Lunch at Le Bougainvillée, Le Lavandou

And the adventure continues.
Next stop, Le Lavandou! The best thing about a cruise is that I get to stop in places I’ve never heard of, and most probably never visit otherwise. My playground just keeps getting bigger and bigger!

Unfortunately, I can’t say the same about my tan. At least Hamish’s is coming along nicely. That makes one of us. Smug bastard.

We strolled along the beach and I was desperate to just lay out for a few hours until I tanned/burned, however that was not on Papa Bear’s itinerary. Beach time was scheduled for after lunch. It was pretty though, and there was some sand sculpting going on, which is always so cool.

I was desperate for a morning coffee (working in London has ruined me), but I refused to have coffee on the boat and insisted on only having local coffee. That was my excuse for ducking into this lovely little patisserie on the way to the market. We drooled over absolutely every single pastry there.

And this gelato cake. This is definitely what I’m building for my next birthday. Or actually, the birthday of my next friend. Or just another Friday night.

It would be a cruel sin to get a coffee without a pastry along the side. Dad fell head over heels for a classic St. Tropez Tart, and, well, we were close enough to St. Tropez for it to be considered an essential local delicacy.

Since we more or less just had breakfast, we ordered one. With four forks. We all presumed this just meant a quarter of the calories, but in reality this was a fork and speed-eating war just waiting to happen.

And the food didn’t stop there. What is it about France? In the 15-meter gap from the coffee shop to the market, Hamish and I halted at this stall and debated for a good 5 minutes if we should share a piece of pork. Just look at that crispy skin.

France is also the home of rotisserie chicken, and my further thoughts revolved around convincing myself now was the time and place that I had to have one.

I actually stood here for an embarrassing amount of time.

Alas, I dragged myself away to find everyone else in the market. Good luck, Bianca.

I kind of found something else instead..

MORE ST. TROPEZ TARTS! Just look at that cream filling!

I definitely have a problem. It’s also known as lunchtime.

We walked around a little more and explored the town aka. Dad wanted to find a sports shop so that was what we did.

Then the unthinkable happened. Safari on my phone refreshed since there was no wifi and the screen on the list of Tripadvisor restaurants was gone. Is this the height of first world problems or what?

Luckily, we passed a restaurant earlier on that I remembered was on the list of the top 10 or 15, so I demanded we all march all the way back to it since I wanted to make sure everyone had a nice meal and couldn’t bitch about my bad choice as restaurant-picker for the trip. Oh hell no was that happening.

Le Bougainvillée turned out to be an Italian. We were in France. This wasn’t happening. Luckily, Dad saw that there was a French classic, mussels and french fries, on the menu, which is the only thing they wanted. Phew. We snuggled into our chairs finally.

We started off with some stale bread and this olive paste which was extremely salty, but I was so hungry that it was just going to have to do. Bitch can’t be picky at a time like this.

Hamish was the odd one out (typical) and ordered the duck, which looked really good. I didn’t bother asking to try some as it was clear he was not prepared to share with his loving cousin.

It’s fine though because our feasts were arriving.

Mussels for everybody, hoorah!

Whilst I was ordering, the thought of asking for a side salad instead of chips crossed my mind. That thought quickly left my head.


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