Edmund Dantes—the protagonist in Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo—certainly achieved a great feat in escaping from Chateau d’If, the dense fortress that sits menacingly on the tiny desolate island of rock just off the shore of Marseille. Believe me… I saw it this past weekend.
We didn’t have school on Thursday the 19th of March because of a holiday combing some saint’s day and Spain’s Father’s Day. SK, Shenning, and I took advantage of the extra day-off and cheap Ryanair flights, and we flew to Marseille, France. Marseille is France’s 2nd largest city, and it actually covers more landmass than Paris. Unfortunately, it has little of Paris’ grandiose-ness . In fact, Marseille is a pretty dirty city with remnants of prior greatness lying under a layer of port-city grime. With that said, Marseille is still a force to be reckoned with. It’s one of the oldest cities and the largest port on the Mediterranean Sea. The Phoenicians and the Romans set up shop here thousands of years ago. It’s no seaside resort, but I thought it was an interesting place to visit for the weekend, because it’s so different from Madrid.
On the surface and based on first impressions, Marseille would have been a rather dull, dingy, and insignificant place to explore. Yet, what Marseille lacked in looks and luster was made up through the amazingly friendly people we encountered, which erased any sour feelings towards
our random destination choice. The best example came from asking our hostel staff for dinner recommendations on Thursday night. We were directed to Longchamp Palace, a unique local café/bar/restaurant with loads of charm that was tucked away off the beaten track in an obscure neighborhood. Just before 7 PM, we were welcomed inside by a black Canadian dude named Martin, who was wearing a black beret and a tight fitting shirt and who spoke—to our great relief—superb American-English. When we told him we wanted to eat dinner there, in fluent 
French he called out to a large man with a gold hoop earring in his left ear (we presume he was the owner) to announce our arrival and our hungry stomachs. We were a little early to be ringing the dinner bell, and a small French girl with short dark hair went to fetch the blackboard, on which we could see the menu. With a little help from Martin, the owner stood next to us and explained each item on the menu for the day: pork, veal, fish, steak, and a Moroccan dish. It all sounded delicious, but both Sarahs chose the veal and pasta dish while I opted for the fish. While we waited for the kitchen to start up, we sipped on complimentary cocktails of the house and sat in the outdoor patio before moving to an indoor table. We were quite content and our taste buds were equally as happy to be in France once our meals arrived. Little by little, the locals drifted in until the place was packed with chattering, youthful French men and women. Our dining experience was so enjoyable that we decided to return on Friday night to have a drink next to the bar and say “salut” to Martin and the owner. They seemed happy to have us return, too. Should I ever return to Marseille, I know where I’ll be dining!
We spent Friday wandering around several different districts of Marseille. We started our city
tour with a walk through the Vieux Port (Old Port), and we wound up at the large cathedral that is situated at the port’s edge just as it was opening for the day. Marseille has a nice harbor, and we enjoyed walking past the dozens of sailboats and wooden fishing boats during our time in the city. Two intimidating stone fortresses guard the entrance to the harbor, sharply contrasting with the swanky restaurants that line the harbor docks. 482 feet about the harbor, Marseille’s famous beacon of protection stands tall: the Notre Dame de la Garde. This Romanesque-Byzantine styled basilica is crowned with a gilded statue of the Virgin Mary, who keeps a watchful eye on all 
the sailors out at sea. From this elevation, we could see everything, including the ominously dark rain clouds heading our way. We descended from the mountain and took shelter from the rain in a classic French café, and we ate crepes to warm up our bodies and boost our energy. Again, French food is just so good. Why can’t the Spanish take a few hints?
One of our adventures from this past weekend came in an unlikely place—our hostel kitchen. Traveling on a budget requires willingness to do some cooking of your own, and we had gone to the nearby grocery store Friday morning to get foodstuffs for dinner that night. We planned to make a simple pasta and veggies dish, but we didn’t realize that our hostel kitchen was lacking a stove until after we bought our groceries. Undeterred, we figured out how to cook our pasta dinner via microwave and I’d say it was rather successful. In fact, we made it again on Saturday, with a few modifications to our recipe. Oh, hostel-living… priceless.
Saturday was a very special day. Thanks to SK’s preliminary research, we had plans to take a day-trip to Cassis, one of the small coastal towns near Marseille. But we had to figure out how to get there first… and our search for the bus to Cassis turned out to be the most comical event of the weekend. I asked many a person in my best French where the bus would turn up, and we were politely pointed in various directions depending on who I talked to. Just as we were resigning to go by train, Shenning yelled, “Hey! Hey, there’s the bus!” Sure enough, the Cassis bus was moving towards us and then drove off down a side street. We chased the bus in a full-out sprint for a couple of blocks until we caught up with it parked on another street. It turned out that the driver was picking up his dry cleaning before starting his daily route. Our driver was a young guy whose name might have been Clément (it sounded something like that), and he was dressed in a light pink button down shirt and wearing designer sunglasses. He turned up the radio so that the American jams blared throughout the entire bus… it was definitely a party bus.
We didn’t have school on Thursday the 19th of March because of a holiday combing some saint’s day and Spain’s Father’s Day. SK, Shenning, and I took advantage of the extra day-off and cheap Ryanair flights, and we flew to Marseille, France. Marseille is France’s 2nd largest city, and it actually covers more landmass than Paris. Unfortunately, it has little of Paris’ grandiose-ness . In fact, Marseille is a pretty dirty city with remnants of prior greatness lying under a layer of port-city grime. With that said, Marseille is still a force to be reckoned with. It’s one of the oldest cities and the largest port on the Mediterranean Sea. The Phoenicians and the Romans set up shop here thousands of years ago. It’s no seaside resort, but I thought it was an interesting place to visit for the weekend, because it’s so different from Madrid.
