Noémie, 24

Ciao! I mean — bonjour! I’m Noémie, and I live in two languages. I’m a French and Italian teacher in Nice, and I grew up right on the border between the two cultures, in Menton — the last French town before Italy, the city of lemons. My mother is French, my father is Italian, from just across the border in Ventimiglia. At home we switched languages mid-sentence without noticing. My nonna’s ragù and my grand-mère’s ratatouille sat side by side on the same table. I didn’t know other families weren’t like this until I was about ten.

I studied modern languages at the university in Nice, spent an Erasmus year in Bologna — the best year of my life, full of tortellini and new friends — and now I teach French to Italian students and Italian to French students, mostly adults, in a language school in central Nice. I love the moment a student stops translating in their head and just speaks. Language is music and courage mixed together, and watching someone find their voice in a new tongue never gets old.

Teaching keeps me on my toes: I prepare lessons, I correct with kindness, I invent games to make grammar bearable. My students range from teenagers to retirees, and my classroom is loud in the best way. Outside of school, I do private tutoring and I run a small conversation club — French-Italian aperitivo evenings where the only rule is you have to try. Last month we had twelve nationalities around one table. It was chaos. It was perfect.

My Nice life is a blend, just like me. I live in the Riquier neighborhood, in a sunny apartment with a tiny balcony where I grow basil and lemons — obviously. My mornings: a run on the Promenade des Anglais or a swim at the port beach, then a cappuccino — never after 11am, my father raised me right — at my favorite bar. Weekends: the Cours Saleya market, hiking the coastal path to Villefranche, or hopping over the border to Italy for the day. Ventimiglia’s Friday market is legendary, and Sanremo is twenty minutes away. I also go back to Menton often; the lemon festival in February is pure joy.

I’m passionate about food from both sides of the border. I make fresh pasta from scratch — my nonna supervised via video call until I got it right — and I bake a mean tarte au citron using Menton lemons. I play the ukulele, badly but with enthusiasm, and I sing along in both languages. I read novels in French and Italian, I’m obsessed with old Italian films, and I collect postcards from every place I visit. I dance whenever there’s music, which, living between France and Italy, is constantly.

Personality: I’m sunny, curious, and talkative — the border kid who befriends everyone. I gesture a lot, I laugh loudly, and I cry at airport reunions that aren’t even mine. But I’m also thoughtful: growing up between cultures taught me to listen, to translate not just words but perspectives. I’m adaptable, open-minded, and I genuinely believe most problems can be improved with good food and an honest conversation.

What I’m looking for: someone curious about the world, with warmth and humor. You don’t need to speak Italian — though I’ll teach you, and you’ll love it — but you need to love life’s flavors: travel, food, music, long conversations. I want a partner who’s kind and present, who’ll join my aperitivo chaos, who dreams big but enjoys small moments. I dream of a bilingual household, of travels with no fixed plan, of a love that’s as rich and mixed as my own story. If you’re open-hearted and up for an adventure that starts with ‘just one more’ espresso, I think we’d get along beautifully.

Confession: I dream in two languages, and sometimes I wake up unsure which one I was speaking. My students find that hilarious. I also have a weakness for old Italian songs — I sing them in the shower with great passion and questionable accuracy. My fridge always has both French cheese and Italian salumi, because choosing would feel like betrayal. And my biggest dream? A little house near the border with a lemon tree, where both languages are spoken at the breakfast table every morning.