Above and above right: Not too spoilt by tourists, La Potinière, run by the delightful Hotte family. There is more southern charm here than in the city of Dallas. A perfect mixture for the foreigner who doesn't want Cannes-sanitized yet has some of the needs of the global traveller. But why do we all drive silver-coloured cars (above right)?

Where we stayed

La Potinière Fam. T. Hotte BP 5 169, avenue de Boulouris 83700 St Raphaël France Telephone 33 4 94-19-81-71 Fax 33 4 94-19-81-72 Email potinier@club-internet.fr Web site www.la-potiniere.com

continued

HAT STRUCK me about St Raphaël when driving the N98—it branches from the N7 from Mandelieu-la-Napoule—was the way twilight played with the water. Bordered to the south by the Mediterranean, St Raphaél's beach was a visual oasis. And refreshingly, it was quieter than Cannes. I needed to relax after the disappointment of the city of the film festival and advertising awards, and this seemed like the place to do it.
   There was not much in the way of cuisine along this beautiful coast. A number of resorts caught my eye as did a small diner called La Belle Vie. The waitresses knew what the name meant but no idea of its origin. The owner, an Englishwoman—her French gave away that she was not entirely a southerner, though I find that on the whole the accent is easier to understand for Anglophone foreigners—told me that it had nothing, as I had imagined, to do with the Sasha Distel song of the same name. Perhaps it was right that it did not. The song had lines like sans amour in the French version (not the one sung by Tony Bennett and recently made famous again in What Women Want with Mel Gibson).
   La Belle Vie has delightfully cheap prices but you get what you pay for. Plenty of English tourists had come over and this was a steak-and-chips sort of place. It's friendly and wholesome, a quick-stop more than a destination that's going to appear in a Michelin guide.
   I then went along the coast seeking accommodation. Most of the places were basic and too filled with loud tourists. It was the very reason I had left Cannes. I am grateful these beachfront properties are busy. But they are not for me.
   No, I needed a little of la belle vie, sans soucis, sans problèmes. I drove inland and was set to go to Frejus when I spotted La Potinière. It looked tidy, comfortable and with the perfect blend of serenity and cosmopolitanism that I sought. The Mediterranean architecture was welcoming. It looked more robust than the two-star places on the St Raphaël beach.
   There would be a free room, for a reasonable €140. I was even shown to it by the hostess at reception, finding it beautifully appointed for the price. The bed was firm; the most comfortable I had found to date on the Riviera. I got my luggage, asked for my telephone line to be branché and checked my messages via laptop. A New Zealand client had some things to fax me, so I gave them the hotel’s numberI filled the bath. A perfect end to a long drive.
   The next morning, I collected my fax and read it over a typically French breakfast. I made use of the Potinière’s outdoor swimming pool and lazed about in the Riviera sunshine. If I desperately wanted the beach, it was five minutes away. But I wanted for nothing. Except for the ever-shortening days to be longer. Tranquillity at last. • Jack Yan

Jack Yan is founding publisher of Lucire.

Part one of this story in Lucire: ‘Amicalement votre’ (September 13)

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