On the surface and based on first impressions, Marseille would have been a rather dull, dingy, and insignificant place to explore. Yet, what Marseille lacked in looks and luster was made up through the amazingly friendly people we encountered, which erased any sour feelings towards
our random destination choice. The best example came from asking our hostel staff for dinner recommendations on Thursday night. We were directed to Longchamp Palace, a unique local café/bar/restaurant with loads of charm that was tucked away off the beaten track in an obscure neighborhood. Just before 7 PM, we were welcomed inside by a black Canadian dude named Martin, who was wearing a black beret and a tight fitting shirt and who spoke—to our great relief—superb American-English. When we told him we wanted to eat dinner there, in fluent 
French he called out to a large man with a gold hoop earring in his left ear (we presume he was the owner) to announce our arrival and our hungry stomachs. We were a little early to be ringing the dinner bell, and a small French girl with short dark hair went to fetch the blackboard, on which we could see the menu. With a little help from Martin, the owner stood next to us and explained each item on the menu for the day: pork, veal, fish, steak, and a Moroccan dish. It all sounded delicious, but both Sarahs chose the veal and pasta dish while I opted for the fish. While we waited for the kitchen to start up, we sipped on complimentary cocktails of the house and sat in the outdoor patio before moving to an indoor table. We were quite content and our taste buds were equally as happy to be in France once our meals arrived. Little by little, the locals drifted in until the place was packed with chattering, youthful French men and women. Our dining experience was so enjoyable that we decided to return on Friday night to have a drink next to the bar and say “salut” to Martin and the owner. They seemed happy to have us return, too. Should I ever return to Marseille, I know where I’ll be dining!We spent Friday wandering around several different districts of Marseille. We started our city
tour with a walk through the Vieux Port (Old Port), and we wound up at the large cathedral that is situated at the port’s edge just as it was opening for the day. Marseille has a nice harbor, and we enjoyed walking past the dozens of sailboats and wooden fishing boats during our time in the city. Two intimidating stone fortresses guard the entrance to the harbor, sharply contrasting with the swanky restaurants that line the harbor docks. 482 feet about the harbor, Marseille’s famous beacon of protection stands tall: the Notre Dame de la Garde. This Romanesque-Byzantine styled basilica is crowned with a gilded statue of the Virgin Mary, who keeps a watchful eye on all 
the sailors out at sea. From this elevation, we could see everything, including the ominously dark rain clouds heading our way. We descended from the mountain and took shelter from the rain in a classic French café, and we ate crepes to warm up our bodies and boost our energy. Again, French food is just so good. Why can’t the Spanish take a few hints?One of our adventures from this past weekend came in an unlikely place—our hostel kitchen. Traveling on a budget requires willingness to do some cooking of your own, and we had gone to the nearby grocery store Friday morning to get foodstuffs for dinner that night. We planned to make a simple pasta and veggies dish, but we didn’t realize that our hostel kitchen was lacking a stove until after we bought our groceries. Undeterred, we figured out how to cook our pasta dinner via microwave and I’d say it was rather successful. In fact, we made it again on Saturday, with a few modifications to our recipe. Oh, hostel-living… priceless.
Saturday was a very special day. Thanks to SK’s preliminary research, we had plans to take a day-trip to Cassis, one of the small coastal towns near Marseille. But we had to figure out how to get there first… and our search for the bus to Cassis turned out to be the most comical event of the weekend. I asked many a person in my best French where the bus would turn up, and we were politely pointed in various directions depending on who I talked to. Just as we were resigning to go by train, Shenning yelled, “Hey! Hey, there’s the bus!” Sure enough, the Cassis bus was moving towards us and then drove off down a side street. We chased the bus in a full-out sprint for a couple of blocks until we caught up with it parked on another street. It turned out that the driver was picking up his dry cleaning before starting his daily route. Our driver was a young guy whose name might have been Clément (it sounded something like that), and he was dressed in a light pink button down shirt and wearing designer sunglasses. He turned up the radio so that the American jams blared throughout the entire bus… it was definitely a party bus.
After listening to some great tunes and seeing some incredible views, we got off our bus just a few minutes from the center of Cassis. I’ll let the pictures do most of the talking, because as you can see, this town was a perfectly picturesque representation of what a small Mediterranean town on the French Riviera should be like. 
The tiny little harbor was full of colorful sea vessels. 
Almost every chair was taken in the outdoor seating of the dozen of tempting restaurants, and the flow of people mirrored the flow of the tide. Lush vegetation overflowed from window flowerboxes. Blue, green, and pink shudders added a particular charm to the meandering backstreets.
In this part of the world, land meets water in a drastic and impressive collision. Steep, rugged limestone cliffs plunge into the turquoise waters. The Calanques, as they are called, are a series of inlets and coves that stretch along the French coast, and everyone from hikers, climbers, divers, kayakers, and sailors find a way to enjoy their
marvelous beauty. Sans hiking gear or scuba tanks, SK, Shenning, and I chose to investigate these natural wonders by taking an hour boat tour.Cassis is such a beautiful beach town and unlike any other that I have ever visited. We enjoyed our afternoon basking in the Mediterranean sun while trying to stay warm against in the brisk sea-breeze.
My weekend excursion to France was certainly full of unexpected surprises. I didn’t know too much about Marseille before arriving, and although I can’t say that the sights were super-memorable, the people blew me away. Discovering the beauty of Cassis and the Calanques was incredibly enjoyable and also unexpected. And that, my friends, is the beauty of traveling.
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