Marseille Vieux Port
- rnv178
- Jun 21, 2022
- 4 min read
I am not very good at breakfasts. I need to be left alone, ignored, and not included in any conversation. Breakfast is that time of day when the human body should be permitted to awaken slowly, assisted by food, endless coffee, and silence. The problem was, at the Hotel Bristol Palace in the heart of Genoa, this was impossible. The staff were grumpy and seemed to regard us as unwelcome interlopers, while at the table nearby were three glum tourists, one of whom was coughing, seemingly without end. Her two male companions, both overweight, had been driven to silence. The pandemic has changed the world in many ways, but one is a vehement suspicion of coughing. For some reason, many tourists we have met on this journey have been spluttering, wheezing, and generally unhealthy. The table beside us in the hotel’s Giotto Restaurant, was no exception. I normally duck and dive when I hear a cough, but at breakfast this action was impractical. I had to take it like a man and trust to good fortune.
In contrast were the at least dozen young ladies scattered around tables through the dining area. Each youngster showed perfect poise, was thin, fit, well presented, dressed athletically, with long hair tidied in a bun. They were ballerinas, each one, as there was a festival underway in Genoa, so dancers from around the world were attending. The ballerinas, there were no males, were in contrast with the coughing lady in the corner. Sickness surrounded by health.
I am unsure why we ordered coffee, other than it is traditional for our breakfast. When it did arrive, the liquid was tepid. As for a refill, we would have had more success winning the lottery. By the third time of asking, 15 minutes’ later, I gave up, went to the nearby coffee counter, and offered to make and carry my own. The point was made, a refill appeared, and with it the faintest smile from the staff member who had first greeted us with a grunt. Hospitality is in trouble, and not just at our breakfast. Plenty of staff training is required.
To escape Genoa, we had to pass by the city’s port, on the way to our next destination of Marseille. It was easy to see why the port is the busiest in Europe. It stretches for more than 22 kilometres of coastline and covers 700 hectares of land and 500 hectares of water. There are 47 kilometres of maritime ways and 30 kilometres of functioning quays. Genoa will take some beating - it is massive, and strangely attractive.
Breaking free of Genoa, it did not take long to reach Ventimiglia and enter France. Around us were the foothills of Alpine mountains, across which illegal immigrants pass from one country to the other regularly. Yet we were also disappointed, as the south of France appeared more developed than we remembered. There were a few hilltop villages but not so many as in Italy. It was dry, parched in places, with the outside temperature reaching more than 35 degrees Celsius. We found the service station loos to be untidy and felt instantly suspicious of a Russian vehicle parked under cover, its engine running and no sign of driver or passengers inside. It looked heavily laden with a car boot that was likely packed full. We hastened onwards.
The environs of Marseille are untidy, not helped by the large coal-fired power station at Gardanne. It is ugly and our eyes began to sting for the first time in weeks. I had no pollution monitor with me, but had I done so, I wager it would have read off the scale. There was graffiti, too, but not of the same artistic quality as Italy. Mostly it was obscenities scrawled on any available vertical surface. I am no supporter of graffiti, although very occasionally it can be arty. Approaching Marseille it was hard to see anything artistic at all.
In Marseille, we had chosen to stay in the Vieux Port, which many regard as the landmark of the city and the focal point for much of what it does. The area was renovated in 2013, the same year as Marseille was appointed the European City of Culture. The Vieux Port was where Marseille began, in 600BC, when Greek settlers made landfall there and set up a trading post. It is the setting for the Count of Monte Cristo, with the Chateau d’If lying just offshore. Plenty of movies have been filmed there, including Love Actually, James Bond’s On Her Majesty’s Service, and The French Connection. Marseille Vieux Port is a see-and-be-seen location, not that we regarded ourselves in that category.
We walked around the harbourside, the harbour itself being crammed with boats. There were so many it surprised me that any could move. Maybe they go nowhere I thought. Perhaps they just float and look beautiful. Certainly, they appeared clean and tidy but considering the number of craft moored to the many pontoons, there was barely any marine activity. Perhaps they do just sit there and look nautical.
There was a ferry across the harbour, which we took as well. Marseille’s ferry boat was first launched in 1880 and is now an eco-friendly, solar-powered vessel. The crossing took barely any time but was a good way to see the Vieux Port from the water. The chap at the helm was manifestly expert, and brought the ferry alongside like a master, without even the tiniest bump or lurch.
There is a skill in bringing vessels alongside in Marseille. A small ferry is one thing, but a mega-cruise liner is another. In the distance, I saw one negotiate the tiniest of passages to come alongside. If there was a metre of clear water either side of the liner as it passed through the harbour entrance, that would be an exaggeration. Yet it entered without a scratch. The liner was ably assisted by a pilot boat, which was clearly expert, but being a sailor in Marseille cannot be easy.
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Stayed at:
Sofitel Marseille Vieux-Port
36 boulevard Charles Livon
13007 Marseille
France
Tel: +33(0)491155900
Ate at:
Carré Bistromanie, 36 boulevard Charles Livon, 13007 Marseille, France
Tel: +33(0)491155900
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