Gosh, bus stations sure are delightful... And I've just realised I'm sitting alone in a dark space, amongst quite an intimidating crowd with my very expensive gadget lit up in my hands. Maybe I'll continue this when I'm safely on the bus...
Tah-dah! And on that lovely image, time for my next update! Welcome to my experience of Marseille, which as I may have pointed out before, is the Liverpool of southern France (if Liverpool were sunny, and had good food). It's a bustling seaside metropolis, and the locals are a mixture of unsavouries and insanely-proud, tough-as-old-boots lifers. The national anthem isn't called the Marseillaise for nothing, these guys and girls have more than a little fire. Which, after quiet and sedate Avignon, took me by surprise. Pour example, my initial exchange outside the station went something like this...

Me; "Bonjour! Excusez-moi, savez-vous ou es un hostel vertigo, s'il-vous plait? (Which I'm sure is; Good day! Excuse me, do you know where hostel vertigo is please?)

Leathery-looking Lady; "Pardon? Je pas compris, tu-parlez francais comme une vache espagnole." (Which I'm pretty sure meant; Pardon? I don't understand, you speak French like a Spanish cow.)

Me; "Er... Parlez-vous l'anglais?" (Optimistically hoping she spoke english.)

Lady; "Non."

Que one long silence, with her defiantly staring down my rapidly diminishing hope. Realising I had lost this one, I began to scuttle off, calling her something unsavoury under my breath, which prompted a hearty laugh and a "I heard that! No, come, I am just s***ting with you. The hostel is down that road." This earned her a terse thank you, and me a simultaneous ear-clip and well-wishing. Hi Marseille, nice to meet you!
Still blushing from this verbal trouncing, I made it to the hostel, and was blessed with my own room, with bathroom, doors onto the patio and a very comfy bed. Luxury! So like any boy confronted with his own room for the first time in weeks, I immediately did what anyone else would do... Order pizza and sleep in until noon, of course.
But I couldn't spend the day in bed, as the sun was shining, and the quest to find the sea was on. My sole purpose in coming south was to dip into the med before it got too cold, and I'd be damned if I was going to spend a single day un-wetted! Turns out that the (accessible) sea is actually a bit further than I thought, and my first swim turned into a night-time wade, which was absolutely horrifying, seeing as I'm pathologically terrified of the sea and it's inhabitants. (Hatchetfish. Wolf-trap Anglers. Hagfish. Spider Crabs. Look these things up, and tell me if you ever feel like swimming again)
So, after a not-so-warm dip, I realised it was Friday, and I was in a real, live, working city, so I polished myself up, looked up the nearest bar and set off into the glittering lights. I've never been to a bar on my own before but I must have looked approachable enough, as within the space of my first beer (yes, I've taken to beer here in France. Wine is for dinner, spirits are expensive and cider is rare. Cursed Frenchies.) I was approached by a guy who it transpired was waiting for his boyfriend to finish his bar-shift. He seemed nice enough, he was taken and he wasn't my type, so I quickly accepted on his offer of a tour around Marseille at night. That sounds disgust than it was...
For the record, France has an appalling taste in music. Why take perfectly brilliant songs and ruin them with stupid synthy remixes all the time? POURQUOI?! Apart from that, everyone was very friendly, and upon my guides departure, I was smoothly passed over to a group of Germans who made me promise to join them the next night before I snuck off to my hostel in the wee hours of the morning.
The next day I packed up my beachwear (bhurkini, of course), and grabbed a bus south, out of the city, to les calanques, which my travel guide assured me were "beautiful bays and inlets carved into the limestone coast, perfect for bathing, diving and hiking, within 20 minutes of the city." Well, having hopped off the bus at the Luminy university, in the middle of a beautiful Mediterranean landscape, I noted that the sea wasn't very...present. It wasn't even hidden behind the oceanography department. "Hmm, it must be over those reasonably-sized hills to the south. I'll head that way!"
WARNING: OBJECTS IN THE DISTANCE MAY BE LARGER THAN THEY APPEAR.
I'm obviously in need of the "This is small, this is far away" children's lesson again, as for the second time this year I found myself scaling mountains with only a bottle of water and vaguest knowledge of where the chuffin' f*** I was. Still, the resulting photos are dead pretty, and watching the sunset, swimming in my own private inlet, was priceless. And as you can see, I made it back alive...
For indeed, I am Phillip, Tamer of Mountains, Conqueror of the Sea, Shaper of Things! And now I'm cutting this entry in half, as it's rambled on too long to keep anyone that interested, and I need to learn some German. Tune in later for part two!

Snuggles and French Horns,
Pip