Tag: food

​COLOGNE, BERLIN, WARSAW, VILNIUS, RIGA

I interrailed 40 years ago. Could say it felt just like yesterday. It doesn’t. 

And so, partly due to 2, dick swinging morons indulging in and perpetuating a war no one wanted or needed, partly trialling a future longer trip and partly inspired by chum Mike, we found ourselves on a Eurostar one Saturday morning. 

Plan was Cologne, Berlin, Warsaw, Vilnius and Riga staying between 2 and 4 nights in each. Trains, and one coach, depositing yours truly and wife into each chosen destination. Flight home. Otherwise, be still on our way back.

Trailfinders (TF) booked the trains and hotels, the rest was all us.

Eurostar can be expensive. Unless you’re able to book a decade in advance. Limited perhaps too in destinations. Nevertheless, for me certainly, fucks flying every time. Wonderfully civilised commencement to any continental journey.

And, what we didn’t grasp until we’d boarded, was TF upgrading our outward journey. A very pleasant purgatory between economy and first class. Entitling us to delectable breakfast pastries, yogurt and coffee.

COLOGNE

Arrival, Hotel, Wander

As one emerges from Köln Hauptbahnhof, Cologne Cathedral magnificently appears. It’s so close, a well judged stone could break a window. Please don’t.

Figured enough images of cathedral – which I couldn’t do justice to anyway – so instead, I give you a photo of train station.

The hotel was only five minutes away, ten as we, thanks to one map app or another, took an unwanted detour. Checked in.

With mid-afternoon fast approaching, time to reconnoitre.

Tragically, for both inhabitants and their architecture, Cologne was heavily bombed during WW2. 

The vast majority 15th to 17th century buildings were devastatingly destroyed leaving a mixture of survivors, reconstructions and post war buildings. Unfortunately, many of the latter are unworthy of the former.

Two large squares, both again central to the cathedral, and seemingly busy all day, offer restaurants and bars aplenty. 

Walked, walked some more, carried on walking until chancing upon Rheinauhafen, 19th century docks transformed into a modern, upscale waterfront district. Museums, galleries, cafes, restaurants and modern architecture all cohabit reasonably happily. Fascinating and handsome. Give it a whirl. Glad we did.

Hotel, sleep for 9 hours.

Cologne Proper

Post a lovely and leisurely breakfast popped into the cathedral (free). Sunday Mass meant only a brief visit. However, returned later to properly gawp.

Huge with scoring gothic ceilings and gorgeous stain glass windows make an impressive statement. What bits are gothic gothic and what bits are mock gothic difficult to decipher. Nevertheless, worth a gander. 

Behind the cathedral is the iconic Hohenzollern Bridge famed for its love lock multitudes. Constructed early in the 20th century it’s a vital railway bridge – 1,500 trains trundle across every day.

It also happens to be quite beautiful. 

Once across the bridge and the Rhein one happens upon Köln Triangle. Comprising of a short stretch of riverfront, a short meander inland to the attractive Köln Messe/ Deutz train station (Deutz being the district) and completed by a return to the river via a viewing platform.

The latter, offering genuinely 360 degree vistas of the city, is housed in an office block 29 floors up. Striking vistas across the city, the Hohenzollern Bridge crossing the river is especially memorable.

Pay the €5 entrance fee, you won’t be disappointed.

Those expecting the Köln Triangle to be a trendy food/vintage market (us) will be severely discouraged. It’s not. The viewing platform is a must, the rest easily and quickly forgotten. 

This was nice though.

Cologne does offer ample opportunity to ramble along the river. It’s just not as attention grabbing as other cities, including our own. 

The main shopping streets, close by the cathedral, are neither pretty nor ugly. Just meh. For those searching consumer therapy they will undoubtedly suffice.

One highlight was an Eau de Cologne shop. Surprising, as I’ve never taken to aftershave and Sus never to perfume. To put your minds at rest, both wear deodorant. It never occurred, probably due to a lack of interest, to put the city of Cologne together with Eau de Cologne. The dreadful, unimaginative, all the same ads for both don’t help.

Anyway, punters and voyeurs alike were able to sniff numerous perfumes and spray the occasional sample onto oneself. Or passerby. If particular hot.

Both were startled to discover liking many of said scents. Particularly the citrus forward fragrances. Undoubtably worth half an hour.

A second highlight was Sisu, a welcome pause for cake and coffee. The cake, homemade, was magnificent. A return a necessity if we hadn’t moved on. 

Our final stop was the Tipsy Monk, a Delirium Cafe. Thirty taps of German, Belgian and UK beer treats. Beware if chosen tipple a stronger ale, no thirds available. Large and lovely inside, no outdoor seating we could see. Probably the reason place was near empty on our arrival. 

The few surrounding streets (Salzgsss, Buttermark) reminiscent perhaps of earlier centuries. Atmospheric and worth a stroll even if beer isn’t your cup of La Trappe Dubbel. 

Cologne Thoughts

If I’m honest Cologne was, unusually for a German city, disappointing. Standout sights include the cathedral, Hohenzollern Bridge and, my favourite, Rheinauhafen. And it’s certainly not grim or dangerous.

Impressions are of an underdeveloped and undervalued city. Perhaps someone important decided the cathedral was enough.

Nevertheless, if a spare day you find, I’d encourage all to afford the city a chance.

BERLIN

Arrival, Hackesche Höfe District

Late the following morning found us on an ICE train to Berlin. A 5 hour trip. A brief panic when our TF app showed no inclination to open denying access to our tickets. Mercifully, a very helpful chap at the station helpdesk, printed out a copy. 

As with many a train journey the vistas consisted of various sized urbanisations, farmland and countryside. Agreeable in the main if not necessarily spectacular.

Quick shout out to our ICE train. Not quite Eurostar chic though perfectly pleasant. Reached speeds of 150 mph. Couldn’t tell. Sanitiser provided in the toilets. Classy. And we were in coach 31. Short platforms beware.

Berlin Train Station resembles a sci fi movie set. Multiple floors, multiple food outlets, people multitudes. Quite magnificent.

Unfortunately the whole sci fi analogy crumbles on entering the Berlin Metro. No tap in, tap out. We had to buy paper tickets and validate on entering and leaving the system. Seriously? This appears to be a common theme across German cities. I don’t doubt better options are available to residents but, certainly to us, appeared rather antiquated. 

Alexanderplatz, location of our hotel, and once part of East Berlin, is a huge, sprawling square housing 2 of Berlin’s most iconic structures – the Weltzeituhr (368 metre TV tower) and Weltzeituhr (world time clock). Ironically, both were designed and constructed to celebrate soviet supremacy.

Surrounded now by modern office blocks, a large shopping mall, restaurants and bars, both may be feeling a little confused. Alexanderplatz is also a major transport hub (ideal for tourists) and the core of modern East Berlin.

Checked into hotel before strolling to the Hackesche Höfe district. 

With its generous sprinkling of Art Nouveau architecture, upmarket consumer consumerism, all manner of interesting bars and restaurants, it’s rather charming. Even those establishments trying for gritty and real. The original Jewish quarter was especially attractive. 

Once foddered, we meandered the 15 minutes to Mikkeller Berlin. Though increasingly residential, the character of the district remained remarkably similar. 

