What a Flamboyantly Gay Syrian Man in the North of France Taught Me About Life

Honfleur, France. May 12, 2025.

We rolled into Honfleur from our AirBnB in Bayeux mid-morning before the light summer mist had fully melted away. It was still a little cooler weather-wise and we had plans to explore the little coastal town that was known for its picturesque scenes. So picturesque in fact, that Claude Monet himself had been known to paint the Vieux-Bassin (the Old Harbor) and the colorful and bright townhomes built during the 16th and 18th centuries.

Our purpose was just to visit, take some pictures, grab some lunch, soak it all in and enjoy our vacation, checking one more stop off our list.

The village was everything the tourist brochures promised. Quaint. Picturesque. Very French. It’s about two hours north of Paris and sits on the estuary where the Seine river meets the English Channel. The harbor is lined with outdoor cafes and eateries, each promising fresh oysters by the dozen. Whatever image your brain conjures up when someone says, “seaside village in the north of France” you’ve probably nailed it.

Anyway, as we wandered about the village we meandered in and out of shops, buying small items to take back as souvenirs. I bought myself a fedora hat and a scarf to go along with it and felt like a real Frenchman for a hot second. No one seemed to notice but me.

At one point we turned down a narrow alley and made our way down the cobblestone street which was lined with small shops on each side. I was bored with the French shopping experience at this point so I was walking a little ahead of Kirsten and Scarlett who still gave every single shop their complete, undivided American consumer attention when I saw a thin little man squatting out in front of a small shop just ahead of me. He was dressed all in black with bright pink suspenders. He had close cropped hair that had been dyed also shockingly pink and big, oversized glasses that made his eyes look twice as large as normal.

He was dark complected and utterly at ease, calmly smoking a cigarette. “Bonjour,” I said.

He smiled and replied back softly, “Bonjour.”

By this time, Kirsten and Scarlett had caught up to me and seeing the store we were in front of, turned to go inside. Apparently he was the proprietor, because he hastily stubbed out his cigarette and scurried in after them. Intrigued, I followed.

Once inside, he greeted them cheerfully with a flurry of French to which Kirsten said the only phrase back to him that she knew, “Je ne parle pas Francais.” I don’t speak French.

“Oh thank God!” He said in crisp English with just a touch of an accent, “I hate speaking French!” That got a laugh from all of us. It turned out that he was the owner of the shop we were in and he sold a variety of women’s beauty products. Soaps, facial washes, perfumes, body sprays, lip balms, lotions, and more. Scarlett was immediately in heaven.

He was friendly and chatty and told us his name was Samir. After about 10 minutes we all felt like we had known each other for decades and he had told us most of his life story. Samir was born in Syria and had moved to Paris about 10 years prior. As a “flamboyantly gay man” (his words) he found Syria a difficult place to live. Turns out they are not very accommodating to homosexuals there. You can probably imagine.

Settling in Paris he finally felt as if he could freely live his life. He met his husband there and they carved out a life for themselves in the bustling city. After some time living in the city, things still didn’t feel quite right. Samir felt some sort of unseen stress pressing in from all sides every waking moment. He had a good job at a perfumery, a loving husband, and a large social circle, but found himself rushing about day-to-day, constantly on the move, hurrying from one thing to the next.

The turning point came when he found himself one Sunday afternoon on his day off, rushing from errand to errand like a mad man on a mission to get as many things done as possible. He finally stopped himself on a crowded Parisian sidewalk and said, “Samir, why are you rushing around this way? You have nowhere to be. Slow down, enjoy this Sunday afternoon.”

That was when he realized that he had moved to France to enjoy his life and live a measured pace only to be caught up in the madness of the city and hustle and bustle of the culture. He went home and discussed things with his husband. They decided to find a small village to live in and landed in Honfleur. They rented the shop space and with Samir’s connections in the beauty industry, opened their little store, living in the flat above with their small dog.

“Our life is so much better now,” he said. “I love the peace and tranquility of Honfleur. I love the quiet mornings with my husband and my dog. I love having coffee on the terrace of our flat. I love serving our customers in the shop. Life is almost perfect. We have everything we need.”

I am paraphrasing a bit there, but it is a fairly accurate quote because when we left Honfleur that evening and went back to the AirBnB I sat down and journaled about my experience with Samir. He showed me that day that you really can design your life any way you want. This is a man who was born into an extremely oppressive country where he was not welcome - subject to violence at any given moment even - made the courageous decision to leave to another country in his early 20s where he had to learn a new language, figure everything out on his own, and did it anyway. And on top of that he realized that he still hadn’t designed the life he was comfortable with and so decided to change things again by moving to a small coastal village in the north of France.

There is a deep lesson there. Life is meant to be lived on YOUR terms. So many times we feel constrained by our circumstances, our environment, our own self-imposed limitations. But, in almost all cases these things can be bent to our own version of reality. We just have to have the courage to do it. Just like Samir.