Hotel de France
Travel Blogs from St-Raphaël
We return to the ancestral manse
... cars following a resident get bounced into the air as the cylinder reemerged from the hole in the pavement with a pneumatic hiss. The car’s undercarriage was pinned and the front of the car was held aloft in a humiliating display for all to see. Eventually the police would appear and make the cylinder retreat back into its hole, and sometimes a tow truck had to be called to drag away the car.
Meanwhile, the old men were still playing petanque on ...
We sail the seven C's
... much as Tuffet regrows her fur after a summer clipping.
Carole most graciously relinquished her coveted front seat to me—apparently my skin had turned an even deeper shade of green than had hers—and we continued on to La Chartreuse. The road grew yet skinner and twistier, which was quite challenging for some of us, but had the positive effect of requiring slower passage. Though the sun was brilliantly shining, the light grew dimmer as ...
Do what you can with the time you've got...
What to do when waiting for a train....
So even though I stopped in here the other day when I caught my bus out to Port-Grimaud, I got the chance to see more than the bus station this time as I had a few hours to kill before my train to Avignon. It was a hilarious bus ride in from Port-Grimaud, as the bus first departs from St Tropez, and there were a couple of ladies that obviously had been out partying hard the night before and were well ...
Soirée d'anniversaire de la mère de Sarah
... rire...surtout quand Alain a rajouté "toi quand t'as pas "bulot", t'es vraiment au fond de ton verre" et hop...on arrose tout ça d'une nouvelle tournée de vin blanc!
Bernard et Yann se sont découvert une réelle amitié en communiquant mi-français, mi-anglais, mi avec les gestes... et Bernard ne savait plus très bien à qui parler anglais et à qui parler français! C'était drôle!
Moi, j'ai bien parlé avec Alain qui était vraiment adorable ...
Ma vie sera la tienne, méditerranéenne
... au retour, Florence s’est gentiment vomi dessus dans l’auto. Pis non, on n’est pas des p’tites natures! Putaing, ça tourne en sacrament, ces foutues routes! Et elles sont tellement, mais tellement étroites qu’on pourrait facilement accrocher le miroir de la voiture en sens inverse. Et ils sont assez agressifs au volant, les Français, en plus de nous coller au cul (la limite de vitesse est de 130 km). Je pense imprimer un ...
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