Petanque

We slowed things down today, our last in St. Tropez, and it seems to have left us with a more favourable view of this tourist trap masquerading as a sleepy little French fishing village.

We started with a good long sleep in. Absolutely necessary. After a few consecutive hotels with absolutely enormous beds, here at the Hotel des Lices we were back to the true French definition of a king-size – two rickety old singles pushed together. It was an adjustment that I didn’t make very well. But it all clicked last night and I felt really rested. It may have helped that we had nothing really planned for today – maybe a beach excursion, maybe some walking. So we took our time getting up and getting ready, then wandered down to the boulangerie where we picked up some croissants. We found a little bench in the town square and tried to soak in as much sun and atmosphere as possible. It was divine.

We wandered around town for another hour or so, taking in all the shops – both the big name designers and the local boutiques and galleries. Our only purchase? A pint of fresh red strawberries.

We returned to the square and our particular little bench so that Fiona could eat them. Across the plaza a family of four was attempting to play the local ball game called petanque. It was quite amusing.

A little while later, after a couple of savoury thin crust pizzas, we returned to our bench to see the professionals give it a try. I guess Thursday afternoons are when the locals all get together to play. There were three or four games going on in the square all at once, with about 15-20 people crowded around each game. Our little bench gave us a really good view of one game and it’s colorful cast of characters.

Striped Shirt Guy – he tended to throw out the target ball and threw first for his team

The Lady – the only woman in the game, but she had great touch. If this was curling, she could draw to the button each time

The Hammer – we called him this because when his team got in a tough spot he would come up, launch his ball down the field and with perfect aim clear out any particular opposing team ball.

Camouflage Hat Guy – this was a quite cantankerous old guy who really took his petanque seriously. He’d remove any offending obstructions from the path and run out to get a good look at the grade around the target. He also swore – a lot.

Joe – we called him the Mad Scientist until we heard someone call him Joe. He had that look, with the crazy white hair. He’d pull off a really good shot every once in a while, but I think he was doing it more for fun

Neat White Haired Guy – he got his name as a comparison to Joe. We thought he might have been married to The Lady. He applauded good shots by pounding his petanque boules together.

Michel – he got his name because of a resemblance to someone from work. I think he wanted to be the Hammer, but he didn’t have the Hammer’s accuracy. Everyone’s balls tended to go flying when he threw a high fast one into the mix.

PB – This guys was continually polishing his petanque balls with a shiny yellow rag between shots. He also had a gadget that almost everyone carried – a stick or string with a magnet on the end so he didn’t have to bend down to pick up his boules

It was great fun to watch. There were lots of “oooh-la-la”’s whenever things got particularly exciting. It seems stereotypical, but they do say it quite a bit.

So no big trips or adventures, but we somehow feel more familiar with St. Tropez. And we like it quite a bit more as well.

As a side note – volcanic ash from Iceland has shut down all flights to the UK. Hopefully that works itself out over the next week ….