Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
I had read a bit about Saint Tropez before we arrived and it was described (among other things) as bacchanalian. After googling the word, I started to paint a picture of his place in my head. Obviously, it is known for being a celebrity playground, having first been made famous by Brigitte Bardot. It's also known for being outrageously expensive and overall, a bit wild, even for the rather liberal sensitivities of the French. So with some apprehension, we headed towards Nikki Beach. but first we got a bit lost, and ended up driving down a few different streets where we saw some absolutely ridiculous homes, some overlooking the water, some not (I'm sure these were the "cheaper" ones), but all were generally painted a peachy-pink and topped with red Spanish-style clay roof tiles.
We reached the infamous Nikki Beach just before noon, and to my surprise, it was dead quiet. Apparently, high season here is July and August when I'm sure parking would have been more than the 3.50 Euros that we paid. By this time of year, the place is essentially abandoned and I understood somewhat why they had to nickel and dime you for everything here. Given that they only have a few months to make the majority of their profits, they definitely took
Advantage where they could. Even a simple map of the city, free at the tourist offices elsewhere, cost us 2 Euros here.
We walked to the entrance of the Nikki Beach area and I asked if they served lunch, to which the snooty blonde hostess glanced at me instructed me to come back after noon. I stole a quick peek at the ever popular lounge and wasn't terribly impressed. It was away from the water and the beach, and in my opinion, not worth the 36 Euros each that it would have cost us to rent sun loungers there for the day. Granted there didn't appear to be any celebrities or uber-rich playing around today, nor loud pumping music, so that could have been why as well. I shrugged, then we walked across the way to New Coco Beach, where a friendly waiter told us that they wouldn't be serving lunch until 12 but we were welcome to sit, have a drink and look at the menu until then. That was more like it! We sat outside on a sun-drenched terrace situated right on the beach while we ate our pasta lunch.
We weren't planning to stay long so decided to forgo the sun lounger and day bed rentals and found a spot on the public side of the beach, settling on to towels borrowed from the Sezz Hotel right on the sand. I pulled out my IPSD to try to catch up on my writing (I was 3 days behind at that point), and the copain opened up his GQ Magazine. I ended up falling asleep for about an hour as we lay there comfortably, soothed by the fresh sea air. There wasn't a cloud in the sky today so I finally got a bit of a tan. But the wind started to pick up and after a few mouthfuls of sand it was time to go, as we had a long drive ahead of us to Vence. We drove back to the hotel to pick up our luggage and to drop off the towels and the staff kindly offered to let us use the spa showers if we wanted to clean up. The young staff had been super nice to us at this hotel, despite not receiving really any tips from us and I'm sure being painfully aware of our non-high-roller status. They even packed two bottles of Evian and some candy in a little bag for our journey (and for their trouble, they got 5 Euros, the only tip we gave during our stay).
Our GPS told us that the drive from Saint Tropez to Vence would be just under 2 hours. The day was perfect for a road trip with the car top down so we decided to take the scenic route along the coastline rather than the A8 Highway (which charges tolls at several intervals, by the way, and does not take most North American credit cards). We passed through the coastal portions of several towns along the way, Saint Maxime, Saint Raphael, and Frejus are some of the more known stops and were scenic and beautiful. However as we drove along further east and began reaching higher elevations, we noticed that the rock formations were now an orange-red, like the colour of new rust. The richly-coloured cliffs stretched up high above us, and down below the red quarries formed several calanques, contrasting sharply against the deep blue water. The shoreline of Agay, Antheor, Miramar, and Theoule-sur-mer continued on with vast stretches of these unique ochre-rich rocks. We stopped several times along the way to take pictures of the magnificent views but I'm sure they will not do them the justice they deserve. The colors were so bright and vivid but the actual scale of it cannot possibly be captured by a lens. I was in awe of the natural beauty of it.
The long route and the multiple stops along the way doubled our drive to nearly 4 hours. We had been told by our hotel in Vence to arrive before 8pm, which is when they lock the doors. Actually, it wasn't a hotel, it was a bed and breakfast, and after following a long winding road northwards and away from the sea for sometime, we reached La Maison du Frene in Vence. This place was profoundly different from the simplistic and modern decor of the Sezz (which the copain, in all his genius, had planned specifically that way). It was located right next to a great ash tree, which was said to have been planted by King Francis I in the 1500's. At the door stood the 3d outline of giant red dog with boots to welcome us. Out came Guy, one of our hosts, to help with the luggage and show us our room. He was a fashionable older gentleman, wearing a Ben Sherman polo and a ring resembling the copain's (which he later noted was Calvin Klein), that spoke with a slight lisp. They had bought this place, which used to be a house, about seven years ago and converted it to it's current state. This B&B was actually very popular, and had been featured on several websites and travel guides (including Rick Steeves') as being a cool place to stay and that it was. The entire thing was decorated by Guy and his partner Thierry, in the most brightly colored and eclectic art I'd ever seen. It was a mixture of traditional and modern, and every shelf and table was decorated with statues and knick-knacks, paintings and clocks hung on every inch of the walls, and unique and vintage furniture covered all corners of the floor. It could have seemed even cluttered, but it was designed in such a way that wasn't gaudy nor overdone; it was a feast for the eyes. The only problem was that, as is typical in most older buildings in France, there was no elevator and as luck would have it, we were on the top floor. It was actually only four floors up, but with each and every croissant I consumed, climbing up anything became increasingly difficult. The men lugged the suitcases up, while I carried the smaller bags, huffing and puffing until we reached the "Pop Art" room. This room was also just as eclectic as the common areas, with a giant black and white photograph of Marilyn Monroe at the entrance and a bust of Mao Zedong sitting on a shelf. A purple geometric cutout lamp stood in the corner of the sitting area amongst a black leather couch, matching armchairs, and a Noguchi table. Warhol-esque color prints of Marilyn Monroe hung above the bed, which was draped with a blanket of soft brown fur (apparently genuine fur but from what animal I didn't dare ask). Next to the bed, there was a white Eames rocking chair, and a small striped, multi-colour desk was placed on the opposite side. Another statue of a dog wearing shoes, this time in paper mâché form, stood guard at the door. I can't even fathom the creativity that was required to have put this room together, but it was super cool, and I was thrilled. Even better, the room had a spectacular view of the Maritimr-Alpes to the left and the old ash tree to the right.
Guy had made a reservation for us that night at La Cassolette, which he considered to be the best restaurant in Vence. We were seated on the terrace which was in a small quiet square. The meal was one of the best of the trip, with an abundance of flavour and cooked with fresh local ingredients. I had guinea fowl as my main, which was cooked to perfection, completely tender and so savory, and probably the best experience with game meat that I've ever had. The copain had a juicy porkchop ("Is this Sanglier?," he asked, but the waiter answered "non," alas it was but a mere regular pig). But it was just as delicious! Dessert of panna cotta with a red fruit compote followed, which rivaled that which we had at Leroy's Kfe. Delicious! It was again one of those uncomplicated and unpretentious meals, just good, honest food. I was very satisfied and made a mental note to thank Guy for such a wonderful recommendation.
Bellies full and tipsy from the bottle of red that we had (of which I managed maybe 3/4 of a glass), we found ourselves back at the Maison. The door were locked already sober punched in the door code and pushed open the large heavy wooden door, wearily facing the four flights of stairs before us. The climb that night seemed extra difficult, for some reason...!
- comments