A Beautiful Day to be in Marseilles

I had a wonderful sleep last night and woke up thinking today is definitely a beach day. And since Marseilles sits on the mediteranean coast, I have plenty to choose from. I found a brochure for a hop on-hop off bus tour around the city that stops at several beaches. I headed for the docks, where the tour departed, and kept my eyes open for an internet cafe. Right down the street I noticed a Holiday Inn. I walked through the doors to reception and there they were, two glorious computers with high speed connections, accessible USB ports and a printer (which I had no intention of using, but was still pretty nice). I happily bought a prepaid card and spent some time surfing.

An hour later I was again off to the docks. I boarded my bus just in time and even managed to get a seat on the top (though considering I shared the bus with only 10 other tourists, this isn't  as great of an accomplishment as I make it sound). Within minutes I was off for "Le Grand Tour" of Marseilles. We drove around the port, along the coast, through an adorable residential district to the Notre Dame de la Garde, then along the coast again and past all the beaches. Past all the beaches? I thought. Why aren't we stopping?! Suddenly I noticed a red button with "stop" printed on it. I nervously pressed it. The bus came to a halt at the next scheduled stop. As I got off I explained to the driver that I had missed my stop and was hoping to get to the beach. He took my bus route map (which pretty much ended at the current location) and began drawing and explaining directions. "You come to a hippendrome..." he begins. A hippendrome. A hippendrome? I've heard this word before. What did it mean? As I racked my brain for a definition he continued, "Contour...". Contour? Like "turn"? Does contour mean turn? Probably. Hopefully. "A la plage" he finished, drawing what I assumed to beaches on the margins of my map. My interpretation of his directions: Turn right at something you can't miss and you will eventually arrive at the beach. I hopped off the bus, confused and praying to a god I don't even believe in that I find my way to "la plage".

After walking down an empty street that turned into a narrow path I was relieved to finally end up at a humongous beach. Hooray! It was packed with fellow beachgoers and suprisingly windy, but I was so excited just to be there. I found a spot on the sand, laid out my blanket, stripped down to my "cozzies" (that's aussie for bathing suit) and began working on my tan (I have acquired these horrible tourist tan lines from all my sightseeing and I'm very anxious to get rid of them). The weather was perfect, sunny and warm. The blue skies were empty of everything but seagulls. The only problem was the wind. The sand was so light that even the slightest breeze picked it up and blew it over everything. Whenever there was a large gust, I could feel a sheet of sand stick to my entire body. I only lasted about an hour before becoming too uncomfortable by the layers of sand growing on me. Luckily, I did manage to get a bit of color and a little nap. I quickly rinsed off in the ocean and walked back to the bus stop.

The bus dropped me off a few blocks from my hotel. I immediately took a shower as soon as I got into my room. Afterwards I walked backed to Place Notre Dame du Mont, that hip little area I had visited the night before, in the hopes of finding some ice cream. I was disappointed to find that the square that had been so full of life only 24 hours ago was now only occupied by a few kids on bikes and rollerblades. The only music I could hear was a man in the distance trying to play his guitar. All the shops and cafes were closed. No ice cream here. I sat down and wrote for awhile before taking the Metro back to my hotel. I spent the rest of the night reading, writing and watching "Video Gag" (the french version of "America's Funniest Home Videos". Good to know americans aren't the only ones who routinely fall into bodies of water and get kicked in the privates by children).

It's barely been a day on my own and I'm already feeling desperate for some english conversation. The only things keeping me sane are BBC World News and my own inner monologue (kinda like JD's in Scrubs, but not nearly entertaining enough for a primetime sitcom).