What I Learned Living Where Everyone Told me to Avoid
(The Raw Version)
This piece was originally published on the travel website Shut Up and Go on May 15, 2020. And while that piece was adequate in portraying my thoughts, it was in actuality an edited version of the piece I had in my mind. While writing for the site I wanted to create work that I felt fit the audience, and I often avoided making pieces too long, too deep, or occasionally, too raw. But we’re in my house now, and I’m not holding back. This is the raw version of this piece, and I hope you enjoy.
Shot by Austin Dalley on iPhone XR
“There? Why there?”
“It’s a disgusting city, don’t go. There’s trash everywhere, it’s covered in graffiti, go anywhere else.”
“I mean, work there if you have to, but try not to live there.”
It was the end of summer in the south of France. And as the north wind carried in the scent of the pine and olive forests just outside the city, I sat on my Airbnb balcony in the city of Nice with decisions to make. I had left New York City to finally take the leap to try to create a career and life in Europe like I had always envisioned for myself. I worked my ass off that summer to save as much money as I could (which, since it was New York, was really not enough), and gave myself an arbitrary deadline of two weeks to find some solid work prospects. If I didn’t by then, I would kick into phase two and find a different way to stay.
By the end of the first week, I hadn’t found anything in my lane. I knew I needed to initiate phase two. Okay, I thought to myself, I know I just can’t go back to the US. At the time I had been planning to stay in France, so I spent my days scanning the internet and sending out my newly made French CV to every and any side hustle I could find. Finally, two days before my two weeks ended, I got a response from a listing I had answered for an au pair position, in the city of Marseille.
I had contemplated going to Marseille a few times before even leaving for France. It was large, it was on the Mediterranean, it was well connected to other areas. Why not? But the second I mentioned it to any of my connections in Europe, they shot it down. They’d comment on how it had crime, how it was dirty, how it was ugly, even a passively racist comment about how “African” it was.
But there was another opinion of Marseille that I couldn’t fully ignore. That of one of my great inspirations, Anthony Bourdain. He traveled to the city for his second series Parts Unknown, and had loved the city. He praised its multiculturalism, its openness, and the beauty of its grit and reality. He celebrated how it was a real city. Yet even with his voice in the back of my mind, I admittedly avoided it when I first arrived in France. I let those other negative opinions taint my perception. But now, it was my way to stay. So two days after the email, I stepped on a train leaving Nice to see it, and live it, for myself.
Shot by Austin Dalley on iPhone XR
And for the next two and a half months, I fell absolutely in love.
Let me dust off the history book for a moment. Marseille was originally founded around 600 BCE as the Ancient Greek colony Massalia, making it the oldest city in France, significantly older than Paris herself (a fact that some of the French willingly ignore). Since then, it remained an invaluable port city for the Romans, the Visigoths, and eventually the Kingdom of France, where it connected France and its trade to Mediterranean Europe and Africa. And like many of the world’s historic port cities such as Istanbul, Singapore, New York City, it became a vibrant, multicultural mix of the working class.
But also like other port cities, it grew a gritty reputation. It was a tough place, made by sailors and immigrants and traders. This aura of the city was only fed when the Corscican mafia began to grip the city during the 1900s, as well as an influx of north Africans in the 1950s and 60s after the independence of French colonies, notably Algeria but also Morocco, Tunisia, and Senegal. Thus was created an image of Marseille as the crime ridden, the dark skinned, and the dirty, run by mobsters and foreigners to the point that it was “barely France.”
Reputations can be hard to shake, especially when they’ve existed in some form for at least 1000 years. The Marseillaise and their city have been generally looked down on by the rest of their countrymen, and while that’s notably changing with younger generations, it has yet to leave the minds of the older ones, and even those from other European nations. To this day American oriented travel websites insist that while the neighborhoods near the main sights are fine, much of the city is “unsafe” and should only be considered as a quick stop through, never a main destination for a South of France itinerary.
The reality is that Bourdain was in the right. Marseille is a gorgeous city. And not just in the cliché way that all French cities are, with rows of Mansard-roofed apartments, wide avenues, sculpted churches, and brick streets, though those are all present as well. Marseille just has a different flavor than the rest of France. It’s over 2000 years old but it still feels young and vibrant. People of every color walk the streets, speaking French in the regional way, slower and drawn out and relaxed. Along with classic French boulangeries and patisseries you can just as easily find warming pizzerias, turning spikes of shawarma, and trendy modern cafes spilling into squares dripping in street art. I also never during my time in the city felt threatened or unsafe, even at night and even in neighborhoods well off the tourist path (though in this regard, my opinion maybe taken with a grain of salt, as I’m an in shape, white, cis gendered man).
