Day 17: Some departing thoughts on France

 

    Admittedly I've only been to two French cities, and so I warn you to generalize at your own risk. Nevertheless I give myself permission to comment on France, since (a) that's what blogs are for – exaggerated and biased commentaries that misrepresent the world to the world, and (b) with couchsurfing I've had the privilege to live amongst the locals and get a better glimpse of what life is really like here.

    According to the Parisians (according to the Marseillais), France consists of two regions: Paris and everything else. The everything-else part is called "province." Non-Parisians find these terms insulting. I don't blame them - I know I'd want to hit someone of Canada suddenly became Toronto and everything else. But it's true that when foreigners think of France, they usually think of Paris first. Maybe they'll think of the Cote-d'Azur next, basking in sunshine and money.

    In Paris life is like this: you live in a room that fits a bed and a desk. Your bathroom fits one square shower, one toilet and one sink. Your kitchen is either the size of your bathroom, or is actually in your bedroom – it is a half-size fridge on top of which are two burners for cooking. Full-size fridges and stoves are a luxury. Baths are a luxury. Space is a luxury. You pay at least $1000 per month in rent. You navigate through the immense spider-web of metros every day to get to your menial job on the other side of town. You work six days a week. It's cloudy. You're a smoker. You've paid $15 for one drink in a bar several times. But! Wine and cheese are cheap. You eat pastries and baguettes and brioches every day. You live on a beautiful old street in a cool building with creaky wood floors. You meet boys who actually like to dance and cook. You meet girls who are classy and crazy. You have lost your inhibitions. You go to parties in boats on the Seine. You go for walks and get lost in the parks and walkways. You have forgotten what boredom feels like.

    There is something addictive about Paris. You ride its energy, you leave in relief of peace, but you are soon hungry for more. In Marseille it is the opposite. You arrive strung-out and needy. You leave numb and satiated. In Marseille, life is like this: work is a luxury. You go for boat rides down the coast and organize barbeques on the beach. You have paid $2 for a drink in a bar several times. You eat Arabic specialties every day – honey cakes and doner sandwiches and mint tea. You listen to local music and speak to your friends in the local accent. You are part of a community. It's sunny and breezy. On the down side, every day you navigate through piles of dog excrement instead of metro lines. If you have a job, you work in a poor and isolated suburb. And some things are like Paris. You have a two-burner stove and a half-fridge as your kitchen. You're a smoker. For breakfast, coffee and bread are basic necessities, along with jam or Nutella, but never eggs or cheese. You don't complain, nor feel the need to.

    I'm going to miss France sorely. I'm on the train, and with any luck I'll arrive in Torino tonight. But you'll either chuckle, cringe or roll your eyes when I say that there actually is no train to Torino from France today. I botched my plans. I was under the impression that I would be able to just hop on the train and sail merrily away to Italy today, but the train schedules are apparently irregular. So I'm going to the French-Italian border and from there I'll cross my fingers (an expression which I tought to a young German named Norbert with whom I went hiking on Tuesday) that a train will take me to Torino. A couchsurfer is waiting for me to arrive tonight, so it's kind of important…

    I realize that I haven't written much of what I've actually done in Marseille. The photos will be self-explanatory (when I'm finally able to post them). It's also true that the best moments are sometimes photo-free – no subliminal messages there, but sometimes a camera spoils the moment.

    Just arrived in Cannes, so if you'll excuse me I must go saunter with the great comédiens français, à bientôt!