Coccyx brusing, mosquito swarms and why I (now) have trust issues

Sep 30, 2014

In case you missed it -- part one and two of our French adventure, #baguettesandcroissants.



Next, we were off to Marseilles. Stop for petrol and baked goods, obligatory.

Match your nails to your dessert choices, always.


Our  airbnb -- I'm on a boat!


El Captain


Misfits. 



"I'll ever let go," Jess.



Mint. Chocolate.


That one time, Mark convinced/forced me to kayak and I almost died. 

Otherwise known as my first, and last time kayaking. 

I asked if we could call (internationally, from the water) for a tow. Or if I puked in the sea would I sent to a French jail. 

The motion sickness on that little death trap was unreal.

Trust.

"Calm, relaxing" ride my rear.

In those three hours (yes, three hours!) I lost years off my life. 

And now I have trust issues. 


But, the view once there was -- breathtaking.


Famished after my brush with death. Ham panini for the win. 

Have I mentioned "ham" to the French is of the pancetta, prosciutto variety? 

Gah. Drool.


My trusty pal Rose' was there to calm my nerves too.



Then, you head to the nearest crepe stand and drown your kayak nightmares in Crepe Nutella. 

It's got healing power.



Shopping for wine and snacks.



Because wine on deck at sunset was the best idea, ever.



See what I mean?


Ob-sessed with the chevre toasted on a baguette. 



Post dinner pints whilst watching France in the World Cup. 

It was crowded and chilly, but being in France, watching France play in the World Cup was a surreal experience. 









Went back to the market (cannot remember the name for the life of me, but its cat corner from the boulanger patissier) for an epic, "I'm on a boat" feast, replete with all the food from the store and wine. 

So.Much.Wine.

The yacht had a small kitchen so it was perfect to prep and warm our feast. It must be said I lit a gas stove, on a boat, and we all lived. 

Those stuffed peppers were nothing short of ridiculous. 



Dessert -- death by fresh cherries.



When you tell your fiance' and your (married) friend to "pose for a romantic candid shot".  Not akward. 

Not awkward at.all.



Clubhouse at the harbour -- also known as where Marcia bit it and damn near broke her coccyx. It took months to heal. Months. Sitting down was super duper fun till, July. No joke.

Story time.

Being the well adjusted adults we are, we failed to realize that residing on the water came with certain insects, namely -- mosquitoes.

After our epic feast we made sure to clean all traces of food from the boat, but alas, even the citronella was not match.

That evening, after we feasted, the moisquitoes feasted on -- us.  It was the worst night of  "hide from the mosquitoes" with Mark and I ending up on the cushions in the main galley (I was scared to sleep with them alone -- the buzzing still gives me chills), and Jess on the deck. Yep, outside. Tom, not to be swayed, stayed in his room and let them feast on his flesh.  
Needless to say our first stop that morning was to the pharmacy for insect medicine (there was an entire section, so you know its an epidemic) and Starbucks for free wifi.

Hilarious as the rousing night of dodge the mosquitoes was, we left a night earlier from our boat adventure (we stayed two nights instead of three), opting for a Best Western in Cassis. 

Like true tourists.

Save for the mosquitoes, the yacht was a blast. Clean, enough room for four people and their luggage (we used the third bedroom as storage), real restrooms and showers in the clubhouse, and an overall lovely experience. The host Patrick was nothing short of spectacular and accommodating.


Headed to dinner at El Sol. Right on the port, splendid views, even better food and service. 



Splendid wine soaked lunch at Le Perroquet on the water in Cassis one day. 

It took everything in me not to inhale all the mussels. 

Darn food allergies.


Speaking of Cassis, let's talk about -- calanaques.

Spent the day hiking (not for the faint of heart) and on the beach. 

If that's wrong, I don't wanna be right...

I'll let the photos do the talking, my wit is no match, I'm still speechless.


















None of us wanted to leave. 

Obviously.


Oh, and the to the little ice cream stand as you hike back out, GENIUS.

Calories don't count in France. 



Next stop, St. Tropez!



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2 comments:

  1. I can't even handle the perfection of this whole trip (minus the mosquitos, of course). Next time you take a trip of epic proportions, can I please be your stowaway?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I love everything about this post. And that face in the misfits pic? Says it all, son. Yes.

    ReplyDelete

 
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