Gassin

I thought Ramatuelle was charming. I wind my way down the narrow mountain streets of that town, overwhelmed by the desire to stay there forever. It’s a tiny place where everyone knows everyone, everyone’s friendly, where you cannot live without leaving your mark. I’d love living there… and I think Ramatuelle would love a girl like me.

But today I found another village that – if I dare admit it – may be even more charming than my familiar hillside town.


Ramatuelle is perched upon the side of a mountain, overlooking the rolling vineyards and royal blue sea. But Gassin is higher.


Ramatuelle has winding ceramic streets lined with pastel-painted clay houses and tiny outdoor cafés. But Gassin is neater, cleaner.


Ramatuelle is full of whimsical restaurants with beautiful views, flowing linen table clothes and umbrellas, and overpriced cuisine. But Gassin’s food is tastier – as I discovered today when I ate with the grandparents and their friends, the Wades’, at La Lou Pescadou.


One of the quirks that Gassin offers and Ramatuelle does not is a large stone compass, painted beautifully with the landscape of the region. Lining the rim of this marble table-top is the French towns you’d find if you continued forever in that direction: Lyon, Paris, Grenoble. I stared intently at the work of art, found the direction of Plage Pamplonne, and looked off into the distance searching for my lighthouse, my neighbor. And then I felt like a traitor thinking I’ve found a more beautiful town than Ramatuelle. I’m deeply attached to Rama – a village I’ve visited all my life, a village that’s so near to Chez Michel, the home I hold so dearly. But I can’t help it… you should have seen those views…