KEY POINTS:
A priest in the south of France rang a friend in Paris this week.
He had seen the All Blacks play in Toulouse, liked the way they play rugby, liked the way they saluted the crowd.
"Such nice men, such a wonderful team. Such a shame they will be going home next week," he told her.
A taxi driver in Aix-en-Provence had spotted the All Blacks in their couple of days off in the old town half an hour from Marseille last month.
He made that approving "pwoof" sound the French do, then made a motion as if performing the first part of a weightlifting clean and jerk, which is not easy behind the wheel of a car.
"Les piliers, les deuxieme ligne, grand hommes," he said. Yep, props and locks are big men.
The All Blacks are in Cardiff but they are still the talk of French rugby.
Then again, they are playing the World Cup hosts tomorrow morning, which might have a bit to do with it.
There are two cup quarter-finals in Marseille this weekend. There has been the usual verbal nonsense flying about between England and Australia ahead of their repeat of the 2003 final.
Then there's the Fijians, delighted to still be alive, and in a spacious, luxurious hotel, a far cry from their digs earlier in the cup. A couple of their larger forwards are pleased to have beds that can accommodate their frames.
"Now we're with the big boys," grinned one of them this week. Clearly they like the feeling, and would like more of the same, thank you.
But South Africa will see to them on Monday morning. By the end of the weekend four teams will remain.
There's a feeling that even though it's happening in another country, the real action, the true focus of attention will be in Cardiff, events in Marseille notwithstanding.
Early yesterday, down at the Vieux Port, the hub on the horseshoe shaped harbour at the heart of the city, the fish sellers were doing brisk business. The air was rich with the whiff of the sea. Large trays of fish flipping and twisting before tourists and shoppers alike. Fresh? You bet.
One colleague, who doesn't care for les poissons poor chap, covered his nose with his sleeve and set off across the road to avoid an untimely deposit.
These folk are Olympique Marseille fans. They beat Liverpool during the week in the Champions League. Rugby? Mmmm.
Les Blacks? "Ah, oui Monsieur."
Marseille is a hard city, carved out of rock on the edge of the Mediterranean. Hard people too. This is not a city for amiable strolls through grassy parklands.
The whiff of the sewer is never far away and if you wonder why so many people walk with their heads down, it's not due to deep contemplative thought; more a case of avoiding the dog deposits.
The Stade Velodrome, venue for the quarter-finals, stretches up spectacularly but it's also a big concrete pile, lacking much subtlety. Suited to its environment? Absolutely.
Close on 60,000 will make it a fierce cauldron both days this weekend. You can see why the French love playing in Marseille.
Paris, the northern capital with a hint of peering down its nose, is a world away from the raucous, earthy south.
A dream will die in Cardiff tomorrow morning.
Recriminations? For sure. Tears too.
Too much has been invested in both camps for there not to be.
It could have been the final. In many respects it will be the final you have before the final.
The priest will be offering an extra prayer today.
