A return to Seville. Visiting chums whose fabulous wedding we’d attended, in Seville, whilst Covid was still dominating world headlines. A Gatwick departure, flight and taxi to perhaps 15 minutes amble from Seville FC (where chums live) all trouble free. Ironically, neither of our hosts has any interest in the beautiful game.
Landing quite late meant, once gossip caught up, we retired to the guest boudoir.
Carmona
Breakfast and natter completed, an Uber to Carmona, a Renaissance town overlooking the central plain of Andalusia. Cost, around €30. Journey time, 25 minutes or so.
It was chilly and damp. Those weather people had been telling fibs. Wandering around Carmona’s Renaissance historic heart it’s impossible not to notice the abundance of churches, monasteries and other religious paraphernalia. Beautiful all, but surely an over indulgence? Bygone inhabitants must have been especially keen or especially naughty.
Prominent churches include Iglesia de Santa María de la Asunción (15th century, predictably constructed on former mosque); Iglesia de San Pedro (of tower fame, dating back to 15th century); Iglesia de San Felipe (another former mosque morphed into a Renaissance church); Iglesia de San Bartolomé (more 15th century churchyness).
All received later embellishments, Baroque much favoured. There’s a few Euro entrance fee to some.
The Alcazar fortress took us a little by surprise. We hadn’t expected it to be there. Brought into existence by the Carthaginians (possibly a planet conquering alien race in Star Trek), inevitably added to by the Romans, tweaked by the Moors and finally the Christians, this fortress palace is a mighty monster.
Sadly neglect, earthquakes and vandalism have left the fortress in an unhappy state. Nevertheless, it still projects power and control, dominating the landscape in which it resides.
More positively, the striking fortress gate is integrated into the luxurious Parador de Carmona Hotel. And, on our visit, thankfully undergoing restoration.
Do have a snoop into the hotel. It’s quite beautiful and acts as a viewing platform across the Andalucía landscape. Which is surprisingly flat.
Undoubtably beautiful the historic centre feels a little run down and scruffy around the edges. In its defence the chilly and damp weather and almost deserted streets did Carmona no favours.
A wait for return Uber afforded time for quick explore of the modern town. It’s an interesting contrast. OK, the weather was still rubbish but a bustling high street and attractive neighbourhoods left a positive impression.
Back to our hosts, who knowing of my craft beer fetish, kindly booked a table at a brewery a 10 minute walk from their home.
Unbeknown to them, Cruzcampo could never be my cup of saison. Nevertheless, the large bar is striking, live music always welcome and one IPA unexpectedly quaffable.
More importantly, and worth applauding, many of the staff are taken from less privileged backgrounds and given the opportunity to thrive. Our young lady was delightful. Worth a beer or two.
Friday morning, post brekkie, we strolled into the old town, perhaps 25 minutes from our hosts. The stroll, with exception of Estadio Ramon (Seville FC), offered little of note.
Not so the old bits. Old town Seville (Barrio Santa Cruz, a former Jewish quarter) is a heady mix of Islamic, Gothic and Renaissance architecture dotted with narrow passageways, pretty squares and grand churches. Having previously tick boxed, explored and quite possibly bought a fridge magnet, aimlessly meandering was our chosen option.
Wandered into the main university complex (mid 18th century), spotting anxious prospective parents being given the tour presumably before allowing their offspring to escape. Next, a riverside amble, the River Guadalquivir our soggy companion. Supposedly, the only navigable river in Spain and a significant factor in Seville’s trade success and subsequent development.
The new town, a mix of 18 and 19th century architecture, shouts elegance. With more modern influences, some unfortunately less successful than others.
Post welcome and excellent coffee and fresh orange juice pause, something a mite different. Standing in the Plaza de la Encarnación is Metropol Parasol, also known as the ‘mushrooms of Seville’. Supposedly the largest wooden construction in the world, opened in 2011, and an opportunity to revitalise the square. A meat and fish market lives below, stalls above. Roman ruins are cleverly incorporated into the structure. So cleverly I don’t recall spotting them.
A car park was the original fate of the square. I prefer the mushroom.
Plus, a bonus a bonus craft beer gaff lives in the meat market. Whoopee. La Joyeria. Open during day though appears to close late afternoon – presumably keeping market hours.
A noteworthy venue, though the smell might not be to all tastes. A tad meaty. And chilly. Nevertheless, six taps and couple of fridges tempt punters. The chap (owner?) serving those tempting libations is helpful and friendly. Pop in, say hello.
That evening. bus and stroll to a wine bar – Pina Lola. Another chum of host. Conversation and wine flowed, food appeared.
A final alcoholic beverage, in cocktail form, was sipped atop a hotel rooftop terrace peering over the Cathedral.
Charming way to finish off the evening.
Cordoba, Courtyards and Long Lunches
The following morning a taxi delivered us plus host to train station, a train efficiently to Cordoba in less than an hour.
Cordoba, renown for its courtyards (there’s a festival every year to prove it), is a city both have previously stayed and enjoyed. Guided by our host, and one his favourites, located in plaza de Don Gome, resides the charming 14th century Palace of Viana.
