If there has been anything consistent about my trip, it’s the auspicious starts to each new city. There was the missed alarm in Porto, the 4 flights of stairs in Lisbon, the rain in Bordeaux, the walk from the train station in Sarlat, the lack of signage in Montpellier, the wrong date in Sète…you get the idea.

I think Marseille takes the cake. My first act in Marseille, after finding my hostel and a late lunch, was going to the urgent care. When I was in Sète, my left ear started to be clogged, and I thought it was just a normal respiratory reaction and it would go away on its own. It did not, and it turned into a full on ear infection with the worst ear pain I have ever had.

This is not the first time I’ve had to see a doctor while traveling in France. There was the famous 2011 case of either bed bugs or an allergic reaction to soap, and to this day, I don’t know what it was. But that time, I found a doctor during the week. This was late afternoon on a Saturday.

I walked into a pharmacy and asked where the nearest open doctor was, and he pointed me to the urgent care on the main shopping street in Marseille.

Even though I wasn’t in much of a watch and explore mood, it was fascinating to watch the crowds form as I passed. Marseille is both the busiest city and the most diverse city I have been in, and that was incredibly apparent as I made my way to the urgent care. People of all backgrounds—North African, Middle Eastern, Indian, French—mixed together at a fast pace, moving from store to store, getting on the tram, buying roasted chestnuts. The pace of Marseille was chaotic and rapid, a far cry from the other cities I had been to. In a lot of ways, Marseille reminds me of LA. Multi-cultural, fast-paced, gorgeous weather, a reputation of being a bit rough around the edges. As I made my way to the urgent care, this familiarity was very comforting (especially given my immense inner ear discomfort).

Here’s the part where I sing the praises of socialized healthcare. I got to the urgent care where several mothers with young children were waiting. I went to check in and gave a description of the symptoms, and I was told it would be a 30 minute wait and would cost 50€ since I didn’t have French health insurance. When it was my turn to go back, the doctor spent time diagnosing my symptoms, listening to me explain them (in French!), explaining her diagnosis (fun fact: you can get yeast infections (called mushrooms in France) in your ear from trapped water), and even trying to clear my ear out when I explained it felt blocked and I couldn’t hear out of it. I think she spent at least 15 minutes with me.

For comparison, I went to the urgent care on a Saturday in LA for a sprained ankle. I waited for 2 hours, having made an appointment in advance, and the doctor spent approximately 2 minutes with me and told me there wasn’t much he could do other than wrap my foot. With insurance, it cost more than 50€.

I am pleased to say that my ear feels much better now (though I wouldn’t have been opposed to an excuse for why I couldn’t get on a plane).

Upon returning to Vertigo Hostel to administer my ear drops, I realized a new roommate had joined my room and had set up a table for dinner in the corner. Katherine, a retired French professor, had come down from Paris for the weekend to escape the rain and see some shows. She was very, very chatty and so excited to tell me all about her voyage to Marseille and the shows she was seeing. It was a little hard to understand her with my stuffed ear, but we managed fairly well. I’m proud to say she was impressed with my French, even though not hearing myself made it even harder to speak. She also gave me a chocolate that she said had a little alcohol in it. It had a lot of alcohol in it.

It turns out that Katherine and I had the same evening plans. Knowing that my ear was going to prevent me from having a good time going out out, I decided I’d take advantage of a more low key activity and go see a play. Yes, having a stuffed up ear also doesn’t seem like it would be great for live theater—especially in a different language—but I was up for the challenge.

I left a bit before Katherine in search of a sandwich or something quick for dinner since I had a late lunch. It ended up as a Gary Walkabout (TM) only to find out La Criée Théâtre had a full and very lively restaurant when I got there. Cool. Alas, I didn’t have enough time to eat anything before the play started, but good to know for next time.

The play was an adaptation of an Aristophanes satire entitled “À la Paix!” but updated with Marseille references and made a wee bit more crass. Case in point, at the beginning, the play started with audience participation following one of the actors in a repeat after me game of charades that had the audience sound out “Merde!” by putting together four mimed syllables.

That “merde” was the first of many as act one continued in a dystopian version if Marseille where resources were slim and people were converting feces into energy using a machine. What followed was an irreverent look at humanity and why humans commit acts of violence and exploitation when we should be working together for peace. From what I could understand, complications due to the ear, not language barrier, amazingly, the play was very funny—if a bit blue at times. Even if I didn’t catch everything, I really enjoyed being in a French theatre and watching a piece because I know how important theatre is to the culture here. Talking to Katherine later, she thought the play was stupid and crass and didn’t understand parts of it. So maybe my lack of understanding had nothing to do with the ear or language…

The next morning, I left my hostel to go to try to find a flea market in a nearby neighborhood. While I didn’t find the flea market, I did pass Musée Cantini, a free art museum that had just opened for the day. I haven’t been to many museums this trip as I have preferred to spend my time wandering and taking in the atmosphere. With a free museum on my path, I had to stop. There’s something I love about small, empty museums. This gorgeous old building housed a handful of rooms showcasing paintings by artists who have spent time in the south of France, including Matisse, Picasso, Van Gogh, and countless others. I was the only one, aside from the docents, in most galleries, so I really got to take my time to admire the art. Having once had an anxiety attack in another, larger French art museum due to the crowds, this art experience was perfectly my speed.

