It was time to leave Nice behind and move westward again. We had a certain number of days before boarding a ship in Barcelona to return to the US, and we planned it out roughly to make the most of our remaining time in Europe.
We dragged our bags, yet again, to the station (a lady on roller blades was buying tickets) and caught the train for Marseille. We were soon in wooded country along the sea and arrived later that afternoon at Marseille's large Gare St. Charles.
We rolled our bags out the door and peered down the Grand Escalier. We had no idea there would be a huge, although beautiful, stairway to deal with. We rolled back inside and looked for a better exit, going down escalators to the Metro, cutting through there, and bumping our bags up a short flight of stairs to reach street level. At this point, the surroundings didn't look much like our crude map, so we rolled our bags downhill into the city and finally asked a guy if he knew where our street was, and the Hotel Vertigo. He told us, in French, of course, and pointed back uphill.
It turned out our hotel was visible from the upper veranda of the Gare where we turned around to look for an exit (the picture shows that view) and we could have easily rolled our bags down an adjacent ramp. It was like our Istanbul experience when we dragged our bags far uphill and then realized our hotel was way back down there right behind the train station. We don't mind getting some exercise now and then, and tons of baggage are helpful that way – it feels like tons sometimes. Now that we'd found the hotel, we only had to drag our bags up two more flights of narrow, winding stairs (there's no lift!) and crash in our room for a while, with a view of the street and a poster of a bull-fighting Minotaur on the wall. At least we're still young enough for this.
After a rest we found a good traditional restaurant (they served vegetables!) just a block away and enjoyed the kind of hearty meal that mom would cook up – if mom were French. We ordered a carafe of good local red wine to go with dinner. Thereafter we referred to the place as "Mom's" and ate most of our evening meals there. The only hitch was that 'mom' had strict rules and would not serve dinner before 7:30 p.m. If you were hungry earlier, that was your problem, young man.
In the morning we were ready for a 'petit dejeuner' of coffee, baguette and juice, in the hotel lobby before heading out to explore the city. Our filmmaker friend, Eric Breitbart (http://www.breitbartfilms.com), told us of the funky-fun and cheap Hotel Vertigo (fans of old Cary Grant-Audrey Hepburn films?) that his friends own. There were kitchen facilities in a large common area, and we enjoyed talking to an Argentine accountant, a Japanese art student, a Catalan guy studying music production, and a young woman who was a polymer Engineer from Seattle. You meet interesting people at places like the Hotel Vertigo.
With a population of 860,000, Marseille is well over twice the size of Nice. It's a big city in an historic location that has been occupied for over 26 centuries by Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Visigoths, what have you. Like many Mediterranean cities, this is a place of deep history, as well as having important modernist roots. We would discover quickly there's a lot to see and do in Marseille.
The Vieux Port is an easy walk from the hotel, and the clash of art and fishmongers makes for an interesting mix. A mirrored-ceiling installation provides endless interest for kids, and others. There are inviting shops on the side streets, and wall paintings, a carrousel, and a huge 'trompe l'oeil' wall suggesting a massive archway into another century.
We see a poster for "Le Gran Atelier du Midi," an art exhibition being held in both Marseille and Aix-en-Provence, featuring the major artists (Cézanne, Matisse, Van Gogh, etc.) and many others who painted in the south of France. We had seen that poster months ago in Paris and thought we'd attend those exhibits while in Marseille. Then we realized today is the last day, and there's no way we can do both exhibits! We quickly grab two tram tickets and head uphill for the Musée des Beaux Arts where there's a long line just to buy the tickets that entitle you to stand in an even longer line to enter the museum. Luckily, our legs kept us vertical for the next hour and a half while we inched forward to the door. Unluckily, they allowed no pictures inside the exhibition.
This was one of those events that told the entire fascinating history of this important artistic movement, and how the building of the Paris to Marseille railroad opened the south to Parisians of all kinds, including artists. We really wanted to buy the program book to read later, but the ones they had were all in French and we doubted we could get through it. We settled for a much cheaper (and lighter!) pamphlet in English.
