Cassis: “Kah-see” or “Kah-sees?”

It’s one of my new year’s resolutions to see more of France this year, rather than heading to Italy, Portugal, England or beyond. My goal is to see more of what is the most beautiful of all the European countries. At least, I think so.

SANARY-SUR-MER

We drove from Nice to Cassis in a rental car from Sixt (my favorite of all of them). They upgraded us to an automatic free of charge, just for asking nicely and claiming our loyalty to the brand. The car was twice the size, but twice the comfort.

Along the way we made a special stop at Sanary-sur-Mer for lunch, thanks to a recommendation by a friend. Tucked between Bandol and Six-Fours-les-Plages, just west of Toulon, Sanary is the Var department’s hidden jewel—The Soul of the Var by the Sea. It’s still wonderfully unspoiled, with a working fishing port that hums every morning as colorful “pointus” (traditional wooden boats) unload their catch—and locals haggle for sea bass and “dorade” (sea bream) straight off the dock.

Sanary-sur-Mer has an unexpectedly intellectual past. During the 1930s, it became a haven for German-speaking exiles fleeing Nazi persecution—among them Thomas Mann, Aldous Huxley, and Berthold Brecht. For a brief, luminous period, Sanary was known as “the capital of German literature in exile.” They lived quietly in its villas, wrote in its sunlight, and found in this small French village a momentary peace before the storm of war.

At the heart of town stands the 16th-century Église Saint-Nazaire, its pink-stone bell tower a beacon above the tiled roofs, filled with the frescoes by painter Jean-Baptiste Garrigou that tell the story of the town’s patron saint—yet somehow mirror the light and colors of the Côte d’Azur outside. The narrow pedestrian lanes around the church—rue Barthélemy de Don, rue Gabriel Péri, rue Jean Jaurès—hide chic boutiques, perfumeries, art galleries, and cafés shaded by plane trees. You can sip an espresso at Le Nautic or enjoy oysters and rosé at La Ptite Fabri’k…and still feel miles away from the flash of Saint-Tropez.

We happened to land in the midst of the 3rd edition of this “Week-end de l’Art Santonnier” on the harbor front. The festival honors the craftsmanship of the “santonniers”—the artisans who make “santons”—the small hand-modeled clay figurines, a traditional Provençal art tied to nativity scenes and local rural life. At the fair were the masters and artisan santonniers displaying their work, discussing techniques, and exhibiting figurines that evoke the Provence of old: shepherds, fishers, villagers, the nativity, and local color. While I’m not an aficionada of the authentic Provençal craft, it’s a deep dive into local tradition and design.

Sanary’s harbor curls into a perfect crescent, lined with pastel houses whose shutters glow pink and ochre in the Provençal light. Along the Quai Charles-de-Gaulle and Quai Marie-Esménard, restaurants and cafés watch the masts sway—La Tour, Muscade, Le Gélys, Quai 16, L’Hippocampe—and a host of others promise fresh seafood, a glass of Cassis or Bandol white, and the hypnotic rhythm of the waves. We had an exceptional lunch at Le Gélys after perusing the Saturday morning market along the port’s edge at one side. Sanary’s market is famous—one of the most beautiful in all of France, officially recognized by the Ministry of Culture.

If it were summer, we could have taken a short stroll from the port to find the Plage de Portissol, a sheltered cove of fine sand and turquoise water, beloved by locals. The coastline beyond offers hidden coves and walking trails linking Sanary to Bandol and the calanques of Cassis. I read that the water is clear, the air perfumed with pine, and even in winter the light feels eternal. Next time. Instead we jumped back in the car and headed to Cassis along the coastal road, avoiding the highways.

CASSIS

“Kah-see,” or “Kah-sees?” That is the question. It’s just like “Pa-ree” or “Pa-rees.” I did a lot of research and asked a lot of people and got conflicting answers at every turn. There is one school of thought that the town is pronounced Kah-sees because it’s part of the Provençal heritage and identity and the liqueur (blackcurrant) is pronounced Kah-SEE (no final “s” sound). Then someone else said it was just the opposite!

“Je vais à Cassis” (the town) → Kah-SEE(S)
“Un kir au cassis” (the liqueur) → Kah-SEE

Either way, it’s a lovely port town with thriving tourism that stays busy all year round. Our hotel, the Hôtel Le Golfe, situated on the western edge of the port, offered the most beautiful views of the port from our balcony. While checking in, the desk clerk warned us that the town was expected to explode with tourists on Sunday, thanks to the Marseille–Cassis 20-kilometer race (46th edition), a city-to-sea classic marathon, that finishes in Cassis late Sunday morning. Fortunately, we had booked all of our meals in advance, thanks to recommendations by Chat GPT, so we didn’t have to worry about the crowds.

