Shabbat amongst the 'Red Rocks' - St Raphael

Travelling in France (or anywhere in Europe for that matter) in July and August has some special challenges, particularly when it comes to accommodation availability. If, like Gary and myself, you prize spontaneity and destiny over planning, or in other words are just downright disorganized, then booking your hotel, pension or apartment after your arrival in a town during the summer high season may pose a problem or two. Aix-En will be remembered for some frantic internet searching moments, including but not limited to, trawling travel website after website for places to stay, weighing up prices in homemade spread sheets only to log back onto said website and lose the hotel, you had JUST finally decided upon, to a last minute confirmation from someone in Sweden. One of my biggest regrets in this regard was losing out on the opportunity to spend a night at the dubiously unclassified and ridiculously cheap Hotel California (C'mon, who wouldn't right?).

It was in one of these moments of blind terror that we stumbled across our accommodation for Shabbat on the Riviera, a place which drew the gliterrati in a time before the razzle dazzle of Cannes and St Tropez.

St Raphael . A mysterious and enchanting town perched just on top of the rocks under the mighty shadow of Massif de l'Esteral. This town conjours up all the glamour, coolness and sophistication of the 1920s jet set. The home of F. Scott Fitzgerald when he wrote his famous 'flapper' novel The Great Gatsby and about which he based his other masterpiece Tender Is the Night. Intertwined as it is with the bustling seaside hub of Frejus, St Raphael today is known for its natural beauty and its wealth of scuba diving and hiking trails adventure but we both loved the gorgeous old mansions in their half-tamed, half-manicured gardens facing the ocean. Driving along the Corniches which take you past Frejus and St Raphael on your way down the Riviera, you can spot isolated beach coves, some just big enough for one family to fit in.

Our hotel was in one of these isolated pockets, clinging to the rocks overlooking the waves. Unusually, the rocks in this part of the region are a deep red colour and known as the roches rouge - red rocks, so named because of the colour these rocks turn when water interacts with their iron minerals. From our balcony, where we spent most of Saturday, we felt as if we could dive into the pristine waters below and we made good use of the ladder on the small pier leading down into the salty surf.