I slept marvelous well in Room #26 of l'Hôtel Royal Bon Repos. The day dawned lovely, and I took my time before leaving to walk over to the Casino Supermarché down the street. With so many small sailboats and motorboats in the harbor, there is a need to have provisions between easy reach, hence the existence of the good-sized supermarket across from the port.
Which works to my advantage as a frugal traveler. I have to eat anything I buy outside, though: the rules of the hotel are "no eating in the rooms". It's not a hardship though, as the weather is warm and there are plenty of benches with backs to sit on and take in the view of Saint Tropez Bay.
Sainte Maxime has restaurants and shops along the bay, but they are well-appointed and their displays discreet. The clientèle is older, it seems to me, all in keeping with Sainte Maxime's reputation as the "quiet" alternative to Saint Tropez.
Not that it's impossible to visit ST if you think you want to see the spots where Brigitte Bardot danced on the tables, and celebrities on the rise (and decline) still sojourn. There is a well-trafficked water taxi that runs every twenty minutes throughout the day and saves visitors the headache of driving there.
Market days, Tuesdays and Saturdays, in Saint Tropez, are jam-packed. The traffic jams are legion. Celebrities go to be seen and photographed and adulated. As with Miami Beach, St. Barths, Palm Springs, Saint Moritz, and other resorts popular with famous people with money, Saint Tropez celebrates itself and those film and music stars who have money to burn, knowing that there are other people --not famous, but also free spenders-- who will visit because celebrities visit.
Not that Sainte Maxime is Saint Tropez' poor sister. If my method of instantly sizing-up the economy of a place by appraising the quality of the hair coloring of women is valid, Sainte Maxime's female residents --who mostly tint their hair very subtly-- suggest that the village is far better off financially than most of France. (In contrast, judging by their hair, the women of San Remo look as though they stuck their heads in electric sockets.)
There is a good librairie on the avenue that lines the port, with much the same offerings in books and magazines you would find in Paris. Merci Pour Ce Moment, Valerie Trierweiler's book is on offer. Indeed, it is just the sort of book that would be fun to read here. I am looking forward to tearing through my copy during my stay here.
No comments:
Post a Comment