In the Footsteps of Edmond Dantes

Wilfred sweater (similar)
Mango dress
Zara sunglasses (similar)
Mejuri earrings (c/o) (similar)
Location: Hotel Maison Saint Louis Vieux Port – Marseille, France

Marseille, October 12, 2021

Dear friends,

What a day. We’re back at our hotel now, sipping warm Sancerre from cheap wine glasses purchased at a nearby Monoprix because I cannot, no matter how desperate, drink wine from a paper cup. But until now, we’ve been wandering the streets of Marseille, tracing, to some degree, the footsteps of my fictional hero, Edmond Dantes.

I’m not sentimental or romantic about much, except books. When I fall for a good story, I fall hard – and that love lasts. So we started our morning in Le Panier, the old town of Marseille, where Edmond, as an average Frenchman, would have lived. Much has changed in the past two hundred years since the story was said to take place, but the lanes are still narrow and the old hospital, known as La Vieille Charite, a stone monolith that was already a fixture in the city by the restoration, still stands.

When faced with doorways no taller or wider than I am, history feels very tangible, and the lives of people who came before me – real ones, not figments of Alexandre Dumas’ imagination – seem much more real. In such close proximity to their reality, I can’t help but be glad to inhabit my own, which is undeniably more comfortable, pandemic or not.

From Le Panier, we make our way to the port – again, following in Edmond’s footsteps. He was a sailor, his ships departing from this point. It’s been years since I’ve seen the ocean and I can’t say I’ve consciously missed it. Open water terrifies me. But somehow, wandering along the water under a sunny sky with the salty breeze blowing, I feel surprisingly calm. The decidedly modern Mucem is here. And if I squint, I can just see the Chateau d’If, the island prison where Edmond spent so much of his life unjustly locked up. (It’s open to tourists, but we don’t have quite enough time to visit on this trip.)

Coming back from the port to the city center involves climbing stone ramparts. This is what I love about Europe, not just France, not just Marseille – the way that the old and the new flow together to create a unique present wherever you go. Those ramparts were part of the city’s defense system in a much more volatile era. Now, they’re just part of the charm, and offer a breathtaking view of the glittering marina.

This is the best way to see a city, I think – just walking. On short trips like this one, we very often forego museum visits in favour of long, meandering wanders through mazes of unfamiliar streets. I feel like we get a better sense of a place, and take in so much more of its atmosphere, by being outside to experience it firsthand. Following Edmond’s imaginary footsteps, of course, makes this particular walk that much more special.

When we stop for lunch at a trendy cafe, though, it’s hard not to feel like we’ve left Edmond behind and rejoined the present. We order from a menu with vegan options. And multiple fresh pressed juices. Frankly, it’s right up my alley – and my rice pudding, topped with poached pears, is divine. But the experience serves as a reminder. Marseille has a history, one whose evidence is everywhere you look. But it is still a modern, vibrant place and continues to evolve. It’s story is still being written.

And rewritten. Here in the hotel, we’re living one of those revisions. The Hotel Maison Saint Louis Vieux Port is new, but the building that is its home dates back to nineteenth century. The facade is emblazoned with lions, one of the many symbols of the Napoleonic empire. Although the rooms are modern, the iron balconies date back to those old days, too. Back then, the shop next door housed the ballroom, which must have been incredibly grand. Grand enough that Edmond Dantes might have danced there, once he became the Count of Monte Cristo.

It is less grand, more faded grandeur now, the contrast between the exterior and interior all the more stark because the hotel is… budget friendly. Time passes, life goes on. History is written and rewritten, often on the same pages. We can follow footsteps, but never truly live someone else’s experience. Still, out on the balcony, we pretend it’s the glory days of restoration, just for a little while.

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