Twenty four taps, predominantly their own, inside and outside bottom perching. Sus grabbed bench space outside overlooking an agreeable thoroughfare. Sipped, people ogled, struck up a conversation with a delightful Brazilian couple living in Germany. 

A delightfully charming evening.

BERLIN II – Oranienburger, Friedrichshain District

Slept long, breakfasted long, emerged from our hotel a little before 11 am. 

Sus fancied the David Hasselhoff Museum. I didn’t. I lost. 

Located a few minutes beyond the Mikkeller bar and housed in what appeared to be an upscale hostel with its own brewery. Apparently, hostels are not immune to gentrification.

Mercifully, the ‘exhibition’ was tiny in a space no larger than a en-suite commode. Couple of signed photos were the ‘highlight’. Free. Thankfully. 

An engineered (Sus, obviously) meander via the charming and delightful, predominately residential, Oranienburger district brought us to the thoroughfare that is Unter den Linden. Sober, or otherwise, I struggled not to rename the street after a deceased Middle Eastern terrorist. 

The Brandenburg Gate sits on Unter den Linden. Unfortunately, or at least the section we wandered, was deeply disappointing. Glance at the Brandenburg Gate, explore elsewhere. We did.

Jumped on the metro, alighted at Frankfurter Tor, for the Friedrichshain District. This mundane residential district, albeit boasting a splattering of Art Nouveau architecture, has somewhat and miraculously morphed. 

Independent shops, restaurants and bars dominate. Gentrification has arrived. Nearer the river, a light industrial estate, has cleverly transitioned into galleries, bars and techno clubs. And graffiti. Lots of graffiti.

One group of long, long ago retirees were exploring (slowly) this once industrial landscape. Gentrification. Literally.

And we loved it. I hope you do too. 

We continued our quest to see the Spree. A river not shopping mall. 

Once discovered (and conquered, obviously) we crossed the mock medieval Oberbaum Bridge into the district of Kreuzberg.

Not dissimilar to Friedrichshain, with that same mixture of surprisingly attractive Soviet era blocks and Art Nouveau, though perhaps a smidgen more upmarket. 

More metro madness – actually rather ordinary, just wanted the alliteration – to Kottbusser Tor. Basically a more Holloway, less Mayfair snippet of Kreuzberg. 

The reason, Biererei Bar and Vintage Cellar. Obviously.

Indoor, outdoor plonking places, 24 taps of quality ales (German, UK, USA). Lovely. The cellar, in reality a cooled, glass enclosed room, stocked some fabulous beers. Unfortunately, prices are equally fabulous. 

Both have previously visited Berlin. Both a couple of times. With tourist attractions long since ticked off an opportunity beckoned to better explore East Berlin.

Yes, gentrification is endemic certainly in districts we visited. As with other cities, where gentrification has taken hold, we believe, and hope, it offers more than it takes. I suspect most would to prefer to live in the new Friedrichshain than the old. Unless you’re buying a house of course.

And, for those searching for grittiness, realism, it’s still all here. Just packed a little differently.

Berlin is a proper city, an easy city to live in. We’re dedicated urbanites and loved it.

WARSAW

A new country for Sus, a new city for both. Relaxed breakfast before Berlin Hauptbahnhof and platform 11. Another 5 hour train journey. 

Podcasts, music, window watching, blog binges all helped time dissipate quickly. Noise cancelling headphones blocked out undesirables. Aren’t they fab? Both recently invested in a pair of Sony noise cancelling, over ear headphones. 

The train, or at least our carriage, had compartments each with 6 seats. Brought memories of travelling to and from SE London into the city many years ago. Nevertheless, clean, air conditioning and reasonably comfortable. And we had one of those 6 seats compartments to ourselves. 

Arrived, dragged suitcases the short distance to our hotel, checked in. And, did our usual, quickly departing to explore. 

We were half heartedly aiming for old town. That lack of commitment doomed us to failure. Nevertheless, we meandered down the elegant Wilcza lined with boutique shops, restaurants and bars. And trees. 

Architecturally resembling East Berlin with that odd but effective mix of soviet era blocks and Art Nouveau loveliness. More tree lined goodness in the shape of the boulevardesque Marszalkowska and completed our sojourn on the Wilcza resembling Poznańska.

Spellcheck is losing the will to live. 

Sus, quite deliberately, had brought us to Warsaw’s Central Square bordering, on one side, the modern train station. From which we’d emerged a couple of hours earlier. Events are obviously staged here – one now forgotten something was in its dismantling death throes. 

A collection of Romanesque buildings, plus a magnificent beast seemingly paying homage to New York’s iconic Empire State Building, host galleries, museums and a theatre. 

This striking architectural collection was constructed in the 1950s by Poland’s Russian overseers. Odd, perhaps telling, the architect mimicked such an iconic American building. And handsome to you and us perhaps, these structures are a symbol of Soviet repression and disliked by many residents.

Modern skyscrapers, some quite striking, dominate the skyline. For those not on foot, Warszawa Śródmieście (city centre) metro station, delivers tourists and locals into the centre of said square.

With the weather misbehaving a return to our hotel felt opportune.

Warsaw – The Old Bits

Post brekkie, via tourist information, a cold wind and occasional rain, we bravely braved the walk to the old town. Between 20 and 30 minutes, depending on route and coffee and cake intake, from the central train station. 

We actually landed on the ‘Royal Route’. Which, rather conveniently, wanders into the old town. The Royal Route dates back to the 17 and 18th centuries, the old town itself from the late medieval period. 

Tragically, the Nazis, partly in an act of spite, destroyed 85% of this historical architecture. Inhabitants, supported by the country as a whole, meticulously rebuilt the historical centre, beginning from 1945, and over several years. 

And, as with Nuremberg, the decision to do so was an undoubted success. Yes, many of the buildings appear newer than they should, nevertheless, there is a welcome level of authenticity.

Unlike Dubrovnik. Disneyland on a stick. With cruise ships.

Meandered contentedly for 2-3 hours before returning, by bus, to the central station. A short stroll brought us to Beer and Bones. Heavy metal and craft beer. That works. Was a big metal fan in my youth and, though my tastes have broadened, still love the rasp and shriek of a guitar.

Twenty four taps of almost exclusively Polish beer from lager to lethal IPAs and sours. Again, be warned, 300ml is the smallest pour. Interior is as expected (neither pink, nor Disney inspired cushions adorned) with numerous seating options. Limited outdoor seating complements indoor space. 

Rested, showered before meeting a Polish colleague of Sus’s, and his wife, for dinner. And a delightful evening it was to prove.

Warsaw – Praga and Lazienki Park

So delightful we slept in to well after 9am. After breakfast headed to Praga, an artsy district of Warsaw. 

The M2 metro, alighting at Dworzec Wilénski brings one close. Head to Ząbkowska Street or Stalowa Street. 

And may I point you towards Konesar. A former 19th century former vodka distillery, with many of the original booze buildings surviving. Enhanced with modern, and rather handsome buildings, the complex hosts galleries, museums, shopping, bars and restaurants. It’s most impressive.

Less impressive, perhaps, is Ząbkowska Street. Towards one end mildly trendy bars and restaurants have sprung up but the rest of the street is a tad nondescript.

A 162 bus safely delivered us to Lazienki Park. Alight at Agrykola. Lazienki Park is large, green with numerous follies and one palace. Water is strategically plonked. 

