“Marseille is… today the only one of the ancient capitals that does not crush us with the monuments of its past… It is not a city of architecture, of religion, of literature, of academies or fine arts… It is easy-going and jovial. It is dirty and rundown. But it is nonetheless one of the world’s most mysterious cities and one of the most difficult to decipher.”

— Blaise Cendrars

I read this quote in an exhibit at the MUCEM, and it stuck with me. Coming to Marseille with a strict itinerary won’t work; it’s a place best experienced by wandering. I felt a little lost in Marseille. Something about the city unsettled me and put me in a strange mood— at the time I attributed it to the rain, but I think there is something mysterious about the city. Some kind of moody, restless spirit. After all, it’s an ancient port city, a place where goods and cultures and ideas have always been exchanged. A city edged by the sea, and we all know how the sea can be capricious. A city where the people were so independent that a fort had to be built to keep their revolts in check. Today it’s France’s second-biggest city.

“People from Marseille love Marseille. They think it’s the best city in France,” Emilie, my host mom, told me when her Marseillais-born husband wasn’t around. “But many people hate it.”

While still cloudy and gray, thankfully my Sunday in Marseille wasn’t nearly as damp as my Saturday. I appreciate the poetic sentiment of a rainy day, but in Marseille the rain is more melancholy than compelling… After all, it’s the sunniest and driest major city of France (AKA the irony of my trip) so I don’t think the city knows what to do in the rain.

Fort St. Nicolas

Around mid-morning, I walked to Fort St. Nicholas. Louis XIV ordered its construction in 1660 to protect itself from the rebellious people of Marseille just as much as from foreign invasions. Normally to visit you have to contact the tourism office, but since it was patrimoine weekend its doors were wide open.

There wasn’t much to see beyond cool architecture, but it had nice views of the port. Nowadays it’s used as a center for ACTA VISTA, which is an admirable organization. It recruits out-of-work people to restore old monuments, giving the previously-unemployed professional training and pride while also reviving iconic heritage sites. I liked how tangible and effective its mission is.

Afterwards, I walked around to the other side of the port and stopped at a market along the way. In Marseille it’s obligatory to buy soap, so I bought a little bar of framboise soap made from olive oil. I also stopped for a bit at a headband stall. The man who ran it had the air of a sailor, with sun-weathered skin and gold winking in his ears and wind-blown salt and pepper hair. He spoke French, Spanish, Portuguese, English, and a little German, and I left with a bohemian headband and fresh advice on learning languages.

Fort St. Jean

I spent a couple of hours exploring the stunning Fort St. Jean. It was built just after Fort St. Nicolas, and was damaged centuries later during World War II. Here, little stone passageways and winding paths open up to seascapes and sweeping harbor views.

I loved how I could take dozens of different paths through this fort, meandering through fragrant gardens and diverting up a spiral staircase to a tower and lounging on steps and hugging the seaside railing. I could really own my visit and find moments of peace and quiet, rather than being shepherded around in groups of people like at other touristy places.

Early afternoon I stopped for a beer at a portside place called Café Beau Rivage. My feet ached from walking and from my wet-sock-induced-blisters, so it was marvelous to sit facing the water and watch passersby. I drank La Chouffe on draft, which is my favorite beer I’ve found in Europe so far. It reminds me of my go-to beer back home, Blue Moon, and has an equally whimsical name.

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Basilique Notre dame de la Garde

My last major stop of the day was at the Basilique Notre Dame de la Garde. It sits on the highest point of the city, something that doesn’t fully sink in until you’re trudging up the ridiculously steep street to reach it— a street that people inexplicably live on! I bet they have great legs.

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Halfway up I was already out of breath, and all I could do was laugh at how ridiculous the climb was. Later when I headed back down, gravity was forcing me to walk so fast that I had to hold on to posts to prevent myself from tripping over my feet.

The church was pretty and the scenery, of course, incredible. I had 360-degree views of Marseille, and it was dizzying to see just how big the city actually is. The craggy cliffs and chalky rocks and dry vegetation created a landscape that was alien to me, with houses spilling over the hillsides. It was beautiful.

Marseille is impossible to pin down in just a weekend, so I won’t even try. But I will say that it is grungey and dirty and sometimes sketchy; it’s artsy and cool and energetic; it’s moody in the rain, and marvelous to behold from Fort St. Jean, where you can see the sea melt into the port and spray against rocky shores.