When I left the museum, I continued on my path to find some amazing street art in a rather local neighborhood. Walking around in the morning—on a Sunday at that—there weren’t many people out, and those who were up and about were busy setting up their fruit stalls, cafés, and other shops. All around me, neighbors were greeting each other, sharing coffee and asking about their lives. Much like LA, Marseille has these very communal, cultural pockets that give the city so much depth and interest. I tried to look for somewhere to find breakfast, to no avail, but it was a delight just to wander and observe.

It actually was quite lucky that I didn’t end up getting breakfast in that neighborhood because my wandering took me back down to the old port. As soon as I got there, a small crowd had started to form under the central, mirrored awning. Then, a loud voice yelled out “un, deux, trois, quatre!”, prompting a band to start playing. As I approached, what appeared to be an small teenage marching band (minus the marching) was assembled and entertaining the crowd with their music. They were quite good. To add to the atmosphere, I looked to my right, and a lively market had sprung up where there definitely wasn’t one the night before.

I took it as a good sign that I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet as I wandered through the market tasting bites of cheese (still haven’t had enough cheese in France), pastries, jams, olives, and other delicacies. As Marseille is home to large North African and Ethiopian communities, I opted for an Ethiopian coffee and a a Lebanese wrap for my breakfast as I wandered back to the music. By that time, a large crowd had assembled, and the square came alive with people dancing and clapping along to “Let’s Get It Started” (on 2 and 4!). There was even someone with a large bubble wand entertaining the kids as they chased the large bubbles around the square. If there is one word I could use to explain the atmosphere that morning, it would be “joy”. And even with a stuffed ear, I was incredibly joyful.

The port also housed a Christmas market, though unlike other Christmas markets I have been to, this one only showcased Santons, or handmade nativity scene figurines of all types special to Provence. Not having a nativity scene of my own, I didn’t stop to purchase anything, but I did enjoy browsing the stalls to see the intricate work of the artisans. Each booth was unique, and the talent and care that went into each figure was so apparent.

Part of my reason for being at the port that morning was to join a free walking tour of Marseille. I hadn’t done any walking tours in other French cities, but Marseille felt so cumbersome that having a guide for the old city felt like a more manageable option. I met my guide, who happened to be an Argentinian expat who made Marseille his home for the last 12 years, and he took us around the old city focusing on the history of the architecture in the area.

He took us from Marseille’s founding by the Greeks in 600 BCE through Napoleon times in the old quarter. Marseille has always been a city of extremes—extreme poverty and extreme wealth—and that is evidenced by the history of the area. In fact, the downtown historically was one of the poorest parts of the city until various forces tried to change that.

One such force was the Nazis in WWII, who wanted to claim the downtown for their own and forced all of the poor out of their homes. Then, to make sure they never came back, they destroyed their homes and buildings, demolishing some 2,000 old buildings in old town Marseille. That number is staggering, and I’m not sure I could really comprehend the gravity of that as I walked through the rebuilt city. As I continued through, I thought of those who have lost homes or family in recent conflicts and said a brief prayer for peace as no one should ever experience that sort of unimaginable loss because of who they are. Putting the city tour in that context definitely put a somber tone on the rest of the walk.

As we continued through the oldest part of the city, Le Panier, our guide explained that that neighborhood used to be one of the most “dangerous” in Marseille. However, once the city won the EU City of Culture award for 2013, the money from the award was used to revolutionize and “clean up” the old town. Now, it is a “hip” neighborhood with many cafes, boutiques, and other cute attractions for the tourists who come to the Airbnbs in that area. Many of the old stores have been forced to close, and apartments have been replaced by short-term vacation rentals. As in Porto, tourism is a double-edged sword when it brings money to an area but also forces locals out of their homes and forces businesses to close. In the off-season, the area is near empty as many of the rentals go un-filled and stores shutter for the winter. I don’t know how exactly to reconcile my love or travel with the challenges of tourism, but for now I’m settling for supporting local businesses and staying in locally run establishments when I can.

A word about Marseille’s “danger”. Marseille is a huge, multi-cultural city that often ended up on “most-dangerous city” lists in Europe, at least pre-2013. However, much like Los Angeles, I believe Marseille gets a bad rap. Sure, there are parts of the city you don’t go to, and I wouldn’t walk around at night by myself (as I wouldn’t in LA), but the city also felt communal and welcoming. I have to wonder how much of its reputation is bias because it is not as pristine as other cities. Walking through Marseille during the day, I never felt unsafe or like I shouldn’t be there. In fact, I found it quite cool.

