TRAVELOGUE: Navigating Paris: A Nigerian’s Guide to the City of Love

France has always been my first love, not just in Europe but the whole world at large. I remember coming across a book about Joan of Arc when I was six and immediately falling in love with the character, saying, “Omg, she’s crazy, I love her!” Imagine my surprise when I learned the character was real and not fictitious. Joan of Arc was my first introduction to France.

Over the years, as an adult, I would learn about the French Revolution, the French’s love for art, and randomly watch a movie about Marie Antoinette (although I found it boring), and found the way the author skillfully brought The Louvre to life in The Da Vinci Code. I started closely following the political climate in France in 2020.

I’m in love with the French revolutionary spirit. That’s what I love the most about them. I love that they always protest and how, pardon (not) my French, they don’t take shit. At least not while lying down. The political consciousness is on a whole new level—I love it!

The French are the least racist people I know so far, both individually and societally. I did experience minimal racism, and notably only from very old people. It was occasional and featured these old folks quickly trying to get away from me and crossing to the other side of the road. I’ve spent up to eight months in France, and this happened like three different times, so it kind of feels infinitesimal and irrelevant in the grand scheme of judging the racism level in France. I also understand that other Black people may have had different experiences, which is valid. There are a lot of Black people in France, and the French are more likely to judge your dress sense before they judge your skin colour. They do not joke with their fashion, the same way they do not joke with their vacation, baguette, and cheese.

Of course, loving France doesn’t mean overlooking its contradictions. The same revolutionary spirit I adore is often tamed by the soft violence of bureaucracy, gentrification, and neocolonial policies abroad, especially in Francophone Africa. Paris is beautiful, but I wonder how many of the brightest lights of Francophone Africa ended up here to escape systems that France itself helped structure. Still, there’s something about it. The same streets that once housed colonial planners now pulse with Afrobeat, Algerian Rai, and Congolese Rumba. We, the children of the formerly colonised, are not just surviving here. We are inscribing ourselves into the French narrative, whether they want it or not.

Language, I’ve come to realise, is not just vocabulary. It is a whole worldview. It’s like stepping into someone else’s subjectivity. And French, with its nuances of vous and tu, its formality, its flirtation with rhythm, is both a bridge and a boundary. As a black woman, though, I’m conscious that some doors don’t swing open just because I say “bonjour” correctly.

While learning French and working in Paris, I realised that language is political and that intonation can be racialised. However, this does not diminish how much I love the language.

After writing an IELTS exam, acing it, and getting a band eight while at it, I decided to learn an international language on Duolingo. Believe it or not, I flowed so easily with French. I got the accent even when I’d never set foot in France. I tried learning another European language to no avail, and I’d like to jokingly think that I was French in my past life.

I love learning French and being a teacher. I’m 29 and have been teaching since I was 18. Imagine my joy when I applied for an English language assistant exchange programme in France and was picked; it’s like raclette cheese melting in my mouth with my eyes closed. (This cheese is my favourite so far in France; you should try it!)

Anyway, on September 24, 2024, I touched down in Orly Airport, Paris, and stepped foot in France for the first time. I wondered why people walked fast like some invisible evil spirits were chasing them—until I exited the airport and ran fast back inside. It was so cold! Guess who also walks fast now?

In France, smoking is not a big deal. It’s almost a cultural thing. For someone like me who doesn’t smoke or likes the smell at all, especially coupled with the idea that passive smoking (inhaling the fumes from other people’s cigarettes) can be even more dangerous than actively smoking, I find this habit a bit annoying—but hey, it’s the French. I’ll pardon them. They make up for it significantly in other areas.

The first thing to do if you plan to go to France is to at least learn basic words and phrases like s’il vous plaît / s’il te plaît (please), au revoir (bye), merci (thank you), bonjour (hello), bonne journée / soirée (have a good day/evening), c’est bon (it’s okay), ça coûte combien (how much is that), où sont les toilettes s’il vous plaît (where is the restroom, please), où est la gare s’il vous plaît (where is the train station, please).

Never forget your “please” and “thank you”; it’s common courtesy.

Most French people won’t speak English to you even if they can, and some would only speak English after you’ve at least attempted to speak French. I have a little psychological trick. Don’t put them on the defensive and ask them if they speak English. Put the burden back on yourself and ask them if it’s okay for you to talk in English.

Je peux parler en anglais s’il vous plaît?

They get offended or cornered, like it’s a shortcoming on their part if they can’t speak English. I started getting more positive responses immediately after I switched to doing this, but that was before I became bolder in practising my French.

English and French have a lot of words in common; the pronunciations are just different. Duolingo will help you greatly in learning French. As I mentioned, I learnt French on that app, which made integrating into the French lifestyle very easy. If you don’t know how to correctly pronounce R as a Yoruba person, it’s a sign for you to start learning French. There’s a way you have to trill the letter like “errr”—the way a Yoruba person who can’t correctly pronounce R would pronounce “rice” as “wise” lol.

