Why I won't tell you where you should eat or sleep ...unless you ask

Conventional Substack wisdom would have it that anyone who writes about as many places as I do should be selling some sort of add-on.

Classes. One-on-one sessions. PDF guides.

And indeed, plenty of my favorite travel Substackers do just that, some with smashing success.

It must be one hell of a lot of work, and I say more power to them. I’ve even bought a few PDFs just to cheer them on.

As for me, although I never say never, I’m definitely not there yet.

Of course I’ve given thought to a few side products.

• A class about France’s administrative regions?

• “The Ultimate Guide to Moulins, Allier”?

• A one-on-one session that would conclude with my firmly telling someone to spend less time looking for a “forever French home” and more time working on the “forever French language”?

All right, my product development needs some polishing.

But one thing I could easily and legitimately do would be to review or recommend hotels and restaurants in the cities I visit.

But, like Bartleby the Scrivener, I would prefer not to.

Here’s why.

Restaurant recommendations

My home base is Rodez, Aveyron, a mid-sized town with a flourishing foodie scene that I would actually be fully qualified to write about. Yet I don’t, and I won’t, because I would inevitably piss a bunch of people off.

But those towns I sweep into for a few nights?

I suppose I could do it. I love food as much as the next writer, and even dabbled in food writing lo so many years ago. And I do savor some good-to-great fare on my trips.

But to do it right, eating would have to become the primary focus of my stays, research and writing. Putting together proper restaurant recommendations is a huge job, to wit:

This type of achievement is mind-boggling.

In the meantime, if you truly want a tiny restaurant tip for anyplace on my FIB index, just post on my publication chat, and I’ll do my best.

I may tell you that I took the path of least resistance, eating lunch in average but lively town square brasseries, while dining on a croque-monsieur two nights in a row in the same cozy wine bar.

Even at that, I’m rarely disappointed.

Hotel recommendations

On my forays into France’s smaller towns, I always stay in hotels, being rather against the Air BnB system that is threatening the local character of neighborhoods in towns as small as Carcassonne. 1

Plus, hotel receptionists are a much keener source of information than a key box. The first day, I get the standard tourist spiel, but by the second, I’m picking up inside info.

I do get a deeper picture of hotels than restaurants. Yet I wonder what truly useful information I could give you in this ultra-connected world. After all, you can already see multiple photos of the very room you are reserving, not to mention read what dozens of other travellers have to say about any given place to stay.

So if I write about a hotel, it’s usually because it’s historically significant.

Despite early morning noise from the nearby train station, I was crazy about the centenarian Hôtel Terminus in Cahors, Lot, built to imitate Basque country seaside establishments and full of art deco details.

The Distillerie de Pezenas, Hérault, was interesting for its industrial past and its immense, minimalist bedrooms, although I nearly had to place my feet in the open shower while using the toilet.

And nowhere has yet rivalled the sheer strangeness of Saint-Flour, Cantal’s Logis Hôtel Ancien Grand Séminaire.

I loved each of them in its own way, yet all had potentially fatal flaws that could make them a no-no for plenty of readers — which is why I’m not going into hotel recommendation mode anytime soon.

But would I like to chat about where I’ve stayed if you are heading to a city I’ve visited?

Damn tooting I would. So once again, that’s one thing I figure my publication chat, open to all subscribers, can be for.

Hey, I’m heading into my August Substack break!

This is France, after all!

I’ll soon be on a much-needed holiday from work, with friends and family pouring in, so if you’re a free subscriber, you may hear little from me until September.

My special supporters, a.k.a. paid subscribers, will be receiving the July “From in-between France” digest next weekend, full of travel tidbits, news, and strange stuff from non-Parisian France, as well as info about what to expect from FIB next month.

Despite my summer slacking off, you can still support France in Between, receive all of my publications — and real paper postcards! — by taking out a paid subscription at the lowest yearly price possible on Substack.

Who knows — someday I might even be able to up my restaurant and hotel game!

I wish all of you the best for the second half of summer, and if you live here in France, may the heat gods be kinder to us from now until la rentrée.

Bises à toutes et à tous,

Betty Carlson