Meandering proved a pleasing way to spend a couple of hours. Or more.

Warsaw has, from our limited experience, a comprehensive, cheap and effective public transport system There’s no tap on, tap off but ticketing machines at train and metro stations are straightforward to use.

Similarly bus tickets though you may have to pay using onboard ticket machines. Not all bus stops have machines. We bought per journey though better value options, for public transport lovers, are doubtless available. 

Tomorrow, is 7 hour train journey day. Earlyish start so treated ourselves to take out pizza, beer and laundry. We know how to mix it up.

Warsaw, or the bits glimpsed, genuinely surprised us. Neither, initially undoubtedly, knew what to expect from this once soviet suppressed city.

Those expecting grim tower blocks, cars from previous eras and bread queues will be genuinely surprised. Or disappointed. Depending on your outlook. Warsaw is an ultra modern, attractive city, striving to lose any vestiges of soviet oppression. It’s working.

One very much feels Warsaw (and presumably Poland) is striving to rid itself of any vestige of Soviet repression and move closer, certainly with the current government, to its European neighbours.

I wish it every success.

VILNIUS

Up, breakfasted, checked out by 8.15. Again in compartments of 6 though conventional carriages existed. Odd. 

Initially started our journey in adjacent compartments until a kind, English speaking lady, offered Sus seat opposite me. Their eldest daughter – they were a family of 5 – had a job interview and unable to come. 

One small fact I hadn’t been aware of, until Sus pointed it out, was a train change at the border. About 5 hours into the 7. Differing track gauges, apparently. It actually decoupled twice with one change of direction whilst still in Poland. 

Vistas again comprised of variably sized urbanisations, farmland (mainly arable) and wooded slopes. An attractive threesome. 

Lithuania appeared similar, not surprisingly. Borders are a human thing, not a tree thing. There was perhaps more woodland, less farmland with the larger urbanisations retaining greater remnants of their Russian subjugation. 

And both noticed second (third? Fourth?) growth trees. Many were, presumably, fast growing conifers. Apparently, Lithuania has a strong tradition chopping down trees, flogging trees, replanting trees. Logging. 

A short bus ride – tap in enabled – followed by a short walk brought us to our fourth temporary home of the trip. 

Checked in, yep straight out. Discovered Baltas Tiltas Food Hall. Along with much of Vilnius. Indoor/outdoor seating, bar plus several food outlets. Greenery and river nearby. Food passable, value decent. 

Post fodder, calorie depleting stroll. It started to rain. Obviously.

Strolled around modern district, purchased chocolate, headed back to hotel. Rain had mutated from irritating to just wet.

Vilnius – Seven and a Half Mile Day

Post a most palatable breakfast departed hotel to explore the city. 

Unlike Warsaw Vilnius old town has been, mercifully, well preserved. UNESCO recognises as a World Heritage Site. 

Multiple invaders inevitably caused partial destruction of the city. Nevertheless, Baroque, Gothic, Renaissance and classical architecture all survived. Hoorah. 

We meandered here, we meandered there. A vague plan, oft deviated. Seven and a half miles of oft deviating.

Vilnius does churches. If churches are your cup of ecclesiastical, Baroque your cup of architecture, you may never leave. St Anne’s and Bernadine Churches are amongst the most beautiful.

Secular treats include the Bernadine Garden, Vilnius University, Palace of Grand Dukes, Presidential Palace, Town Hall and the evocatively named Gates of Dawn. 

Wandered into the Presidential Palace Courtyard, an agreeable space in its own right. And a captivating dancing fountain. Pop by, say hello. 

The self proclaimed Republic of Užupis is a mildly bohemian oddity and worth the short detour. Though a Vilnius district, Užupis leaves the impression of a small, well to do market town.

Litaratų Street is also mentioned in many a guide. We took a stroll down and not sure why. Remarkably similar to numerous other streets. 

A relatively, benign climb brings one to The Bastian of the Defense. Constructed in the 16th century, it’s since been fully restored. The afore mentioned Gates of Dawn are the only original surviving section. The walls are visible though a museum, not visited by us, does greater justice to the history of said Bastian. 

Additionally, the neighbourhood boasts a convent, pink church and expensive looking apartments. 

Gediminas Tower, easily visible from the old town, is the last remnant of Vilnius’ Medieval Castle. We declined the climb. 

Four pm arrived. Thankfully, so did Nisha Craft Capital. Indoor/outdoor seating, rock music, 22 taps plus fridges. Perfect.

Trakai – A castle, a lake and rain

Breakfast, bus back to the train station. This time without suitcases. That’s tomorrow.

Today it’s Lake Galvé and Trakai Castle. Today was also torrential torrent day. Trees and porches became our friends. Ducks wore ponchos. 

Train journey is 35 mins, then a relaxed 45 minute stroll around Lake Galvé. 

The final short stretch takes castle hunters away from the lake and into the attractive, predominantly clapboard village of Trakai. Signposted back onto the lake where stalls, restaurants and cafes await. None appealed. Many wares were landfill in waiting.

Two bridges separate tourists from the island Trakai Castle lives on. A 14th century, gothic fortress. Unfortunately falling into ruin in the 17th century the castle has since been reconstructed. 

And it shows. And only having recently toured Nuremberg’s reconstructed castle Trakai Castle didn’t appeal. The €14 entrance, though understandable, sealed the castle’s fate.

Strolled around the castle returning to Trakai village and Kyby Nlar. Surrounded by a Japanese tour group (today Lithuania, tomorrow France) ordered coffee and Kibinai. Both excellent. 

The kibinai is remarkably similar to the empanada which is remarkably similar to a Cornish pasty. Evolution or plagiarism? 

One oddity was a large, again reconstructed, wall, adorned with small defensive towers, enclosing a several football pitches sized area. Though located between Trakai village and the lake we saw no signposting, information boards or otherwise explaining what had appeared in front of us. 

Bizarre.

Anyway, Lake Galvé is glorious, Trakai village fascinating, Trakai Castle more miss than hit. 

We’d caught the 11.36 train returning on the 16.10 train. Specific trains need to be chosen before travel. As mentioned, the castle wasn’t our cup of reconstruction.

However, if it is, I suspect the same trains will suffice. Cost, €6 return. 

Once returned to Vilnius we opted to stroll the 25 minutes to a food hall spotted the previous afternoon. Closed. This being a Monday. Monday is the ideal day to traipse to a favourite restaurant or bar. Doors may not open until Tuesday. 

Finally foddered, sipped some fine wine at PODS Wine bar. Worth a look if in mood for the fermented grape stuff. 

Returned to hotel, packed, slept.

Vilnius Thoughts

Vilnius felt incredibly modern, young and efficient. And is undoubtably one of the cleanest cities ever visited. This, from my train widow watching, appeared to include the country as a whole. Love it.

Locals, though not especially ethically diverse, appear helpful and friendly. Both loved it, an easily recommendable 3 full days stopover for anyone. 

RIGA

There’s only one daily train from Vilnius to Riga. It leaves as 7.30am. Never going to happen. 

Alternatively, coaches leave throughout the day taking about half an hour longer (4.45 hours). Line up that leisurely breakfast.