Like many other people, the French love it when you attempt to speak their language, no matter how badly. They love that you’re trying and will encourage and be nice to you. They talk fast, and you may be intimidated or even frustrated initially, but don’t worry—you’ll get the hang of it. Listening to French songs will also help; Indila is my favourite French singer, as I hear her quite clearly.

They have various expressions that are their favourites, which I’ve also picked up. Almost every day, you’d hear something like “du coup,” “bah oui,” “up up,” “tak tak”—and the one I seem to have picked up and use every day is “oh là làaaa.” It’s used to express frustration or pleasant surprise. It’s the French equivalent of “wow” in English.

Aside from the R, another similarity between the French and Yoruba cultures is how people relate to people older or younger than them.

In Yoruba, we use “ẹ” for people older than us. The French version is “vous.” For those younger than us, we use “o,” while the French version is “tu.”

However, there’s a little bit of difference in that the French expect you to la oruko mo’won l’ori (relate to them on a first-name basis) after a while, refer to them by their name, tutoie them, and stop using “vous.” They feel formality can be dropped since you’ve known each other for a while.

In Yoruba culture, it’s a sign of respect, and it doesn’t matter the closeness or familiarity, we stick to using the “ẹ” for people older than us. It fascinates me how “respect” travels across cultures. In Yoruba culture, deference to elders is sacred, but intimacy comes with informality here. But who defines respect? It’s a cultural difference I’m still telling my brain to blend in. I am a Yoruba woman through and through, so it’s a bit difficult.

The French are exercise enthusiasts, and they’re all fit! So you may want to come along with your exercise gear. Lunch and dinner are big deals in France—they don’t joke with them at all. Speaking of lunch or dinner, you should definitely try this Nigerian restaurant I found somewhere in Paris to give you a taste of home. It is located at 35 Bd de Strasbourg, 75010 Paris, France. They’re so good.

Or if you would like to cook by yourself, make your way to Château Rouge. It’s an Afrocentric market, and it’s giving Lagos vibes. Château Rouge doesn’t just give Lagos vibes; it’s also a reminder that we were never meant to disappear. It’s loud, black, rhythmic, and impatient. It smells like home. And in a city where “integration” sometimes feels like erasure, places like this say: “We’re not here to blend. We’re here to be.” I see black women here who have carved entire ecosystems around survival and softness.

Then, specifically for Nigerian products, make your way to Iya Tobi. You can even get locust beans and ẹkọ/ogi (liquid/solid pap) if you want. That’s how well-stocked her shop is. It can be found at 101, rue de Clignancourt, 75018 Paris.

For medical and skincare needs, visit CityPharma at 26 rue du Four, 75006 Paris. The place has diverse products with wholesale prices. If you don’t find a product there, then it’s most likely not in France. It’s your best bet for vitamins and other supplements, which are very necessary if you’re coming in during winter. I didn’t know this on time.

If you have a sweet tooth, Paris will cater to all your needs, trust me. There are so many boulangeries/pâtisseries everywhere.

A quick tip for your baguette: microwave it for a few seconds, say five, and quickly eat it while it’s soft and warm. Add a splash of honey if you want. This is how I’ve enjoyed it; otherwise, it’s just hard and tasteless in my mouth. Make sure you taste pain au chocolat, too. And the wines—definitely do not forget the wines!

The French are very polite and would go “pardon!” if they as much as mistakenly bump into you. The people are ever ready to help you. Are you lost? Do you need help with your luggage? Whenever I’m having a bad day, I stroll because I’m sure someone will randomly make it better with their kindness. Some say Parisians are rude. I don’t find them rude; I find them very frank and straightforward, and as someone on the high end of the autistic spectrum, I sincerely appreciate that.

When you’re in Paris, you’d definitely know you’re in Paris because of the architectural designs. Give it up for the French when it comes to beautiful architecture. I love how the butter-coloured theme of the buildings seamlessly blends into nature.

I love how the French are healthy and conscious of it; they take their veggies, supplements, and general balanced diets seriously while not missing out on food indulgence. You’d see random billboards reminding you to take your veggies, and in train stations, it’s not uncommon to see cute little write-ups on each step hyping you up on climbing stairs and then throwing you a high five when you get to the top, like, yay, you did it! It makes me chuckle all the time.

Don’t be taken aback when you’re kissed on both cheeks as a form of greeting. It’s a cultural thing I’m still not used to anyway. In Nigeria, we just throw “how far” or “how you dey,” and we’re good. Or we kneel/prostrate in Yoruba culture. Imagine kissing your grandpa in the village on both cheeks to greet him? It’s called bisous in French, and you’ll get used to it. Or not.

I love how openly affectionate everybody, both adults and children, is in France. They hug and kiss one another on the cheeks freely. It’s common to see romantic partners being very affectionate, holding hands, and kissing in public. Paris is called the city of love for a reason.

