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Port Grimaud
We could live here. We returned to the South of France for the umpteenth time. It is one of our favourite parts of the world. A cycle path runs from Ste Maxime to St Tropez, about 10 miles and so never need to trespass on the road. Our campsite Les Mures is almost in the middle and here we found our new friends Debra and Frank from previous campsites. Again we had some great nights with them.
We went everywhere by bike and were especially happy to go and mix with the rich and famous at St Tropez. It is our favourite place on the coast and we prefer it to Cannes or Nice.
Michelle spent as much time as possible stretched out on the lovely beach.
Port Grimaud is worth seeing again and again. We returned to Marines du Cogolin where we used to keep our boat and where we lived for three summers; we had to return there to remember so many happy times and see long nearly lost friends. We managed to meet up also with our friends Patrick and Francoise who spent three years building there own boat in order to fulfil their dream of sailing forever around
the West Indies and corresponding islands. They sailed into our bay whilst we were there before they start their dream by sailing off in September. We decided to take them out for a meal in Port Grimaud and, at the risk of boring friends who have already read this on Facebook, I will copy here our memories of the meal:
Is this the worst French Restaurant ever?
We met our old French friends Patrick and Francoise on their boat in Port Grimaud. We had last seen them two years ago in Port Napoleon. They have been very good friends to us over the years and we have had many meals on their boat so, as they are about to sail off to the West Indies, we said we would buy them a meal in Port Grimaud.
We found the convenient Le Petit Restaurant; the four of us walked in and were invited to "sit anywhere" (as the name suggested it only had four tables). After we had sat down, our waiter told us that the table was booked and so we moved. After five minutes Francoise ordered her drink in French. "Sorry we do not
speak French!" It turned out that our waiter was Polish, although amused, we managed to order drinks. It turned out he hardly spoke English either.
Soon afterwards the 'booked' party arrived and ordered wine. I asked "could we order". After 30 minutes 'booked' party left having drank some of the wine but they still had not been able to order. Michelle asked the waiter again could we order. Five minutes later he brought us the bill!
It took some time to explain that we wanted to eat and so after 45 mins of being in the restaurant he brought a blackboard with a French menu on. This brought hilarity from Francoise and even Michelle regarding bad grammar and spelling. We gave up asking the waiter what it came with as he could not understand but we managed to order. I ordered mussels and chips. "Have you got a wine list?". "You can have it with pommes frites". "No! wine - wine" I made the sign of drinking. "Oh vin", so he did understand some French. He pointed to 6 bottles and I chose one.
30 minutes later Patrick got his spaghetti bolognese and Michelle and Francoise their
fish meals. We then had to point out that we had no cutlery. He brought cutlery for us three but none for Patrick. My mussels came but no chips. Ten minutes later my chips came and Patrick, whom I think had by now given up, was told that he had a vegetarian spaghetti bolognese as the "chicken man" had not arrived, but now he had; so he swiftly took away Patrick's plate returning with it a few minutes later, presumably with chicken? in it.
After a few minutes it seemed apparent that no wine was arriving, Michelle asked where the wine was? "Oh what wine would you like?" When we were half way through the meal our rose arrived, warm but packed in ice. Glasses were put on the table but had just been washed and not dried.
After we had finished I asked could I wash my hands as I had been eating mussels. "Sorry we have no toilet but you can use the bar next door."
We finished our meal and decided to go elsewhere for an ice cream.
What was the food like? Well at best it was mediocre.
Was it a
successful night? Well Francoise said it was a night she would always remember. Patrick said he had a story to tell for years to come.
Where did three weeks go? Well, it appears that we did not do much but we still love the area. If only we could afford a villa in Port Grimaud with a RIB, we could spend the rest of our days here but now we must drag our little caravan inland to the largest canyon in Europe, the Gorge du Verdon.
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