Day 1- In Which...I go to southern France to eat Mexican food.
I was so nervous on the plane from London Stansted to Marseille Provence, that I spent most of the total transit time (5 hours from Victoria Station Bus to Gare St. Charles) conjugating complicated verb tenses, rehearsing phrases I might have to say to Lexie's parents, and
even at one point going over the alphabet. I stood in line between two American women buying tickets for une navarette (a shuttle--new word #1) who didn't have enough French to buy a single train ticket for a bus that only goes to one other stop. That made me feel a lot better.After Lexie picked me up at the train station, we headed off to join her class for une journee de gouter (new word #2, it means awesomeness!) Actually, it means a day of tasting and involved sitting with her five other classmates, nibbling on FRENCH cheese, FRENCH bread, PROVENCAL tomatoes, and FRENCH wine, listening to her slightly zany teacher explain the reasons why different types of (cheese, bread, tomatoes,wine, etc.) taste different ways, and realizing that at least in terms of sitting in a classroom, I had lost almost no comprehension. Actually producing the language myself was another matter.
After class, Lexie and I set out for a grand walking tour of Marseilles/epic tortilla hunt. One of her classmates birthday party was that evening, and apparently their traditional party food was Mexican. Now, Marseilles is a major port town, with a huge immigrant population from many places. And I think I saw every ethnic grocery store in the entire city, and there were no tortillas ANYWHERE. We did find some in a normal grocery store, which also sold two types of salsa and "mexican seasoning."Meeting Lexie's host family was a significant blow to my comprehension ego. They were incredibly sweet and patient with me, but they speak French insanely fast. After chatting with her family, recieving instructions about how to buy ground beef, we set off for Vieux Port to see the city at night--and ultimately the party.
Day 2- In Which...I go to southern France to get rained on, heavily.
Lexie had promise me beach. I even bought a bathing suit and sundress for occasion. I was going to southern France, by my understanding Provence is like California--weather phenomenon outside of 70 and sunny simply don't exist.
They do exist apparently. Lexie claims it was the worst weather EVER. In Marseilles' defense it was 50 and drizzly, and she goes to school in California so her fortitude for enduring foul weather is...well, let's just say it's a good thing she's not in London.
We started out at a really cool outdoor market. It some ways it was like the Jubilee Market in Covent Garden, if slightly more eccentric, and in some ways more practical. They sell everything from soap to batteries, m&ms (which Lexie was estatic to find) to bathing suits, t-shirts, and underwear. And umbrellas. When it really started to rain, which no one was prepared for, it was an economics carnival. Umbrella's that where at one point 6 euros were going or 5, when the man in the stall next to the 5 euro umbrellas dropped his prices, the 5 euros dropped to 4 and then 3. It was incredible.
We sloshed from the market, past an Italian balloon animal artist named Michele and someone selling umbrellas for 2 euro, to a really fabulous couscous restaurant. As I mentioned, Marseilles has a huge immigrant population, most of whom are from northern Africa and brought their wonderful food with them. We each got a huge mound of couscous, a yummy veggie stew, an a
chunk (hunk?) of meat (her's chicken, mine lamb) for 5 euro. I have to say, between the quesadillas at the party, couscous for lunch, and the insanely good chicken, pilaf, and tomato soup we had chez Lexie, I ate incredibly well on this trip.After lunch, we decided to risk the possibility of more rain to do the "touristy" things in Marseille: Chateau D'If and Notre Dame de la Guarde. Chateau D'If, a former prision where the The Count of Monte Cristo starts, was an unbelieveably depressing building. But it was set on a beautiful island and we got a little boat tour of the coast/other island. Plus, Lexie and I got to reminisce about reading The Count of Monte Cristo (abridged, but still a million pages) in 8th grade. We also accidentally made this, large seagull, rather angry:
before reading this sign:
If you can't read the sign it says "Dangerous Seagulls, mating period. We couldn't figure out why
it squawked but didn't move when we took a picture of it. From about two feet away. oops.Notre Dame de la Guarde is a beautiful old church. I feel like every city I've been to on the program has involved at least one cathedral/church visit. But it was really nice to get some diversity in between all the Gothic Anglican churches we have seen in Britain.
After a delicious dinner with Lexie's host-family and a brief volcanic ash scare (in which I discovered there is a train from Marseille to London-granted it takes 16 hours and costs 200 quid, but it does exist- Lexie and I went to watch a football game between Olympique Marseilles and Lille. OM had already won the championship, so this game was more exhibition game than anything else. It was exciting, however, because OM managed to lose both their goalkeepers before getting beaten in 5 minutes of overtime: the first to a red card, the second to an injury in the last five minutes so h
e played to the end of the game.Day 3-In Which...I finally go to the BEACH.
Lexie had promised me beach, and although the weather wasn't perfect Sunday morning, my flight didn't leave until 2pm, so we went anyway. It was cloudy and the Mediterranean was cold, but I can at least say I got my feet wet!
We hung around on the beach for an hour or so, collecting and climbing on rocks and taking pictures of the beautiful scenery. Then I went off to catch my plane and return to my worried roommates who were convinced I was going to get trapped in France thanks to our friend the volcano.
It was a lovely weekend.
Love,
The Mouse
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