Sun, sea and the South of France! I can taste the salt in the air as the boyfriend and I arrive by boat to Saint-Tropez; makes a slight change to the Haymarket/Queen Street run! At the harbour we are picked up by a blacked-out Mercedes (don’t drug dealers get driven around in these!?) and taken to our hotel. A private chauffeur is not the only perk of staying at the newly opened Sezz Resort; we also get a private garden, private outdoor shower (in addition to a bath and a separate rain shower in the suite itself), Dom Perignon bar and spa treatments at the ready in the Payot spa. Later on that day we bike around the Cote d’Azur countryside to the beach where I try and do my best Brigitte Bardot impression. The 60’s sexpot definitely settled here for a reason…I might just follow suit.
Mon dieu! All of these croque monsieurs are making me feel bloated! How do French people stay so thin with such a carbolicious diet!? A well-heeled local tells me that the French don’t eat as many trans-fats or processed goods as Anglo-Americans do. When I think about it, as the average diet of a Glasgow University student consists of alcohol, Subway, and chips and cheese; certainly not chic. Well, it’s oysters for me tonight at Bib Gourmand-awarded Le Girelier by the harbour…
After an entertaining afternoon of witnessing a post-menopausal American woman yelling at her husband in the middle of Saint-Tropez harbour, seemingly threatening to leave on a jetty without him (a tiff at Hermès between the boyfriend and I definitely paled in comparison to this all-out brawl), it was time to set out for a 320 euro taxi ride back to airport. I must be out of my mind to be paying that kind of money in order to get back to uni life, right?! Merde…