Certainly the city does have its problems as any large city, especially one of that age, will have. It does have random sections with a noticeable trash issue, though as someone who’s lived in New York City I would consider it overall pretty respectable. Public transit doesn’t run 24 hours, which I find to be problematic when French culture is quite partial to having dinner at 8 or 9 pm and staying out even later for drinks. There are also sections of the city where the traditional architecture wasn’t maintained, not fully to the fault of the Marseillaise, as the French government hasn’t invested as nearly as much money in upkeep as it has for other cities (looking at you, Paris).
It also has issues unique to the city, most of them occurring at the clashing of France and the immigrants trying to call her home. France prides itself in its secularism, and in general the citizens of the country are increasingly not religious, but immigrants often are, a large percentage of which are muslim. The differences between these cultures become apparent in Marseille, in my case manifesting into the gay culture of the city. Now I’m not often one to specifically seek out gay districts, clubs, and the like in the places I travel, so a smaller amount of gay venues or visibly queer people doesn’t inherently bother me or affect how I travel. That being said, I do strongly prefer being in places where homosexuality is at least legally accepted and or normalized, simply because I like to feel normal being myself. If I happen to wear my shirt half unbuttoned, or kiss a guy after going on a date, or have a conversation at normal volume about people I think are hot, I really prefer not to be in a place where I’ll get stared at, or called a slur, or attacked.
So in Marseille, while the French and their overarching culture is generally fine with homosexuality, modern muslim culture is not. On a daily basis in the city one shifts in and out of feelings of ease, depending on the people around you. I remember distinctly one afternoon when I went to a produce market with a friend of mine and I wore denim cut off shorts, which were admittedly somewhat short because I am a homosexual, but also have nice legs that I like to show off. We were at a stall getting fruit when the vendor, who was north African yet the same age as my friend and I, made a comment to my friend in French, assuming that I didn’t know what he was saying. “So is she with you?” The she, referring to me. “Yes, he’s a friend of mine, he’s not from the country” my friend said attempting to defend me. “Yeah, I can tell, that’s not something people here would wear.” It didn’t phase me, because I’m not at the point where I really care what people think of me and also my legs had at least 10 times the muscle as his, but it was definitely an intriguing encounter, especially considering I actually had seen multiple young men in Marseille wear shorts that short. But they also happened to be white and (presumably) French citizens.
I don’t think all of these flaws make Marseille wholly a bad city, and if anything provides more intrigue and awareness for the ways in which French people and government don’t help the city grow out of its more flawed aspects. This points us towards the more unsavory parts of French culture, such as internalized racism, that are equally important to be aware of when we travel there. What the city inevitably suffers from most is a long running bad reputation, one created by people that have never visited or lived there, and have seen it only in passing, on the news, or in other people’s hyperboles.
Shot by Austin Dalley on iPhone XR
But what I feel is the most important lesson I learned during my time in Marseille is that we as travelers need to take travel recommendations with grains of salt; the good ones and the bad. Because as I have come to realize the more I travel, places need to be experienced by individuals, on their own time and with open minds. We all click differently in different locations, and I believe it’s our responsibility as true travelers, not simply tourists, to visit any and all places that spark our curiosity, regardless of stereotypes. Each area of this little earth has its own nuances that can only be felt when you are there in the flesh. I believe that, once the tides of the pandemic calm and we are able to travel freely again, it is our responsibility to travel outside the well worn paths of the cities like Paris or Rome (unless they’re the places that truly fill your dreams) and take risks going to the cities or towns or countries that very few people, if any, have gone before.
Eventually my 90 days in the Schengen came to a close, and without a long term visa, I had to take my leave of Marseille. I learned and experienced a lot in France, both about the country and myself, and while my mind is open to where I may live long term, if France is where the fates take me, I would still choose it in a heartbeat. It’s one of those cities where the weather is always gorgeous, and you can always slightly smell the sea, and where even as a foreigner you still feel strangely like you’re home. But I have other plans. There are some points on my map that I’ve never once seen mentioned in a travel article, and they’re calling my name.