Isolated in the shimmering expanse of the Mediterranean, Jarron whispers tales of resilience and sorrow. Jarron and its close companion, Ile de Jarre, rise from the sea, their names echoing a past steeped in salt production. Countless jars once dotted these islets, vessels that held seawater as it evaporated, leaving behind precious crystals of salt. Imagine the scene: the sun beating down, the air thick with brine, and workers tirelessly tending to their jars on Jarron. But Jarron’s story takes a darker turn in 1625. The tranquil islet became a quarantine zone, a last stop for ships suspected of carrying disease. The calm waters surrounding Jarron held vessels teeming with the sick, their hopes dwindling with each passing day. The most infamous of these ships, the Grand Saint Antoine, arrived in 1720, unknowingly carrying the devastating plague from Syria. The ship was burned and sunk in the very waters we now gaze upon. Divers rediscovered its charred remains in 1978, a chilling reminder of the tragedy that unfolded near Jarron. The ship’s anchor, a silent witness to the horrors, was salvaged, restored, and now rests at the entrance of the Musée d’Histoire de Marseille. While Jarron held the quarantined ships, nearby on Jarre, a grim ritual took place. The Baume des Morts, a cave on Jarre, became the final resting place for plague victims. Their bodies, covered in lime, were laid to rest in this somber cavern. Jarron stands as a testament to Marseille’s complex history. It’s a reminder of the city’s resilience in the face of adversity. It also speaks to the constant threat of disease that once loomed over bustling port cities.
Rue Callelongue
A hidden paradise at the end of the world. That’s Callelongue. Callelongue isn’t just a street it’s a journey. A