"Ebloui": Star-struck in St. Tropez at Club 55 with Roger Federer

Club 55 Pampelonne beach St Tropez France
Cushioned matelas and grassy paillotes on the beach at Club 55 in Ramatuelle near St. Tropez

TODAY'S WORD: EBLOUI (ay-bloo-ee)

    : star-struck, dazzled

The following news headline is from Tennisworld.fr. (English translation by Chatgpt) 

Elena Rybakina, éblouie en voyant Roger Federer pour la première fois. Elena Rybakina a admis qu'elle était en état de choc lorsqu'elle a vu le grand Roger Federer pour la première fois en personne. Elena Rybakina, dazzled upon seeing Roger Federer for the first time. Elena Rybakina admitted that she was in a state of shock when she saw the great Roger Federer in person for the first time.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

While my family's visit to France was the chance to spend time together, it was also a tender pèlerinage for my sister, Heidi, and her children, who lost their father a few years ago. My brother-in-law Doug was a larger-than-life character whose generosity, humor, and sharp wit still echo in our hearts to this day along with colorful memories from our time together on the Mediterranean.

The last time Doug was in France was in 2002. He was married to my sister, and they traveled across the French Riviera with baby Payne in tow. We stayed together in a rented villa perched in the hills of St. Maxime--perfect for venturing over to St. Tropez to the iconic Club 55 on Pampelonne beach. I barely remember that particular escapade, over 20 years ago (rosé wine and champagne are partly to blame), but today my head is clearer and on Sunday, with 8 members of our smala piled into two tiny economy cars, we made that pilgrimage back to St. Tropez for Father's Day.

After an hour on the sandy beach and a swim in the sea, we ambled up the wooden ramp to the outdoor resto de plage. The tables were dressed in white linen and there were thick cushions on the banquettes where we gathered for an ideal view of the well-heeled clientele. It was amusing to rub elbows with the elite or those who seemed to be…

Jean-Marc ordered a modest bottle of white, and I thanked God nobody suggested the champagne. In fact, every time anyone ordered something—fries, more ratatouille, or another bottle of sparkling water, my inner calculator sweated out a new total. (My sister and I were splitting this bill…)

But it was time to let go, lâcher prise and enjoy the experience and, from the look on their faces, this was a moment my family will recall forever. We raised our glasses of wine (sparkling water for me...) in hommage to Doug. The food was served and my sister was just finishing a discreet prayer when there was a sudden commotion. All eyes were now glued to the entrance. That is when my 21-year-old nephew, Payne, whispered, "It's Roger Federer!"

To say my tennis-crazed husband began to hyperventilate would be an exaggeration. But one thing was clear: Jean-Marc was genuinely star-struck--complètement ébloui! He grabbed his phone, excited to capture this incredible event: the appearance of his idol, the legendary tennis giant, Swiss-born Federer!

"Jean-Marc, you can't!" I began. "Put your phone away!" But when the rest of my family displayed a laisser-faire attitude, I took that as a reminder that some things--especially our live-life-to-the-fullest spouses--are out of our control.   

To my surprise, Jean-Marc put down his phone but he couldn't help but gawk when Federer et compagnie sat just two tables away. The words QUELLE CHANCE were written all over my husband's face and, faster than you can say SAPERLIPOPETTE, Jean-Marc flew out of his chair and he was gone....

By the time we caught sight of him, it was too late, he was sneaking around the periphery of the restaurant. What in tarnation was he up to?!

"Is he going to see Federer?" my niece, Reagan, questioned. 

Our table erupted in laughter (and, for some of us, gasps) as we watched Jean-Marc weave around the crowded restaurant only to disappear. "Maybe he is borrowing a staff uniform and he's going to pretend to be a waiter?" my son Max guessed.

"Or a sommelier?" I chuckled, finally letting go of any control. Let him be. After all, c'est La Fête des Pères!

When my husband returned from his mysterious périple, I did not ask him any questions. Instead, I looked around the table at all of my family, one by one, smile after smile, and relished this moment together.  Turning to my husband, I shared this growing sourire. "This is your best Father's Day ever, n'est-ce pas?" His eyes twinkled it was.

I like to think some of that twinkling was reflecting down from the stars above, stars invisible to the daylight. Just because we cannot see things does not mean they are not there, lost loved ones included. To my brother-in-law, Doug, this one is for you--Payne, Reagan, and Heidi, too.

XOXO,
Kristi

COMMENTS
To leave a comment, click here. Extra credit if you tell me what town you are writing in from :-)

Family at Cafe Senequier
My family at Le Café Senequier in St. Tropez: Ana, Payne, Jackie, Heidi, Reagan, Max, me, and Jean-Marc

IMG_7123
My 21-year-old nephew, Payne, in St. Tropez
IMG_7063
My 19-year-old niece, Réré (Reagan), and daughter Jackie, now 25

Ana  reagan  jackiee  kristi at club 55 st tropez
Ana (Max's girlfriend), Reagan, Jackie, and me. Notice the funny sign (translation at the end of this post)

Heidi at the Senequier
My sister, Heidi, at Le Café Sénéquier in St. Tropez

FRENCH VOCABULARY

Listen to the vocabulary in French and in English, click here

le matelas = mattress
la paillote = beach hut
ébloui(e) = star struck, dazzled
le pèlerinage = pilgrimage
une escapade = adventure
la smala = family, brood
le resto (or restau) de plage = beach restaurant
la banquette = seat, booth seat
la ratatouille = ratatouille (listen to the difference, click on the soundfile)
lâcher prise = to give up, to let go
quelle chance = what luck!
saperlipopette! = good heavens!
la fête des pères = Father's Day
et compagnie = and friends
le périple = expedition, journey
le sourire = smile

IMG_1246

Thanks, Susie, for asking about Jules. Our mom is fine and she says this photo is for you. Here's Jules with her grandchildren, Reagan and Payne.

