In Marseille, it’s claimed, the weather is always beautiful: il fait toujours beau. The rains are brief and chased away by the sun. Unfortunately, I caught Marseille’s sun on a rare weekend when it didn’t shine, much less keep bad weather in check. I arrived in the city on a Saturday morning around 9, and by 11 it started raining, and wouldn’t stop for another ten hours.   

So my luck was bad, and I didn’t even have someone with whom to commiserate— I was traveling alone that weekend, lured by a 30 euro round-trip train ticket.

Marché et Manger

I traced the U-shaped port on my way to breakfast, looking out at the hundreds of boats anchored under a thick layer of clouds. In a fish market, fishermen carved humongous slabs of tuna and giant, black fish heads gaped on tables. I suspect that the vendors purposefully (and gleefully!) positioned the heads so that their vacant eyes stared at passerby.

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Breakfast with a view at La Caravelle

Maybe it was an effect of the grayness of the morning, but there was an ancient feel to the bustling market, the salty breeze, the ground under my feet. It was easy to imagine this same scene happening here a thousand years ago— sans the iPhones that recorded a fish gutting.

I had breakfast on the terrace of La Caravelle, looking out over the Vieux Port and its steely water. I read about the place in my Lonely Planet guidebook for France; it’s a bar but also recommended for breakfast. It was windy, but I didn’t mind because I was in Marseille eating a pain au chocolat that was absolute perfection, looking across an expanse of cream-and-mustard buildings to a giant cathedral on a hill.

MUCEM

It started to rain as I headed to the MUCEM, or Musée des Civilisations de l’Europe et de la Mediterranée. Its striking contemporary architecture is iconic in Marseille. Although I had bad luck with the weather, the karmic forces of the universe at least gave me a financial break: it was patrimoine (or heritage) weekend in France, so the museum was free. And thankfully so, because while the architecture is incredible the actual exhibits were not particularly engaging.

Tip: if you ever find yourself in Marseille on the first Sunday of the month, the museum is free.

Stamps and maps at the MUCEM

Le Panier

Despite the drizzle I spent a while wandering through the pretty cobblestoned streets of Le Panier with my umbrella. It’s a hip area, and gorgeous, with flowers bursting from windowsills and peeling pastel doors framed by vines and tiny alleyways and street art splashed on crumbly walls. Greek mariners settled here around 600 BC, and today the area is filled with art and bustling squares.

Tip: Le Panier is good by day, but my host mom told me it’s not so safe at night.

Eventually, though, I was cold and tired of walking with wet feet. I returned to my hostel for a couple of hours, feeling melancholy. The rain was getting me down. If the sky was blue and the sun shining I think I would have been dazzled by Marseille, but the city I saw that day was so saturated with water it was practically deserted. Through my disappointment I recognized how ridiculous I was being— I was so lucky to be in Marseille! Who cared if it was rainy? (But I still wallowed in my privileged sorrow for a bit…)

Dinner: an Odyssey

I had been looking forward to treating myself to a gourmet dinner at La Passarelle, recommended by my host dad (a native) and guidebook. This delicious Mediterranean dinner was to be the highlight of the day. Even though I was starving, I waited until 8 p.m. when it opened and walked there in the drizzly darkness, only to find a note on the door when I arrived that the restaurant was closed due to rain.

But I had a backup plan, so I walked 18 minutes to the well-reviewed Les Buffets du Vieux Port. However, when I arrived the hostess wouldn’t seat me. I told her I was alone, and she refused to give me a table, even though half the restaurant was empty! From what I could understand of her French, all the tables were for 2 or more people. I should have been short with her, but in the moment I felt thrown and very tired and the French didn’t come to me. Such unwelcoming customer service was unexpected, to say the least.

I ended up just picking the first restaurant I came across that advertised moules et frites, or mussels and fries. I had always wanted to try this French dish, and this felt as good a time as any since I was by the sea and the saltiness of my tears had me craving something savory. 🙂

The mussels came out steaming in their big bucket, the flesh tender and pink and salty— I’ve always loved the look of moules et frites because it’s so unconventional, eating out of this ridiculously big bucket filled with shells. The fries were fat and dusted with rosemary and so hot I burned my tongue. The service was fast, it had finally stopped raining, and I was content.

The Unglamorous Side of Solo Traveling

Afterwards I had planned on going to a couple bars, but everyone was drinking in groups, and I had the feeling that it wasn’t so normal to go out to bars alone in France, and I didn’t feel up to sitting alone at that point anyway, so I got gelato instead, and went to bed around 10:30. Travelling solo can be empowering and it’s often marketed as a mark of independent womanhood, but it should also be said that it can be lonely, too.

I was staying in a nice hostel called Vertigo Vieux Port. There were just two other girls in my room, and I was so tired I slept soundly, hoping my socks would be dry by morning so I could start a Sunday of exploring off on a good note.

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Breakfast at my hostel was wild because it featured a giant bag of baguettes— so French!