There was one thing I decided I really wanted to do while I was here — on the basis of suggestions from friends and France 24 — and that was to ride the Train de la Côte Bleue. I knew already that the special tourist train doesn’t run through the winter, so instead settled on a return trip from Marseille to Miramas, out along the coast and back along the fast line.
Expectations were high when we got on the bus in the morning and headed to Saint-Charles, and our morning was bouyed along by a sunny morning coffee and croissant at the Café de France, opposite the station. Good croissants always make coffee better and ours were a strong eight, nice and flaky (a good sign), but slightly bready. The staff were more than agreeable and thrilled to talk to us about Marseille and how it’s much better than anywhere else on the mediterranean coast because the Greeks by all accounts knew that they were onto a winner when they got here in 600BC and founded the colony of Massalia.
We eventually pottered up to the station to catch the 10h52 TER “Zou!” service from Marseille to Miramas via Port de Bouc, and were there in plenty of time to be able to find a nice window seat on the left-hand side of the train which guaranteed fabulous views as we trundled over viaducts and along the sea. If you or, more specifically, your travel companion are not fond of heights, don’t sit right next to the window as the vertiginous views of the clear waters beneath might not be your thing.
I had sold this journey on the promise of reaching our destination with a picnic and finding somewhere nestled away in some rocky cove with the gentle lapping of waves and an invigorating sea breeze to help us through our left-over train feast and a bottle of rosé. Although nothing was said at first, it soon became evident — as we stepped down from the train at 12h16 onto a wind-swept platform — that Miramas was not living up to the the expectations my travel companion had formed from my intimations over our morning coffee.
I suppose really the first clue that we should’ve got off the train sooner was as we went past the power station and the oil refinery at Martigues and on to the slightly-alarming red lake. Illusions of being on a pooty little Greek island mountainside quickly disappeared shortly thereafter. In the summer, of course, you can buy a ticket that allows you to hop on and hop off along that line, so it’s probably someting to try again when three or four stops can fill a day; our fellow passengers with backpacks knew to get off way before we did.
Still. You live and learn.
Nonetheless, I stoically ventured that we at least walk out of the station before deciding whether to board the next train back to Marseille, just in case there were some hidden gems waiting for us beyond the car park.
The 12h39 express service to Marseille was a modern and comfortable train which was also mercifully punctual and whisked us back to Marseille Saint-Charles in time for me to plan a route to the seaside which – it transpired – would only have been a 30-minute ride on the number 81 bus from the stop less than 100 metres from our Airbnb. Some alarm set in when it deposited us at a terminus next to a petrol station, but a two-minute walk round the corner led us to La Plage des Catalans where we settled down to a picnic under the sun while people danced the Tango behind us and youths played volleyball on the beach. I think I redeemed myself.
After lunch, we perched outside the PMU for a pastis and watched the world go by until the bracing wind from behind us motivated us to get the 81 home, a fine plan disrupted only by the presence of a demonstration in the city centre which led us to alight next to a second-hand shop where I bought a new (to me) leather jacket for the princely sum of 45€. We walked to the nearest métro and wandered home for a power-sièste.
We decided to try somewhere else in Le Vieux Port for our evening meal. At first we had a look at some of restaurants along the northern side but then decided to go to the other side as last night, and found a cosy little Indian restaurant just off the Cours Honoré-d’Estienne-d’Orves where the vegetarian thali plate (including dessert) was 19€ and the thali des Princes 22,50€.
