The other side of France

I've been to France a couple times, and both times have been just Paris, only Paris. Albeit it is one of my favorite cities, and likely always will be. It feels like something is missing when all I know about France is Paris. As the first stop of this Provence trip, I landed in Marseille. 

I've read and heard a fair bit about Marseille before my departure, and it screams the opposite of fabulous. So what exactly is Marseille? I wonder. 

First of all, it's sunny. In the middle of the city, there is a picturesque port with sapphire blue waters and white sail boats. Being the oldest city in France, I guess Vieux Port is where it all began. 

Then there are a lot of people, both residents and tourists. But not those kind of obnoxious tourists. The pace is an adagio, all I wanted to do was be myself and people watch. Get a gelato by the port, under the ferris wheel. The laughters and chatters were the perfect background noise. It has to be the sound, I realized. It was nothing but French that I heard. 

As the night falls, so goes the buzz. I picked a neighborhood restaurant with tables on a terrace. Every time I dine by myself when traveling has been an unique experience. I get to focus on the food and am not obligated to converse.

Between each course, it was a moment of self-reflection. It's a beautiful evening. The trees are lit up around the terrace. The breeze is refreshing and I'm far far away from stressful thoughts. 

Finishing with a cheese course. I'm deeply thankful of how lucky I am to be here. 

Perhaps Marseille is dangerous and ugly. What I feel with all my sense is that Marseille is alive. It's not a city from a storybook. You don't have the fairytale but you have the authenticity. Don't stop being who you are. M for Marseille.