Having never been to southern France, when I imagined visiting Saint-Tropez, I thought of bright beaches and sparkling sunglasses and navy blue bathing suits. But after a 6½ hour flight direct from NYC into Nice and a quick drive, we arrived in a town that I can only describe as quaint, quiet and pristine. The pastel buildings were painted pale colors, as perfect as a fresh box of chalk. We learned from a waiter, after pronouncing it phonetically for months, that the real pronunciation is …
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