After a surprisingly good night of sleep we grabbed breakfast, checked out, and hit the road. Good bye, Marseilles! It was pretty foggy at first; for you aviation geeks that might read this the French word for fog is brouillard (as in BR in the METARs and TAFs). We saw brouillard warnings all over the signs on the highway.
After driving for a little while we saw signs for St. Tropez. For how celebrity-packed some magazines make it out to be, in the off season it's more of a nice quiet fishing village.
Mark and I parked on a side street and walked down to the water so we could actually touch the Mediterranean.
We did eventually eat real dinner; we wound up at a tourist trap of a restaurant where Mark got about an entire day's worth of food on a plate and I got an incredibly strong drink that tasted the way I'd imagine varnish might taste. The food wasn't bad, though, so we stuffed ourselves, made our way back to the room, and passed out.