Joy in the Hills – Lovenskate & friends in Marseille

Photography: Collins
Words: Morgan

In the hills there was a great joy in life
“It seems to me that misery would be less painful in the sun.” Lyrics from Charles Aznavour’s Emmenez-Moi, appropriated by the port city of Marseille to summarise its magical, yet somewhat wild existence. Like many ports, Marseille is a very relaxed, almost lawless place in some ways. However, what it lacks in responsibility, it makes up for in soul. Moped licences can be bought from a shop, but barbecues will be lit until everyone’s fed.

The balance of a city’s chaos is measured in its customs. 

There is a lot to be said for Marseille, both in culture and skateboarding. The city has harboured a special breed of skateboarder for generations. Whether they were forged in the fires of the Prado bowl, or took the two-wheeled approach through the narrow streets and plazas of Cours Julien, it seems their nonchalant mentality emanates from Provence’s core.

A rather eclectic bunch this Lovenskate lot are – drawing from all across the continent and piling into the van with no qualms, simply a brew in hand – or mate in Schianta’s case – and a hunger for having a jolly good time – skateboards optional. 

Sun, soap and 17 hours in a van. Stu captained the Brits’ journey across the channel, landing at la Friche by dusk into the welcoming (pizza-filled) arms of Pierre Pauselli – our guide and filmer at BSM (Board Spirit Marseille). Schianta and Livio Gritti joined after driving down from Lugano, with Alex Hallford, Arno Wagner, French (Richard Sayer) and myself arriving the following days. 

Excerpts from books by Marcel Pagnol, a French writer recommended to me by Pierre, litter this article. Some of the quotes resonated with me, so I wanted to include a few to help with my narration.

Pierre’s spot guide-mind took us to a delightfully aromatic flyover, where we were greeted by a rather obscure spot. While some chose to get close and personal to human excrement, Mikey took advantage of one of many totalled cars, tipping his metaphorical cap to Natas. Of course, Mikey doesn’t wear caps – styling this man’s hair takes far too long to ruin with a hat. The evening took us to the Prado bowl – doubles for French and Chloé Bernard, while Alex casually floated head-high airs into the night sky. 

“In the solitary farmhouse of the hills there was a great joy in life, much tenderness, and much hope.” – Jean de Florette and Manon of the Springs. Not quite a solitary farmhouse, however, in the hills there was most   definitely a great joy in life at the relatively young, yet picturesque DIY nestled in amongst the hills of a quaint village outside of Marseille. Barbecue lit above, with Stu curating a mighty feast while everyone else was embraced in a dusty hug from the bleached white concrete below.

Having to constantly survey the streets for dog eggs (as French named them) was a very stimulating exercise. Watching Ben Keegan weave the most hectic flip manny through a school lunch bell rush was equally stimulating. So much so in fact, that I ended up losing my skateboard. Boards left against lampposts, beers and scarves bought in solace. “This is not a very surprising story; but wait a minute; it’s going to be.” – My Father’s Glory and My Mother’s Castle.

The central point of the most colourful, bohemian neighbourhood up on the hill holds a very famous photo opportunity for tourists, with stairs rising up above the Métro. Schianta made light work of handling the rollercoaster banks, unhindered by the traffic of gormless sightseers. Finally, up to the Marseille Saint-Charles station for some claims made the previous days. Skating someone else’s board is never ideal, however, thanks to Chloé’s utter battleship of a skateboard, we made it work.

Using The Fungeon Tour video as a spot guide, we went to the seemingly perfect village park full of transitions, only to discover that simply rolling over this ’70s crazy paving was a trick in itself. Some took to siestas, others to hopscotching their way around this Mad Hatter’s playground. After Livio and co. handled business there, on we went to the loosely-branded ‘skatepark’, which was the perfect spot to swan about on – nothing too hectic. Schianta managed to find a route that completely contradicted this description, however. 

Back at la Friche – where we were so kindly housed for the week by the mighty BSM – Stu and Pierre hosted a flock and screen printing workshop for the local kids, giving each the chance to produce a T-shirt adorned with some colourful Lovenskate advertisements, no less. 

“Our days are only beautiful because of their tomorrow.” – My Father’s Glory. This was a constant, as is with most skateboarding excursions. Each day builds on an excitement. Even with occasional defeat, the energy builds, and fuels the following day. This seems to reach a tipping point on most trips, where the body gives in to relentless repetitive movements and painful floor inspections. Thankfully, however, this wasn’t the case for this particular Provence excursion.