We booked (ok, Sus did) a LUX express taking, in theory, four and a quarter hours. Only a smidgen longer than the train. Similarly priced at €25 though cheaper coach options are available. We chose an express service, only stopping once with a little more luxury. And I mean a little more.

Vilnius train station is modern, clean with a small variety of eateries. The coach station – visible from train station – feels like a throwback to an earlier era. 

I rarely travel by coach though always remember Victoria Coach Station seemingly scruffier than its train counterpart. Is this universal or only my perception? Are coach stations, railways stations’ poorer cousins?

Our route out of Vilnius drove through attractive neighbourhoods. One small district consisted of 18th and 19th century wooden houses. Riga would have similar such buildings.

Arrived slightly early into Riga bus station. We were never to set foot, or any other part of our

body, into Riga central train station, so my research will need to be continued elsewhere. Now, that’s a cliffhanger.

Walked to our hotel, checked in, left for Old Town (Vecrīga) exploration. Another UNESCO World Heritage site. 

The cobbled streets and medieval layout have largely survived wars and Russian occupation. Unfortunately, much of the medieval centre succumbed to time and the vagaries of humankind and underwent extensive reconstruction post-independence.

Nevertheless, medieval remnants do still survive – The ‘Three Brothers’ houses, Riga Dome, Gunpowder Tower and Riga Castle.

Tragically, late, late night bars, vape and tacky souvenir shops dominate parts of the old town. Nearby restaurants, offering similarly touristy menus, do nothing to inspire. It’s somewhat incongruous. Beautiful buildings, from throughout the ages, garishly vying for your money. 

Or, perhaps, just a return to their origin story. 

Whatever, it’s a tad grim. Unless 50 shots for €25 is your cup of evening entertainment. Stag and hen groups may, however, be wooed. 

A second ring beyond the old town showcases 18th and 19th century elegance. Miraculously, a sprinkling of wooden houses survive alongside numerous art nouveau structures. 

A large park prettily sits beyond this elegance offering tranquillity and green vibes. 

We ate (vegan) in an agreeable neighbourhood the other side of the park before retiring to our hotel. 

Riga – Art Nouveau and Central Market

Both emerged from the land of slumber unexpectedly late. Breakfast, showers, left the hotel about midday. We returned 9 hours and 8 and a half miles later. 

Much of Riga, outside the old town, showcases late nineteenth and early twentieth century elegance with Elizabetes Iela and Alberta Iela the pinnacle of Riga’s Art Nouveau architecture. 

I actually prefer the simplicity of Art Deco but there’s no denying the gorgeousness of these 2 small streets. 

Accidentally discovered Dzirnavu Iela, an attractive main thoroughfare. Unlike old town, tempting eateries are commonplace. Aleksandra Čaka Iela, more main thoroughfare pleasantness, herded us agreeably to old town. 

Average coffee and cake prior to Riga’s huge central market (Rīgas Centrāltirgus). Five pavilions (imaginatively repurposed 1920s Zeppelin Hangers) house fresh produce including meat, fruit, vegetables and fish. 

Ubiquitous landfill wares are also available. 

In case you’re struggling to find that perfect gift/ingredient there’s an outdoor market. Fresh flowers (popular in Latvia), fruit and vegetables dominate. Numerous food stalls dominate one half of one hanger offering local delicacies to hungry tourists and locals alike. Dinner sorted. Twice.

Neither can remember a larger market. Wikipedia also appears to be struggling. 

Ms&Mr Beer was our beer destination of choice. Though small inside, it’s marvellously imaginative. Outside seating is additionally available.

Eight taps and numerous bottles handily listed on a menu. Rock music on repeat. Lamentably, the beer was a bit rubbish. Sus, discretely (ish), poured a quarter of hers into the road. Never a recommendation. 

Little point in staying – the bottles and cans were of a similar quality (I checked) – and so we didn’t.

Walked to BEERA Bar. Twelve taps, fridges full of beer. A huge improvement. We stayed. 

Riga – Chum Gary

Post brekkie, a stroll across the Daugava River, at least twice the width of the Thames. 

After mild map confusion we found ourselves in the Kalnciema Quarter. Agreeable, mildly upmarket with restored and, hopefully, soon to be restored wooden/clapboard buildings. 

One map app finally directed us to the small square we’d been seeking. Pleasant, but suspiciously quiet. No market, no live music. That would be later. About 5 hours later. Didn’t hang around.

Kalnciema sported a middle income ambience. Agreeable if not spectacular.

Rested briefly before heading to Āgenskalns, another obscure website, recommended neighbourhood. We genuinely had no idea what to expect. Nevertheless, agreeably surprised. Not a market, not another overly ornate building. But a small neighbourhood of predominantly late 19th, early 20th century wooden/clapboard dwellings. 

Many had obviously been restored, others were in the process of restoration, a few awaiting benevolent new owners. Shared a commune vibe but really wasn’t. A community yes, a commune no. If a day to many booked in Riga, Āgenskalns would be a worthy diversion. 

Victory Park, a ridiculously short stroll from the ‘not a commune’, offers lush tranquility. 

Another ornate bridge – Riga has a number – brought a short respite back at the hotel. 

A return to Central Market to eat and meet chum Gary. Frustratingly, Gary doesn’t own a smartphone so only caught up with him at BEERA Bar a couple of hours later. With the kind help and intervention of one of Sus’s bestest chums. 

Jurmala Beach and Dzintari Forest Park

On checking in the lovely receptionist suggested, as an excursion, Jurmala Beach. Three days later we confirmed details with a second lovely receptionist. She suggested a small deviation. She suggested alighting train at Dzintari, one station stop before Majori, the stop for Jurmala Beach. 

Genius. 

Train station, return tickets (no need to specify return train) easily purchased from ticket desk, train departed quickly thereafter.

Cost? A meagre €10 for both. Journey time, half an hour. 

Dzintari Forest Park offers towering pines, a skateboard park and a seemingly non ending Tarzan (rope) adventure park. Clean toilets (sampled), a café (not sampled) with further attractions speckle the park.  Additionally, a viewing tower exists within the park. Unfortunately, we never viewed said viewing tower. 

For a relatively small space Dzintari Forest Park is genuinely remarkable. A fabulous resource for children, and to a lesser degree, their parents. Dzintari appears to be a wealthy area. Such a resource is unlike to appear in lower income city districts. Which is a shame.

A stroll down Jūras iela for a consumerism hit, predominantly restaurants and shops. 

In fairness, it’s all rather agreeable. A wide, pedestrian thoroughfare bordered by handsome late 18th, early 19th century architecture. A fair proportion, wooden or clapboard.  

Onwards to the beach. Another surprise. There’s a huge expanse of sand, a well behaved sea and multiple toilets and changing type cubicles.

Greenery skirts the edge of the beach, bars and restaurants are present but never overwhelm. We paddled in the Baltic (yep, cold) though a few hardy souls were somewhat braver. The water remains shallow a remarkably long way out.

Now, neither are beach people, preferring to swim than sunbathe. Nevertheless, this was as fine a beach as either have kicked sand. It could make a fantastic base, especially if children are part of your retinue, with Riga only half an hour away.

Jomas iela, running parallel to Jūras iela, showcases further late 18th, early 19th century architecture. Again much of which is wooden or clapboard. We zig zagged between the two to better get a sense of the neighbourhood. It’s strikingly elegant. Occasionally gorgeous.

