Why I didn’t like the beautiful French Riviera
Do you ever think about how easily external opinion influence your own? I do. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel pressure to be constantly blissing out on this trip. It’s the same well-intentioned social pressure you may feel before ending a long-term relationship, quitting your job, or moving away. It’s a fear of letting people down, and it’s powerful enough to be a total buzzkill. But traveling isn’t always bliss-topia. Sometimes it’s lonely, challenging, and downright exhausting. But if you love it enough, you welcome this side of things. So I’ll just get it out now — my 2+ weeks in the French Riviera were kinda whatever…but that’s okay! However gorgeous, I found the southern coast to be mild and predictable. And that’s totally fine with me. Here’s a quick summary explaining why:
It’s enduringly pleasant and consistently picturesque
I visited three cities: Montpellier, Aix-En-Provence, and Marseille. I’ve already shared my weird experience WWOOFing at the organic winery, but I didn’t dive into the actual city of Montpellier. That’s because I barely saw it. It was a 30+ minute car ride from our remote winery location, so trips were limited. Overall, I spent three nights enjoying Montpellier nightlife and one afternoon trip to the Mediterranean Sea. University students comprise nearly 1/3 of Montpellier’s population, so it’s easy to hop between lively pubs, bustling diamond-in-the-rough Indian joints, and vibrant wine bars. There were typical winding, medieval alleyways coiled within a somewhat logical downtown, all laden with polished marble (why?!) and cobblestone. The city centre blooms outward from Place de la Comedie, a giant plaza housing oversized fountains, a grand old Opera House, a major tramline, and mom & pop shops dotting the perimeter.
And that’s about it. All fantastic, crazy-old stuff with interesting history, but honestly I’m bored just writing this. Here’s the tl;dr. Everyone was nice.
Aix-En-Provence was a bit better. Last week, I wrote about how I leveraged the small town’s jumbled city centre and pastoral trails to decompress from the intensity of the last couple weeks. I zoomed out and noticed similarities between the WWOOF winery and the frustrations I experienced back in SF. I realized how important this lesson was — again, wherever you go, there you are. How do I learn to solve the problem, not the circumstance?
Marseille was spicy. I liked that everything felt a tad bit dirty. I liked the grit. It felt like the Mission District in San Francisco 10–15 years ago. Walking around alone would’ve been fine, but I quickly made a fantastic hostel friend who’s on a similar journey to my own. Together we trekked over 15 miles in two days ranging from the salty wooden piers of Marseille’s Old Port to the turquoise blue coves of the Calanques.
I mistakenly chose the weirdest accommodations possible
Whipping up a two month adventure on the fly demands some serious ‘namaste’ vibes. Surely you learn how to be at ease ‘in the moment,’ but that often comes with a cost. For example, I accidentally booked an outrageously-expensive-yet-still-dirty hotel in Aix-en-Provence that I understood to be a cheap, cheery hostel. I thought I’d be paying 63 euro total, but walked out 147 euros poorer. Whatever, it happens, right?
Three bus rides and a metro line later, I arrive at my next Airbnb/hostel in a calm, rainy corner of Marseille. I’m greeted by an old, shirtless man whose belly reminds me I should cut back on my beer intake ASAP. He’s seated at a table chain smoking and chortling away at weird music videos on Youtube. The space lends itself more to a garage converted into a makeshift house/hostel. He tells me he actually lives in the Philippines now, but he returns to Marseille for summers. He was EXTREMELY nice and very welcoming. He sets up a glass dining table in the middle of his street, and throughout the day, his neighbors flock to the table to smoke, chat, and watch weird videos with him. His name is Jean.
Here’s the best part. There are two mezzanine areas above the common living space. Each mezzanine has six mattresses laid side-by-side. There’s one private “room,” but the two mezzanine areas essentially have zero privacy. I’m a very tall lady, and I couldn’t even sit up without having to bend my head down. It was perfect. It was, in essence, exactly the lofted treehouse adventure nest of my childhood dreams. NO PARENTS ALLOWED.
Do I regret spending this much time in the South of France? Absolutely not. I stayed long enough to form a valid opinion and to know that I probably don’t need to go back anytime soon. So after two days in Marseille, I was excited to say goodbye to the mild and pleasant French Riviera in pursuit of the regal and lively Lyon. And wow, did I fall in love with that city and its people. Don’t worry, I am actually excited to write that post. :-)
Until next time, mes amis!
