Allons enfants de la Patrie, le jour de gloire est arrivé...

Going to Marseille was supposed to mean sun and warm sea breezes, yet the exact opposite awaited us: rain, rain, cold, and more rain. It rained so much that several pairs of our socks were soaked, shoes waterlogged, and for some: umbrellas pushed to the limit.

There's definitely a thrill to going somewhere new, especially to the city that gave France's national anthem, "La Marseillaise" its current name. The first lines will forever be in my head, because my friends and I did a skit while singing it for extra credit in high school French class.

And even though I'd been to Marseille on a whirlwind study abroad trip in college, we'd only stopped for the afternoon to have lunch. Apparently, it was long enough for me to decide I'd wanted to be a teacher.

Six years later, I was back in Marseille for two days, wanting to give teaching a break, and with a different band of traveling companions. I've really learned that traveling and seeing places isn't really all in the sights themselves, but the people you see them with. The sights are just an added side bonus.

AJ, Jamie, Allison, Leslie, Maria, and I got on really well and I think that made our trip so good, good enough to laugh at the rain in its face.

Vieux Port (Old Port) as seen from Fort Entrecasteux. The boats give you an idea of Marseille's seafaring vibe. So will the variety of fish flopping around in plastic buckets on the dock. No one can say they aren't fresh.

View of Fort Saint Jean, marking the entrance to Vieux Port. I read that this fort was not intended to provide defense from the sea but instead from the city itself and uprisings against the governor. In the background is striped Cathedrale de la Major.

Here's Notre Dame de la Garde on a hill at night in the distance. Little did we know, AJ would take us on a hike through puddles and stone steps-turned-gushing waterfalls throughout the streets of Marseille. We thought she was leading us somewhere. She just wanted to walk around in the rain. Surprisingly, we all thought it was hilarious at the time.

Scene from our rain walk.

View of Marseille from Chateau d'If, a fortress made prison made museum, and setting of Alexandre Dumas' The Count of Monte Cristo. Visiting France's version of Alcatraz, made me want to read the book, having known nothing about it beforehand.

Chateau d'If from the boat dock.

The island was relatively easy and cheap to get to, save the cold rain. Unfortunately, we sat inside the boat and not on top. This choice probably saved our limbs.

Below is a view of the other islands from the top of a tower.

Inside the Cathedrale de la Major and proof of my black and white photo experimentation. Apparently I was getting bored of color.

Hiking around the top of the hill on which Notre Dame de la Garde is situated, then watching the sunset while eating our gourmet cookies was probably one of my favorite parts of our weekend. I like being up high on hills, mountains, or even up on tall buildings. It's like coming up for air from the city or confined spaces below.

The view was spectacular.

Sunset (and that's got to be Chateau d'If in the distance) I'll just pretend it is..

Olive tree in the park of Palais Longchamp. Our last day was the sunniest and most gorgeous.

At least we had the morning.

Return of the Mistral in Valence and Tain l'Hermitage

Maybe it wasn't the mistral in full force, but a tributary of it definitely swept through our hair and chilled our bones the Saturday a group of us met in Valence.

Valence assistant, Allison kindly met Leslie, Jamie, Gearoid, and I at the train station and from there we strolled the streets of what seemed to be a very nice-sized city. At times Valence felt big, when we stood overlooking the park that gave a postcard picturesque mountainous skyline. And at other times, it felt quaint, like a small town you just stumbled upon sans touristes, complete with outdoor market.

I am obsessed with parks. This is a view from within the park looking up at a grandiose Versailles-esque fountain and stairways.

This is a courtyard of a Valence building in which Rabelais supposedly once lived.

A view of Tain l'Hermitage from the town of Tournon sur Rhone. If only Chasse sur Rhone could be this picturesque. I particularly like les vignobles et collines. Allison led us to Tain's hidden secret, a Valrhona Chocolate Store that had bowls and bowls of free samples. These weren't just ordinary pieces of chocolate, but glorious bits that came in flavors such as peanut butter, nougat, and pistachio. Needless to say, I made myself sick on sugar before we left without purchasing anything. Tastes that good don't come cheap.

Blue sky and church in Tournon sur Rhone.

Sometimes, there's nothing more enticing than a trail curling around a bend. This trail led us up some steep hills that were more difficult to get down than up. Great way to work off all that specialty chocolate...

Quaint church at the top of the hill. I believe that people once made pilgrimages to this church in the past. We never made it over there, but I wondered, if we had, would we have had the chance to sample some of the hill's wine like pilgrims of days yore? Unlikely.

