The last day in France dawned perfect and sunny. After we said Bon Voyage to Harry and Paula as they left on their trip, we had the day to ourselves. We planned a really memorable outing. We drove west from Cannes along the Mediterranean to St. Tropez where the girls go topless on the beach. The ride was beautiful with little traffic. This is not considered the true Riviera because the beaches consist of rocks instead of sand. The red, rocky cliffs of the Maritime Alps come right down to the water’s edge. This part of the coast is not commercial or fashionable as is the section from Cannes to Menton, on the other side of Nice. We thought if we ever went back we would visit this part of the coast away from the crowds and traffic.
St.Tropez became fashionable after Bridget Bardot and her crowd discovered it. It is a small fishing village with a tiny beach and shallow water. The girls go topless all right! Actually they are mamas about my age with small children who go topless and bottomless. The children wear only a chapeau to cover their head. The mamas are built more like twelve-year-old maidens so they look quite natural bare. I thought they were lovely. We were glad we found the “girls” since that is why we went there.
It was great beach weather. We had lunch in a restaurant on the beach – Salad Nicoisse, popular in Nice. It is a sort of chef salad with black olives and tuna fish in addition to strips of ham and cheese. Delicious. And we had our usual beer. After we get back home I will have to work to lose the three pounds I gained from beer and wine twice a day and all those croissants and butter for breakfast.
On our last night we walked around Cannes and found a restaurant which was “French Provincial” in style. By now we had learned how to read the menus and prices posted outside the restaurants before deciding where to eat. We felt like old-timers and were happy with the restaurant we chose. After dinner we went to bed early. We had to get up at 5 A.M. to make it to the airport in Nice in time for our flight to Paris. After Paris next stop home.
poetrybyheart.me 
You’re starting to make me feel nostalgic, vivachange… I haven’t been home during the summer in a decade and I’m feeling it. Maybe next summer I’ll follow in your footsteps along the riviera 🙂 In the mean time, thanks for taking us along on your trip down memory lane.
Home is a special place to be. I hope you get there next summer. I’ll say good bye to memory lane with the next post of my memoir. It’s been fun to exchange comments with you.
Thank you for this wonderful travel journal — seeing things through your eyes of places I will likely never have the opportunity to see with my own — has been a great experience.
It’s such a pleasure to have you travel with me in your imagination. These days I read about places I would love to see but am not likely to. I know that I have become mostly an “arm chair traveler” too.