Spain vs South of France: Congeniality (aka the People)

France
"Oooh Americans! Let's be rude and super unhelpful."  This is what I imagine is going through the minds of many of the French people I encounter in Nice, which is worlds away from the friendly Parisians. It begins with our bus driver from the airport.  He speaks to nobody, announces no stops and skips several, including ours we later discover. A helpful French girl I am pumping for info about nightlife interrupts me to alert me to the fact that we've just missed our stop.  

Luckily my superior map-reading skills enable us to find our hotel as we are not too far off where we should have been let off.  Upon arriving at our hotel Jen and I are greeted effusively by two young women who we estimate to be early thirties.  They could not be more friendly and helpful, suggesting restaurants and places to hang out.  "Wow," I say on the elevator to our floor. "They are remarkably friendly for France."  We later discover they are both eastern European immigrants which explains their friendliness.  

Like most places, the men who own bars and restaurants (or work at one or the other) are extremely solicitous to the point of a relentless come-on.  One such proprietor of a really fun bar we like actually flat-out propositions Jen to go around the corner for a quickie.  She manages to shake him off as his apparent ADD toward women kicks in and has him barking up another girl's tree moments later. We do meet a couple of nice French guys that are neither relentlessly pursuing us nor rude.  

Our final rude French guy story is our front desk guy at our hotel, Bitter Dave. His disdain for us becomes more apparent each day as we hand in our key coming and going.  This is a must as there is a small brass brick attached to the key lest we are inclined to steal it.  One day we run out of shampoo and request more and he throws down his pencil and storms off, leaving one of the friendly girls to fetch some.  Jen asks him for change of 5€ and he goes off on a rant, explaining he does not change euros for American money.  Jen calmly explains she needs euro coins.  He says with annoyance that this is not part of his job but reluctantly opens a cash drawer, within which is every coin imaginable in abundance, and grudgingly hands over change.  

To his face I am relentlessly friendly, refusing to allow him to get to me, but I slammed him by name in my TripAdvisor review.  After also taking into account the random woman on the street who scolded my sarong-wearing self for not being more covered up off the beach, I find some French live up to their American-shunning reputation for coldness.

Spain
Everyone is Spain is friendly, lovely, helpful and totally rocks! I am seriously tempted to leave it at that but I'll elaborate. Immediately upon my arrival in Pamplona my cab driver, hotel desk guy, and every Spaniard I encounter cannot help me enough.  My front desk guy is immediately concerned that I'm a woman alone heading into a super-rowd crowd, but I assure him I'm totally fine and this is precisely why I'm there. (I think maybe he's offering to escort me.)  

As you know from my Pamplona post, I am not alone for long.  Next stop is Madrid and again, everyone I meet, from hotel workers, more friendly bartenders, museum docents, and random people I chat up along the way are all as friendly as can be.  I engage in a lively American football discussion with an Argentinian guy in what becomes my favorite Madrid bar and he's surprisingly informed given their obsession with soccer.  

My concierge helps me sort out my train ticket to Malaga and I discover I'm entitled to a free transfer to the train station. Everyone cannot be nicer! In Malaga there is more of the same.  My concierge there sends me to the most fun places and even offers to have an early breakfast prepared for my 5:30 am departure to Morocco, an offer I still regret declining.  Barcelona - well, it is my new favorite worldwide city and you've heard about some of our encounters there. From Nelson our waiter to Jan our bartender to Carlos/Daniel our (not actually) naked neighbor, all wonderful people.  

I would be remiss if I don't mention Moni who is responsible for pulling us into our favorite bar in the first place. Moni, if you're reading this, you are so fun and I regret not giving you more of my attention while I was there.  When I get back to Barcelona, and I will, you're at the top of my list of people I want to hang out with more.

We all know that wherever you are in the world, the people that surround you have some impact on your experience. We also know that it is not fair to generalize an entire country or group of people based upon limited experiences. That being said, the people of Spain are WAY more congenial than the French overall.  I'm also being specific to the South of France versus Paris since, as we New Yorkers can vouch, one cannot compare New York City to the rest of the state.  I definitely have more of a sampling of cities in Spain on which to base my final score which is:  Spain 1000,  France 2

Jan (center)- You rock!

Moni (center)- You're awesome!