Two French Cities That Sing Different Songs
From Wikimedia Commons, accessed October 24 2014.
By Beliz Bolukbasi
October 24, 2026
PARIS, France -- All cities of France gather around the same national anthem, exalt the same flag and speak the same language. However, when it comes to two largest cities of France, Paris and Marseille, they offer distinct tales.
Paris, the capital of the French Republic, is effortlessly charming and glamorous. City-dwellers walk fast on the street, read Balzac on the metro and readily season each sentence with “merci” and “s’il vous plaît”. Marseille, located on France’s splendid south coast, the Côte D’Azur, is delightful and stimulating in another way. The small streets leading to the Old Port, merging into the historic Rue La Canebière and the relaxed footsteps on the rugged roads make Marseille, a carefree getaway.
Two times each year, Paris gets painted with brushstrokes of pink, maroon and beige. Designers, models, bloggers and reporters from all around the world gather to celebrate a specific event: Paris Fashion Week. This fall, between September 30th-October 7th, beautiful women skillfully walked in ankle-boots with their hair stuck under their silk scarves. Luxury brands raced with one another to offer the most memorable experience under the spotlight. Dries Van Noten presented its new collection in an abandoned factory at Rue de Chemin Vert of the 11th arrondissement, whereas Dior Haute Couture built a lavender flower dome with about 400,000 fresh orchids in the center of the Louvre Museum.
Photo provided by the author.
After the fashion show, models and designers ordered their café crèmes in one of the pâtisseries of Paris. They probably had a hard time picking between the rose-flavored macaroon from Pierre Hermé and the chocolate éclair from Café de Flore, and singled the one out with fewer calories. The regular people of Paris enjoyed a warm day in Jardin du Luxembourg with their checkered picnic blanket and a bottle of wine, after a week of relentless rain and disciplined footsteps. However, along with the golden lights of the Eiffel Tower crowned with glasses of champagne, life was less affectionate for some other Parisians.
Every day to go to school, on Boulevard Saint-Germain, I pass in front of a beggar wrapped in a navy coat. His coat undoubtedly seems too thin for the crisp winter air, but more strikingly, he holds a sign, which reads “J’ai faim,” or “I am hungry”. Right before, a family of refugees catches my eye, snuggling and chatting among each other, as they sit on a cardboard box under the traffic light of Odéon. For some reason, in Paris, social contrasts seem even sharper and surely more disturbing.
The reality in Marseille is a bit different. After a cursory search on Google, it would be possible to find horror stories on how dangerous Marseille gets, especially once the sun sets down. Yes, the streets are dirtier and the pavement is broken, but Marseille carries its own personal charm: it is a kind of comforting warmth of small-town people. It was only early October when I went there. Yet, it was pretty obvious that as each boat sailed away from the harbor, the port had slowly lost some of its vitality. The sailors took away their dollars, krones and francs; the people of the port unintentionally became more minimalist and unselfish.
As the clocks hit five in Marseille, people have already taken their place around the Old Port. Peering at the Basilica Notre Dame, they let their legs hang free right above the blue Mediterranean water. Tomorrow, they will take bus 19 to go to the Calanques. As the weekend moves from mood to moment, they will enjoy a calm day with their lovers, wives, husbands or kids in the beautiful French Riviera. They will sip from their huge bottle of water, and read their favorite novel, and maybe even glide through the cool Mediterranean water.
Photo provided by the author.
When time does not pass in seconds and minutes, but rather adopts the pace of the waves, life takes a different beat. The hasty steps become smoother. The ankle-boots leave the stage for sneakers and sandals. And that’s how the tale of two different cities continues to be recited in the mouths of thousands of visitors each year.