The Colors of Marseille

Having worn out my time in Nice it was the day to head to Marseille. With the train strike going on, I wasn't sure how exactly I'd get to town. I knew there were busses, but couldn't find the company or where the bus would leave from. When I checked the listings online for trains it appeared that there were 2 leaving at 1:30 and 2:30pm. Check out was at 10am so I figured I could sit for a bit and read at the hostel and arrive at the train station around 12pm to procure a ticket. Louise had left earlier in the morning by train for Florence and Michelle decided to take a slow day and join me in my trip to the train station.

At the ticket counter the woman informed me that there was only one train at 1:30pm and it was an open ticket--no reserved seats. Since getting the ticket was so easy and there were no long lines, we walked next door to a cafe for a cappuccino and croissant. Around 1pm I boarded the train which was surprisingly empty. I was exceedingly glad I had a seat and plenty of room for my luggage for the 2.5 hour journey. The countryside was much the same as around Nice--rocky, yellowish tan dirt, and tall apartment buildings in French style with shudders and tiled roofs. I opted to spend my time working through my guide book for Marseille and Paris to do a bit of planning ahead.

At a stop a half hour from Marseille a woman came up to where me and the guy next to me were sitting and appeared to be indicating these where her seats. So much for no reservations. Being only 1/2 hour from getting off I didn't mind getting up to stretch and I needed to be poised to exit as the train was quite packed with many people filling the aisles now. Usually there's only about 5 minutes at each stop, so it pays to be ready. With the strike you don't want to miss your stop as there likely won't be another train heading in the opposite direction you can easily hop on to get back one stop. Fortunately I made it off the train easily. The directions to the hostel were pretty straight forward and worked nicely. I was even able to get the my two bookings for the same hostel at their two sites moved into the same building. Far more convenient.

With everything settled I headed out to see a few things and walk the town a bit to lessen the number of things to see tomorrow. Being Sunday most places were closed and I knew food would be a bit challenging to come by. The lady at the desk marked a market that would be open, but when I walked by that spot on the street (and even past it) I saw nothing even close to a market. The only things there were closed businesses and cafes among the few open. I happened across an Asian restaurant and grabbed a dish of pollet citronelle (chicken something with red/green peppers and onions in a yellow sauce) to go rice I had back at the hostel. The way down to the port was rather uneventful and noteworthy only of the large number of atypical-French looking immigrants and homeless people. A variety of Muslim, Jewish, people who looked to have come from Africa or the Middle East passed by on the street. Marseille truly is a port town with a wide variety of peoples, customs and traditions. I think I expected it to be a bit more romantic from my imaginings of it from The Count of Monte Cristo, but Marseille has a much more rough, harsh exterior to it. Imagine a gruff looking old fisherman who actually is friendly, but doesn't display this openly and you'll have the idea of Marseille. [This is a Sunday street market in Marseille just NE of the port.] The way of life in this town seems to produce a distance between what people show and how they feel. Perhaps this is just a difference between Greek/Italian expressiveness and a more reserved French nature. Thus far, all I can make of the French people is that they are distant. My speculations are that they are more vain and self-contained than the more southern Mediterranean countries. Most people in Nice seemed rather friendly, but here in Marseille they are short and to the point--exerting themselves only as much as need be. I think this is why many travelers find the French rather rude. They seem to find no need to accommodate foreigners and are quite content to uphold their own language. If you don't first earn their kindness by attempting to speak French, no matter how botched or broken, you are likely to have a tough time getting what you need.

From the port I took a brief walk through the area around Le Panier Quarter (better known as Marseille's Basket). The area used to be a major area for breads, but now is mostly residential with a variety of tiny shops. This neighborhood was much more plesant and cozy than the port area. Eventually I worked my way back to the hostel and prepared dinner. The chicken/veggie mix went well with my rice and made enough for a couple meals. This way I can eat French food for lunch out at restaurants and eat on the cheap in the hostel.