Off The Coast of France

Marseilles was a handsome and rugged coastal city on the Southeast of the Mediterranean. Cute and colorful villages were layered on top of each other molded to the silhouettes of mountains. It's the oldest city in France hugged by the deep valleys of the Calanques fjords. Most streets had that winding San Francisco hill feature with arm-length wide alleys leading to stairs of crumbled concrete. Everything was weathered by the sea.

A whisk of all things sea welcomes your nostrils as soon as you step foot off of the metro. The city center is divided by a commercial port that fosters tourism by water. Marseilles wasn't romantic or tense like Paris, but more of a refreshing getaway to Greek-like zen.

My favorite part of the trip was the train ride from Paris. Imagine a three-hour landscape of sunny mountains, St. Patrick's Day green, bridges spanning over great rivers, wine vineyards, architecture made of rocks, and a Parisian man eating two baguettes on a train in the middle of French nirvana. So much for those small European portions. It was stunning!

When I arrived to Gare de Saint-Charles main station it was as diverse as Wikipedia told me. My Couch Surfing host had me fooled. I thought she was Indian, but turned out to be Cameroonian. Her flat was minutes away from the city center with a window view of Notre Dame de la Garde. The church is nested on the highest natural point in Marseilles, often referred to as "la bonne mère" (the good mother). She was a friendly and fun stranger to find over the internet and then ride 16 hours to finally meet. That was my first Couch Surfing experience; and I'm definitely doing it again! We visited the "La Plage des Catalans" - a city beach where Marseilles locals were still scuba diving like it was freaking summer. The weather wasn't as "Mediterranean" as I wanted it to be.

My host kept me under her wing the entire weekend giving me an ultimate local's point of view. We hung out with all of her bilingual/trilingual friends who craved pancakes?! As a true American I was expected to be able to make pancakes, but not speak French of rehearse the The Bill of Rights. I lived up to this faulty stereotype and prepared the most creative pancakes I've ever made in my entire life. I invented a recipe from crêpe flour mix adding loads of ingredients that tasted good. The French thought my pancakes were awesome and were forever amused by our fattening choice of a breakfast item. One girl asked, "So...this is what you eat for breakfast?" And I proudly answered, "Yep and sometimes with chocolate chips. It's another one of our inequities." Over pancakes, we discussed French perceptions of Americans. They probably forgot that fact that I was the very subject of their criticism as they continued to make jokes about America's lack of culture and ignorant citizens. Good thing I'm light-hearted. I feel slightly motivated to learn another language so that I can show the French that Americans aren't as self-centered as our politics. Almost every person I met spoke enough English to engage in a conversation. English has become a universal language in which I happen to be an expert in. Thank Gawd! Oh yeah, and they asked me why God is so popular in the U.S. The SUN is on our money, in our text messages, daily conversations, and don't even let me get started on the church. I wanted to make a really intelligent comment about the Age of the Pisces that we are in, but playing dumb was much more fun. "OMG, I didn't even realize we used that word so much." (Side note: We are in the Age of the fish or Pisces which is the reason why we are being taught by Jesus today. Remember the man who fed the masses with two fish?)

On Friday, they took me to a hip-hop club where the black French added "Zimbabwe" to the Grapevine and dressed like American gangsters with beautiful diction. It just didn't look right. Also, I learned this weekend that I'm NOT a fan of that European double-kiss on the cheek greeting. I find it invasive and a dermatological hazard. Out of respect I do it anyway, all the while I'm silently gagging and worried about catching Eczema. I'm hyper-sensitive about human germs that come in direct contact with my face. I'd rather give a thumbs up or something. The next night we went to a university party full of a another group of bilinguals who were extremely open about their sexual orientations. In fact, a group of guys were chanting "Vous êtes gai" ("You're gay"), while dabbing each others nipples with red wine. How FREAKishly French is that? I was waiting for the pigeons to fly in to peck the tobacco crumbs off of the floor. It seems to be the case that Europeans smoke at 16, drink and drive at 18, and then turn gay in college. I saw four erotic acts (within 10 minutes) of alleged homosexuality before I made that judgment. When a drunken fool pulled out his man parts in front a group of mans, I turned halfway homophobic. If it were America, it would be two blondies in wet T-shirts making out on camera in South Padre Island. So I guess college parties are homogeneous-natured all around the world.

If I didn't have a local French-Cameroonian showing me the way, I wouldn't have developed my Afro-Arabian-neighborhood-finding intuition. We walked through the markets, ate Arabian food, took advantage of their cheap ass bakeries (French chocolate croissants are amazing), and even witnessed bloody sheep being unloaded from a truck. The Muslims were celebrating Hajj. It is the largest annual pilgrimage in the world. Most of the Africans in Marseilles are from the northern countries of Morocco, Tunisia and Algeria. Even at the southern tip of France, all Arabs double as terrorists and women clutch their purse when a black man gets on the elevator. Racism transcends geographic boundaries. On that note, I was surprised to not smell any won tons in a Chinatown or protect my valuables from the Turkish. It was a change of scenery, that's for sure.

I wanted to go the Mediterranean ghetto to visually compare economic misfortunes, but apparently it's not a sight to see. The only touristy thing we did was take a boat ride near the Calanques to capture an amazing panorama of the city. I regret not waking up early enough on Saturday to go hiking in the Calanques. That would have been a funny hindsight. ME mixed with nature's dirt, rocks, bugs, and soil? HA! I'm about as outdoorsy as having a drink on the patio with citronella candles and Mother Nature in the picturesque distance behind the mosquito net. This has been my most authentic trip so far. I prefer traveling alone - it leaves more room for random adventure.