Well. The problem here was simple. We were stupid and in St. Tropez. We see signs that say, "
We kept walking and walking AND WALKING . . . It got miserable. Then it got funny. The rich were blowing by us in their Land Rovers, Mercedes, Rolls, you name it. They must have laughed at us in their dust. "Stupid American tourists, sweating their asses off, WALKING."
No one walks to the beach in St. Tropez, not because it’s unfashionable not to yacht there, but BECAUSE IT’S TOO FAR AWAY!!! That and most patrons (a.k.a. celebs and other importants) just don't walk around idly anyway. Well, HOURS later, we're still walking.
At one point, we're trekking through a VINEYARD. I fall off the road while watching a thonged woman cruise by on a Vespa (she looked uncomfortable!). I fall, scrape up my leg, and blood gushes. We finally get there and it’s not much cooler than any other beach on the Riviera, just more exclusive BECAUSE IT’S IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE.
Learn from me: don't walk to the beach in St. Tropez.