By now, nearer Majori Train Station than Dzintari. Both in the same zone (B) so no issue jumping on a train there.

We adored this area and probably spent best part of 4 hours exploring. And a wonderful 4 hours it was. Made the old town look very ordinary. 

Brief hotel stop before popping back out for a couple of vinos. A return to hotel to pack, shower, chill. Reasonably early start the next morning.

Riga Thoughts

The old town is compact and quickly explored. It has charm somewhat ruined by a get pissed, eat crap and vape to we die vibe. Now, for those considerably younger, the old town may well be Valhalla. It had that feel. And who am I to disagree.

Nevertheless, Riga, for us, came into its own outside of the old town. Elegant architecture, bustling streets populated by appealing shops, bars and restaurants. Greenery abounds. Riga has a certain air of sophistication once removed from the old town.

And Riga, as with Vilnius, appears to be exceptionally well kept. Litter was rare, fly tipping non-existent.

And please do create a few free hours for Jurmala Beach, Dzintari and Majori. You will no t be disappointed.

FINAL THOUGHTS

What a tremendous mode of transport train travel is. Obviously, trains have formed an integral element of many of a foreign climes excursions. Though, perhaps never to the same extent.

TF sorting trains and hotels was an undoubted success. Self booking is undoubtably doable, and perhaps cheaper, though can be somewhat daunting. We would not hesitate to use TF again in similar circumstances. 

Train travel, especially on those lengthier journeys, offers a unique opportunity to relax, decouple (get it?) from the many problems of the world. Listen to podcasts, music, read a book or, controversially, chat with your companion. And as, a country not your own, flows conveniently past.

We loved the whole experience. And are planning a longer trip in the next couple of years.

HOME

We sacrificed a very early flight into Gatwick for a later flight into Heathrow. Idea was great, the stopover in Helsinki’s impressive airport made it less so.

Arrived home a little before 6pm with the following day (Sunday) enabling a little recuperation before real life resumed.

Perfect.

Thanks for reading, Tony (July 2026)

Toulouse

I was 60 on Monday 13 January. From 9.30am onward according to a reliable source. My mum. A 60th birthday party was considered. Briefly. Travel seemed the obvious way to celebrate.

Neither has visited Toulouse. A city with a rich history and the opportunity, by train, to venture beyond its city limits. And it would be warmer than London. It wasn’t.

Brief History

Toulouse, located in southern France, and the capital of the evocatively named Occitania, dates back to ancient times. Originally settled by the Volcae Tectosages, a Gallic tribe, before becoming an important Roman colony, known as Tolosa.

Over the centuries, Toulouse has ‘welcomed’ a motley crew of rulers including Visigoths, Merovingian and Carolingian Franks. During the Middle Ages it became the capital of the County of Toulouse. Today, it’s the capital of France’s Midi-Pyrénées region.

The production and trade of pastels (woad), greatly contributed to the wealth the city enjoyed during the 14th to the 16th centuries. 

Toulouse, often referred to La Ville Rose, due to distinctive pinkish terracotta buildings, boasts architecture from the Romanesque to Renaissance priods. Highlights include the Romanesque Basilica of Saint-Sernin, the neoclassical : A stunning example of Romanesque architecture, built between the 11th and 13th centuries Capitole de Toulouse, the neoclassical City Hall and National Theatre, the gothic Notre Dame de la Dalbade and the Pont Neuf, the oldest stone bridge in France.

Not a bad selection.

Saturday – Arrival

A 7.45am Heathrow flight to Toulouse seemed a splendid idea. Six weeks later, at 4.20am on a freezing Saturday morning, less so.

Nevertheless, once reasonably alive, the Elizabeth Line, a straightforward check in plus a flight landing 15 minutes early, and we looked akin to geniuses.

A 15 minute bus ride, through predominantly bland but tidy neighbourhoods, brought us to the Jeanne d’Arc Metro station.

Our hotel was a pleasant 5 minute stroll. Bags dropped, formalities completed, exploration commenced. It was a little after 11am.

It was cold. And insisted on remaining so. The south of France in January is not, weather wise, what we’d supposed or hoped.

The main square in Toulouse is an attractive affair dominated by the Capitole, a handsome building dating back to the 12th century. And richly embellished, over the following centuries, by successive important people.

Currently dressed in Neoclassical clothes it gazes benignly (one hopes in these troubled times) over the square of the same name.

Further wanderings brought us to the 11th century La Basilique Saint Sernin. Bit of a monster this one. Architecturally magnificent inside and out.

The centre of Toulouse is rather lovely, dating back to the sixteen hundreds. With numerous contributions from later centuries. The Pont Neuf, for example, was started in 1545 and opened in 1632. A money thing. Makes the High Speed 2 (HS2) look well managed.

We ate at the aptly monikered ‘Petit Voyage’ not far from the cathedral. Wonderful little spot discovered completely by chance.

And found a baby supermarket. A Carrefour City. And a regular haunt. Our hotel provided rudimentary and very welcome kitchen facilities including a small fridge. Without an overpriced, underwhelming minibar. Breakfast by Carrefour provided 6 out of 7 breakfasts.  

We meandered hither here and hither there before returning to our hotel. Then completed check in and unpacked.

Our day ended at Décapsule, a cheeky bottle shop a few minute’s walk from our hotel. Suspiciously convenient. I’d discovered our hotel.

For more on the excellent Toulouse beer scene please go to https://tonysbeersnobblog.wordpress.com/2025/02/13/toulouse/

Sunday – Carmes

Carmes is a Toulouse neighbourhood nestled between the Place du Salin and Place d’Esquirol. If that helps.

This city village is popular with tourists and locals alike. The pedestrian Rue de Filatiers and Rue Bouquiéres are a conspicuous consumer’s delight – small local shops, pretty cafes all in appealing surroundings.

Saint Stephen’s Cathedral is actually 2 churches amalgamated info one – a bogof kind of vibe. The architecture alternates between the Gothic and Renaissance. It’s quite magnificent with a striking interior.

We arrived as Sunday Mass was concluding. Neither are religious, neither are church goers. Nevertheless, we’ve explored many a magnificent church and never witnessed one so well attended. Fish and wine anyone?

And an insight into the power and awe such a Cathedral must have projected onto believers of earlier times.

We wandered the streets of Carmes for a couple of hours or so. With a similar mix of architectural genres to Toulouse, and village vibes, it’s a jolly nice place to discover.

We continued south, or so Sus said. She has an inbuilt compass, I have an inbuilt ‘that way’. We strolled by the 19th century Royal Palace – now a barracks – before discovering the attractive Jardin des Plantes and Muséum de Toulouse.

The latter – there’s a large foyer, thankfully with a toilet – modelled a full size tetradactyl. A modern day elephant modelled underneath – one not hunted for sport by an inadequate moron – would probably piss itself. As would the inadequate moron.

The wide, elegant boulevard alongside the gardens was hosting an expansive and busy market.

Briefly back to our hotel before a sojourn to the surprisingly pub like Bear’s House. Craft beer obviously.

Monday – Carcassonne

Toulouse-Matabiau Station was less than a 10 minute saunter from our hotel and a factor influencing our decision to stay there. Trips outside of Toulouse were always part of our grand plan.  

