July 21, 2008: Marseilles, France
From Holland we went to Marseille, which is an old port city in France. It is actually the oldest city in that country, dating back to 600 BC, and is filled with architecture from the 15th century. The second day there we were joined by our good friend Ivan, who traveled from Bulgaria (an exceedingly corrupt country, as we learned from the BBC in a highly dramatic news special) to meet us there. Since none of us spoke French, Ivan was our personal diplomat and translator. But, while he is a true bro for joining us on our journey, he is not yet free from the corrupt ways of his country, as for before leaving the hotel and parting ways he “accidentally” stole Danny’s pants.
The first day, before Ivan arrived, we slept from 2pm till 10pm. Later on, we slept again. From midnight till noon. (We were very tired after spending the previous night in the Eindhoven airport.) For Dre, however this sleep schedule is not out of the ordinary.
The second day, after failing to do ANYTHING touristy (we even ate dinner at McDonalds the night before), we met up with Ivan and headed for the beaches. We walked around the port area, where in some places the sailboat masts were so dense that you couldn’t see past them.
After four hours at the beach we decided we were hungry. Thanks to the trusty Let’s Go Europe guidebook, we found a diamond in the ruff, a North African restaurant called “Ivoire.” It was a small hole-in-the-wall place in a kind of sketchy part of town, but the wild starburst of flavors we experienced was mind-blowing. We ate family style, ordering a fish (we emphasize “a fish,” because it came whole, with head and tail intact), chicken with rice, and beef with fried banana and couscous. The woman who took our order and owns the restaurant, and who refers to herself as “Mama Africa,” was extremely motherly, and is the only person on this trip to ask us for a picture. Much of her act was clearly a tourist gimmick,
but she was a doll nonetheless.
The third day in Marseille we took a boat trip to an island twenty minutes off the coast called L’ Chateau de If, which houses the Marseille version of Alcatraz. The old jail was built entirely from a sand-colored stone and was converted from a castle. Apparently, it was a military stronghold for many years, and legend (i.e. the tourist brochure) has it that fathers would send their sons to the prison for behavioral reform, and, in some cases, for making no plans after graduating college. (Yikes!)
Later that night, while walking through the streets, we heard in the distance the agonizing wail of a Joshua Redman saxophone impersonator. We immediately followed the sound, ran up a long set of stairs and found ourselves in an outdoor patio watching an authentic French jazz trio perform. There was a picket-fence-like roof covered with ivy and bubble lights, and the patio was built out of old brick. It overlooked a small narrow street where we had been walking, and the rest of the night was cool and very relaxing. We tried the local beer and sat there for about an hour while listening to the band play jazz standards. The music was great, and we even requested a song, “Beautiful Love,” which they played… beautifully.
After the set finished, we supped at a very French restaurant, where we had another excellent meal of fresh Atlantic Salmon and pink wine. Then we got a bottle of local Marseilles wine, as recommended by Matt Penman (we’re not worthy!), and enjoyed it in a park in front of the Port Vieux. It was very romantic, yet again. At least this time Ivan was here so Dre wasn’t the third wheel.
The last cool thing we’ll mention was our hike (basically up a mountain) to the Basilica of Notre Dame de la Garde, which is the highest point in Marseilles and is unquestionably the best view of the city and port.





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