My parents had misled me somewhat about the boat trip to St Tropez - I had thought it would be a day of sailing with a brief stop for lunch in St Tropez rather than a sort of mini passenger ferry sailing along the Riviera to St Tropez. Never mind. The sun was shining and the captain was providing some hilarious - if not always comprehensible - bilingual commentary of the scenery we were passing ("zat grey ouse was the ouse of ze American comics, Laurelandardy").
St Tropez itself is very pretty. We ate lunch at Le Girelier, which is on the harbour, overlooking the hundreds of really, really big and expensive boats. Most of the owners had created a sofa area at the back of their boats and were lounging casually with bottles of champagne while tourists gaped and took photos of the sheer decadence.
Lunch itself was really good — a perfectly cooked filet de boeuf followed by some strawberry and mint sorbet. My parents opted for the local speciality, Tarte Tropezienne, which are two conjoined brioche-like pastries, filled with custard. Apparently they are supposed to resemble the pert rear of Brigitte Bardot, St T's most famous resident, back in the day.
I couldn't have stayed for longer than an afternoon — the town just takes itself so seriously - even more so than Cannes — and yet parts of it just feel almost seedy. Still, the town is not entirely without irony. I found a nice stationery shop selling cards with a 3D effect thanks to the cut out sails attached to the boats drawn on the front.
St Tropez itself is very pretty. We ate lunch at Le Girelier, which is on the harbour, overlooking the hundreds of really, really big and expensive boats. Most of the owners had created a sofa area at the back of their boats and were lounging casually with bottles of champagne while tourists gaped and took photos of the sheer decadence.
Lunch itself was really good — a perfectly cooked filet de boeuf followed by some strawberry and mint sorbet. My parents opted for the local speciality, Tarte Tropezienne, which are two conjoined brioche-like pastries, filled with custard. Apparently they are supposed to resemble the pert rear of Brigitte Bardot, St T's most famous resident, back in the day.
I couldn't have stayed for longer than an afternoon — the town just takes itself so seriously - even more so than Cannes — and yet parts of it just feel almost seedy. Still, the town is not entirely without irony. I found a nice stationery shop selling cards with a 3D effect thanks to the cut out sails attached to the boats drawn on the front.
"Beau marin disponible," said one, "cherche sirène milliardaire pour faire le tour du monde"(hot, eligible sailor seeks millionaire siren for world tour). Another had a black and white drawing of a CrackBerry taking a photo of a colourful ocean with three 3D ships. "On est au St Tropez — c'est super!" read the caption that the inevitable banker owner of the phone was texting.
The return voyage to Cannes was rather inclement but at least there were none of the storms the BBC weather site has been predicting for days. Docking in Cannes, though, the streets were soaked and we saw some very soggy Mad Men cursing that their perfect hair had been ruined by the downpour.
The return voyage to Cannes was rather inclement but at least there were none of the storms the BBC weather site has been predicting for days. Docking in Cannes, though, the streets were soaked and we saw some very soggy Mad Men cursing that their perfect hair had been ruined by the downpour.
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