Visitor Information

Places to see
www.Marseille-tourisme.com
The Tourism Office conducts guided tours to suit all interests, on foot or by bus. It is necessary to book tours at the Office, which is at the city end of the Vieux Port on La Canebière. You can also follow a self-guided trail around the old Le Panier district with the aid of a map and a red line marked on the ground. Tip: As in all large cities, be street-wise - when you wander around keep your valuables out of sight at all times.

Food...
Famous for its seafood, you cannot visit Marseille without sampling freshly caught fish. Many restaurants serve bouillabaisse, the traditional Marseillais dish, in varying quality - expect to pay 40-50 Euros for the best. Imaginative set menus which won't break the bank are available within a few compact streets on the south side of Vieux Port centred on Place Thiars.
The Marseille fishermen and their wives sell the previous night's catch on the Quai Belges at the city end of Vieux Port by the Metro. The shallow trays under blue umbrellas contain a curious selection of sea life, all of which is scrutinised by shoppers before selecting what and from whom to purchase for supper. Market daily until 1pm.

Soap making in Marseille dates back to the ninth century and has continued throughout history, only coming under threat in the last century when modern technology could produce soap cheaply and in huge quantities. Three companies still survive today and continue the authentic production, with gentle fragrances and a wider range of toiletries to satisfy the demand for pure luxury products.

Savon de Marseille is made from vegetable oils, the olive oil giving the traditional green soap and the palm oil making a light beige colour. Look for the stamp with the weight and '72% d'huile olive', essential proof that it is authentic.
La Compagnie de Provence - In a street behind the Hotel de Ville, La Compagnie has a beautiful selection of luxurious toiletries and traditional soaps with contemporary style. There are other shops selling authentic Savon de Marseille.

Santons (miniature Saints) were traditionally made in plaster or wood for the home, after post-Revolution church closures. Now made in terracotta, they are mostly used at Christmas in the nativity Crèche. Arterra have developed the santon, and make beautifully figured characters from all walks of life. Visit their shop and studio in Le Panier district where you can see them being made and decorated.
www.santons-arterra.com

Marseille - On The Edge....

Ever wondered how it might feel to be Gene Hackman's streetwise cop in The French Connection? Or simply to retrace the footsteps of Marcel Pagnol? Either way, the reality might be a lot closer than you'd imagine, as we discover in old Marseille. Nothing has prepared me for the vastness of Marseille spread out far below as I burst like a cork from the final tunnel at the southern end of the aptly-named Autoroute du Soleil . The Big Blue meets the Big City. And for the full effect I've travelled down in the tyre tracks of generations of French families bent on spending les grandes vacances, as always, on the shores of the Mediterranean. The token re-enactment is, however, short-lived. Instead of continuing on to the nearby Côte d'Azur, I swoop down towards the looming sprawl of Europe's largest commercial port. The high-octane final approach, a surreal flight on soon-to-be-demolished elevated concrete passerelles, passes between giant cargo vessels and cruise liners on the seaward side and a motion-blur of faded stone warehouse and office façades on the other. Here and there a flourish of art-déco evokes the heady days before the strains of the jazz-age gave way to the anonymous hum of traffic. Suddenly the vieux port flashes into view ahead, looking exactly like its French Connection screen persona, complete with original soundtrack combining the urgent pan-pon echo of police sirens with the dull, staccato clank of rigging against the masts of yachts shoe-horned into every available space around the huge basin.

But it wasn't always like this. The town has been around for at least 26 centuries, making it by a comfortable margin the oldest (and most multi-cultural) in France. The tradition of welcoming strangers began in 600BC when the Celto-Ligurian locals received Greek explorers from Phocea in Asia Minor. The result was the port of Massalia, born of a great love affair (and enduring marriage) between Gyptis, the local chieftain's daughter, and Protis, an influential Greek adventurer. By the 4th Century BC Massalian vessels were busy discovering the coasts of Africa, the British Isles and the Arctic Circle, keen to expand their trading links. With the arrival of the Romans came new overland routes, which established Massilia (as they had subtly re-christened it) as the pre-eminent centre of trade in the Mediterranean.

Inevitably, of course, its prosperity attracted less welcome attention, and as the port's defences were strengthened so its military role grew in importance. If the term 'vieux port' suggests a sleepy fishing inlet, think again; despite the photogenic Italianate architecture overlooking its broad quaysides, the sheer scale and rigid geometry of the harbour are a direct result of an order from Louis XIV in 1666 to create a new port for the French military fleet. The base would be defended by two fortresses: the fort Saint-Jean to the north (incorporating a 12th Century command post built by the Knights' Templars) and the fort Saint-Nicolas, its counterpart on the newly-developed southern side. Then, after installing their seaward-facing artillery, the king's military engineers added an additional battery of cannon aimed in the opposite direction - towards the town - lest the occasionally wayward Marseillais ever be tempted to waver in their loyalty to the monarchy.

