We got to Marseille easily. The train station was huge and felt much more like an airport than any of the other train stations we had been in; there were cafés, giftshops, news stands, benches, multiple monitors updating passengers with arrival and departure times of trains, and many, many platforms. The vibe of the train station told us we had definitely left the calm of the Provence Countryside and had entered a major metropolitan area. The train station sits at the top of a hill, which makes for an incredible first view of the city and displays the iconic Notre-Dame da la Garde Cathedral very nicely. It was easy to get a pretty good view of the spread and vastness of the city, which was quite a shock after spending the past 5 days in small towns.
We headed out of the train station, down the long flight of stairs, and began the trek down the hill towards the port and our AirBNB. It only took about 15 minutes to get the plaza where the apartment was, but finding the exact building and door to wait at proved rather difficult. Businesses and buildings weren’t very well signed or numbered, but after looking and relooking several times, we were able to find it and then found a seat at the fountain in the plaza where we waited for our host to arrive. At exactly 15:30, when our host’s assistant was scheduled to greet us, the main door to the building creaked open and a head popped out, glancing around. We made eye contact and Jesse and I headed across the street. In broken English, she asked her if we were here to meet someone. We confirmed and gave her the name of our host before she led us up 3 flights of stairs and into an airy, bright apartment. The lady spoke very little English, but made every effort possible to answer our questions and show us everything we needed to know about the apartment. Again, I felt a humiliation/sadness that I knew only English! She ended up giving us a wrong set of keys, though Jesse had the smarts to test it right after she left, and finding that it wouldn’t unlock the door to the apartment, he ran down the stairs and was able to find her and remedy the situation before we were stuck stranded.
After settling in for a few minutes, we ventured out again to explore the Arab district and hopefully find something to eat. I had my heart set on some of the delicious savory Arab foods (like pastilla) mentioned in our guide book, but sadly, we weren’t able to find the restaurant mentioned (Le Soleil d’Egypte) and discovered that it was a bit too early in the day for most restaurants to be open anyway. Thankfully, we were able to find the little Tunisian Bakery we’d read about, Le Carthage, and pick up some tasty treats. I’m not sure what everything was called, but the small squares were rose turkish delight, the triangle was baklava (of course!), the rectangle was some sort of date bar (makroud, maybe?), and the crescent shaped pastry was tcharek, I think. There were bees and flies zipping through the shop, traipsing through the mounds of powdered sugar on the tcharek tray, and climbing over the bodies of their deceased cousins, whom I believed died of a sugar overdose. Mmm, mmm. It’s all part of the adventure. 🙂 When we finally sat down later to eat the pastries, we found more dead bugs in our boxes. We had to carefully avoid and inspect each bite, but it was well worth it.
Leaving the Arab market, we headed over to stroll through the mall that was just a few blocks away. I was curious and wanted to see what shopping was like in France. It was fun to get a sense for the different styles and see the various groups of teenagers prowling the mall. Not so different than the US. The store “American Freshman – authentic campus clothing” gave me and Jesse a bit of a laugh. Throughout our time in France and Spain, we had seen several Hardrock Cafe shirts also, which made us chuckle. Barcelona Hardrock Cafe in France, and London Hardrock cafe shirt in Barcelona, etc. I don’t know why we found it so entertaining. Perhaps it just went along with the stereotypical tourist look; confused individuals wandering around with a guidebook in one hand, a camera in the other, wearing shorts, carrying a small bag/backpack, and typically wearing some shirt that sought to impress (“I’ve traveled HERE!”), but really made them stand out even more as tourists. We also noticed a lot of people wearing shirts with English words or phrases on them, just as we see shirts with French/German on them in the States, or tattoos with Chinese/Japanese characters. People really are more similar than different.
We stopped by the Monoprix on the way back to the apartment and picked up a few things for dinner – tortellini, sauce, sheep cheese, camembert, baguettes, and wine. I loved the variety of cheeses at the grocery store there, though it would have taken me many months to try them all.
The smell of the ocean breeze rolling in off the nearby port was just too much, so Jesse and I walked down to check out the departure time for the Calanques Tour in the morning. Both of us were itching to get out on the water and just relax and get off our feet. Kayaking sounded the most fun, but was much more logistically complicated and would’ve taken up the whole day, and we were too exhausted for that.
We passed by a mob of people on the way back. Curious, we pushed our way in to catch a glimpse of some street dancers/break dancers. We watched for a couple minutes before continuing on to the apartment, where the rest of our evening consisted of cooking, journaling, surfing the net, and drinking wine.
Here’s short video of the dancers. Not very impressive, but fun and quite the tourist magnet. 🙂