Sometimes, I get nervous about returning to a place. More often than not, it is because on an original visit, I did not enjoy the experience. So the thought of going back is a sort of dread, wondering how poorly my time will go on this next go around. (To be fair, my return trip a couple years ago to Naples, Italy, one of the cities I would have told you I absolutely hated, actually went rather well.) I was nervous for my return to Marseille, France for a totally different reason. Let me explain.

In 2019, I rented out the house I own in Los Angeles to travel mostly full time. My first trip was a three month journey to France. Prior to this, the longest I’d ever traveled solo was about a week, so this was a rather large leap of faith. My first destination in France: a month in Marseille.

I wasn’t sure at all what to expect. Would I like traveling solo in a foreign country, living in a rented apartment? Would I make friends, get by in French, navigate the cultural differences? Would I like a city with a reputation of being a bit gritty? Would I be happy?

To say the month, January 2019, changed my life would not be an understatement. I made one of the best friends I’ve had (shout out to former TRT writer Mandy Meehan), enjoyed living solo in Europe, and thrived in a way I hadn’t, maybe ever. And as for Marseille? I loved the city so much that I set the short story I wrote during COVID there.

Most importantly, I realized that a life of travel, a life of exploration and curiosity, a life of actual fulfillment, was possible for me. And then I left Marseille, moving on to Bordeaux, and I haven’t been back since.

Until today.

Getting off at Marseille’s Saint Charles station, I was both incredible excited and apprehensive. I mean, being back in one of the places I love the most, that I most credit with me being the person I am today, that’s exciting. But also a bit anxiety-inducing. What if it doesn’t hold the same charm for me today? What if it ruins the pedestal I have put it on? What if, by returning, it somehow damages that version of me that I associate with it?

It was a quick Uber to my hotel, the Intercontinental Hotel Dieu. Originally built in 1593, this palatial building (called the Hotel-Dieu at its 1866 inauguration by Napoleon III) was a working hospital until 1993, then a teaching hospital until 2006. Today it is easily one of the nicest hotels in the city, and one of the most recognizable buildings.

I checked in, was told that I’d been upgraded to a room with a view looking across Marseille at the Notre Dame de la Garde basilica, and decided that my triumphant return to the city was off to a solid start.

After an average sandwich for lunch – a mistake on my part; I should have gotten something better but time was pretty crunched – the basilica was the plan. Notre Dame de la Garde is the symbol of Marseille, towering over the city and its old port, gleaming on the hill. It is a steep and lovely walk to reach it, but after huffing and puffing a bit (although I’d like it noted that I found the walk easier than back in 2019, so that says something, right?) I reached the top. From here, there are 360 degree views of France’s second largest city, and just how big and beautiful it is can be truly appreciated.

I made a loop around, pointing to buildings I remembered but wouldn’t have time to see here on my sole day in the city. I marveled at the Chateau d’If prison off the coast, made famous by Alexandre Dumas in The Count of Monte Cristo. I stared at the cathedral, the harbor fortifications, and back at my hotel.

Completed in 1897, Notre Dame de la Garde is one of the most beautiful and unique churches I’ve been in. The beauty is easy to see, a graceful tower topped by a golden 37 foot tall statue of Madonna and Child. It is built on several levels, and seems almost like a castle, complete with fortifications and a drawbridge.

Inside, the fairly small space is more nautical themed than church themed. The altar doesn’t have a central crucifix (although it does have another Madonna and Child statue). But it does have a boat in tile.

Strings of boats hang from the ceiling around the sides. Some are sailing ships, some modern coast guard varieties. Photos of ships hang in the chapels. This church truly shows the seafaring history of Marseille, having been frequented by sailors praying for safe voyages, and by their loved ones praying for their safe returns.

I took a different route back down from Notre Dame de la Garde to stop by the 11th century Abbey of St. Victor and its actual (read: needed) fortifications and stark interior, and then took the long route all the way back around Marseille’s Vieux (Old) Port.

This small harbor is now home to sailboats and pleasure craft, but was once the single most important port in all of France. And port facilities here date all the way back to Greek times!

I had a drink back at the hotel, and then it was time for dinner. There is no shortage of good food options at the Vieux Port, especially if one wants seafood. And I did. Marseille is the birthplace of the bouillabaisse, the mightiest of the fish soup-stews. The most traditional can run up to €80 or so per person, but other (smaller, simpler) versions can be €35 or so. It still seems pricy for a soup, but when one considers that it takes literally pounds of seafood to make each bowl of broth, the cost makes sense. I could have just as easily had mussels, but with one night, I will normally opt for tradition.

I slept well, then headed back to the train station.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect returning to Marseille. Would I still love the city? Would it still feel like home? The answer to both is an unqualified yes.

This city, one with a checkered reputation, changed me. It will forever be one of my places. And coming back for a day reinforced that. So from 2019 Jonathan and 2026 Jonathan, thank you, Marseille.

If you want to read all I wrote from Marseille in 2019, click here.

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