After a long and wonderful day in the museum, we walked back downhill to the hotel, enjoying the everyday life of the city. Yes, they also have 'lost cat' posters and political commentaries on their walls.
We awoke to a rainy morning – somehow that's always more romantic in France – and walked back down to the harbor between drizzles. We ducked under an umbrella to order cappuccinos just as heavy rainfall swept the area, and waited it out. During a break in the weather we walked another block or so until more heavy rain forced us into the very informative (and free! and dry!) city facility that showcases all the local museums.
Inside were enough innovative displays and videos to keep us well occupied until the rain cleared away outside.
The weather broke and we emerged again into that special kind of sunshine which characterizes "The South of France," and which attracted all those artists many years ago.
Back at the dock we encountered a scene that was common in the days of wooden ships, but is rare today – a pair of stout wooden masts and all the rigging emerged from the water where there used to be a large sailing ship, converted to a floating restaurant.
The area was cordoned off with warning signs and fencing. A sad occasion indeed for another proud remnant of a bygone era.
A stairway took us uphill into "Le Panier," a warren of narrow roads favored by artists and other creative people. At the upper stair entry a message recounts the German army's destruction of a large area of the Panier with bulldozers during World War II in reprisal for attacks from the local French Resistance. After the war much of that area would be rebuilt by modernist architects and would lose its ancient charm. Luckily there's still plenty of the old Panier left to enjoy today.
There are many artistic experiences in the district, and there's a new one around every corner. Experimental theater, graffiti, posters, street cafes, and 'art installations' that may be more-or-less successful – they all beckon for your attention.
And sometimes, a long-weathered doorway suggests that the best artist may well be Time itself. A vista shows the dramatic tension between fine old buildings and the new architecture of dynamic Marseille.
We walk to the Place de la Joliette and catch a bus to L'Estaque to take "Le Chemin des Peintres de L'Estaque," ("The Pathway of the Painters of L'Estaque"). We had considered just walking there but now realized how far it was and how unattractive the route is along the industrial port area.
We guessed as to the best bus stop and soon found ourselves watching old guys playing "boules," the French version of bocce. There's something new around every corner.
A short walk got us back on the right path and we were experiencing the same views that inspired Braque's experiments (among others) in Cubism. While the views are still a fine way to spend some quiet time – even if you don't paint – it must have been magnificent in the early 1900s before the port became so industrial, and there were wooden sailing ships at the docks and on the horizon.
Farther along, there's street art, and slogans, and 'natural art' from pine trees on the way to another famous painters' vista, the Riaux viaduct.
But soon it's time to catch the return bus to Marseille and another fine dinner at "Mom's."
For those of us with an interest in architecture, especially those of us influenced by the Bauhaus and other Modernists (both Carolyn and myself), a visit to Marseille is not complete without paying homage to the ghost of Le Corbusier (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Corbusier).
We take the metro to visit his famous "Cité Radieuse" to experience it firsthand. Due to the destruction from World War II, this is the city where 'Corbu' and other Modernists would put their theories into practice on a large scale. There was a tremendous need for housing to replace that destroyed in the war (the Russians probably had it worst of all) and new construction techniques that embraced the 'beauty' of raw concrete were welcomed. Were they successful, or did they leave a dismally bland legacy of cookie-cutter buildings? Probably the answers are "Yes" and "Yes." I recall a story where Mies van der Rohr, a leading Modernist, was asked how he felt about where Modernism had taken us. He said (I'm paraphrasing here), "Sometimes when I wake in the morning, I put my head in my hands and wonder where we went wrong."
Good Modernism is very hard to do. If you're not one of the masters, you might be better off leaving it alone. Unfortunately, many developers read Mies' dictum, "Less is more" as "Less is cheaper," and we see the boxy results everywhere today.
