Non pas que le religieux soit fort et present chez moi.................
Letter from Marseilles: The sun had hovered low, a teasing purple plate that eventually dipped into the Marseilles bay. Hungry crowds of Ramadan-observing Muslims emerge, taking nightfall as their cue to break their daylong fast. In homes all over France's second city, they devour couscous and tagines; in simple restaurants they choose steaming bowls of chorba and sip gold-embossed glasses of mint tea. Since morning in the streets off Rue Canebière and around Noailles, Arab butchers had sold halal meat; grocers had weighed out loose semoule and bakers had flicked soft paintbrushes over trays of honey-swimming makroud and baklava cakes to disperse a sticky plague of flies.
Chickens were purchased for eating that evening by many of the city's 200,000 people of North African origin.
By night, the quays on both sides of Marseilles's old port are home to a relaxed line of hotels, bars and restaurants, a far cry from the expected nautical mile of ruddy-faced sea shanty singers, wooden legs and anchor tattoos. The central port area exudes seaside calm, its waters a large marina for hundreds of vessels. (...)
The Irish Times, 12.10.2007