Deux Sœurs à Marseille.

This April, my sis Betty and I took our first trip together, to France’s second largest city, Marseille, originally baptised Massalia by the Phocean Greeks which founded this trading hub.

Marseille’s inhabitants, les Marseillais, have a reputation for being short tempered and irritable, supposedly thanks to Le Mistral, the Northern Mediterranean wind current which pummels through the region. Apparently too many strong gusts make us a bit tetchy.

But, judging from our interactions here, I would contest that. The kind madame who showed us the way through the rocks to the Calanque de Morgiou. Little Karim who was visiting the Vieux Port with his mother, and made puppy eyes in our direction until we shared our fresh strawberries with him. The friendliest habibti with piercing green eyes, who let me pay for my Moroccan mint tea in Dirhams when I had ran out of Euros. Her mother, who sat behind the tea stall and was overjoyed to hear my best attempt at a « Shukran jazeelan. »

In Marseille we found the sweetest mint tea, the ripest fraises (strawberries), the tastiest pizza (my bestie Suzanne may not forgive me for this betrayal to Italy, but herbes de Provence on pizza just hit different). And, we found some pretty decent people too…