As it turned out, the navy eventually outgrew its facilities and sailed off to a new home along the coast in Toulon, freeing Marseille to concentrate once more on what it did best. By the mid-19th Century, though, history was repeating itself, as sustained growth in overseas trade forced a relocation of commercial maritime activity to a purpose-built site offering almost limitless potential for expansion at nearby La Joliette. With the pressure off, the vieux port now became the domain of appreciative local fishermen and, more recently, leisure sailors.

For everyone else, particularly motorists during rush-hour mayhem, getting from one side to the other has proved challenging. Between 1905 and 1947 pedestrians and cars could travel across on a colossal ironwork transporter bridge (like that which still survives at Rochefort), while today's traffic has the more discrete option of a tunnel. After parking the car I opt for an atmospheric aller-retour on the diminutive antique ferry which shuttles foot passengers between the Hôtel de Ville and the Place des Huiles, enjoying a glimpse of the vieux port at its best, from the water. Half-way across the view takes in the bustle of la Canebière, one of Europe's most famous boulevards, but I decide to do as countless new arrivals have done and start exploring elsewhere.

For those who came by sea during the 19th Century industrial boom, the search for a new life often began among the warren of narrow streets and alleyways hidden away behind the northern quayside, on the site of the original Phocean hilltop settlement. You'll look in vain in the list of 111 official quartiers for 'le Panier' but it's real enough, and still resonates with the residual echoes of those who passed through en route to greater things, and of others who never made it and simply stayed put. The colours of the painted shutters and ochre façades seem somehow more vibrant than elsewhere, even in Provence, creating (or re-creating) an atmosphere more evocative of Naples, Corsica or Maghreb. But there's something else, the unmistakable evidence of the long period when the area was actually home to the Marseillaise bourgeoisie, until they were seduced during the 17th Century by new, more spacious residential developments across town.

Those who replaced them inherited the steep climb up the Montée des Accoules (the rugged stone escalier later made world-famous by The French Connection) which inspired the local description of le Panier being a 'village pour les chèvres'. Above lies the Place des Moulins, a small haven of calm despite it having once accommodated no fewer than thirteen windmills on a site originally occupied by a Greek temple. Today there are few signs of its former frenetic activity, and the surviving modest artisans' cottages have recently begun to be snapped up by imaginative Parisians looking for a second home with a difference in vieux Marseille. Maybe in time the effect will filter down through le Panier but right now the neighbourhood remains faithful to its popular image, despite the presence of a handful of new businesses among the faded façades of traders now long gone. In Rue du Petits Puits I chance upon a boutique inspired by the world-famous 72% olive oil Savon de Marseille (which boasted around seventy producers during the 19th Century). Nearby is the Atelier Arterra, where skilled artists are patiently hand decorating miniature Provençal Santon figures.

Le Panier's biggest surprise, however, is la Vieille Charité, created as a hospital during the 17th and 18th Centuries to accommodate the sick and wretched under one giant Roman-tiled roof. For all the Classical elegance of its airy stone arcades, the sheer scale of the multiple storeys, running unbroken around four enormous wings, give some indication of Le Panier's social problems at the time (as does the fact that every single window opening faces inwards). While he was at it, its creator, royal architect Pierre Puget (who was born nearby) added an appropriately grandiose chapel to the central courtyard. Today it's hard to believe that during the late-1940s the whole of La Vieille Charité was scheduled for demolition, until Swiss modernist architect Le Corbusier campaigned for it to be listed as an historic monument. Judging by his preoccupations elsewhere in Marseille at the time (most notably the Unité d'Habitation, a radical high-rise community in pre-stressed concrete) maybe we shouldn't be too surprised. His idea was to address an urgent need to replace in one structure much of the family housing lost during the WWII conflict which also took a heavy toll on the city. I attempt the cross-town drive to take a look at Le Corbusier's solution, but end up grid-locked during a city transport strike. Some other time, then.

Later, back at the vieux port, nightfall finds few strollers and a lot less traffic beside the northern Quai du Port, whose post-war arcades were designed to evoke something of the feel, if not the romance, of what had been lost. The nearby quayside walk around the Fort Saint-Jean, on the other hand, is pure magic, with the lights of old Marseille twinkling in the warm waters of the Mediterranean, and in the eyes of those sitting hand-in-hand and gazing at it all in wonder. From time to time the stillness is broken by laughter and snatches of conversation from passers by, their words invariably spoken in an unfamiliar tongue. Welcome to Marseille.

Next day I'm back on the quayside, among the shoppers browsing the morning's catch so fresh that some of the produce is still wriggling in the hands of the fish market traders. Unnerved by the sight of a large brown octopus flexing its tentacles and gazing back inscrutably while fishermen sit patiently mending their nets, I step out of the living postcard scene and for awhile attempt to interact with the big city pulsing away beyond the passing traffic. Culture shock? Absolutely, and it's going to require a whole new visit to get to grips with another side of the complex enigma that is Marseille. But one thing I already know: you won't leave Marseille without having discovered a little more about yourself. Now that's extraordinary.

© Words and pictures Roger Moss
The full version of this feature first appeared in everything France magazine Issue 38

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