You’ve heard the lavender scented stories, they’re all true. At Aix en Provence, we walked all over the village center. This is Cezanne-land where even the streets pay homage to the great artist. Being a Sunday, most things were closed, but Sunday markets lined the streets and filled little squares, each with their corresponding fountains.
We wandered through one said flower market and then went down one main thorough fair to a more artisan type market. I bought some typical Provence fabric napkins for gifts. We stopped for un caffe in a velvet cushioned cafe with accompanying umbrellas, well kitted out with heaters. There is nothing lovelier.
Hopping back into the car we drove on toward the sea. One the way, the low lying hills were full of grape vines, dormant, of course, and their corresponding chateaux. At St. Tropez we located parking and meandered through the tiny streets full of multi colored shuttered windows, to the sea. What a sight!
Huge yachts were docked right up to the edge of the piers. We quickly found Cafe de Paris and were going to have lunch outside but a breeze drove us in. We got a window table in a lively, fabulously lavish restaurant, full of banquettes, crystal chandeliers and wealthy beautiful people in expensive jeans, fur vests and designer sunglasses. It was all shrimp scampi dish and chocolate pot of fondue with fruits. It felt fabulous to rub shoulders with the French Top Coats, even if their children, dressed head to toe in Gucci, smuggled (and rode) tiny scooters in the restaurant. Pained but patient waiters bustled in and out and the hook not only was cast, but I was totally caught. St. Tropez is heaven, I am convinced.
We looked for shops but being Sunday, most of the places were closed. I got a scarf for a birthday gift, black with fringe and roses, totally gypsy. and then, totally happy walked down to the jetty to watch the sunset. No one told me that I would never want to come back after that. It was definitely the Siren’s call to be out on a rock, overlooking the harbor and watch clouds turn into peaches, the sea into a chest of jewels.