What Americans can learn from French people on vacation

How taking cues from other cultures can make travel more enjoyable.

(Photo: Christine Sarkis)

I’m not sure how to say this in a way that’s not creepy, but I’ve been watching French people on vacation. Since my job is to think and write about travel, I’m curious about both how and why different cultures vacation. And as a fan of the French all-inclusive resort brand Club Med, I’ve had some good opportunities to study how French people vacation differently than Americans.

Any good student of travel needs a teacher, so on a recent trip to Club Med Punta Cana I set out to find one. I briefly thought about approaching people lounging by the pool but that’s weird. So instead I enlisted the help of Uriel Tremblay. He had all the qualifications I was looking for: He’s French, so he’d understand how French culture shapes vacation time. He now lives in Canada, so he gets us North Americans. And he works for Club Med, so he’s a vacation expert.

By the end of my trip, which I may have mentally renamed French Vacationing 101, I realized that by softening a few aspects of my pretty typical American vacation style, I could—and I hesitate to say do it better because THE WHOLE POINT is to not strive for better—simply enjoy it more.

Here are the elements of French vacation style that I’ll be trying out on my next trip.

Moderate indulgence and pleasure without excess

Pleasure without excess involves slowing down and savoring, which seems like a really good idea but also not one that necessarily comes naturally to many Americans (me) who trend bigger, better, and more in most things. “In French vacation culture, indulgence isn’t about abundance, it’s about quality,” said Tremblay. As he said this, I thought of FOMO, the fear of missing out, which fuels people (me) to experience-stuff vacation days, wanting to do and feel and see everything in order for … for what, I’m not sure.

Once I started looking for signs of this French indulgence without excess, I saw it everywhere. In the size of the desserts at the restaurants, just enough to be delightful. In the way people would sip rather than swig cocktails and stop ordering before things got messy. Even watching how people shopped, choosing one special item rather than going on a shopping spree.

That idea isn’t foreign at all. We’ve already got the saying “quality not quantity” to sum it up. But to apply the idea to vacation seems like a minor revelation. It’s not about squeezing every last experience and flavor and minute into a vacation, it’s choosing wisely and letting those moments really count.

Once I started to live in this idea, I found myself falling into the same rhythm as the French people around me, sitting down to long, unhurried meals and slowing down (a definite shift from my default competitive-eater speed) to savor, for instance, a scoop of homemade pistachio gelato or an iced coffee made with Dominican coffee beans.

Ne rien faire: The art of doing nothing (and not feeling guilty)

(Photo: Christine Sarkis)

I’m just going to own this: I’m a great traveler and a terrible vacationer. But it wasn’t until Tremblay and I started unpacking the differences between typical French and American vacation styles that I understood why.

French vacationers know how to embrace guilt-free idleness. But, says Tremblay, “Doing nothing in the French sense doesn’t mean boredom. It means disconnecting from productivity and reconnecting with self.” As an American, I’m pretty wired for productivity, even on vacation. If I’m relaxing by the pool, I’m reading, then swimming, then reapplying sunscreen and thinking about what drink to order and then ordering the drink and then drinking the drink and … you get the point.

But studying the people around me who contentedly mono-tasked lying by the pool or soaking up the sun with a book and a cool drink for an entire afternoon, I saw JOMO (the joy of missing out) in action. And how if it were a vacation expectation to not schedule every moment, the only thing you’d have to do is exactly what you feel like doing at any given moment. And that, more than anything else, sounds like the true spirit of vacation.

Sleeping well is sacred (and blackout curtains are non-negotiable)

Something I’ve noticed over the years is that, both in France and anywhere I’ve been where a lot of French people vacation, blackout curtains in rooms are de rigueur. I’d always wondered why so asked Tremblant, who explained “French vacationers protect sleep the same way they protect mealtimes. Rest is part of the ritual.” By not needing to wake with the sun at 6 a.m. to maximize the day, “you can tune into your own rhythm, not someone else’s itinerary.”

As I wandered to the beach in the early morning to take some photos of the sunrise, I noticed how few people were out. Mostly it was babies or toddlers accompanied by one parent, which hinted that back at the room, another parent might still be deep asleep in the darkness of a quiet room. Everyone else, it seemed, was on vacation even in sleep.

(Photo: Christine Sarkis)

I generally don’t use blackout curtains, in part because they can interfere with adjusting circadian rhythms and shaking off jetlag. But after hearing this explanation, I tried it out and noticed my body craved more sleep on vacation. Without the early-morning pressure of the sun, I slept more, woke more refreshed and was easily able to stay up later and dance the night away.

Prioritizing presence over performance

When Tremblay said to me “Americans often approach vacation with activity checklists,” I actually raised my hand. You should see my travel checklists and itineraries; they’re a thing of beauty. But, admittedly, they don’t lend themselves to relaxation. Tremblay explained that, in the French mindset, “you don’t have to ‘achieve’ a great vacation, but you do have to feel it. The goal isn’t to do the most, it’s to appreciate what you do.”

That’s what I was seeing when, on my way to my second fitness class of the day, I looked out over the pool and saw people napping in cabanas, chatting in the water, and swimming—not swimming laps or counting exercise minutes—just swimming because it felt good to do on a warm day.

They were prioritizing presence, not even in a conscious way but as a simple cultural tradition. And while it doesn’t come as naturally to me, the thing about tradition is you can start them any time, even if they’re not the ones you grew up with.

Leisure isn’t selfish, it’s cultural

(Photo: Christine Sarkis)

The Rise and Grind idea didn’t appear out of nowhere; as Americans (even those who think the rise and grind concept is pretty messed up) we’re conditioned to get stuff done and not stop until that stuff is done (and then find more stuff to do!). But, says Tremblant, “The French don’t see rest as indulgent; they see it as necessary.” French people don’t feel guilty for taking time off the way we often do. They’re taught from an early age that leisure and pleasure is part of wellness, not the opposite of it.

For years, I’ve noticed this both in France and seeing French people on vacation all over the world. A totally unapologetic, clear-eyed sense that of course we, as individuals, deserve guilt-free downtime. When I was living in France in my 20s, I noticed it in the way that parents would bring their kids to the playground and then, rather than cheer them on from the sidelines, American-style, would find a bench and read a book. Here on vacation, I saw how it played out in the way everyone seemed to just know how to relax: how to lounge by the pool, chat over a glass of wine at apéritif time, and linger over a multi-course dinner.

Of all of these lessons, this one might be the hardest for me to embrace. I love it in theory, but in practice, I don’t have a lifetime of cultural cues nudging me to unapologetically claim leisure time. But maybe, one vacation at a time, I can inch toward a vacation style that slows down, packs in less, and feels more like the sort of downtime I dream of in my busiest moments.

I recognize this all falls into the category of Americans glorifying French culture in an oversimplified way. And at the same time, I think observing and learning from the best of a culture is one of the most powerful parts of travel. Vacations take a lot—of time and energy and money—and to take cues from other cultures in ways that make these experiences deeper, richer, and more special, that seems like the best souvenir we can take from our travels.

A note about the em-dashes in this story: This story was written by me, Christine Sarkis, a human who has loved and used em-dashes long before AI was even a glimmer in Silicon Valley’s eye. And I’m not going to stop using them because AI uses them too.