Boob Salad Everywhere!

I feared after my first few visits to the beach that no one went topless anymore and I – being obviously American (or not French, at least) – didn’t want to be the only one. When I expressed these concerns to Aunt Sarah, she flat out laughed. “The day St. Tropez is no longer topless!” She, of course, was right. Lying at L’Esquinade today, there are plenty of boobs out.



It’s another beautiful beach day. It’s so hot the cold water is refreshing, not uncomfortable. The sky is mostly cloudless, the regatta of sailboats passes just in front of the beach (making for a lovely view), and – aside from the mounds of seaweed washed up by yesterdays storm – it’s perfect.



I spent a couple hours this morning meandering down the narrow streets of Ramatuelle, munching on a freshly made pain au chocolat, browing all the homemade crafts at the pottery & basket market. All I really wanted was my package from the States that apparently will never come. But I love Ramatuelle. It’s such a quaint little village, perched on the side of a mountain, full of secrets and tricks and mazes remeninscent of the middle ages. Everyone know everyone. Everyon’s friendly. If I were native to this area, I’d live in a tiny little apartment there overlooking the cascades of mountains rolling into the ocean below. I may live in Boston and I may act like I like bright lights, big cities and trendy clothes, but I’m a small town gal at heart.

I’m supposed to check out my new job today but I think I will call him and say I can’t work until next week. The rents are coming and I’d like to spend some quality time with them – and I don’t want to work every day and every night right now. There are still too many amazing things here I have yet to explore…