Parking for Le Golfe was reserved, but in a parking structure 200 meters away that turned out to be nightmare to maneuver. We never found an elevator and finally found a proper exit after many tries. We had so much trouble getting the special entry card to work that one of the barriers came down on my head pushing me on the ground, fortunately without harm. We cursed the lot a lot.

Our first evening in Cassis we dined at Le Bonaparte for its bouillabaisse, only to discover that one must reserve it 24 hours in advance…but the recommended “Assiette du Pecheur” was a close cousin, and equally as delicious. The restaurant was quite good and very reasonably priced. We’d go back in a heartbeat.

I watched the sun come up from the terrace of the hotel over breakfast because Daylight Savings Time had ended and my internal clock went off on normal time while my friend slept like a baby. The hotel accommodated the time difference by setting up breakfast an hour early, too, so I was in luck to get a coffee and a buffet breakfast. The only seats were outside on the terrace, so at that hour, it was cool and breezy. The breakfast buffet was sad and unappealing.

The Hôtel de Golfe was pleasant, but minimal—meaning not a single thing extra or luxurious. No safe. No fridge. No tissues. No hand soaps. No drinking glasses. No coffee maker. Thin, worn out towels…minimal! Location and views were what the hotel was all about. Would I go back? Likely not, but as bad as their breakfast buffet was, not a single other café on the port was open at that hour.

The start of the marathon was 9 a.m. in Marseille with 18 to 20 thousand runners expected. We were told to expect a festive crowd around the finish/harbor late morning to early afternoon. We had hoped to take a boat to visit the “calanques” midday, but the ticket office was closed and on it was a sign posted: “Ouvert à 13h30” (Opens at 1:30 p.m.). That gave us time in the morning to take a 30+ minute hike to the Calanque de Port-Miou, one of the three big calanques of Cassis in the French Riviera.

A calanque (kah-LONK) is one of Provence’s most breathtaking natural wonders—that I’d never seen before. It’s a narrow, steep-sided inlet where the Mediterranean has carved its way into the white limestone cliffs, creating a secret cove of what is known as “impossible beauty.” “Between Marseille and Cassis, the Parc National des Calanques unfolds like a series of liquid jewels, each one shimmering in shades of turquoise and sapphire.” These are not considered to be just your average beaches. They’re dramatic, secluded fjords, where the cliffs plunge straight into the sea and every turn of the trail reveals another heart-stopping view that feels like you’re entirely your own. We set out to see them, by land or sea.

At the end of the trail, fortunately for us tired and thirsty “hikers,” was La Presqu’île where we could refresh ourselves with a drink and gaze out at the beautiful scenery for a while. Personally, I preferred gazing at the beautiful villas along the way, wondering who lives in them and what their price tags must be.

Then we hiked back to town (easier most of the way downhill) and landed in a restaurant on the port for lunch, La Poissonnerie Laurent,  just minutes before the marathon-runners swarmed in and took over the entire town.

They weren’t joking when they warned us that the town would explode…and it happened about 12:30 p.m. I was lucky to have gotten a seat at the restaurant because moments later, the port looked like Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, except that everyone was wearing running shorts instead of costumes!

We could barely move. We were anxious to get a seat on one of the boats to take a tour of the calanques, but when they reopened the ticket office at 1:30 p.m., they announced that no boats would be on the water today due to the high winds. It was a big disappointment, but there was nothing we could do about it.

Instead we found our way to the parking garage and attempted to drive the Route des Crêtes, a long, winding road connecting La Ciotat to Cassis and forming part of the Calanques National Park. “Attempted” is the key word…much of the roads were closed as they do on days of very strong wind and/or high fire risk. We found ourselves going in circles, except for one last stretch along a beautiful narrow stone wall-lined road that took us straight back to town. Nonetheless, the scenery was spectacular.

The crowds had died down a bit by the time we got back to the Port de Cassis, but it was clearly hoppin’ way more than usual. By the time you read this, we will have left Cassis this morning to work our way back to Nice, via some other special stop…maybe Saint-Tropez! Stay tuned for that part of the adventure, but meanwhile, you might ask, “Was the trip to Cassis worth it?”

If the weather had been better, we wouldn’t have missed seeing the calanques from the water. The food was excellent and the people were friendly. The tourists seemed to be a lot less well-heeled than the visitors might be in Saint-Tropez or Cannes, and not as international as in Nice…although we heard some American English. There was nothing special about the shopping…nothing very Cassis-ish. My guess is that the average tourists are the French from the region who would come in for the day or the weekend, like we did. The town is geared toward summer fun, more than fall or winter, as there’s very little indoor seating at the cafés and restaurants.

Would I come back? Likely not for a long time. It’s a two-night weekend adventure, and really not much more. Yes, it’s lovely. And yes, the scenery can be quite beautiful and dramatic, but once you’ve eyed that, there’s not much left to do…not that we found, anyway. And would I consider living here? Never.

A la prochaine…