Travel rule number one: Do not assume anything.
I bought a train ticket to Marseille from Nice. The ticket said the train number, Nice as the origin, and Marseille as the destination. Easy and straight forward right? No comment from the clerk about any transfer... I was on the train for about an hour reading when I realized that the train had been at one stop for a long time. Looking around gave me the unpleasant surprise that I was the only person on train. I found the ticket office and inquired within. I was in Grasse, substantially inland from the south coast where I should have been, because I needed to transfer in Cannes. The clerk was very good about giving me new tickets, back to Cannes and then on to Marseille. Luckily I only lost about two hours on the mistake. Note to self: read rule number one again.
Travel rule number two: Don’t second guess yourself; your first reaction is usually right.
The reputation of Marseille being the rough and tumble, drug and crime center of France was reinforced for me when I walked off the train at 10:30 at night, wandered down to the Metro, and in only those 50 meters I saw way too many malevolent looking attitudes for my comfort. Forgetting the metro, I went back up and checked into the hotel next to the station. I had planned on finding a hostel down in the old port area if I arrived earlier but that is reputed to be the worst area for crime. I am very willing to spend a little more money for personal safety.
The next day brought a whole new Marseille. The sun was shining and the city was jumping. I took a room at the Hotel Alize (seen facing you at the far right) on the Marina of the old port. I wandered through the colorful and fragrant flower market, explored the side streets filled with medina-like shops, ate half a pizza rolled up to go, and roamed the fortifications. It was a good day. I loved the city. Prices were great, street food was plentiful, and people were amazingly nice. As the second largest city in France I expected the brusque attitudes and busy demeanors that go with huge cities. Strangely, people were kind and overtly friendly everywhere I went. Maybe it is because the city is not overrun with tourists (they are all scared off by the city’s reputation).
That night I went out to grab some dinner. Everything was fine until I left the main boulevards. The under lit side streets were not friendly. I wasn’t more than fifty feet before someone tried to sell me drugs. I went around the block to the kebab shop by my hotel and ate in my room. I am really glad I did not wander around with my backpack the previous night.
A funny thing happened the next day. I was browsing in a plaza full of people peddling fake watches, belts, purses, and miscellaneous junk. I was standing in the middle of about fifty merchandise laden blankets when a yell went out among the vendors and within thirty seconds everything was gone. A policeman wandered through shortly afterward. He wasn’t interested in chasing anyone, just scaring them off.
Travel rule number three: Eat the best of the world
I had to have bouillabaisse in Marseille, the home of bouillabaisse. I had the best tomato based bouillabaisse of my life at Julia Child’s ninetieth birthday party so I wanted to try something different so as not to spoil the memory. My order came as a tray full of roasted fish and mussels, deboned and tastefully arranged on a large shallow bowl in front of me. The soup stock was added and I was given a bowl of garlic aioli to add as I ate. It was marvelous. God, I love food! It was pair with a delicious white wine too.
