wandering the streets

Marseille Travel Blog

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It's great travelling on your own and not having a fixed schedule because you can ask the advice of other travellers and learn from their mistakes.  Like how everyone I met told me not to go to Marseille because it's dirty, boring, and unsafe.  So I have spent three days here anyways and found that it truly is dirty, has few things to do, and while it's not San Francisco, it isn't exactly Mill Valley either (I was going to say Emeryville, but I realized it actually is a little Emeryville).  But there is a nice harbor with tons of restaurants and a huge church atop a hill from which you can see the entire city and nearby islands and marvel at how warm it is even in December.  So what's not to love?

Oh, let me tell you what's not to love - train strikes.  Or, le greve.  First, nearly all of the trains to Marseille were cancelled, aside from the slow regional one.  Which was okay.  But then we sat on the train for over an hour before we actually left.  There were periodic announcements in French that I didn't understand, but I could tell they were all bad.  But my policy is that as long as no one is actually leaving the train, it can't be that bad.  We finally started moving, only to stop again at the first station we reached.  I am fairly certain this was because of an explosion on the tracks in the train ahead of us.  Awesome day for French rail travel, really.

On a random note, I have the worst stomachache ever.  In france, of all places, after making it through the meat-and-potatoes bonanza of eastern europe.  Maybe it's all the cheeeeeeese.  But tragic not only because it's interrupting the culinary extravaganza, but also because there is no tea and chicken soup here!  At least, none that I can enjoy in vast quantities while sitting on the couch in my PJs watching non-critically-acclaimed films starring Reese Witherspoon.  Life is so hard.

Life is also hard when even the waitresses make fun of you for eating slow.  I know I'm slow, but usually only my male friends and Joanna are permitted to comment.  Out of all the random things one must see working as a waitress, how can my slow eating be noticable enough to elicit comment?

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photo by: voordax