Our tour ended by MUCEM, a large museum built near the old port to celebrate the evolution of culture in the region. Part of the museum included an old fortress, which you could enter for free. Getting a bit hungry, I didn’t want to take the time to go through the whole museum, but strolling around the fortress was cool and provided great views of the old port.

Marseille is a city known for its seafood, particularly bouillabaisse. While I didn’t find bouillabaisse for lunch, I had a close second—moules frites (mussels with fries) in a cream sauce with a glass of white wine. In my mind, sitting on an old port with a steaming pot of mussels and a chilled glass of wine is the epitome of relaxation and vacation. Having fully shifted into vacation mode, I decided I’d take a few hours of downtime before heading out again that evening.

Having decided to give Bumble another try, I made dinner plans with a gent for that evening. Again, nothing better to do, and at worst it adds fodder to my ever-developing sitcom script. This dinner date was a far cry from my Bumble adventure in Montpellier in the best ways. To start, he made reservations at a restaurant by him. As it was Sunday, he wanted to make sure we had somewhere to go, and I wanted to see a new area of Marseille. The bistro was adorable, compact yet cozy. When I got there, he greeted me in the double kiss on the cheek fashion, and we sat down at our back corner table. Over a delicious glass of white wine and one of the best fish dishes I have ever had, with an incredible lemon risotto, conversation flowed all evening. As luck would have it, he is a middle school music teacher who loves opera and sings tenor (I won’t hold that against him). We discussed our love of music, the differences between teaching in France and in the US, and our favorite comedy series (he also loves the Good Place).

One of the things that struck me was how he found my living in LA to be a dream. A big American comedy fan, and a fan of Disney, he very much wants to visit LA for the experience. Guess it just goes to show, there’s always something alluring about experiencing something else—and it really did make me grateful for all I have in LA. We also discussed some of the heavier differences between our two countries, including guns, which led to me trying to explain the electoral college (in French!). As the nuance can be difficult for Americans in English, he decided he’d just look it up later.

At one point during dinner, he reached over and held my hand, which was very sweet. The night ended with him walking me to the tram station and politely kissing me. Later, I got a voice memo message of him singing and playing the piano. I guess you can say I’m a wee bit smitten. All along, I said I wanted to feel romantic on this trip, and this lovely evening felt just that. I have no idea if I’ll see him when I get back to Marseille, but even if I don’t, I can hold that lovely memory with me.

The next morning, I hopped on a train to AIX (okay, Aix-en-Provence, but I had to do it for the Miley reference). There, I had plans to meet my mom’s cousin Beth and her husband David who had recently retired to the city. I easily found them by Office of Tourism, and they showed me around one of the main streets, which had been taken over by Christmas decor, stalls, and rides for children. It was a bit funny to see all of the Christmas stuff with the vibrant orange leaves of the trees in the town square, but I suppose the same could be true for LA and palm trees.

We settled in for coffee at a very traditional, very tradition, brasserie on the big shopping street, and immediately started sharing stories. Like me, Beth and David love French culture and told me the way they ended up moving here and choosing Aix. We had so much in common from the get go: liberal politics, a strong interest in sociology, Candice Renoir… It was so easy to talk to them, and the time flew by. As we were sitting there, a friend of theirs came up behind Beth and kissed her on the cheek. We exchanged introductions (in French) as Beth explained who I was and how she met them (one of those funny, complete happenstance moments that form the best friendships). They ended up sitting at a table next to us, and we continued our conversation until we decided to explore a bit more of the old town.

Beth took me to see the old cathedral and town hall in Aix, and on the way there, we met another one of her friends. Aix is a city, but it’s really more like a big village. Being stopped by her friend as she was leaving the market, I felt like I was living in the opening song of Beauty and the Beast. But instead of the wanting “more than this Provençal life” and being annoyed by everyone knowing each other, I found it charming. Being expats, David and Beth had been able to build a community in their new home with people who they cared about and looked forward to spending the upcoming holidays with. As I consider whether I would like to move here someday, it was so lovely to see an example of a new chosen family being built.

Beth dropped me off in the center of the city, and we said “à la prochaine”, or “to the next time”. It’s so nice to know I have family in France if/when I decide to move…and who will help me with the paperwork.

As it was Monday, there was a lot closed in Aix as many shops take it as a day of their weekend. Despite that, I had a lovely time wandering around, exploring side streets, and visiting the bigger Christmas market and all its goodies. After a few hours of that, I made my way back to Marseille for a relatively quiet evening. I stumbled on a cool, trendy food hall for dinner that ended up. Wing the perfect spot to read a book before calling it a night.

I am now in Nice, but I’ll be going back to Marseille to round out my trip and head back home. To say I’m not ready is an understatement.

Highs of Marseille and Aix: My wonderful date and getting to connect with family.

Lows of Marseille and Aix: The ear infection. 0/10 recommend.

Biggest surprises of Marseille and Aix: A successful Bumble date and the low cost of urgent care.

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