Our twin sister, the Viking Jupiter, shadowed us as we made port in Marseille, France
This is the morning that greeted us in Marseille. I was fighting a head cold. The forecast called for rain. As a rule, I’m not fond of big cities. Marseille is the second largest city in France. All things considered, I decided to take a vacation day from our vacation and skip the shore excursion. I wanted to rest up to assure that I was functional for our next port – Barcelona.
Betty joined Keith and Joanne on their excursion into Marseille. Fortunately, for internet followers of this journey, Keith and Betty took their cameras. Otherwise . . . text only. Ugh! Your time would be better spent reading a novel. That’s probably true anyway.
After their Viking tour they decided to wander through old Marseille. At lunch they ordered Rosé Vin Gris the traditional wine of the region. This is not your Aunt Maud’s Rosé from upstate New York. This is a real wine. A subtle, faintly tinted “white” that has been produced in Provence for 2,600 years.
A toast to the Rosé Vin Gris wines of Marseille
Beyond Rosé Vin Gris Marseille is also famous for its production of Savon de Marseille. This soap is said to be the sole reason that France is the home of the world’s most beautiful women – think Catherine Deneuve, Brigitte Bardot and, I’m sure, some French hotties born in the last 30 years. The soap is made with a minimum of 72% olive oil. If you research it online you will find that it is a miracle product. It beautifies your face. It washes your dishes. It cleans your fruits and vegetables. It is a natural insecticide. It helps your children be above average. It makes your jokes funny. Etc, etc, etc. There is nothing that this soap can’t improve.
Good enough! Betty bought some. Bart and Vonnie bought some. Every tourist on the Viking Star bought some. Who knows what dream each of them was pursuing with their purchase? They will all sleep well tonight.
Before heading off to Europe, Keith scoured the internet for travel tips. Many of travel sites suggested using a body pouch to keep your passport and your money close. This pouch is strapped around your waist inside of your clothing making it all but impossible for pickpockets to access. Keith took no chances. Even his walking around money was secure at all times. Obviously this necessitated an awkward striptease tease in restaurants and souvenir shops, but I can report with confidence that the pickpockets of Italy, Croatia, Greece, France and Spain were successfully thwarted. Whew!
Surreptitiously(?) accessing the bank of Keith to pay the wine tab in Marseille