My translations are getting better.

Marseilles - translated from French to English is "What a shithole!"

It was actually more dirty and more shady than Naples. I really didn't think that was possible but this place took the cake.

We get in to the station and then to the train and the guards are closing the doors to the subway. It's 9 pm and the subway is closed. Why? Probably because it is more unsafe than the south Bronx here. We go to get a cab and the guy tells us 30 euro for like a 10 minute ride. It's literally going to be less than 3 miles from the station to the hotel. And with a straight face he's like, yeah, 30. It was kinda like the Atlanta incident. For those of you who don't know - the year of the first Mets trip we went to Atlanta. On the last night, we're all pretty drunk, had been kicked out of at least three bars, thanks to Mackey, and we're wandering around the streets of Atlanta for about two hours looking for a diner. We finally see a cab and get in and the guy drives us around the corner and says, This is it - that'll be 40. At the same time we all yell What? Bullshit - I tell him if he wants 40 he's going to have to come out of the cab and take it from me. Someone else thows him 10 bucks and says, that's all your getting - be happy.

So Jess tell this dirty French bastard Fuck that! I'm not paying 30 euro for the cab it's like only a mile. We deliberate some more then hop in with an Asian guy and the end result was a 6 euro cab ride. What a bunch of freaking scam artists. We get to the hotel and check in and...there's no AC. There's supposed to be but there is none and it is boiling hot and humid. There's no breeze. We go downstairs to find a place to eat and the receptionist, who looks like she's in a nightshirt, tells us that they're trying to get the AC to work. That's nice - what are you going to do for me tonight? I'll pay you the fucking 24 euro we saved on the cab to stand at the end of the bed and fan me. So we walked through a little ghetto area under this overpass and saw no less than three hookers - got some shitty doner/schwarma, Jess had some hobo veggies out of a can and we went back to the room.

The view wasn't too bad because apparently, we weren't the only one who were hot. Across from us is some chick chilling on the couch in her underwear. I'm pissed I didn't take a picture because Jess is doing her reviews of the hotels/hostels online and always asks me to get a picture of the places. What better endorsement for a view than a French broad in her draws?

We got up the next morning, thoroughly unrefreshed and headed out for the day. We say everything we wanted to before lunch.First, we hopped on a boat to Chateau d'If - it's the castle where Dumas' Count of Monte Cristo was supposed to have taken place. It was pretty cool and had great views of Marseilles. Apparently, someone saw the island and knew that the French city was vulnerable from that position, so they built a fort there and used it as a base of attack.

Go figure, the French knew shit about defenses.

We then headed up to Abby St. Victor - which had been the site of a number of religious spots. There were crypts underneath so we paid to see them. There was stuff from the first two centuries. It was pretty neat. Very quiet and very peaceful and much larger in the crypt than I expected. Next we hopped on the bus and headed to Notre Dame de la Guarde. It was a pretty small church but was located all the way above the city. It had pock marks from when it was shelled during WWII and I think it was one of the first places the French took back from the Germans. It overlooked the entire city - 360 and you could see the Chateau d'If and other islands out in the harbor. We went back to nap for a bit and since there was no AC and no one to fan me, it was friggin' boiling hot.

We then walked around the city and found a bunch of geocaches. Some were located in places that we had already been and so we did some extra mileage around Marseilles. We got some Chinese food for dinner and I am not sure if it was regular Chinese or French Chinese. Do you think Chinese food is different everywhere you go to match local customs and tastes? It was alright but definitely not up to par with NY.

For those of you who know me really well - you know I am not a morning person and I really hate them. I hate being woken up and having to get moving. It's worse when you have to get moving at like 4:30ish. Then it gets slightly more shitty when the buses aren't running and you have to take a cab to the airport. It is most shitty when that cab costs 50 euro. We made the guy put the meter on and all but it was still like 52 euro - I guess that beats missing our flight.

I wouldn't have minded missing our line to get on and off the plane. Holy shit, these people get worse and worse. First there was this Polock woman and her daughter who just kept pushing closer and closer. They were annoying but on the way out of the plane on the way to the bus that takes you to the gate, I tripped the daughter because she pushed past me.

That was fun.

There there was this other fucking lady. Let me tell you, it took evey ounce of my self control not to punch her in the face. First we're waiting for them to open access to the gate - because it's 6am and we're the first flight out of there. It can't GET any earlier. She's literally in my asshole. No joke. She had to be brown.

She was leaning ON me until I took a step back and slammed into her. Then we're waiting to actually board the plane and the line moves up a tiny bit, so I don't, because I understand the importance of personal space; this bitch tries to shimmy her fucking orange suitcase in front of me. I had to jam my forearm into her arm and knock her off balance, then I said fairly loudly, Jesus Christ, and took a step forward.

We get on the planne and Jess and I play this little game (it's open seating), I sit in the window, she sits on the isle and we leave our stuff in the middle seat and hope no one asks to sit there. It usually works but this flight was full. Some STINK French teenager kid comes and sits next to Jess. He reeks. I don't even know like what. It's BO, my keen sandals, it's I don't know what but it'so bad Jess starts crying. He was pretty freaking nasty.

We get to Sweden - Malmo to be exact and we have to wait for our bus to Copenhagen and we see something you never see at home. This chick had BLONDE roots and has dyed her hair brown. How bizarre - it's like an alternative universe. Reminds me of someone who used to teach on my floor - just her polar opposite!