In small groups the French people seem to like Americans quite well. As a people they have political and social differences with us, but that's hardly surprising - there are political and social differences between Ohio and Nebraska. I only had two "bad" experiences, neither of which were very bad. Once I was kicked out of a boulangerie in the Latin Quarter because I didn't speak French well enough and they told me, in perfect English, "We don't speak English here." Meh. There are about a thousand boulangeries right there, so no worries. The other time was down in St. Emilion, just east of Bordeaux, when I asked for some sauce I'd heard about and the matron told me, "No. You may not have that." Apparently you don't eat that sauce with the magret I was having, and she was offended that I asked. But that's a cultural thing - they've spent centuries perfecting that dish and some nitwit American coming along trying to ruin it isn't going to happen. Some woman cooking the meal in what amounts to her home kitchen can pull rank on me, I don't mind. The magret was fantastic, too.
One of the best bar experiences I've ever had was at a pub in Sarlat. The in-laws knew some locals and left the table to talk to them, while me and the wife stayed to talk to the other patrons. They don't speak much English down there (not like in Paris), but they were happy to talk to Americans. We had a great conversation about politics, food, beer, wine, football vs. futbol - all in broken English and my butchered French. Everyone's hands were stained purple from the grapes they'd worked with that day. We talked to those people for hours, got lit, and had a grand time.
The thing about France is, you have to try really, really hard to get a bad meal. Street food in Paris is great. You can go into pretty much any boucherie and get excellent meats, any boulangerie and get the best bread you've ever eaten, any grocery store anywhere has fantastic wines. The creperies on nearly every street make these awesome little crepe treats, my favorite of which is crepes with banana & nutella, which sounded hideous but turns out to be really, really good. The sausages there are so much better than anything I can find here in Nebraska. It's a crime that I live in the breadbasket of the world but have to go across half a continent and a whole ocean to get really great sausages.
I've had a couple of expensive meals at fine restaurants in Paris, and while it's good and the experience is worth it, I'm a man of simple needs. Give me a baguette, fresh butter, a decent red and a stretch of grass on the Champ de Mars and I'm good.
Dude was pretty shocked that an American spoke his language so well, but she's learned the language from her husband, who swears impressively.
