Chanter la Marseilleaise

Thursday saw the start of a very exciting journey across France, and although I’d only been back for three days, it was still a nice feeling to be leaving the confines of Albi and heading out into unknown territory. Once again, public transport being our mortal enemy the trains were not working that day, so we endured a two hour bus journey to Toulouse before our adventure could really begin. But once on the train ‘à provenance de Bordeaux et à destination Marseille st.Charles’ (Sophie and I are really good at train announcements now), we settled in for the four hour voyage to the seaside.

Arriving at Marseille in glorious sunshine was a bonus, and using our inner-tourist to guide us towards an ‘office du tourisme’, we picked up a map and headed for our ‘auberge’ to leave our rucksacks for the real exploring to begin. After Watson and I (being Marple), had taken bets on the nationality and gender of our roommates (3 Americans, 2 guys, 1 girl, which I might add, turned out to be spot on), we decided that a hike up the hill to visit the Notre Dame de la Garde would be just the ticket after a long day spent on a train. We made it up to the top in surprising time and enjoyed the views over Marseille just as the sun was starting to change the colour of the buildings to a pale orange light.

The church itself was also beautiful; inside gold mosaics cover the ceiling and the brick from which it is built gives off a very expensive vibe.

Back down the hill taking a detour around the Palais de Pharos and not resisting the temptation to buy some famous ‘savon’, we eventually made it around the other side of the port and had a good wander before meeting up with Alastair from uni. We had a lovely meal and having made a slight dent in what we were planning to spend, we told ourselves we would ‘slum’ it the next evening. Little did we know…

We managed a little cocktail down on the front of the harbour, being happy hour of course we could not say no. After a while we returned to our hostel to meet the roomies and we had a little chat, getting to know what they were doing etc etc. Overhearing one of them on Skype later on was somewhat comical; ‘So I’m in this place which is on the coasty bit in France, I’m not really sure, but I think it’s called ‘mar-saaaaay’ or something like that’. I think I can honestly say that I have never stayed in a place and not known what it was called, and being the 2^nd French city after Paris, it’s not exactly some tiny village in the middle of nowhere…enough said.

Our roomies were up and about early the next day, and after much snorting and spitting during teeth-cleaning activities (on their part, not mine, I was wide awake and ready to leave the hostel. Not before breakfast of course, but once that was done we were out in the sun, unfortunately far earlier than most tourists would be and as such we found that most things were actually still shut and sleeping until late morning, leaving us to merely wander and take photos from the outside. Still, we took in the Fort Jean, the Mucem, the Cathedral, and then made the mighty effort to walk up to the Palais Longchamp. It was well worth it though, the fountains and the flowers were definitely picture worthy and we rewarded ourselves with a well-earned rest before heading towards the station.

Soon we were on our way to Arles, a smaller town/city on the Rhone, and it was nice to get away from so many crowds of people. Fewer tourists were about on the amphitheatre and so we were able to just take in the sights before making our way to the hostel. On arrival, we found that being part of FUAJ (equivalent to YHA), we were meant to have a membership card in order to stay there, however none of this had been in anyway mentioned when I made the telephone reservation. From our (always extensive) research we knew this to be the only offer of a hostel in the town and eventually the man in charge let us stay ‘sans carte’, but leaving us with the warning that if we told anyone he had allowed us in, he would ‘find’ us. So with that threat lingering in the air, we were in no way about to ask him how to go about renting towels and on finding our room, we wanted nothing more than a nice relaxing shower. This was not meant to be. Being the generous person I am, I let Sophie go first to suss it out and the look on her face when she came back said it all. Firstly the shower had been freezing, and secondly without a towel, we had decided the best course of action would be to use the blankets found in the wardrobe. Seemingly you would have been able to wear this blanket out in a monsoon and still not get wet because it was simply waterproof, which does mean that it was rather like trying to dry yourself with a piece of plastic… Still we managed a good laugh about it; at least I had a hot shower!

We set of in search of dinner, and to our dismay found we couldn’t use the kitchens because a school party were in. Luckily we found a nearby Lidl, offering a limited range of ready-meals and we trudged back with our plastic tubs of chicken and rice (which I have to admit were much tastier that the pasta and tomato sauce dinner that we have envisaged for that evening), and were at least given the use of the microwave. Topped off with some chocolate profiteroles and a carton of cheap wine (yes that’s right, a carton – we are just too classy), it was not so bad and the wine helped us to sleep away the memory of the hairy, useless blankets!

Once more up at the crack of dawn to get to the station, we passed through a market, and having been rationed at breakfast, we bought a pastry which got demolished en route to Montpellier. We were rather weary by this point and although we still did a lot of sight-seeing, we did eventually just flop down in the park to watch the ducks and the world go by. The Place de la Capitole, the Antigone and the little back streets were lovely; we even found ourselves looking at some of the buildings only to realise moments later that they were in fact ‘trompe l’oeil’ and merely cleverly painted facades.

Soon it was time to get the train back to Toulouse and then on to Albi, where the temperature had dropped considerably. Never has it felt so good to lie down on an almost-comfy bed as it did after our little excursion. All the same, it felt as though we’d been away for far longer than the three day reality and it was definitely something I’d happily do again!