Marseille's Weird Corners: A Drummer's Wandering Notes

woke up in a tiny attic room near the vieux port, cymbals still ringing from last night's gig at this dive called La Machine. the air smelled like salt and stale cigarettes. grabbed my sticks, threw on yesterday's shirt, and headed downstairs. the owner, a guy named marc with a gold tooth, was already pouring pastis for the morning crew.

first stop: caffeine. there's this place, Café de la Veille Ville, that everyone says is "authentic," which i guess means the espresso tastes like tar and the chairs wobble. perfect. sat there for two hours, scribbling setlists and watching old men argue about soccer like it was war strategy.

weather's been all over the place-checked the app and it's 16°c right now, feels like 15.48°c. basically, bring a hoodie you'll regret wearing.

wandered down to the Vieux Port again, even though i know it's touristy as hell. saw a guy selling what he claimed were "antique tambourines" but looked suspiciously like cheap tourist crap. i bought one anyway, because why not.

overheard a couple at the next table saying the Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde view is "worth the climb." someone else said it's "overrated unless you like sweating next to strangers." both are probably true.

later, tried to find this legendary record store, Les Disques du Canal. got lost in the noailles market instead, surrounded by spice mountains and people yelling in a dozen languages. bought a kilo of olives i didn't need.

random tip: if you get bored, aix-en-provence and cassis are just a short drive away. but honestly, marseille's chaos is the point.

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