At the Cité Radieuse we question the mostly-unusable, grungy-looking, and expensive open space below the building, but we soon enter an elegant lobby that reminds us of some of the best of Modernism. After playing with the 'mobile' hanging in the lobby and clowning around with Corbu's Modulor, we'll take the elevator to the roof for the view, and work our way back down.
On the roof we look out across drab Corbu-inspired apartment blocks mingled with charming red-tiled roofs, and the immense new Pavilion the city is building.
A couple of floors down, we're surprised by how dark and unpleasant the corridors are in Corbu's 'Radiant City.' This is a problem exacerbated by sun baffles on the exterior of the building needed to (I guess) reduce overheating in the summer because of all the glass in the design. One might ask why he didn't just reduce the glass, but that could violate a major tenet of Fundamentalist Modernism. And this is where it becomes perilous territory, where Architecture resembles Religion. As a Southwesterner who grew up in the sunlight celebrated by the Taos School of artists, I was troubled that he excluded the light so thoroughly. I understand the need to concentrate a city's population to support local merchants, mass transit, and other city services, but I think I'd have much trouble living in such a dark and sterile space when there are charming older and sunnier alternatives nearby.
From the highly-planned Radiant City we headed back into the welcoming chaos of the city below, to grab a quick lunch at a local 'hipermart' on our way to the Musée de Art Contemporaire ( [mac] ), a mile or so away. It's the home for challenging new works located by the "Pouse de César" ("César's Thumb") (cesar, artist) monument at a traffic circle.
Modern Art is not for everyone, although I often find things worthy of my attention and I'm glad to be challenged by the rest. That's better than some 'art bureaucracy' telling me what to like. Or not. I was especially glad to see a large piece by Basquiat (http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/basquiat/street-to-studio/english/home.php), a member of Andy Warhol's New York entourage. He died young, but his limited body of work showed great promise.
On our way back we encounter street scenes, enticing shop windows, and a musician practicing in a metro tunnel (he refused the Euro I offered) as we make a beeline back to Mom's for another fine dinner and a ridiculous dessert. Calories are great, if you work them off first.
The next day we find another artsy narrow-street section of town with some good (and much bad!) graffiti, another chaos of posters, 'wall angels,' and Espace Julien, one of the city's nightlife hotspots. A lost dog poster features a cartoon drawing of the dog!! Very helpful indeed. We wolf down a delicious Döner Kebab and head onward to the Musée Cantini.
This will be our last day in Marseille, so we'll try to do as much as is reasonable. At the Cantini they're exhibiting the works of César (the 'Thumb' guy) and pictures of the odd Pont Transbordeur that used to exist in Marseille to lift cargo over the harbor entry. Judging by the pictures, it was quite a Rube Goldberg affair.
As for César, that's one of his "Compression" pieces that Carolyn is studying before entering the museum. He did a lot of work in steel and poured fiberglass (his "Expansion" series), but pictures were banned inside. Sorry.
From the Cantini we head down more winding streets (lots of those in Marseille!) to the harbor, and we're shocked by the price of a cappuccino. So we end up at a McCafe. Anything goes when you're desperate. Outside, a dog is carrying his own leash in his mouth, walking himself, I guess.
We're in the 'beautiful wooden boat' section of the harbor and there's always time for that on a fine sunny afternoon. On our way back to the hotel I buy a bag of fresh roasted chestnuts from a street vendor and we pause at a good local street market before heading back for a last night in Marseille. We had planned to visit nearby Nimes, or Aix-en-Provence, or the Van Gogh Museum in Arles, but there was simply too much to do in Marseille. I have a feeling we'll return someday. But tomorrow we're off to Barcelona by train. —PRW
A NOTE FROM CAROLYN: As I read over Perry's wonderful prose for this entry, I am struck by the absolutely breathless quality of it! We saw, felt so much in so short a period of time, and Perry's narrative has us running always for more! It was and is difficult to digest it all. Might I say that Marseille was a beyond expectations kind of a place. I would go back in a heartbeat, because we didn't even scratch the surface!