Finally, this is becoming home

I can vividly remember a time when I was not this comfortable in this place. It was a semi-rainy day; thick, gray clouds hung in the air over the harbor. I must have been working at Stephano’s at the time because I remember being full of anxiety and dread, so it must have been early June. I wandered alone through the streets of St. Tropez, watching people give each other bisous and speaking fluent French and I remember feeling terribly alone. I remember the overwhelming sadness that swept through me while standing in a phone booth. It was homesickness, but not because I missed home. I just wanted this to be home. And now, it nearly is.

Tony, Tequila and I took the ferry from Les Marines de Cogolin into St. Tropez for the day. We shopped and had lunch on the water and took a coffee at Senequiers. I wore a linen skirt and a bright tank top and I brought my dog everywhere, speaking French, feeling French. Tony was shocked at how many people I knew. I stopped to see Michel Toni at the bank, who gave me bisous and chatted. I stopped to see Marron at Papagayo, who gave me bisous and invited me out to party. I stopped to see the man at the Internet café and the woman at the panini shop across the street, all who recognized me.

Yesterday night, when I returned to Le P’tit Club for the first time in a couple days, they were relieved to see me. “Where the hell were you?!” they demanded. Alberte & Z were there for a drink and wanted to know where I had disappeared to for two days. It feels so good to have people notice when you go missing, to have people care that you’re ok and alive. The bouncer kept telling me “how busy I am with my phone” because during a conversation with him, most of my friends here called. That’s something that excites me right there – I have friends here now.

Since that gloomy day in June, I’ve realized that St. Tropez is a small town and I’ve begun to find my niche in it.