View of the river from our highest point.

The mistral left us alone on the hills, while the sun shone down in our favor. Walking the vineyard trails made me want to get outside more and hike. It also made me respect the workers who venture out onto the steep hillsides and not so sturdy soil.

Lastly, it also made me a little thirsty for some wine...

Les bobos

Les bobos were the focus of tonight's culturally enhanced French class. Otherwise known as the bourgeois-bohême or bourgeois-bohemian social class of society, they've not only taken over the city of Lyon, but a lot of France as well.

Our substitute teacher gave us a survey of questions with which we were supposed to pretend to answer as a member of this particular social class. Both of the 'b' words bring forth stereotypes, but not many people in the class were entirely confident of this hybrid group's make-up, many of whom were apparently wandering the streets just outside of our classroom.

To shorten a ninety minute class into one long digestible sentence: les bobos are (for the most part)...

Thirty years old, married with kids who go to private school, living in a loft in the suburbs of a city, working at a white collar job or liberal profession, like to get around by either bike or Range Rover, like going to museums, Japanese restaurants, seeing Korean movies, and supporting PSG football matches, generally wear designer clothes, and vote for the green party but are generally moderate right politically.

All of this information comes from French singer, Renaud's song, Les Bobos, which we listened to in class on YouTube. Here are the lyrics in French.

From this description, maybe everyone has a little bit of "bobo" in them, but the sort of person that most comes to mind is "celebrity." Who's got loads of money and certainly spends it, but feels guilty enough to be somewhat ecologically minded?

Football

This'll be a quick one...

I'm not a huge football (soccer) fan, but in Europe, it's definitely some people's version of religion. I've tried to get into it, but to no avail. I still like the sport...any sport that can bring so many nationalities together and get people who otherwise might be on the street dealing drugs to kick a ball around sounds good to me. Also, in a time when eight year old kids are at a risk for carpal tunnel syndrome after playing too many handheld digital games, seeing them get together for a post lunch game in the schoolyard is refreshing.

Right now, there is a match on TV between Marseille and Amsterdam. I knew there was a match even before I turned on my TV. How? Because I have a new neighbor who's currently living in "la petite chambre" aka my residence for the month of October. There must be at least three people over there including the guy who lives there. How they fit in that tiny cramped space, I don't know. But it feels like I'm actually there, these people are so loud. Chanting, screaming, pounding the walls. I don't mind, as long as this finishes before I go to sleep.

Yoga en France

After waiting for my cold to go away, come home from vacation, and get paid, I was finally ready to take on a yoga class in Chasse.

Without an idea of where exactly the class would be held, what I would need to bring, or even if the instructor would let me participate without paying, I walked through the silent alley next to the schoolyard to the building where I was told the classes would be held. Not a thing stirred in Chasse. It seemed as though everyone was asleep.

Wandering around the building, I found a door, walked in, and followed noise and light upstairs. People were waiting outside the door to a large room. Inside the dim lit room was a circle of red mats, mirrors and a sparkly mural of Paris scenery, Eiffel Tower and all.

The first thing I noticed is that everyone had blankets or towels that they put over the mats. Did they think the mats were dirty?

After introducing myself "je suis nouvelle", the instructor let me participate and hoped I'd be able to understand everything.

How hard could it be? If I couldn't understand, then I could just look at everyone else and copy their moves. This proved to be more difficult when lying down on your back or being face-down on the mat. Also, not being familiar with French yoga lingo, I could barely relax, while trying to concentrate on what things meant.

Did this disturb me? No. I went to yoga not only to relax, but to better my listening comprehension in French. Also, it was a great workout. Afterwards, I couldn't even lift my shaking arms. And although the instructor had to help me a lot, I felt like a part of the class within no time. The class consisted of two girls who looked about my age, two older couples, and another older woman. It's the first time I've ever seen men in a yoga class.

The move that made my arms shake was something another woman described as a "cauchemar" or nightmare. While I did struggle with the moves and the language, I came home feeling great that I'd accomplished something. Then completely sore the next day.

6 au choix

The above picture is one of my favorite discoveries in France. Made just down the street at my grocery store. Instead of selecting candy from different bins, the lucky grocery shopper can choose any six miniature cheeses from several boxes. This is perfect for a foreigner who wants to sample a little bit of everything and take it home in a tiny bag, especially when the cheese aisle of the store can be overwhelming and slightly stinky.