Wonderful, Beautiful Fucking Marseille

First a few pics that demonstrate why this town has immediately won me over…

If I lived in France, I’d live in Marseille. I’m sure of it. Nice is nice, Paris is cultural, Bordeaux is pretty shitty, but Marseille? Great food, great street art, perhaps the friendliest people I’ve met in Europe and a multi-cutural soup bowl that is worthy to be the home of bouillabaisse, which it is. Marseille is my kind of town.

Dog friendly, graffiti filled, fisherman town filled with a melange of African, Arab, European, and everyone else. The only bummer about Marseille is that I’m suddenly a bit ill on my second day here. This is a definite grippe and the culprit is no doubt a lack of sleep at home and in the Sahara last week, the flight here, and the fact that in a town that gets 300 days of sunshine, I arrived on one of the other 65. Today was a total deluge and even with the big umbrella provided by my new favorite hotel chain “Mama Shelter”, I still got drenched.

It was fine but as the day went on, I started to feel a real malaise that four cups of coffee didn’t get rid of. Then my back and neck started hurting and even though there is a lively crowd downstairs in the bar, I can’t seem to find the energy to go down and enjoy the sounds of the DJ and hang out with my new friend Bobzilla.

Instead, I’m up here in my big comfortable feather top bed lounging amidst four big down pillows on super soft, super clean white sheets while looking at an iMac TV and using the fast wifi. Sure, I’d love to be down there, but feeling like this, I realize I need to be resting. This is just the beginning of almost 3 weeks in Marseilles and London so I figure it’s better to be down for the count at the beginning than down for the count for the entire trip.

The World Travel Market in London next week is too important to be sick for. Maybe if I go to sleep now, this fever will go away. If not, at least I’m in a five star bed with plenty of luxurious accouterment to keep me company. The toilet is just a few steps away and all mine – though, I’m a bit bothered there isn’t a bidet or a bum washer. My anus just can’t handle paper anymore. There it is…if you can’t handle my anus making an appearance once in a while, you’re definitely in the wrong place.

Come to think of it, given the reputation Marseille has – it’s no wonder I love this town.

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