Carcassonne is an hour’s train trip from Toulouse. The first 15 an uninspiring journey through Toulouse’s outskirts. The second 45 offers hope with green stuff. And cows. 

Carcassonne, a Languedoc hilltop town, is famous for its medieval citadel – La Cité. Very 1984. A lively wind cheerfully greeted us. Fuck, it was cold. The ‘hilltop’ bit should probably have given us a clue. 

Again, though not especially prosperous (a successful wool and cloth industry long since departed), Carcassonne new town offers an elegant thoroughfare, attractive main square and a cathedral (Saint Michel) dating back to the 13th century.

Carcassonne is not as extensive, culturally or architecturally appealing as Toulouse. Nevertheless, it possesses a certain charm and shouldn’t be bypassed in a headlong rush to La Cité.

Exiting the new town one encounters  the petite, 16th century La Chappell Norte Dame de la Santé languishing prettily at the beginning (or end, depending on your view). The gorgeous 14th century (restored in the 19th century) Pont Vieux spans L’Aude River depositing tourists, drily, into Bastide Saint-Louis. Or Lower Carcassonne.

Merchant mansion houses date back to the 17th and 18th century with churches dating back further including the 14th century Cathedral of Bastide Saint-Louis.

Place Carnot, the central square, with its famous fountain, loved by Balzac a French writer I’d never heard of, hosts weekly markets. Not when we were there. Even the statues looked cold.

Bastide Saint-Louis is often missed, as with Carcassonne itself, in a headlong frenzy to reach La Cité before that annoying noisy and surprisingly numerous family in front of you. That would be a mistake. Though cold and, inevitably, blustery on our visit we enjoyed our brief exploration.

La Cité is considered by many to be the best preserved medieval fortress in the world. So there.

Constructed in the 12th century, restored in the 19th century, listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site in the late 20th century. Some consider the 19th century restorations in tad poor taste. A mediaeval fantasy, not necessarily a mediaeval reality.

Entrance to the fort is free. Payment will be taken if you wish to stroll the ramparts, meander the castle and peruse the museum. We paid. And strolled, meandered and pursued. Fifty two towers, 2 concentric walls totalling about 3 kilometres. On a hill. Not a place to volunteer to attack after a lager top or two.

A audio commentary was available. We declined. However, fascinating fact boards dotted the ramparts and castle. All included an English translation. We read those.

Remarkedly, a small mediaeval town nestles within the protecting wall of La Cité. With a small population residing there year round.

We returned to Carcassonne new town and that attractive main square. Had coffee, cake, warmed up before heading back to Toulouse.

The day was completed by an evening excursion to Décapsule. It was my birthday.

Tuesday – Market and Paintings

Was Marché Victor Hugo day. The man, not the market, wrote, amongst others, those cheerful little ditties ‘Les Misérables’ and ‘Hunchback of Notre Dame’.

A market existed from when the square was originally constructed in 1827. In 1886 the square was renamed Victor Hugo and subsequently sexed up in 1892 and again in 1959.

Today Marché Victor Hugo is a large covered market sheltering around 100 stalls. Meat, poultry, fresh sea food and cheese assault the senses. With an almost apologetic concession to fresh fruit and vegetables.

Though smaller than London’s Borough Market the emphasis is on selling fresh quality produce to locals and tourists alike. Less on Borough Market’s street food vibe.

Several restaurants live on the second floor and take their ingredients directly from the market. Be rather silly not to.

We chose one, scoffed at one. I chose prawns. Big fuckers, unpeeled. It became messy. Quickly. The lovely staff kept arriving with napkins and wet wipes.

Overall, great value, good food, passable wine. A most agreeable experience.

I suspect the other second floor restaurants offer a similar experience. All have a lunch menu, most open around midday and close before 2pm.

Once foddered culture beckoned. Housed in the wonderful 16th century Hotel D’Assézat is the Georges Bemberg Collection. Once a private collection, since donated to Toulouse. Thanks Georges.



Daubs range from the Renaissance to the modern day and well worth a gander.

Popped back to hotel before a delightful evening supping fine wine at Nabuchodonosor. A genuinely lovely spot with welcoming locals. If you’re seeking a slick, modern, climate controlled environment this is not it. And there’s no sign. Nevertheless, please do pop in.

Wednesday – Foix

An hour and fifteen train minutes from Toulouse lies Foix, a charming town located at the crossroads of two rivers, the Ariège and the Arget. And snuggly nestled in the Pyrenees. 

The train was a double decker. I love a double decker. Our tickets were never checked. 

The journey passed through quickly forgotten small towns intermingled with pretty countryside backdropped by the Pyrenees and farms. 

Foix, for a small town, boasts a disproportionately large castle and cathedral. The former medieval, the latter 15th century. We admired the castle from afar, closed for a nip and tuck, and peeked into the striking cathedral.

The town still retains a sprinkling of medieval houses, some half-timbered. Plus architecture from the following centuries. 

Though not feeling especially prosperous the town woke up once the shops re-opened around 4pm. However, the Pyrenees setting, plus those 2 rivers, perhaps overshadow the town itself. 

Thursday – Albi

Our third and final  excursion was Albi, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

An hour from Toulouse, the scenery again comprised of uninspiring outskirts, quickly forgotten small towns and pretty countryside. 

More half-timbered medieval houses vie, for your attention, alongside Renaissance mansions. Woad, between the 14th to 17th  centuries, was must have modern equivalent to the latest iPhone. It paid for those Renaissance mansions. 

The historical centre comprised of houses and mansions predominantly between the 13th and 17th centuries. With approved guest appearances from later centuries. Many surviving mansions have been upcycled to hotels and civic buildings. 

It’s a most agreeable place to meander and window shop. And buy cake. We grabbed a spot of lunch. Before the 2pm curfew.  

Saint Cécile Cathedral, another of those Gothic masterpieces the French appear to be rather good at, is difficult to miss. It’s a monster. The daddy monster of cathedrals. Though, close up, vaguely reminiscent of Battersea Power Station. 

It’s huge, brick, with round bits. And turrets. Stunning. Inside, every wall, every ceiling is painted. One does hope the ceiling was double time. 

Alongside is the equally huge, equally brick, equally round bits old Bishop’s Palace Fortress. Or the Palais de la Berbie. Now part museum, part not really sure. 

We crossed one bridge, came back across another. My bladder discovered another beautifully medieval neighbourhood. We’d been following a ‘toilet’ sign. Good things really do come to those who wait.

Then back to the train station, onto a crowded train and into a cold Toulouse. And beer.

Friday – Michelin Birthday Nosh Day

Our last full day in Toulouse. And France. Before departing London we’d researched Michelin Toulouse restaurants. A 60th birthday is not a MacDonalds occasion. 

To be fair, for us, nothing is ever a MacDonalds occasion. 

Py-r is a 2 starred Michelin restaurant. Sus decided this was an appropriate destination for a milestone birthday. She was right. As she so often is. 

Whilst pursuing the menu, with the help of google translate, the door was unlocked. 

We entered. The manager looked a tad non plussed. Once reassured we knew this was a posh nosh establishment (my words, not his) and not the local pizza palace, he and his staff couldn’t have been friendlier. 

We chose the shorter of the 2 set menus. And grateful we did.

