Magnifique, Merveilleux, Marseille!

If you'll recall from an earlier entry, I unfortunately missed my train from Nice to Marseille. As you can imagine, I was not in the greatest of moods when I arrived in the city, and I did not have particularly high hopes for my stay.

For starters, in a classic tour-de-force performance, GoogleMaps sent me the wrong way. Remember how I once said I love GoogleMaps more than I love some people? It's probably still true, but I have to say that I love GoogleMaps a little less now. It's still not as bad as the time it sent me and my friend Madison walking down Santa Monica Boulevard in the exact wrong direction for an hour (through a seedy neighborhood), but I was still none too pleased.

When I finally made it to the hostel, the first thing I noticed, unfortunately, was that someone had smashed the window. There wasn't a hole, but it was covered in cracks radiating outward from the point of impact. Oh sweet Jesus, I thought, I've made it this far only to die in a hostel in Marseille.

For some background: Marseille has a reputation for being what one would call a "rough city." Every single guidebook I own begins its page on Marseille with something like, "Don't let Marseille's reputation scare you!" which is a pretty scary statement for a guidebook to make anyway. The point is, though, that Marseille is reclaiming itself after sort of being the Detroit of France, and in the last few years, when there were race riots in every major French city, the very multi-cultural Marseille continued on without any problems (because everyone there gets along! All together now: awwwwwww!).

Despite my trepidation, the reception area of the hostel seemed very legit and not seedy or dangerous, and the receptionist was very friendly.

Once I got to my room I was even more impressed. It was probably the nicest hostel I've ever stayed at. For starters, it was a four-woman dorm, which always beats fourteen-bed female (Nice) or fourteen-bed mixed (Prague) or even eight-bed mixed (Munich). Second, the room was TWO STORIES! (Hello, luxury, I've missed you.) The downstairs contained a toilet, a bathroom (the French keep the toilet separate from the shower/sink...I dunno, it's just a thing here), and some wooden lockers tucked underneath a curving staircase. Upstairs was a bright and cozy room containing four beds (two bunked), a couple end tables, and a table and chair. The room was lit by a skylight and a couple lamps and there was a graphic print hanging on the wall. Furthermore, the wifi worked in the dorms (a rarity in the world of hostelling, unfortunately), there were enough electrical outlets for everyone (woohoo!), and the bathroom was a real bathroom with a real shower and not a hostelly shower.Real talk: I would go back to Marseille just to stay at this hostel.

I was already recovering from my icky day when one of my roommates arrived. The last of my roommates, I should say, since two other beds had already been claimed even though their occupants were apparently elsewhere. Anyway, she was very friendly and introduced herself right away as Katherine from South Africa. We chatted a bit and discovered that we both wanted to check out Marseille's Saturday markets the next morning, so we made plans to go together. In the meantime, I headed out to explore a bit.

After some walking around I was getting hungry so I picked up some dinner at the supermarket and returned to the hostel to cook it. While I was in the kitchen area I started chatting with another woman my age, Nadja, who was from Australia but was working in France at a vineyard. We had a nice conversation and I went back up to the room after dinner only to discover a few minutes later that Nadja was the third roommate, which left only one more mystery person. (It turned out to be a middle-aged French lady who was perfectly nice but not anyone I got to know particularly well.)

When Katherine returned to the room she and Nadja hit it off right away and went out bar hopping together, while I opted to stay in and catch up on New Girl. (Zero regrets on that front. That day had beaten the crap out of me.)

The next morning the three of us hit the markets (fish, produce, and random junk) and had a nice morning before splitting up--Nadja and Katherine to explore Marseille some more, and me to hike Les Calanques near Cassis, about a twenty-five minute train ride away.

Unfortunately the walk from the train station into the center of Cassis took me about twice as long as the train ride itself, but it was no big deal. It was a lovely sunny day and the tree-lined path to town was bordered on one side by the road and on the other by vineyards, so yeah, things could have been worse.

I made it into Cassis and after brief stop-offs at the Tourism Office (the lady was hardcore judging my poor French), the bathroom (which cost 50 centimes and was run by a blind guy and a guy who looked like Steve Buschemi), and the supermarket (to buy "lunch"--aka a box of Pims cookies--for my hike), I set off.

Les Calanques are narrow channels of the Mediterranean that cut into the coast around Cassis, creating deep gorges and some truly unique landscapes. There are six Calanques altogether, I think, and three of them are accessible by foot from Cassis. I was only able to get as far as the first one (Port Miou) because I had to get back in time for the girls' night Katherine and Nadja had planned, but it was definitely a fantastic hike. I'd love to go back and spend more time there someday.

Les Calanques were designated a national park only last year, which is really surprising to me because they are some of the most beautiful natural landscapes I've ever seen (and I've only seen the one! I've heard that the others are even prettier.). Judge for yourself:

They've also been well-traveled by tourists; the rocks are really slippery and shiny, worn down by people's shoes. You know those fake, fiberglass-like rocks they use in water rides/fake rivers at amusement parks? A lot of the rocks at Les Calanques look and feel like that.

I left myself plenty of time to get back, not being entirely sure how long it would take me. As a result, I ended up having a little time in Cassis, which would be worth a return visit in its own right, I think.

I made it to the train station a full hour ahead of the time I'd planned, and ended up taking an earlier train back. This turned out to be a good thing, as I got a little downtime before dinner.

At around seven, Nadja and Katherine and I started getting ready to go out to dinner at a nearby Indian restaurant. We listened to music and drank wine and Katherine did our hair--stereotypical girly stuff. We had a lovely dinner in terms of both conversation and food, and then I begged off to do some work (I know, LAME and BORING but I'm super-behind on my freelance work) while the other two went out.

In the morning the three of us attended what basically amounted to the final quarter of Sunday mass at Notre Dame de la Garde, which overlooks the city and is decorated with maritime/nautical imagery as a nod to Marseille's seafaring history. (I particularly liked the model ships hanging from the ceiling like mobiles. It was some of the most whimsical church decor I've ever seen.) Around one o'clock Nadja and I left for the train station but not before the three of us exchanged contact info and a group hug.

It's funny how people you meet can really make your experience in a place. Marseille was not a city that particularly attracted me, nor is it now--I mostly picked it for the cheap lodging and easy distance to Les Calanques. But Marseille has definitely ended up being one of the highlights of my trip so far.

But now--on to Montpellier!


The post title is shamelessly stolen from Katherine's Facebook album. Credit where credit's due.