Why Asking “How Are You” in France Gets You a Confused Stare

You walk into a bakery in France and do what you’ve done your whole life.

You make eye contact, you smile, and you say, “Hi, how are you?”

And the person behind the counter does not melt into friendly small talk. They don’t even hate you. They just pause, like you handed them a form they weren’t expecting.

Then they say “Bonjour.”

Not in a cute way. In a reset-the-conversation way.

This is one of those culture gaps that makes Americans think French people are cold, and makes French people think Americans are exhausting. Nobody is trying to be rude. You’re just using different settings.

In the U.S., “How are you?” is a greeting that means “I acknowledge you and I’m safe.” The expected response is “Good, you?” and everyone moves on.

In France, “How are you?” is more likely to land as an actual question, or at least an oddly intimate one from a stranger. The greeting is supposed to come first, and it’s supposed to be clean and respectful. Bonjour is the key, and everything else comes after.

Once you understand that, the “confused stare” stops being personal. It’s just the system doing what it does.

“How are you” is a social shortcut in America, and France doesn’t use that shortcut

Americans are trained to start interactions with warmth. It’s a lubricant. It smooths over the fact you’re about to ask for something, or take someone’s time, or enter their space.

So “How are you?” becomes a friendly crowbar. It opens the door to the actual request.

In France, the door is opened differently.

A French greeting is closer to knocking. You greet first because you’re acknowledging the person and their role, not because you’re trying to create instant friendliness. The friendliness comes later, if it comes.

That’s why “How are you?” can feel off. It skips the knock and jumps straight to the personal question.

And for Americans, this is where the confusion starts. Because in American English, “How are you?” is not personal. It’s a sound. It’s a polite noise. It’s basically throat-clearing with feelings.

In France, that same move can feel like you’re demanding emotional labor from someone who is just trying to sell you a baguette.

It gets even weirder in service settings. In the U.S., servers and cashiers are expected to perform friendliness. In France, basic politeness is the expectation, and performance is optional. Polite is not chatty.

So if you lead with “How are you?” you’re accidentally asking for the wrong kind of energy.

You’ll see it in their face. A small hesitation. A quick recalculation. Then they hand you the correct script: “Bonjour.”

That’s not rejection. That’s a cultural correction.

The French greeting ladder that makes everything smoother

If you want French interactions to feel easy, stop thinking in sentences and start thinking in steps.

There’s a ladder. If you hit the steps in order, people relax. If you skip them, people tense up.

Here’s the basic ladder that works almost everywhere:

1. “Bonjour” (or “Bonsoir” in the evening)
2. A small softener if you’re asking for something: “Excusez-moi”
3. The request
4. “S’il vous plaît” (when you ask)
5. “Merci” (when you receive)
6. “Au revoir” when you leave

That’s it. Not romantic. Not complicated. Just consistent.

The most important part is that the greeting comes before the request. Don’t walk in and say, “Two croissants please.” Don’t walk in and say, “Where is the metro?” Don’t walk in and start speaking English like you’re pressing play on a recording.

You start with “Bonjour.” You look at the person. You give them one second of acknowledgement. Bonjour before business.

Americans sometimes hear this and think it’s fake, like forced manners. It’s not fake in France. It’s the baseline respect signal. It’s a way of saying, “I see you as a person, not a vending machine.”

And here’s the part that helps skeptical people: it’s efficient. It’s fast. It saves you from friction.

You do not need to become fluent. You need three or four phrases, and you need the order.

If you want one line you can use all day without embarrassing yourself, it’s this:

“Bonjour, excusez-moi, s’il vous plaît.”

Then point, or ask, or hold up fingers. The French ladder holds the interaction up even if your language doesn’t.

When “Ça va?” is normal, and when it’s weird

Americans often learn one French phrase and then overuse it like a new haircut.

“Ça va?” is the classic.

Yes, French people say it. Yes, it can mean “How’s it going?” And yes, sometimes it is used lightly, almost rhetorically.

But it still has a relationship context.

“Ça va?” is most normal with people you already know, or people you are clearly about to know. A neighbor. A colleague. Someone you’ve already greeted properly. A barista who sees you every day.

It’s less normal as the opening move with a stranger, especially in a transactional moment.

The clean sequence is:

“Bonjour” first. Then, if it’s appropriate and you actually have time, you can add “Ça va?”

If you walk in and lead with “Ça va?” to a cashier, you can get the same confused stare you get with “How are you?” because you still skipped the greeting.

Also, Americans sometimes expect “Ça va?” to be a no-risk question with a no-risk answer.

In France, it can be light, but it can also invite reality. Someone might answer honestly. Not in a dramatic way, just in a blunt way. “Bof.” “Comme ci, comme ça.” “Pas terrible.”

That’s not rudeness. That’s just not performing cheerfulness on command.

So the simplest rule is: use “Ça va?” when you mean it, and when you can tolerate a real answer. Ask it with time.

If you want a safe response set, keep it simple:

• “Ça va, merci.”
• “Très bien, merci.”
• “Et vous?” if you’re being polite and using “vous”

For Americans, the big adjustment is accepting that friendliness doesn’t have to be constant. In France, friendliness tends to be earned and contextual. The greeting is mandatory, the personal check-in is optional.

Why French people care so much about greetings

This is the part Americans misread as “attitude.”

French greeting culture is about boundaries and respect. It’s a small ritual that tells everyone, “We’re interacting now, and we’re going to do it properly.”

In a society where cities are dense, public life is shared, and people are constantly brushing past each other, you need small rules that keep the machine from feeling hostile.

“Bonjour” is one of those rules. It’s a tiny social payment that makes daily life workable.