As one would expect the food, presentation and ambience was fabulous. 

The first course was ambiguously titled ‘Setting the scene’ or something similar. Some scene. Over 2 servings at least 15 dishes appeared, often elaborately exhibited. Only mouthfuls, but delicious mouthfuls. The French, apparently, very much enjoy understatement.

And there were 3 types of butter.

The wine, chosen by our rugby loving sommelier, was also rather fabulous.

Three hours later – we spent longer at the Fat Duck some years ago – it was time to leave. After paying of course. 

The next couple of hours passed in a mild and pleasant food and alcohol trance exploring streets we hadn’t yet explored. Or, in some cases, actually had and just forgotten. That’s a 60 thing. 

We ended up in Mosaic. A craft beer establishment. And a hop varietal. Our chosen wine bars were all closed until 6pm. It’s ironic, that in a country famed for wine, we ended up drinking beer. 

Saturday – River an Canal Day

Our flight wasn’t until 8.30pm. After checking out we strolled to and the along the river Garonne. Joggers and walkers, like ourselves, were numerous. Saturday was the warmest day our Toulouse week. Not annoying. At at all.

Apparently, the Toulouse Massive likes to brunch and lunch on Saturdays. Cafes and restaurants were packed. 

The Canal du Midi, flowing through Toulouse, was constructed in the late 17th century. Beginning inToulouse the canal ambles 240 kilometres finally gurgling out of existence in the Thau lagoon. Further canals were added a century later.

The couple of small sections we encountered were well maintained, respected and harbouring 20 species of fish. The Canal du Midi, and its later siblings, are a wonderful Toulouse bonus. As with the river, walkers were evading joggers, joggers were evading walkers. Cyclist were evading both.

We foraged fodder from a favourite patisserie, consumed back in our hotel’s comfortable foyer. 

Then another stroll. More packed cafes and a graveyard showcasing many an impressive family tomb. 

We can collected our bags and Ubered to a near empty airport. Our flight back to London was only a third full. 

Toulouse Musings
Wrought iron is omnipresent. Handsome stuff. I’m a big fan. Perhaps my Steel City (Sheffield) upbringing.

We never actually ventured onto the metro. Our only foray into public transport was the airport bus on arrival. On the advice of hotel staff an Uber proved a more efficient, and cost effective option, for our return airport trip. Though, I believe, the T2 tram does run to the airport.

Pancakes/crepes are a Toulouse favourite. Not such a fan.

Graphic comic stores are well represented. Again, big fan.

When buying train tickets, online of face to face, specific trains must be chosen. And buy train tickets beforehand, even if only by a day or so. Same day travel fares are expensive.

Smoking is far more prevalent than in London. Vaping less so.

Sunday and Monday. That favourite researched restaurant, wine bar or cafe may well be closed.

Similarly, lunch and dinner restaurant opening hours are quite short. Try eating after 2pm may well leave you hungry.

Streets are a remarkable and welcome litter free. Unfortunately, poo de chien, is splattered somewhat more liberally.

Toulouse – Final Thoughts

Three days in Toulouse should prove a delightful break. Unless you live there. Obviously. Meander the city, amble Carmes, stroll the Canal du Midi and River Garonne.

If day trips play a part in your grand plan, Carcassonne should be projected managed in. As should Albi. Foix perhaps the unfortunate casualty to time. Our favourite? Albi. Plan several hours for each.

And a special mention must go to the vast majority of French people we encountered. Almost without fail they were charming, generous of their time and annoyingly quite lovely.

We both prefer Toulouse to the perennially overrated Paris. It’s beautiful in parts, charming in others and walkable in all. And would have no reservations about recommending the city to those wishing an alternative to Paris or, another favourite, Lyon.

Don’t sideline Toulouse in favour of another Paris visit. It would be a mistake.  We loved it.

Many thanks for reading, Tony (February 2025)

Athens

I mentioned in my previous blog – https://wordpress.com/post/constanttravel.travel.blog/305 – that the Good Ship Croydon cruise originated and concluded in Athens. Our Airb&B was in Plaka, old town Athens. Five nights, six days stretched lazily into the near future.

A bit of history. Annoyingly ambitious Ottomans conquered Greece in the 15th Century. Silver lining? They booted out the Byzantines. The Greeks reclaimed their country, following several unsuccessful attempts, in 1821 during the War of Independence. Happy endings all round.

A bit more history. Much of modern Plaka was constructed, by returning Greeks and non Greek settlers, in the decades following 1821 though remnants of older civilisations dot the city landscape.

Once settled into our commodious temporary home we explored Plaka.

Tourist central and not difficult to understand why. Plaka is charming, close to the bestest touristy bits and resplendent with tavernas, restaurants and shops.

Kolonaki, an upmarket Athens suburb, clambers steeply from the centre making a nip to the shops an endurance exercise. Or torture. Architecturally, uninspiring comprising of mid to late 20th century low rise apartments with an occasional modern block or church offering welcome relief. Nevertheless, the shops, restaurants and people all appear upmarket with a bustling main drag and welcome greenery. The panoramic vista back down into plebeian society emphasising perhaps where you came from.

An inevitable craft ale before Netflix and bed. More on the genuinely surprising Athens craft beer scene can be found at https://wordpress.com/post/tonysbeersnobblog.wordpress.com/525

Athens and the Acropolis. Synonymous with one and other. A total love in. And after queuing for about half an hour Acropolis tickets were ours. A 2 hour wait until our allotted entrance afforded us time for light shopping and to arrange a trip to Delphi for later in the week.

History thing again.

The Acropolis site has been occupied, and unsurprisingly fought over, for 6,000 years. But not by the same 2 adversaries. That would be silly.

In the mid 5th century BC, at the golden age of Athenian culture and power, the Acropolis became the seat of the Athenian League – a little like a modern day protection racket.

Perikles was a renown general and politician from a moderately wealthy background who found himself top dog through this so called golden age. Thankfully, he happened to be rather good at war whilst conversely promoting democracy and the arts. One of those irritatingly good at everything kind of chaps.

The Parthenon. And Chums

Perikles initiated an ambitious building project lasting the entire second half of the fifth century BC. The most important buildings visible on the Acropolis today – the Parthenon, Propylaia, Erechtheion and the Τemple of Athena Nike – were erected during this period.

The winding, though not overly taxing, route upwards (obviously) meandered pleasantly by a number of ruins including a quite beautiful amphitheater.

Once the acropolis is reached, even with some modern reconstruction, it’s impossible not to marvel at these 2,500 year old buildings. And it never occurred to me that it wasn’t just the Parthenon up there – it was the Parthenon and chums.

We took our time, taking in the architecture and vista over Athens. My favourite – apologies Parthenon groupies – was actually the Τemple of Athena Nike.

It had been teeming on the way up but, to our surprise, it wasn’t on the way down. Perhaps mid afternoon is the time to visit.

On descending we popped by the Ancient Athens Agora (meeting place and triple alliteration) and the beautiful Temple of Hephaestus dating again from a bewildering 2,500 thousand years ago. Our final cultural delight was, not to be outdone by those show off Greeks, a Roman Agora gate opening into what had been the centre of public life during Roman rule. This Roman upstart is a relatively modern 2,000 years old.