Y’know, I was going home from work one day in winter, and this couple started kissing on the train, and I burst out crying because I missed Nigeria so much. But I’ve also kissed someone from home who visited me in Paris, so now we’re even. Love in public is cute, yes, but also radical. As someone from a culture where affection is often private, I sometimes struggle with the vulnerability of holding hands in this city. But maybe that’s what Paris teaches you. It teaches you that love is a protest! It teaches you not to love like the French, but to love out loud. To be You!

For some reason, which I don’t know, I subconsciously assumed white people do not fart. Don’t ask me why;, like I said, it’s just an innocent assumption. So let’s say I’ve been a bit shocked that they fart. And everybody maintains a straight face and keeps breathing normally? Like it’s the most natural thing in the world?

Okay okay, it’s natural to fart — but it smells bad, no? So why is everyone else carrying on like absolutely nothing is smelling? I had to buy a nose mask for my train rides during winter because… I know, I know, I’m silly.

I also really wish the bureaucratic nightmares would stop; the French seem to love their paperwork, even though they’re technologically advanced. For example, getting your health insurance is not a walk in the park. But I got CAF (housing subsidy) fairly easily, so I guess you win some and lose some. Still, I don’t want to be punished by those bureaucracies. There’s something quietly violent about making people wait months to be seen or documented. I wonder how many dreams have dissolved in the queue? How many lives were red-taped into oblivion? The system doesn’t need to say “non,” it just needs to delay. That’s still a no!

It’s so weird that letter mailboxes are still a thing when everything could just be digital.

Things in Paris are, on average, affordable. The only thing you should worry about is the accommodation cost and getting it. It’s a nightmare, a big issue, just like in every other major city worldwide.

Hey, there are so many beautiful parks to explore and charming streets to stroll through, but I’m sorry for you if you’re not a fan of dogs. The French love their dogs, please — and they’re everywhere. As someone who has recently developed an allergy (a big shame because I absolutely adore dogs), I go everywhere with antihistamines. So keep that handy if you’re like me.

Of course, there are notable places in Paris to visit:

The Eiffel Tower (of course)

The River Seine

The Palace of Versailles

Trocadéro

Arc de Triomphe

The Louvre

Notre-Dame Cathedral

The Latin Quarter

Panthéon

The Catacombs of Paris

Montmartre

Sacré-Cœur

Le Consulat

Place du Tertre

Moulin Rouge

Paris Saint-Germain Stadium (for the football enthusiasts)

Countless cafés and charming streets

Many shops to buy souvenirs

Stick to shops around Château Rouge and environs. I found them to have a lot of cheap but quality stuff.

You’ll need transportation to get to all these places, so let me tell you about it. France has one of the best transport systems I’ve seen. There are buses, trains, trams, metros, intercity trains, taxis, and gobsmackingly cheap airlines like Ryanair (I used this airline to get to Bologna. Believe me, it’s more affordable than taking a bus!). Paper tickets are slowly being phased out, and I’d advise you to skip them entirely. Go to any ticket counter (found in almost every train station) and ask for a Navigo card. There are many Navigo cards, each designed to suit different situations. They can be recharged daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, or pay-as-you-go, like the Navigo Easy. So just explain your situation, and they’ll help you get the Navigo card that is best suited for you. You use this card to access train stations and buses by tapping it.

How to “tap” your card:

1. Hold your card in your hand (make sure it’s not inside a wallet or phone case, which can interfere).

2. Look for the purple circle or screen at the metro/RER gate or on the bus/tram validator. It usually says “Passez votre carte ici” (Place your card here).

3. Gently place your card flat on the purple circle, don’t wave or move it quickly.

4. Wait for the beep and green light.

If successful, the gate opens or the screen says “Bonne journée!” If not: try again slowly, or check if your pass has expired or is not loaded. For Metro and RER, tap at the entrance gate. Sometimes you must tap again when exiting (especially for RER trains). For bus and tram, tap once when you enter. You don’t need to tap when getting off. You will be fined if caught not tapping or validating your trip.

READ ALSO: TRAVELOGUE: A trip to the holy cities of Makkah, Madinah

This is the end of this episode. I hope you’ve found this article helpful as a tourist or someone considering settling in France. I was a bit disoriented and homesick when I first got to Paris, and I definitely would have found something like this handy.

I hope I’ve been able to bring Paris to life for you or paint an animated picture of it, even if you’ve never been here or you’re planning to come someday.

But as you’ve seen, I didn’t come to France just to teach. I came to walk through the legacy of power and imagine another world. Paris has shown me love; in this city of lights, I walk like a black spark with my own fire. In my next episode, I’ll write about my experiences as an English Language Assistant in France. Until then, à bientôt!

Dasola Tewogbade, also known as Sisí Afrika, is a Nigerian feminist activist on a language exchange programme in Paris. She speaks Yoruba, English, and French fluently and can be reached via  [email protected]