Marseille, I'm In Love

Chapter 1 - October

Autumn was upon Marseille. The leaves were changing colours and the weather was starting to feel cooler. The sun was still shining brightly in the south of France, despite the later sunrises and earlier sunsets. Every day was an opportunity to discover the city. Fort Saint-Jean loomed right outside my window - and MUCEM was right next to it. The sailboats bobbed up and down as the waves dispersed into the Old Port. I missed home very much, but this simple view was pleasurable enough to make me forget that I was more than ten thousand kilometres away. I was still stuck at "home" a lot more than I intended - only leaving for breakfast and groceries. I managed to include walks around the old port in the evenings but it hasn't been much. I was too focused on the book I was writing.

You are probably wondering, why Marseille? Well, despite being dubbed as the most dangerous city in Europe, I felt the opposite when I first visited a couple of years ago. I knew then that I wanted to live there but I didn't know how and I was not sure I had the confidence to do it.

Well, not until I was forced to do it. After a terrible divorce that lasted longer than my actual marriage, I decided I needed to find a new life. Call it my Eat, Pray, Love moment - similar experience but vastly different outcomes. We'll get to that later.

That afternoon, I sat on a bench along Quai du Port, a few hundred metres away from the Vieux Port metro station. The sun was setting and it was starting to get cold. I loved the weather in early November. It's what we used to call "air-con temperature" back home. The sailboats danced lightly on the water, caressed by the gentle waves. Straining my eyes slightly, I marvelled at the Basilique Notre-Dame De La Garde, standing atop the hill in the background - ignoring the stretch of white wooden gates separating the path and the platform to get on the boats, and the sounds of busloads of tourists getting off their buses and petit trains behind me.

I stretched out my arms across the back of the bench and looked up into the sky to stretch my neck. I had been reading on the bench for the past what felt like hours. I looked ahead again, only to have my eyes trained on a tall man who was wearing a 2-piece suit, with a black helmet in his right hand. He was facing the view I was admiring. At that moment, I didn't mind the distraction. His silhouette added to the view. I couldn't help but take a picture with my phone. The clicking sound of my camera went off. I forgot to put it on silent. Oops.

"Qu'est-ce que vous faites?" He asked as he turned and walked towards me.

"I'm sorry, j'suis désolée," I fumbled. "I was taking a photo of the view. I'll delete it."

I didn't want any trouble. Not with a local.

"English?" he asked, with a vaguely English accent. "Are you English, madame?"

I cocked my head to the side at this peculiarity. "No... I am not English."

"Strange," he looked at my book. "Research Methods? You're a researcher?"

I raised my eyebrows and studied his face. Brown eyes, black hair, some freckles on his sharp nose, and slightly tanned skin. I had a wild guess that he was North African. Couldn't decide which North African though. It was perhaps normal for North Africans to settle in Marseille.

"Nope, writer." I took my book quickly, stuffed it in my tote bag and got up. "Pardonne, merci."

Mysterious monsieur caught up with me as I shuffled away. "Hey I'm sorry, I'm sorry if I scared you."

I stopped and looked him in the eyes. He was only a head taller than me. Not very tall, actually.

"I'm not scared of you," I maintained, mustering all the courage I had.

Mysterious monsieur smiled and fished around his pocket for something. A knife? Fuck. A gun?!

"This is me," he pointed to a name card he produced out of his pocket. "Alex. Enchanté, madame...?"

I took a glance. Sleek black name card, with silver embossed print. Alexandre Dupont. Client Manager. Of what? There was no company insignia. Just his name, position and contact details.

"Cool, enchantée Alex." I took his card and kept it in my tote, ignoring his asking for my name.

"Hey really, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. You can keep the photo. It didn't show my face, right?"

I scoffed. "No, it didn't. I have to go."

Alex looked ahead on the path and pointed to my apartment building. "You're heading there? Near MUCEM?"

I shook my head. "Nope, I'm not."

Alex smiled and tapped his helmet. "C'est dommage, I could have dropped you off. Well, I'll see you around madame...?"

"Fatihah." I sighed. I didn't know why I revealed that. He was so charming though.... ugh.

"Oh wow. Fantastic name! You can call me if you need anything!"

I rolled my eyes. "And why should I?"

"You can't speak French! And in Marseille, that's not a good thing." Alex grinned as he walked away. "Appelle-moi!"

I smiled as sweetly as I could while watching him. Alex walked towards his black scooter parked by the road. He put his helmet on, swiftly got on his scooter and gave me a salute as he started it. As soon as he disappeared, I quickly took a longer route to my apartment building, ensuring I was not being followed. Bloody hell. That was the most interaction I had with another human being since I reached Marseille 3 weeks ago, exclusive of my landlady.

As I entered the code to enter my building, I looked around in hopes that I had not been followed. Once it was safe, I entered and shut the door quickly behind me. I'd be okay.

Oh, by the way, I do speak French!