Team Wiener's winter Break, Part II - I wish I were a Marseillaise

When our train crossed the border from Spain to France, I expected the change to be obvious. But then it dawned on me that the French likely wouldn't have put up a big sign that says "Bienvenue à la France" at the border. But what surprised me was that the scenery didn't change at all ... the Mediterranean was on the right and everything was green on the left. Tiny fishing villages with pastel houses clung to the coastline and vineyards dotted the landscape inland. It was unlike anything I'd seen in northern France, which reminded me that the only French cities I've really seen are Lille and Paris. Before Marseille I don't think I gave France enough credit for being fantastically varied and diverse.

We arrived at the Marseille St. Charles hilltop train station just in time to see the setting sun turn the city shades of orange and pink. The architecture, food and disposition of the people at first seemed distinctly un-French. The boxy buildings, pasta and friendly people seemed more Italian at first (Marseille, after all, was founded by the Romans). But then I remembered the French national anthem, "La Marseillaise." I didn't get a chance to discuss this with any of the locals, but knowing the French as I do I assume the people of the city for which the national anthem is named are as proudly French as any Parisian.

Our day of travel also happened to be Amy's birthday, but all we did all day was sit on a train and that's not a great way to celebrate, now is it? So when a guy in our hostel (a fellow American named Liam) invited us to go to the beach with him, we did. It was a five-minute walk from our hostel and mon dieu was it amazing. We could see all the stars and big, dark blue waves were crashing against the shore and an enormous jetty made of white rock.

We shouted happy birthday to Amy above the roar of the waves and shrieked as the sharp gravel on the beach invaded our flip-flops. It was a moment I'm sure I'll never forget. Since it was cold and windy, we went looking for a beach side restaurant where we could get a dessert in order to properly celebrate Amy's birthday. We found a place called l'Equinoxe with a big, glass-walled dining room overlooking the beach where we shared a giant bowl of sorbet and fruit and taught Liam some French.

The next day we set out to explore Marseille but didn't realize how far our hostel was from the main hub of the city -- the Old Port. We spent a good hour trekking along the Corniche John F. Kennedy (a promenade that stretches along the coast) in some very intense wind. We finally found a bus that took us to the Old Port, where we spent the rest of the day. We found a sunny café with cushy chairs where we had Camembert sandwiches and Orangina. We took a boat to a nearby rocky island where we ate ice cream and hiked the rocky cliffs for the view. The sea was beautiful, but it became even more beautiful when I remembered I was looking at the Mediterranean.

I only got a tiny glimpse of Marseille, and the Provence region, but I loved it there and now I want to go back. Marseille appealed to me in a very different way than Paris or London, although I love those cities too. I relate to those cities on a professional and cultural level, but my heart bonded with Marseille. It was like when you meet someone at a party and you just like them without necessarily knowing why.

I'd love to go back to Marseille and see more of Provence. I'd like to backpack around for at least a few weeks and see the fountains of Aix that are hundreds of years old and see Arles, the town that so inspired Van Gogh. Who's with me?