Winding down from North to South

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The first leg of my journey south to Spain landed me in Marseille. There was something happening at the station when I arrived and riot police had a huge area blocked off making navigating my exit a little difficult. I just took the nearest exit out of the building that I could find, so I wasn't sure which side of the building I was on. I didn't have a map, so the street signs weren't helpful. I had looked at a map on my tablet before I left Rotterdam, but without internet access I couldn't bring it up again. It was memory or street signs. The road signs pointed to the Vieux-Port, which once I got there I could find the hostel easily from my memory of the map. However, following road signs for cars in a town full of one way streets will not get where you need to go on foot. Not directly anyway. They took me in a circle. So frustrating! An old guy eating crackers and wearing grubby clothes asked me where I was going and helpfully pointed out the right way...which is where I thought I needed to go in the first place but since I ignored my instincts and followed the signs I ended up going backwards. With his directions (or hand gestures rather, he knew I was english and didn't try too much french with me) I ended up at the Vieux-port just before sunset. Marseille is very hilly! Walking around this town will give your calves a good workout. I found my hostel quickly from there, checked in and went in search of some supper.

Instead of finding food, I ended up at the edge of the port where the sun was setting behind an old fort with a park in the foreground. It was very beautiful! I watched the sunset for a little while, but the chill of the evening was sinking in and I still hadn't eaten. Backtracking towards the hostel I passed lots of restaurants and eventually decided on one, where I couldn't seem to communicate to the waitress that it was just me and I wasn't waiting for anyone else. Apparently its unusual for people to eat alone in France? Oh well, it was fine. I do know a little bit of French as I took it all through high school...but that was over ten years ago and there isn't much opportunity to speak french in western Canada. Especially in rural areas. It seemed that France was going to push me to drag that knowledge out of the back of my brain and put it to use. Its a good thing, I feel kind of useless only knowing one language sometimes. My french is terrible, but with practice it can only get better!

After spending one night in Marseille, I decided I wanted to explore the city rather than just pushing on for Spain. My very first trip overseas was to France with my high school french class, so I had been in the country before but we didn't go to Marseille. At my hostel I acquired a map with three walking tours of the city. I did the first one, and it was still early so I did the second one...wandered off course for a bit and ended up where I had been lost before and realized how close I had been to my destination before I got turned around. That was an irritating realization! Bah. Anyway. I took little breaks here and there, investigated a church or a park, and bought some soaps in a shop where the lady only spoke french. We managed to understand each other. Or rather, I understood her...she didn't really understand me. It worked out anyway. After the second walk I was feeling a little tired, but it was still early in the day so I started on the third walk. This walk took me uphill, past a church...which I skipped for now..and then further uphill, and up steps until I was sweating and short of breath...all the way up to 'the basilica.' It was worth the climb. You could see D'If Island and it had great views of the surrounding city and harbour. The church itself was like any other church of the time, richly decorated and huge. I took my time at the top since it took such an effort to get there, but eventually I descended back down to the street my hostel was on only stopping in a park along the way to enjoy the sunshine. (Finally some warmth!)

Marseille was a beautiful town, and I was quite content there! However, the wind was blowing me onwards.

I assumed that I would be able to go directly from Marseille to Barcelona...they really aren't that far apart. Nope. Seriously, by this point you would think that I'd plan ahead a little bit. I ended up having to wait at the train station for an hour to catch a train the first of 3 trains to get to Barcelona..at 9 pm. Shitty. This ridiculous schedule also left me in Montpellier for 5 and a half hours waiting for a connection. Well the upside to this is that I got to see Montpellier. The downside to this was that I had to carry my pack around with me because there were no lockers in this station. Fun.

