Plenty of plein aire

Marseille, Aix, the surprisingly delightful La Ciotat -- nothing really beat just moving from one Cassidain café to another. Mornings were a sketch with the café au lait. Then perhaps a change of scene with a café crème. Later a plat du jour for lunch (even in this village touting its mussels and sea urchins, the lamb stews -- whether a navarin or the classic provençal daube -- were incredible), stretched out with a café to finish.

A mid-afternoon Perrier filled the gap before an aperitif -- pastis or a kir, with its creme de Cassis (no relation!) and then the Cap Canaille had gone rosy in the sunset light and the plein air efforts had ended for another day.

What a life.

So, it was a progression from from the Navy Bar, to the Gulf, to the Port... most of the cafés encircling the port had names you'd expect. But a couple of times I opted for the quiet and large shady terrasse of Le Cendrillon. Looking back, I wish I would have asked the waiter why it was called "Cinderella." Gotta be a story there somewhere.

Suffice to say, as I turned the keys back over to Victor on the last morning, the taxi to the station had a definite pumpkin feel to it.

As always, I look forward to your comments!