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DISCOVER FRANCE

12 of the most unfortunate (or hilarious) place names in France

From towns apparently named after body parts to villages that seem to revel in describing themselves as miserable and dirty, there are some distinctly strange place names in France. Here are our favourites.

12 of the most unfortunate (or hilarious) place names in France
Photo by JOHANNA LEGUERRE / AFP

Sniggering at foreign words that sound rude is an extremely childish pastime. But it’s also fun, so here we go with a look at some of France’s funniest place names.

While some of these are only funny to English-speakers, there is a scattering of French towns that sound pretty hilarious in French too.

Misery

Let’s face it who’d want to live in a village called Misery?

This one’s a double whammy; not only is ‘misery’ a negative term in English, but in French, misère means poverty or destitution (so Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables are poor and destitute, rather than ‘the miserable ones’ – although his classic novel does contain plenty of misery too and living in poverty is not exactly fun). 

Still, approximately 137 people can proudly say ‘j’habite à Misery’ and you too could experience Misery if you travel to the Nord-Pas-de-Calais region.

Stains

The town in the Île-de-France region claims it gets its name from the Latin ‘stagnum‘ (pond), as apparently there are many in the area.

However, it’s more likely to make Brits think of dirty marks – not to mention the London commuter town Staines, whose reputation was ruined by Sacha Baron Cohen’s character Ali G. 

For the French, Stains has a different negative connotation – the town has high levels of poverty and unemployment and recent headlines have been around shootings and police violence. 

Anus

Fancy living in the arse end of nowhere?

It’s a mystery as to why this small town in Burgundy has kept its decidedly unglamorous name, since ‘anus’ has the same meaning in French as in English (un anus, it’s masculine in case you ever wondered and is pronounced an-oos).

But apparently the inhabitants aren’t bothered by having to tell people they live in Anus. Maybe they’re relaxed about life because they live in one of France’s most famous wine-producing regions?

Dole

‘On the dole’ is a British term to describe someone collecting unemployment benefits, so moving here might seem like a bad omen for your career – on the bright side, France is a better place than most to be unemployed (or en chômage in French).

More than 25,000 people call Dole home, and its main claim to fame is as the setting for French comedy Happiness is in the Field (Le Bonheur est dans le pré), telling the story of a toilet seat factory-owner with family troubles.

Dives

‘Dive’ is English slang for a run-down, cheap and dirty area. Sometimes used in a positive sense by hipsters or college students who prefer ‘dive bars’ to overpriced clubs, nonetheless it doesn’t sound like somewhere you’d choose to live.

Having said that, we’re sure that Dives in the Oise department, as well as Dives-sur-mer in north-western France, are much nicer than their names suggest. It’s pronounced ‘deev’ and has nothing to do with diving, which is plonger in French.

Bitche

Life really is a bitch here. The town of Bitche in eastern France, near the border with Germany, lies in an area known as ‘Bitche Country’, or ‘Bitscherland’ in German. In French, the inhabitants of the town are referred to as ‘bitchois’, suggesting they’d make pretty unfriendly neighbours.

The town has a long military history but unfortunately most English speakers won’t be able to stop sniggering at the name long enough to learn about it. Bitche has even featured as an answer on British comedy panel show QI, and the town council also lost its Facebook page when Facebook HQ decided that it was offensive.

In French the closest word to ‘bitche’ is biche – a perfectly inoffensive term for a female deer, that’s also sometimes used as a term on endearment. If you want to get offensive and refer to a woman as a ‘bitch’, that would be connasse.

Angers

Angers is a relatively large French city with 147,305 inhabitants, universities and museums. Its name comes from the Latin word Andecavi, which was the name given to people from the region, and through linguistic change it has become ‘Angers’ in today’s French. 

It’s pronounced on-zjeyre and has nothing to do with anger. The French, you may be unsurprised to hear, have a lot of terms to describe being angry, annoyed, pissed off or furious. Probably the most common is en colère – literally ‘in anger’ which you will see on a lot of protest signs.

10 of the best French phrases for when you’re angry

La Grave

Surely only someone particularly morbid would enjoy living in a place called ‘Grave’?

Even in French, the meaning is ‘serious’, often used in a negative sense about an illness or injury. But 487 people live in La Grave, and the area is popular with off-piste skiers and ice climbers who apparently enjoy having not just one, but both feet in the grave.

Very commonly heard in French is c’est pas grave – it’s not serious, which you would say when someone apologies to you. It’s like ‘don’t worry about it’ or ‘it’s nothing’

Pis

You’d have to wear wellies all year round if you lived in Pis.

Pis, in the Gers department of south-western France, is encircled by the river Auroue, and gets 180 millimetres of rainfall each year.

Although the French word ‘pisse‘ has the same meaning as English ‘piss’, the French tendency to drop final consonants probably means they don’t see the schoolboy humour in this town name, which is pronounced ‘pee’ – still pretty funny for English-speakers.

Craponne

The name of the town says it all really.

‘Crap’ is one of England’s most commonly-used swear words, and a series of books called Crap Towns chronicles the worst places to live in Britain. We wonder if Craponne would feature in a French edition?

More than 10,000 people live there and it hosts an annual country and western music festival.

The French language does have an excellent rude word that literally means to ‘crap on’ (or shit on) someone – emmerder

Bony

The town where the residents need a good feed.

