Toulon

Just after I finished my last entry, I ceased to enjoy the smells coming through the window. As we approached Marseilles, the industrial smell of the city overwhelmed all else. I began to sincerely appreciate the fact that my next host lived in a town 45 minutes further by train. I had a few hours to kill and a train ticket to buy in Marseilles, so I got in line. It was a complete zoo at the station. It's the second-biggest city in France and one of the oldest. There were several people in line with a completely different idea of what personal space consists, hence I found myself needing to strategically position my baggage as to keep them from breathing down my neck. 45 minutes later, I left the station to take in what I could of Marseilles. Some friends in Lyon told me that one either loves or hates Marseilles. I didn't get enough time to really decide, but I can say that I doubt I could live there. There were some really interesting things I observed, like groups of people in traditional African tribal dress. A huge diversity of races, many Middle Easterners, people from all over Africa and lots of tourists. I had a kebab and headed back to the station.
My host, Mélanie, picked me up at the station in Toulon, and whisked me off to a BBQ with some of her friends (from Nantes) who were camping nearby. I spent the next couple of days walking around the small villages and a small island just off the coast here, called isle de Portquerolles. The isle was beautiful but it was chilly and I'd left my hoodie at home since the weather was supposed to be hot. I stayed a few hours, saw some fantastic beaches, wished it were warmer, and went back. There's only so long I can tolerate the cold.
Mélanie had printed out maps for me, and I took the bus most of the time. She lives a ways from the centre of her town, and she was great about picking me up when I needed it. I didn't even need to ask. We had another dinner with her friends and last night with her colleagues. She works for an agency that plans group tours of the region.
Figs grow everywhere here. Walking home yesterday I stopped at a field and picked blackberries and figs to have with lunch. I love that. If I have to miss the greater part of berry season in Oregon, at least I have figs here. The blackberries are not the same. Not bad, just not the same.
Currently, I'm on the train on my way towards Nice. My next host, Keveen, lives in a small town close to Nice, and I hope it won't be difficult to get there. I feel I must at least see it. But that's the thing about couchsurfing, you have to go with the flow of things. So far, I have been really glad to have the people I was with influencing what I chose to do. I think I would be a bit lonely otherwise.
photos: Marseilles, me in a small village near Toulon and my last dinner with my host Mélanie (last one on left) and her friends from work.