Yesterday was an eventful one.

If I were still living in my big house on top of the mountain, I would have welcomed a rainy day of nothingness to recover from yesterday’s eventfulness. I hate being displaced. I miss the majestic chez Michel, full of secrets and quirks I’ve progressed so far in discovering. A rainy day there means curling up in the sunroom with Kurt Vonnegut or Jean-Paul Sartre, nestled between them and my dog, wasting the day by aimlessly watching the clouds cover the bay below. Not today. Today, as the gloomy skies rumble with faint thunder and dark clouds roll in from the ocean, I cringe. We do need rain here – it hasn’t rained since the beginning of June. The dry heat has sucked all the moisture from the land. But since I really have no place to call home now, a rainy day means I must wander aimlessly until I can find some place to settle for a few hours, and when they kick me out I must pick up like a gypsy and roam again until I find somewhere else… It’s quite depressing. And quite difficult when you have a dog and no car.

So I find myself at the restaurant in Les Tournels, the campground below Chez Michel and behind Le P’tit Club. I would have spent some time at L’Esquinade simply to waste a day while Sylvia is at the house, but the rain prevented that. Instead I came here, chatted with my friend at the front desk (who told me I speak French well! Of course, it’s quite possible she said that so she didn’t have to speak English, which is very difficult for her) and she recommended Tequila and I come here, take a coffee, and charge my laptop. Et voila.

I have a headache – too much booze and too little sleep – but yesterday was certainly worth it.

This is a paragraph of ramblings simply so I can piece together the many events of yesterday. It’s boring, so I will encourage you to skip this and read on later. Or not. The day started early with yet another load of linens and dishes. I know it's not perfect, but I’ve worked so hard to clean the house. When there was only a little work left, I drove down to Le P’tit Club to drop my suitcase and my dog supplies off and Stephen, the man whose room I am sharing, was up at 10am from partying the night before. He was wasted and, well, ‘thrilled’ he’d be sharing a room with me… So I promptly left.

The townies are so kind here. Living in Ramatuelle has made me remember that sometimes it’s ok to have faith in people, that maybe people really are good at heart. I had a car in which I could take the dog but it had to be at the house for Sylvia’s arrival, I had a scooter that could take only myself, I had a dog that couldn’t be left alone or she’d cry and wake people up, and I needed to somehow leave the car at Chez Michel and take my scooter and dog to the bar. It was like one of those logic problems – the ones with the canoe and the wolf and the sheep. I couldn’t solve this one. The best I could come up with was leaving the car in the driveway and riding my scooter down to the bar with the dog chasing after me. Sure, it’s great exercise for her, but while I sat on my ass and coasted down the mountain with her sprinting full force to keep up in the billion-degree heat and burning sunshine, she wasn’t happy. So I flagged someone down and put Tequila in the back of his truck and he drove her to the P’tit Club and I drove my scooter. Logic is so much easier when you can bring in outside forces.

I never hitchhike. I think it’s really dangerous. But these people have been so helpful – this man was so kind to give Tikki Dog a ride and he wouldn’t let me pay him or by him a drink or a croissant or anything. I love people. When Sarah was here and I was going through my terrible no-sleeping stage, I was walking down the mountain with Tequila to go to L’Esquinade for a nap and two Parks Department workers gave us a ride in the back of their van. I know, tell me I’m being careless and irresponsible and it’s dangerous because they could easily drive off and kill me or my dog. When you’re that tired, reason is not your strongest attribute. And I survived. No, I probably won’t do it again, nor do I think I would have then if I hadn’t been so tired. But I’m grateful about how kind some people can really be.

Yesterday afternoon when I began to settle into P’tit Club, I bought some fresh croissants and pain au chocolate for myself and Denis – the guy who took me home on the Fourth of July, my new boss, the man who literally lets me get away with anything. I asked him if he wanted me to work and his response was simply “quand tu veux.”
Let me get this straight – I’m staying in his establishment for free with my giant, shedding dog and he genuinely doesn’t care if or when I work. How do I get away with these things?

He finished cleaning the bar after the night before and locked up for the afternoon. I had nothing to do with myself – Stephen is allergic to the dog and nice enough to let me stay in his room so I hate to disturb his routine of sleeping all day long. To get out, Tony, my Australian friend, picked me up to attend a barbeque courtesy of his boss, who's a rather wealthy man - to say the least. Shit. His place is amazing. It really is indescribable, too good to even imagine. All I’ll say is that we took his little sailboat for a spin around St. Tropez’s harbor after sipping champagne in the hot tub overlooking the river. Everything is bright blue and orange and green – so much grass and so many flowers. It was really beautiful. And the people that Tony works with are wonderful.



I’ll say it again: it’s amazing how people drift in and out of your life. As I was eating the delicious grilled food at Tony’s place, two of his coworkers were telling me about these beautiful South African girls, Elanie and Anthaya. I laughed. “Hey, I knew them!” Apparently they got fed up with Stephano too and now are living in a little apartment in St. Tropez drawing henna tattoos on people at the beach. LoL.

After the bbq, around 10 or 11pm, Tony took me and Tequila to the P’tit Club where I offered to work but was told it really wasn’t necessary. So I hung out instead. Lot’s of people bought me drinks and I ended up spending most of the evening with four amazing people from Holland; they knew the place where Martine and Paul grew up and we – as the French say – passed a good night. They’ll be here for a few weeks and promised to come back to the P’tit Club to keep me company. They offered to watch Tequila (Honestly, everyone wants to adopt this dog. She’s just that good.) and take us to Monaco with them when they go. Again, people are so nice. And I again have Dutch people in my daily routine.

I’m happy because people keep telling me I speak French well. My accent was better before I thought so much about grammar and proper conjugation, but I can have far more extensive conversations now. Life’s good in the Cote d’Azur.

Except for the fact, of course, that I’m nearly homeless on this rainy day.