Whether used to describe someone who is unhealthily thin, or a cut of meat that doesn’t actually consist of much meat, ‘bony’ is usually used in a negative context in English. But it is also the name of a small French village in Picardy, home to just over 100 residents.

Essay

Where the kids are constantly doing homework.

Living in a town called Essay would give most English speakers flashbacks to dull homework and exam panic – surely you’d never feel truly at ease. Though it’s home to only 513 people, Essay is much more exciting than its name suggests; it is known for its motorsports tracks and also offers go-karting.

In French your written homework is more likely to be called a dissertation or a production écrit, although essai is also used.

Essai has a more positive meaning too, though – in rugby it’s a try (a goal) from the verb essayer (to try).

Member comments

  1. Hadn’t heard of some of these, they did make me laugh! You could have added the town of Condom, too. Up in the Somme is the hamlet of Y, which is twinned with the Welsh village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch. Clearly the twinning team had a sense of humour…

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DISCOVER FRANCE

‘They treated me like a son’ – The secrets of integrating in a Pyrenees community

They're popular with tourists for both their beauty and their wilderness - but what's it like to actually live in the Pyrenees? Author Stephen Cracknell spoke to residents on both the French and the Spanish side of the mountains about what brought them to the area and why they remain.

'They treated me like a son' - The secrets of integrating in a Pyrenees community

In the classic French novel Jean de Florette, the titular hero inherits a house in rural southern France and moves there, although an early misunderstanding convinces him that the locals have rejected him.

Jean believes he doesn’t need the village. He is strong and works hard – Gérard Depardieu played the role on screen – but finally he comes to grief because he hasn’t integrated.

Much has changed since 1963, but there are still areas where outsiders have had less influence on local life. Like the Pyrenees.

My friend, Open University professor Gordon Wilson, and I have been talking to residents there, in both France and Catalonia.

How do they live and what do they think of their neighbours? For anyone moving from a town to a rural area – and not just to the Pyrenees – what they say is worth listening to.

One outsider who has successfully integrated is Mustapha, from Morocco. He had the advantage of growing up on a farm in the Atlas Mountains so knew the kind of life awaiting him in the Pyrenees.

He was also determined: when he could not obtain a visa, he crossed to Spain in a dinghy. When he was confronted by his complete lack of Spanish and Catalan, he worked around the problem by talking Sheep. Within two days he found a job as a shepherd in Pallars Sobirà, Catalonia.

“What surprised me most was the good people,” he said. “Very good people. Very welcoming. I was living in my bosses’ house. They treated me like a son.”

Shepherd Mustafa with his dogs. Photo Stephen Cracknell

During his first summer in the high pastures, however, he had to live alone in a tent. When he brought the sheep back down in autumn, they had gained weight, but he had lost 14kg.

“One night I heard a lot of noise coming from the sheep. I was sleeping in the tent. The bear was eating a sheep fifty metres away. Eating the sheep. Argh! Well, I shut the tent up and that was it. I just let him eat it.”

After three years he obtained his residence papers. He and his wife, Fatima, now have two children. All four of them speak Catalan, Spanish, Berber and Arabic.

Another person now living in the mountains is Adeline.

Before she moved to France’s Ariège département, she only knew the Pyrenees through its footpaths.

Her mother was a nurse, her father a stonemason, she herself was a teacher. Then she fell in love with Mathias, a shepherd. Despite her origins in the south of France, moving to an isolated farm was a big leap for her.

“I decided to resign from teaching because I knew that it was no longer right for me. It was a bit like jumping off a cliff because I knew it would be difficult to earn my living.”

When she moved to Mathias’ farm, she took up management of the walkers’ hostel – which is how Gordon and I came to meet her. She grew food to feed the guests. Then, when there was a glut of fruit, she converted it into ice cream and sorbet. Now she runs the hostel, works the land, and sells produce, both fresh and frozen, on her market stall in St Girons.

Adeline now runs a walkers’ hostel at Esbintz in Ariège. Photo: Stephen Cracknell

“When I arrived, I was Mathias’ girlfriend… Now it’s the opposite effect. So, when Mathias comes on my stall, people say, ‘Oh you are the boyfriend of the girl who makes ice cream!’” Adeline has become part of the community.

But what to make of René? Unlike Mustapha and Adeline, René was born and bred in the Pyrenees, as was everyone in the family except for his Swiss wife.

He has always lived in Ariège. In my definition he is a local. But he told us: “We are foreigners”.

His grandfather, he explained, came from the Ebro delta in southern Catalonia, looking for work.

He walked across the Pyrenees, crossed the border into France and stopped at the first village. He married a woman who was living there. That was in 1920.

Yet René still feels he is an outsider despite his family roots in the area. His comments give a clue to his sense of detachment: “The locals, it’s simple. Here, it’s sheep, Saint-Girons it’s cows. Full stop. Forests? If they are a problem, they get burnt.”

Until his recent retirement, René was a school nurse: “What I see in the young locals in the sixth-form college in Foix, for example, for some, as soon as they go beyond Pamiers [20km north], it is worse than northern Europe. They’ve never been away.”

These four routes to the Pyrenees – by dinghy, by love, by walking, by birth – are as diverse as the people who followed them. As the poet Antonio Machado wrote: “Traveller, there is no path, the path is made by walking”.

Mountain People: Tales from the Pyrenees, by Gordon Wilson and Steve Cracknell, is published by Austin Macauley (London). Also published by Stephen Cracknell: The Implausible Rewilding of the Pyrenees, Lulu, 2021

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