REMERCIEMENTS 
To the following readers who this past week sent in a blog donation your contribution towards publishing this blog is the key to its longevity! I am sincerely grateful for your support. Merci beaucoup! --Kristi

”Thank you for starting my day with a smile!” —Michael P.
"I love your blog and appreciate the amount of time you put into it. Many thanks.” —Bonnie R

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Mary Jo C.

Kristin Espinasse St Tropez Club 55
Relaxing on Le Banc des Menteurs - "The Liars Bench"

A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

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St. Tropez, Brader & the French word for clearance sale or sidewalk sale

St Tropez braderie = clearance sale (c) Kristin Espinasse

brader (brah-day) verb

1 to sell off; to sell for next to nothing
2. (se débarrasser) to get rid of

Also:
une braderie = a sidewalk, clearance sale

Expression:
brader les prix = to cut prices

.......................
Proverb
Acheter ce dont on n'a pas besoin, c'est le moyen d'aller de tout à rien. Buying what we don't need is the way to go from all to nothing.


A Day in a French Life... by Kristin Espinasse

On a humid and hazy vendredi matin, we arrive in St. Tropez to find the parking lot presque plein. Along the port the artists are setting up shop: a chair, several canvases for sale and a work-in-progress on the easel. Multi-million dollar yachts are parked alongside a dozen or so small fishing boats for equal opportunity frimerie. A restaurant on the port announces its "Menu Braderie" -- a bold offering when you consider that "braderie" means "to get rid of" (yesterday's Bouillabaisse? day-old baguettes?).

We are in St. Tropez ("St. Trop" for the locals) for the famous Braderie d'Automne. 100,000 shoppers are expected to descend on the former quaint fishing village with hopes to "dénicher la bonne affaire."

Not fifteen steps into our quest for les bonnes affaires and we are stalled in a cramped rue piétonne, swallowed up by power shoppers.

"You've got to push." Barbara says. I look up at all these delicate French women and am afraid of crushing them, or at the very least ruffling their delicate chemises.* I push. Pardon. Oh, pardon. Pardon...

In front of every boutique, tables full of discounted merchandise. Kiwi brand bathing suits at 30 Euros instead of 90, GAS jewelry at 20 euros instead of 65. "Ça vaut la peine,"* the women say, as they sort through boxes of bijoux de fantaisie.*

Nothing for sale outside Louis Vuitton's and in front of Tommy Hilfiger's, no tables. The mannequins in the window are stripped. Inside, the salespeople look like TH models. C'est rigolo.*

"C'est..... Trop!" I say to Barbara, as we surface from la foule.*
"On ne sait plus ou donner de la tête!"* she says, translating my sentiments into her French.

Early on, I realize I would rather be watching than rummaging. I long to be a French seagull perched high on a colorful striped canvas store,* making harmless tongue-in-beak commentary as the Tropéziens file by, weighed down with chic paper shopping bags.

From where I am, c'est-à-dire,* sea level, in the belly of the crowd, I see a lot of bare midriffs, cleavage and pouty lips. I see men with coiffed hair and shoppers in talons hauts* toting dogs the size of an American football. I listen to the French who say things like, "Ils ont pas beaucoup de choses à brader là-bas."* Or, "Ici, c'est que les vieilleries!"*

We leave St.Trop with four small sacs* between us. Swim trunks for Barbara's son and a few nappes* for my friends and family back home. The sun eventually crept through the fog offering us a free St. Tropez tan, without the jingle cream, without le bain. And we are left with un bon souvenir* of a day in late October à un prix assez bas.*

..................................................................................................................
*References: vendredi matin (m) = Friday morning; presque plein = almost full; frimerie = (a made up word from "frimer" = to show off); dénicher la bonne affaire = to unearth a good deal; une rue piéton (f) = pedestrian street; une chemise (f) = a shirt; Ça vaut la peine = it's worth the trouble (rummaging); les bijoux de fantaisie (m) = costume jewelry; c'est rigolo = it's funny; Ils ont pas beaucoup de choses à brader là-bas = they don't have a lot on clearance over there; une vieillerie (f) = old thing; la foule (f) = the crowd; C'est trop = It's too much; On ne sait plus ou donner de la tête! = We don't know where to begin (to look); un store (m) = awning; c'est-à-dire = that's to say; les talons hauts (m) = high heels; un sac (m) = shopping (bag); une nappe (f) = tablecloth; le bain (m) = bath (sun bath); un bon souvenir = a good memory: à un prix assez bas = for quite a low price

Dog chien on the beach in st tropez
On the beach in St. Tropez



A Message from KristiOngoing support from readers like you keeps me writing and publishing this free language journal each week. If you find joy or value in these stories and would like to keep this site going, donating today will help so much. Thank you for being a part of this community and helping me to maintain this site and its newsletter.

Ways to contribute:
1.Zelle®, The best way to donate and there are no transaction fees. Zelle to [email protected]

2.Paypal or credit card
Or purchase my book for a friend and so help them discover this free weekly journal.
For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety