13. The Beautiful Port City of Marseille.

The Ryanair flight to Marseille didn’t cost much but it was very “no frills” with their cheap tightly packed seats bolted to the floor.  It actually felt more like a flying bus.  

Still, in just three hours I had flown from Italy to France.  Once we landed in Marseille, I bought a €10 ticket to get to the city centre. 

Once there, it was a good 20 minute walk with the still too heavy backpack on my back to my centrally located hotel.  During this walk I had decided I needed to discard at least 2 kg of pack contents and wondered what would go first. 

The room in the hotel was in a little attic room on the 5th floor.  It had a lift to the fourth, then some stairs to the small door that was my room.  I had met the cleaner on my way out to get some food and she asked if I liked the room.  

Yes.  Sì, oh, wee…no, how is it even spelt?  Oui.  My French was almost non-existent I realised.

When I first went to London in my 20’s, I worked for an architect who had offices in Marseille.  Every day I’d have to answer the phone, Bonjour. Comment cą va?  How are you?  The person would prattle off in French until I heard a name I recognised and then I’d pass the call on.   

I didn’t have the required level of French understanding or sophistication for the boss there and I was relieved (and so was the boss) when I found a more suitable job working at the NZ High Commission.

Marseille Harbour

I was desperately hungry so left the hotel and made my way down to the harbour, which was visible as I looked down the busy shopping street.

I didn’t have the confidence to enter a French restaurant yet so Burger King it was.  The croissant would have to wait. 

View From Churc

I navigated the French menu screen and selected a vegetarian burger combo; even upsized it because I was really hungry.  It wasn’t cheap however, costing €14.

I sat at one of the the outside tables opposite the harbour and settled into this new environment.  Another busy city but with a more modern, western feel.  

The average tasting fast-food had rolled up into an uncomfortable tight ball in my stomach so I decided to walk it off.  I googled what to do and bugger me if it sent me up a mountain to see another church; an apparent must see, the Basilique Notre-Dame da la Garde.

The walk had me puffing hard and once there, I was glad to see it wasn’t full of tourists.  What’s more it was free to enter.  It wasn’t as elaborate as the Italian churches but still impressive, and the view over the city was incredible.  

I sat down outside the church and watched as people walked past.  I heard them speak in French and thought what a strange language it was, instantly missing the familiarity of Italiano.   

Before I eventually returned to my room, I found a small grocery store and bought some cheap red wine and chocolate.  

At the end of the evening I called my daughter before she went to work.  While we chatted, I hacked at the cork of the wine bottle with the room key.  I poured a hot bath and was warmed not only by the bath, but by our chat, the wine and the dark chocolate.  

Later I rang mum and it was good to hear her voice too.  I was a long way from home, feeling a little homesick but also finally starting to feel more confident about travelling solo.

It can be a bit lonely travelling alone and knowing this when planning this trip, I booked some more social trips.

A Big Baguette 

I’d be meeting up with some kiwis in a couple of days to do a canal trip, starting at Carcassone.  

I only knew one of the six people in the group - Donna.  We were both working up the mountain and she had asked if I’d be keen to come along after a friend had suddenly pulled out.  

The following day I went shopping… no more church visits.  It had started to rain and the tiled ground became very slippery with my flat-soled sneakers - they would be the first to go!  

Beautiful Boutique Stores

I continued walking and was surprised how big the retail area of Marseille was.  Beautiful boutique stores, from historical soap shops (product I had once sold in my stores) to specialist condiments… oh how I wished New Zealand could support retail like this.  

I stumbled into the Panier area with its narrow lanes and busy food markets.  I bought a kilo of cherries for €2.50… produit de france, the vendor shouted to anyone listening as he handed me the bag.  

Works Famous Soaps!

I walked into a beautifully tiled Arabic store selling sweet patty desserts, baklava and Turkish Delight I couldn’t resist.  

The streets became thick with people as the evening warmed up.  

I walked on and a little boy looked at me and smiled. He showed me his brand new toy and spoke to me in French, and all I could say was, Wow!  He was oblivious to my lack of understanding and when I said au revoir…  he waved goodbye; his mother none the wiser of our little connection.  

I loved this day in Marseille.  The city is modern and sophisticated, it has history and intrigue.  It is both vibrant and inclusive of the cultures that drive the food markets.  I found it easy to navigate and felt safe. 

Apparently Marseille city only has a population of just 873,000 people, but it felt much bigger. It’s France’s second biggest city after Paris.

As I walked the streets, I thought about how NZ cities felt boring and souless in comparison.  I then thought about what the young aristocrat told me in Palermo… ah, but you have natural beauty in New Zealand. 

The next morning I checked out of the hotel and had a €4.50 chai latte and €4 chocolate cake at a cafe.  They didn’t have anything else available but I was happy with cake for breakfast (not so much about the cost)!

I walked up the stairs to the main station and sat outside to wait for my train.  Behind me I noticed some young people with backpacks…  oh, I wasn’t the only intrepid traveller (but certainly the oldest!). 

Very different to the Italian train system, the tickets gave you an allocation of carriage and seat.  I had walked with the crowd to the last carriage, but thought I’d check with an English-speaking woman and she showed me my ticket was for Carriage 9, Seat 24.  Ohhhh… before the train departed, I quickly exited and raced back to the second carriage and found my seat.