In 2005, I was here for the grand fête but chose not to partake. Instead, with Sara and her friends, I visited the P’tit Club, and Tequila and I watched fireworks from my bedroom window late at night.
This time, my crew spoke English and decided to spend the evening in St. Tropez.
It was marvelous! We were quite the group: Tony, me, Maria (Tony’s extraordinarily kind roommate), Berryl (Maria’s friend from South Africa and my latest partner in crime/beach bumming), Carol (another English-speaking friend of Maria’s who happens to live in Cogolin for the moment but plans to move to Camarat next month), and James (the ex-ex-captain who I thought was hilarious in 2005 and has only grown funnier in the past three years).We found a table for six at Pesquere, where we dined on moules and rosé. Above us, St. Tropez’s fireworks danced across the night sky. When they were through, St. Maxime answered with an equally delightful display across the bay. It felt like magic.
Of course, the ethereal ambiance was enhanced by the street performers, bike-riding magicians and carnival folk scattered about town. And the yachts. One can never forget the money – and hilarity – the très riche bring into this town.
Finally arriving home, I’m too tired to think any more.
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