Americans often run on friendly momentum. You can talk to strangers, you can skip formalities, you can be loud, you can be informal, and it often reads as approachable.

In France, that same energy can read as intrusive. Not because French people hate joy, but because they separate public politeness from private warmth.

In other words: you don’t start with intimacy. You start with respect. Respect comes first.

This is also why French small talk feels different. Americans often bond by sharing personal details quickly, like jobs, family, what’s going on with their health, how stressed they are. It’s a way of signaling trust.

French conversation tends to warm up more slowly with strangers. There’s often more distance at the beginning, and then more depth later once you’re actually in a relationship.

So when an American leads with “How are you?” it can feel like trying to jump into a pool without walking to the edge first.

And the result is the confused stare. Not because they’re confused by the words. Because they’re confused by the relationship you’re trying to pretend you have.

If you want to avoid that, you don’t need to change your personality. You just need to swap the opening move.

The places where this matters most, and what happens when you get it wrong

If you’re visiting France, or moving there, this is where the greeting difference has real consequences.

Shops and bakeries

You enter. You say “Bonjour.” You wait half a beat. Then you ask.

If you walk in and start with your request, people often respond, but the interaction gets colder. The service becomes more mechanical. You might feel like you’re being “served last,” but what’s really happening is you’ve signaled “I don’t know the rules,” and people stop investing in the interaction.

Restaurants

French dining culture runs on tone. If you greet properly, things flow. If you don’t, you can feel a subtle wall go up.

In the U.S., a server may compensate for your awkwardness with extra friendliness because it’s part of the job. In France, you’re more likely to get the service you asked for, but without the extra emotional padding.

Apartment buildings, elevators, hallways

This is where Americans get surprised. In many parts of France, it’s normal to greet people in shared spaces. Not a full conversation, just a “Bonjour.”

If you don’t do it, you can come off as unfriendly or arrogant, even if you’re just shy.

Work and business settings

Formal greetings matter. The use of “vous” matters. People often start more formally and then relax into “tu” later. If you start casual too fast, you can look sloppy.

The big point is that these are not giant moral issues. Nobody is cancelling you. But small frictions add up. And if you’re trying to build a life somewhere, friction is expensive. It costs you energy, confidence, and a sense of belonging.

So instead of fighting it, treat the greeting like a keycard. Use it and doors open.

Common American mistakes, and how to recover without making it worse

Most mistakes are recoverable if you don’t double down.

Mistake 1: Leading with English and no greeting
Fix: Add “Bonjour” first, then speak. Even if your French is weak. The greeting counts.

Mistake 2: Asking “How are you?” to strangers and getting awkward
Fix: Switch to “Bonjour” plus your request. If you want to be extra polite, add “Excusez-moi.”

Mistake 3: Over-apologizing
Americans love long apologies. In France, long apologies can feel theatrical. Keep it short. “Pardon” or “Désolé” once is enough.

Mistake 4: Trying to be funny as a recovery move
It can work with friends. It can flop hard with strangers. Recover with calm, not performance. Calm saves face.

Mistake 5: Using “Salut” everywhere
“Salut” is informal. Great with friends. Not great with a pharmacist you don’t know. Use “Bonjour” when in doubt.

Mistake 6: Not saying goodbye
Leaving without “Au revoir” is a common tourist tell. It’s small, but people notice. Say it even if you bought nothing.

A simple recovery script if you mess up in a shop:

“Bonjour, excusez-moi.”

Then continue. Don’t make it a speech. Don’t explain that you’re American. Don’t demand forgiveness. Just reset the interaction and move on.

That’s the secret: French politeness loves clean resets.

Seven days to stop sounding confusing in France

You don’t need a personality transplant. You need repetition. The goal is for the greeting ladder to become automatic.

Day 1: Practice the opening
Walk into any place and say “Bonjour” first. Nothing else. Get comfortable with the feeling of starting that way. One word changes tone.

Day 2: Add the softener
“Bonjour, excusez-moi.” Then ask one simple question, even if it’s obvious. You’re training sequence, not information.

Day 3: Add “Merci” and “Au revoir” every time
Even if you’re shy. Even if it feels formal. This is how it becomes normal.

Day 4: Use “vous” by default
If you’re speaking to a stranger, use “vous” forms when possible. You don’t have to master grammar, just avoid jumping into casual language too fast.

Day 5: Try one “Ça va?” with someone you’ve already met
Neighbor, host, a café you’ve visited twice. Notice the difference when context exists. Context makes it natural.

Day 6: Listen for how others do it
In line, in shops, in cafés. You’ll notice people greet even when they’re in a hurry. This is the French version of being “polite by default.”

Day 7: Pick your two safe scripts
Script A: “Bonjour” plus request plus “s’il vous plaît.”
Script B: “Bonjour, excusez-moi” plus request plus “merci, au revoir.”

Then stop collecting phrases and just repeat those until they feel boring.

If you do this for a week, you’ll feel the difference fast. Not because people suddenly become your best friend. Because the friction drops. You stop getting that little pause, that little stare, that tiny moment where the interaction goes stiff.

The real decision Americans face in France

You can insist on the American friendliness script and keep feeling like France is cold.

Or you can accept that France is formal first, warm later, and run the local system.

That doesn’t mean becoming fake. It means using the right key for the right lock.

“Bonjour” is not a cute word. It’s a signal. It tells people you respect the interaction. It tells them you’re not going to bulldoze through with demands and forced cheer.

And once you stop trying to start every conversation with instant intimacy, French interactions become surprisingly pleasant. Not bubbly. Not performative. Just clean, efficient, and human.

Which, honestly, is what most people want when they’re just trying to buy bread.