I’ve never really understood the allure of Saint-Tropez, the Provençal town in south-eastern France. Sure, it’s pretty, but in the summer its streets and cafés are clogged with tourists, parking places are as scarce as a sighting of an actual celebrity, and one is often stuck in traffic for hours both into and out of the town.
But in the spring and autumn it’s reasonably pleasant and really attractive in the late afternoon light. Last week I visited the town with Hélène and François – my host parents from my exchange-student days. As a student, François lived in the town himself – and one can tell how much he still loves it by his many stories. His parents also briefly owned an apartment in town, before buying the house out in Grimaud.
After walking around briefly, François and Hélène decided to seek shelter from the “Mistral” wind, which was howling through the streets, in a pub (le Gorille) overlooking the old harbour. They gave me 45 minutes to take photos before going for supper. Most of the pics below are a result of those three quarters of an hour – me careering through the narrow streets as fast as my legs and lungs would take me. I never even made it up to the citadelle, so pressed for time was I.
During supper I popped out to photograph the lighthouse, and after supper, on my way to buy an ice cream from Gelato Barbarac, I grabbed a few evening shots.