With its terracotta-roofed buildings the colour of cracked wheat, ripened apricot and blanched almond scattered around the mistral-whipped sea, Marseille is infused with a perceptible and irrepressible energy. This gritty, grimy and gloriously real city – France’s oldest, and largest after Paris – isn’t gentrified like its Provençal counterparts. But its rough-and-tumble edginess, wailing sirens and litter-swirled streets, and its coastal corniches, chicaning around rocky inlets, coves and sun-baked beaches, are chock-a-block with treasures.
Pulsing to a sultry southern European tempo, Marseille also beats to the drum of neighbouring North Africa.
Its fusion of cultures is best experienced at its thronging street markets of Provençal produce stalls, Algerian souk-like bazaars, and fresh-off-the-boat catches splayed along the Vieux Port’s docks at its centuries-old fish market, selling the base ingredients for the local speciality fish stew, bouillabaisse. Its name literally translates to its cooking method: when it boils (bouillir), lower the heat to a simmer (baisser) – which is maybe a good recipe for handling the heady, heated melting pot that is Marseille. 
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