We relaxed with a predictable craft beer at Strange Brew (again, check out my beer blog), probably our favourite of the craft beer tipple houses.

Strange Brew, walkable from Plaka, is located in Koukaki. We’d stayed in Koukaki a week earlier – before our cruise – and peeked around. Our verdict wasn’t encouraging.

‘Koukaki is well kept – as we discovered Athens to be generally – though architecturally uninspiring. Late 20th century, low rise apartment blocks make up the vast majority of Koukaki with only colourful awnings offering any interest or glamour’.

Our second Koukaki outing challenged these initial thoughts. A week didn’t beautify Koukaki – I doubt several years would – though modern apartment blocks added a little architectural glamour. Nevertheless, exploring Koukaki further we discovered an up and coming neighbourhood with a creative, bustling vibe. It very much appealed with both preferring Koukaki to the posher Kolonaki.

And wouldn’t Koukaki and Kolonaki make great children names. Better than Brooklyn. Or Croydon.

Zeus, Hadrian and a Museum

The following day was a tad more tranquil. After breakfast – good reviews, average breakfast – a short stroll took us to the miraculously surviving 2,000 year old Gate of Hadrian. The gate is, somewhat congruously, situated close by a busy main road only emphasising it’s survival instincts. Hadrian would not have been best pleased.

Next up was the Temple of Olympian Zeus opportunely located alongside Hadrian’s Gate. Yep, the same rather busy chap who built Hadrian’s Wall in the north of England to keep out those troublesome Scots. If you wish to get close up and personal to the temple and into the architectural park there is an entrance fee. If you’re skint, tight or short of time the temple is easily observed from outside of the park. We went down the close and personal route and, even today, it’s mightily impressive. What an incredible spectacle it must have been in ancient times.

The temple was started in 515 BC and consisted of a 104 columns. The actual construction spanned an incredible 650 years – reminding me of London’s Crossrail – and finally completed by Hadrian. Somewhat cheekily, Hadrian put statues of himself into the sanctuary. Like his style.

Tragically, during mediaeval times, columns were destroyed or reused for construction. Upcycling isn’t always a good thing.

Our final culture adventure was the Acropolis Museum. We queued for about 20 minutes for tickets.

Wrong queue.

Another similar amount of time in the right queue deposited us in front of a lovely lady who promptly sorted 2 tickets. We loitered in the museum for a good hour and a half and, on leaving about 2pm, discovered both queues inexplicably disappeared.

Even so, the Acropolis Museum is a fine way to wind away an hour or more. And queuing. Twice.

Wine was our choice of tipple late that afternoon. Finewine (https://www.finewine.gr/) was the venue. It’s small with a couple of tables outside with ample people judging opportunities. The wine and service were both top notch – the last wine the owner recommended is particularly memorable.

A couple of days later we popped by a second time but it was closed. A pity.

We ate – the setting better than the food – before heading back to our digs.

Delphi

Delphi, our destination the following day, necessitated an inevitable early start. Transport options include driving, public transport or an organised tour. We chose the latter. And enjoyed a personable, knowledgeable and refreshingly honest guide.

The journey, by bus, was to stretch to around 2 hours. The outer Athens suburbs and the outskirts of the city are a tad drab. Not on the tourist trail and you won’t need a town planner to work out why.

I’d been expecting an arid and brown landscape but once clear of said drabness Delphi trail tourist are greeted by mountains, rolling hills, woods and farmland. Genuinely striking and a most welcome surprise. Delphi itself is situated at the base of Mount Parnassos.

Quite alot of history time.

There’s architectural evidence that the Delphi site was occupied 6,000 years ago with the cult of Apollo established in the 8th century BCE. Prompted by this Apollo chap Delphi developed into both a sanctuary and the oracle. Athena, fashionably late, appeared a little over a century later.

According to literary and archaeological evidence many other gods were associated with the sanctuary including Artemis, Poseidon, Dionysus, Hermes, Zeus Polieus, Hygeia and Eileithyia. Must have been irritating.

The Amphictyonic League, an association of twelve tribes of south-central Greece, controlled the sanctuary and, under the protection and administration of the League, made it autonomous in the 6th century BCE. The oracle blossomed boosting its territory, political and religious influence throughout Greece.

Between the 6th and 4th centuries BCE, the Delphic oracle, was kicking ass. The Pythia, a priestess delivered the prophecy, typically interpreted by a bunch of blokes, the priests of Apollo. The oracle was for all – cities, great rulers rich and poor – with all leaving gifts enriching the already enriched.

The Aetolians conquered the sanctuary in the 3rd century BCE before they themselves were driven out by the Romans in 191 BCE. Some Roman emperors favoured the Delphic oracle (Hadrian), others just nicked anything valuable (Sulla).

In the 3rd century BCE, the Rationalist philosophy movement damaged the oracle’s authority. People stopped believing. Later abandoned, partly destroyed and left to ruin the village of Kastri was ignominiously constructed over the site in the 7th century AD.

Still atmospheric over 2,000 years later. As is the scenery.

We toured the main site, along seemingly with most of Europe and the US. Below is the theatre and the pillars bottom left are the remains of Apollo’s Sanctuary. Where many an unfortunate goat met an unhappy – for the goat – sacrificial end.

Briefly abandoned to our own devices, and as had been suggested, we trudged to the pointiest bit of the Delphi site. Here lies a well preserved ancient stadium – the best in Greece – originally built in the 4th century BCE though tinkered with for the following 200 hundred years or so.

An incredible 6,500 sports fans could ogle their favourite atheletes win, lose or fake an injury. Online gambling would be all over it.

Next up for our weary travelling companions was a small but interesting museum followed, after a very short bus ride, the Temple of Athena Pronaia. Told you it was a long day.

Built in the 7th century BCE, and in keeping with much of the Delphi Sanctuary, was in ruins with only small sections still standing. Nevertheless, in those surroundings, with only a few people around it was properly atmospheric. Back in it’s heyday chez Athena must have been spectacular.

Perhaps surprisingly, my favourite old bit of the Delphi Sanctuary, along with that stunning scenery, was The Stadium. Undoubtably the most complete, a tad more secular and, to me, more real.

We stopped at a village for fodder – I spent the 45 minutes exploring, others sat down for a meal – before our return to Athens. It’s a lengthy day but, if you have the opportunity, a worthwhile one.

Chilling was the goal for our last full day in Athens. We wandered aimlessly exploring neighbourhoods we’d yet to explore. Some upmarket (Psiri), others less so (Omonia), all interesting.

We drank a little ale (Tales of Ales) listening to Jazz, ate delectable food at Ferouz (https://feyrouz.gr/) and completed our Netflix series smugly discovering the murderer before the big reveal. All in all a perfect day to end our 2 week jaunt.

Athens from Anafiotika, a pretty village within a city

Final Thoughts

Athens. Grows on one. Stunning ancient ruins are sprinkled pleasingly across the city, the Acropolis chief amongst them. Pretty neighbourhoods such as Plaka and buzzing neighbourhoods such as Koukaki are certainly not the exception but neither are they the norm. Much of the city, from what we observed, is a tad drab, lacking personality.

Nevertheless, if Athens isn’t on your tourist trail list, give it a go. No-one should be unmoved by those ancient ruins and the city has much to offer.

Would it be our favourite European capital? No but we’re very glad we went.