After being very curtly informed by an arrogant jerk at the station information desk that there were no lockers, I walked out to the front of the station. There's always a certain amount of chaos in front of train stations no matter how small the town is. I didn't really know where to go. To my right there was a McDonalds...that wasn't too appealing but I knew I would probably end up there at some point while I was killing time....and directly in front of me across a little square was a park. Even though the weather was cool and windy I felt sitting in the park was preferable to sitting in the station. I found a bench where I could organize my belongings and condense the stuff I was carrying into my backpack so I would be a little less awkward wandering around. Then I sat and contemplated the very large boulder/fountain in the centre of the park. It looked like it been pulled out of a cave. Its hard to describe the way in which it was different from other boulders, but it was. As I was trying to decide what was all over this massive rock a couple of high school girls were chattering on the bench next to me. After listening to them for a few minutes, I decided I would use my time in Marseille to look for a french perfume that my mom likes and I would ask them where to go to find the shops. As I mentioned before my french is very rusty, and fairly limited. I thought about how to phrase my question before I approached them in case they didn't speak English, which seemed likely. They were receptive enough to me, and after determining that no they didn't speak english I asked them if they knew where to buy perfume. They understood! whoo hoo! They argued a bit about where would be best, but gave me directions...which I understood. This was a fabulous success! I asked about the other direction, because it looked like a main street where there might be shops. That was an emphatic no, don't go that way. OK! So I said thanks, and carried on my way. I stopped in at a couple of shops and didn't have much success in finding the perfume I was looking for, but I was able to communicate to the shop ladies in french well enough for them to understand me and with a mix of english and french we got along all right. Montpellier is a beautiful town with lots of pedestrian areas and park space. There was another boulder fountain in a pedestrian area, this one had a cherub carved kind of emerging from the rock. It was bizarre looking. I spent a couple of hours wandering around. I didn't have a map so I could only go as far as I could remember the way back. Plus, my back pack was heavy and it was cold so eventually I gave up my explorations and headed to the McDonalds by the station for a snack and a warm place to sit with my awkward luggage. I spent the rest of my time wandering back and forth between the station and the park, but rain eventually drove me inside where I waited and people watched until my next train eventually arrived.

As I mentioned I arrived in Barcelona at 9 pm. The nice thing about Barcelona is that they have a very easily navigable subway system. I did ask which line I needed from a guy and he gave me an underground map. With that I was set. After I got off the train it was a different story. I had the small map that I ripped out of my guidebook...but it was beyond useless. Again this was an issue of street names changing every couple of blocks. At first I couldn't see any street names, so I picked one and walked down it until I could find a sign. It didn't seem right, so I turned around. I knew the hostel was very close to the station so I knew I couldn't be on the right street. A lady who only spoke spanish managed to communicate to me through gestures that I was in an area with lots of pick pockets, so to keep an eye out. I showed her the address I needed, and even though she wasn't totally sure she thought I should take the street to our left. You know you look lost when old ladies randomly stop to help you. That's not good...I never want to LOOK lost. By this time it was 10 o'clock at night, and I'm wandering around tired with a backpack. Of course I look lost. I found the street I needed and start walking down it. I cannot find the hostel. I walked a couple of blocks and noticed the street name had changed. I had gone to far. I stopped in at a hotel and asked the woman at the front desk if she knew how to get to the address. She directed me back the way I came. I walked more slowly this time but still could not find the hostel. I was literally three buildings from being back where I started. I stopped in at another hotel for directions...this seemed a little safer than asking the random guys on the street. This lady told me that the street I was on continued on the other side of the square with the metro station, but it wasn't directly across, I would have to go across on an angle. Who the fuck engineered this? I crossed the square where the street continued on for another block with this name before changing again. I still had trouble finding the hostel because the building numbers don't go in order AND the hostel was in and apartment style building with a bunch of other businesses. There was no sign, only a small logo beside the name on the buzzer. I feel frustrated just remembering how frustrated I was at the time. This was also a hostel with a reception that closed at 11...so I was pushing the time limit. I did manage to send them an email before I left Marseille that I might be late, so I was fairly confident that they would wait for me if I didn't make it in time. They were happy I was there in time as well, they have lives too. So Barcelona and I didn't get off to a good start.

The hostel was really cute with stained glass windows in the breakfast alcove and a little balcony area so that was nice to come into after wandering around lost. I felt calmer in that atmosphere. The next day I slept in a little and then set off to explore. I used a mix of foot power and the underground. Its spread out enough that it would be hard to just walk everywhere. I checked out a few of the sights, but I really wasn't in love with Barcelona. It was rainy and cold and I think I was just grumpy. I didn't like the La Familia cathedral. It felt depressing and anxious. I walked around it and debated going inside, but the crazy amount of school kids and the long line to get in deterred me. I walked back through the city instead. I felt better leaving that monstrosity behind me.

I left Barcelona the next day and headed for Valencia. Valencia was a happier experience, but this entry has become quite long so I'll separate things a bit and leave it for another day.

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