Thursday, August 2, 2018

Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler 

In the words of Micah, "France was nice." I'll elaborate a little more.

We had 3 days in Marseille and 2.5 days worth of activities we hoped to accomplish. The first night quickly taught us that Marseille does not mess around with her summers, and that we would need to be strategic about avoiding the hottest times of the day. Also, we recommend anyone considering a summer trip to the French Riviera to splurge for a dwelling with AC.  Sunday, we wandered the streets of Marseille in search of pastries, cathedrals, and another magnet to add to Mark's fridge (until we're grown up enough to own a fridge ourselves). Our walk from the Cathédrale La Major towards Basilique Norte Dame de la Garde took us right next to the Vieux (Old) Port, where vendors had set up shop at the market and were offering generous samples of baked goods and cured meats. We climbed many steps to reach the top of Norte Dame, and took in the panormaic views of France's oldest town.






Sunday taught us a lot about France's food culture. We struggled in the morning to find a bakery or an establishment serving typical breakfast food. Although now that we know the area better, I think we just missed all the neighborhoods that have a bakery every few feet, plus it was a Sunday. For dinner, we had our hearts set on seafood and a front row seat at the Vieux Port. We scoured the menus lining the popular street, spotted one with prices in our comfort range, and sat down. The menu we were handed was very different from the menu outside. We were informed that plated meals are only served at lunch; at this establishment, we could drink our dinner with a plate of charcuterie on the side. The next spot we attempted happily served us house wine while we waited until 6pm, the time they began to take orders for dinner. My food hypothesis based on this day was that the French consume only coffee and baked goods for breakfast, lunch is their primary meal, and dinner is optional/ a late night social event/ typically drank from a wine glass. No wonder they're all so fit.

Monday morning we caught up on our sleep, our bodies finally adjusting to the 9 hour time change. We rushed out our door to catch the subway + bus combo to the town of Cassis. We had a tandem kayak reserved to paddle ourselves to Les Calanques National Park at 1:45pm. Swimming in the crystal tourquoise waters found between the plunging white limestone walls was recommended to us by more than one friend, so we knew we had to find a way. Our research resulted in two options: hike, which would allow for beautiful overhead views and relatively steep paths up and down from the water, or kayak from La Grande Mer to the two more beautiful and accessible swimming coves, Calanque Port Pin and Calanque En Vau. We like water sports and well developed arm muscles, so we chose kayaking. We were also told the hiking trail may be closed during summer months due to fire danger and we were not competent enough in our French translation to know whether this was true or not. We had a blast and as you can see from the pictures below, the majestic scenery and refreshing waters did not disappoint. However, if we were to do it again, we'd choose the hiking option. Our small tandem kayak was at the mercy of the boats, requiring us to sit and wait at the boat crossings for an opening and then paddle until our arms were numb. The kayak also was a wee-bit spendy at 45€, and we definitely felt the time crunch of making it back to shore within our 4 hour rental period.








To return back to Marseille from Cassis, I had found an online website that gave bus routes and timetables to travel from point A to point B. We turned in the kayaks at 5:45, cooled off in the water and laid on the beach, and then headed towards the bus stop for bus 8. There was a bus pulled over near the assumed area, so I asked, in my best French, where we were supposed to pick up bus 8 for Marseille. He pointed 15 feet away, but then I believe he said "finished for the day." Now, I took French language classes for 5 years, received my college minor in French, but after 15 years of not speaking more than a few sentences now and then in my head, ce n'est pas bien. So whatever he said, I hoped and assumed that I had heard wrong and we walked to the spot where he pointed. Over the course of the next 45 minutes, we had conversations- mostly in English- with 3 other groups of travelers, also confused as to where bus 8 was. It was finally determined that bus 8 was resting for the evening and we needed to find an alternate route. The other groups kindly took us under their wings since we have no internet access without wifi, and told us their plan: they were walking a few blocks back to the beach, would catch a bus to the train station there, and then train to Marseille. We followed, clueless but happy to be lost in numbers. We did arrive home, about an hour later than expected and at the additional cost of 12€ for unplanned train tickets. But this was just one more of many encounters we had in France where people were kind and helpful, and although I accidentally spoke Spanish more often than French when attempting to communicate, I believe it was appreciated. We capped our night off with cheap sandwiches, cold French fries, and a glorious view of the cathedral with the sunset in the background.



Tuesday we decided to give French public transit one more attempt, and we (again) failed. With fresh baked goods in hand for breakfast, we used the automated machine to buy two train tickets to Aix-en-Provence and boarded the train. Thirty minutes later, we disembarked at the last stop, at a station just outside of town. We passed by a few buses parked at the train station and wandered into the town center. It was much quieter and emptier than we expected. It took both of us about 10 minutes to agree that we weren't actually in Aix-en-Provence, but were a solid 20 minutes south in a town called Gardanne. A short walk back to the train station, we clarified that the busses were shuttling people to our actual desired location, and 20 minutes later we were there. We were later told, when trying to find the return train, that due to construction there were no direct trains from Marseille to Aix-en-Provence, only the shuttle system we'd experienced and direct buses.

Aix-en-Provence is a quaint college town with a chic walking street filled with boutiques and open air cafes. It was more commercialized than we enjoy, so we strolled the popular street, glanced at drink prices and ended up purchasing beverages from the grocery store. The people watching was decent, sitting on the edge of a fountain with many others in the center of the street, occasionally sliding our toes under us when cars drove by. We caught the direct bus back to Marseille and were pleased to have checked another town off of our France list.

That evening we set out to taste the regional dish of Bouillabaisse, a traditional Provençal fish stew. We found it, and kind of wish we hadn't. It tasted like fish boiled in water, plus a few seasonings tossed in. But we drank (more) Rosé from Provence, munched on seafood appetizers, and overspent our daily planned budget. A good day overall.



Wednesday was our last day in Marseille and luckily, our AirBNB host gave us the ok to stay at our lodging until early that evening when we had a scheduled flight out. We didn't want to stray far from home, plus I was determined to eat crepes while we were in France. Back to the Vieux Port and to an outdoor table in the center of a large street filled with tents, plants, air misters, and diners. We did the cliché French thing and enjoyed our crepes with a café on the side, and I even wore a black and white striped shirt. We took one last stroll through the neighborhood of Le Panier, where we had called home for the past 4 nights. If we make it back to Marseille, we would stay in this area again. It was idyllic France, with its tall buildings strung with drying clothes on a line, steep streets that were barely wide enough to fit a car, artsy ambience, cozy hidden squares and sun-baked cafes.






Our flight Wednesday evening to Santorini was scheduled for 7:10, but didn't depart until 9:05 due to delays from the previous flight. We flew Volotea, one of those cheaper European companies that charge for everything. 30€ per checked-on luggage, 7€ to choose your seat, 30€ if you don't have your boarding pass when you arrive at the airport. We opted to not pay for any of the extras, including choosing our seat, but lucked out as one of the few open seats was to my left, so we rearranged. Arrived in Santorini just after 1am, learned that the taxi drivers in Santorini don't appreciate negotiations (his price went up when we low balled him), and climbed in our beds exhausted.

We woke up the next morning, ready to explore this magestic island. However, new country means new blog, so we'll tell you all about the gyros, homemade red wine sold in plastic bottles, and sunsets- next time. La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin.


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