slowly piece together my questions. She taught me the names of a few flowers, repeated words when I hesitated, and asked me questions about myself like I was one of her friends. What really struck me, though, was how genuinely excited she seemed when she learned that we were in Rennes to study French. Her face lit up, and for the first time, I felt like my attempts and errors with the language weren’t something to be embarrassed about, but something to be celebrated. By the time I had paid and walked out of the store, my nervousness about the French resting face had entirely disappeared.

Looking back, that afternoon taught me a lesson I keep rediscovering here; the “French resting face” is deceptive. On the surface, strangers may look distant or reserved. But if you take the risk of starting a conversation, you often find something else entirely; patience, encouragement, and a willingness to meet you halfway. That flower shop worker could have brushed me off, but instead she chose to engage, and in doing so, she gave me one of my first glimpses of the warmth that hides behind France’s famously serious exterior. Since then, I’ve noticed this same warmth in many small moments; in grocery stores, in bakeries, at bus stops. It turns out that beneath the reserved expressions is a culture of sincerity and patience, just waiting for you to take the first leap of faith.

Cailey Richkowski 

Furman University

CIEE-Rennes LA FALL 2025