We paid only to view the 12 courtyards (believe €8.5) though other rooms can be added for an extra cost. Each courtyard is extravagantly decorated with plants and orange trees. Even, as it was, in winter. Other attractions are dotted amongst the courtyards.
The area surrounding Palace of Viana is a delightful collection of white painted terrace streets perhaps the equal of the palace itself. Leave time for a quick gander.
Familiarly nondescript neighbourhoods brought us to a Michelin recommended restaurant. Terra Olea and another host favourite.
Exquisite food, delightful company, decent wine. A suitably long lunch. One of the great pleasures of existence.
Museums and Planes
A smooth return journey followed by further tipples and conversation back at our hosts.
The next day was sadly our last. However, a late flight meant an opportunity for some art – Museo de Bella’s Artes de Sevilla. The 16th century building (though extensively remodelled in the 17th), was once a convent morphing into a gallery in the 19th century.
Spanish masters include Francisco da Herrera, Murillo, El Greco, Velásquez, Francisco Zurbarán plus a few non-Spanish interlopers. The ground floor hosts the Spanish chaps, the first floor the interloper chaps.
Babies and children are not my thing. At all. Neither am I religious. The ground floor is a love fest of religious scenes, religious characters and, most disturbingly, cherubs. I’ve a particular dislike of these creepy figures. Especially those with only a head and wings sprouting from better not ask. Really not my cup of canvas. Or Sus’s.
Nevertheless, there’s no denying the artistry, and in some cases, power of these daubs. To many, in the 17th century, they quite possibly were terrifying.
The first floor offers respite. Helped by a little Dutch realism and moderated religious scenes. Whatever your worldview the Museo de Bella’s Artes is worth a gander. Entrance fee is a measly €3 and a hour and a half should amply suffice.
Lunch was a underwhelming affair. And so back to our hosts to collect bags and say goodbye.
Conclusions
Seville, Carmona and Cordoba are blessed with beautiful historic centres and architecture. Yes, the neighbourhoods we encountered lacked any visual appeal. Nevertheless, none were grim, all felt safe. And, of course, true of any city anywhere.
Insider knowledge, from our 2 hosts, proved invaluable. Carmona was on their recommendation and we experienced places not managed in past stays.
Perhaps 3 nights would suffice in Seville, 1-2 in Cordoba with Carmona being day trip material.
Would we live in any? Nope, not for us. Valencia or San Sabastian would be our preference. Nevertheless, all 3 are worthy of your time and consideration.
Sus was working in Edinburgh for a couple of days so I, gallantly, offered to accompany her. I’m just that kind of guy.
Flight delayed, arrived into Edinburgh airport well after 10pm. Thankfully an efficient tram service into the city soothed annoyance.
Unfortunately, concert of someone I’d never heard of turning out at the time of my landing. Probably deliberate.
Tram jammed with predominantly teenage girls. With cowboy hats and tassels. Perfectly pleasant, if a thousand per square foot.
Hotel, Caught up with Susan, went to bed.
Roaming Free
Sus bringing home vegan bacon following day so roaming free for me. Princes Street beckoned. One side, gorgeous vistas of Edinburgh Castle and the Royal Mile’s derrière. The other, Edinburgh’s Oxford Street. Or London’s Princes Street.
Took a mild left onto Leith Walk. It’s quite a walk. Agreeable enough with, in the main, independent shops bars and restaurants. Came to South Leith, didn’t hang around. This was Leith before the gift of regeneration. Not horrendous, not great either.
Moved quickly through South Leith entering Old Leith, Edinburgh’s harbour district. The Shore, a street fronting Leith docks, houses architecture dating back to the 15th century. The 19th century harbour master buildings were especially gorgeous. Restaurants and bars entice locals and tourists alike. New flat developments entice estate agents.
Leith docks boasts a deep water harbour and still in use today. Redevelopment abounds with new flats, office and retail space.
The de-commissioned Royal Yacht Britannia is berthed here. And now open to the hoi polloi. For a cost.
Our hotel was nearby Haymarket and, to The Shore, took perhaps an hour and fifteen. One of Edinburgh’s efficient, clean and comfortable trams deposited me back there.
A brief hotel inspired respite before exploring the elegant, Georgian St Andrew’s Square and environs. The so called New Town’s origin story. Green in the middle hosting events such as the Fringe. Shops and restaurants are never too far away.
On discovering St Andrew’s Square I also discovered Rose Street. Designed as service road to the posh gaffs of the New Town’s in the latter half of the 18th century. Cheeky.
Traditional Scottish Pubs, independent eateries and boutiques dominate. Particularly the former. Additionally a UNESCO World Heritage Site. So getting pissed is culturally approved. Definitely merits a stroll even if afore mentioned culturally approved tippling lacks appeal.
Spent late afternoon and early evening, the latter with Sus, in the Wee Vault. A Vault City taproom. Twenty four taps, predominantly their own, predominantly modern sours. It’s their thing. One large fridge, and some shelving, showcase their own and guest beers.
Wee Vault is tiny. It’s not being ironic. No outdoor space either. Don’t arrive late expecting a seat. Enjoyed our time there and worth a visit if modern sours are your cup of sourness. Or to discover what all the fuss is about.
Royal Mile, Another Parliament, Arthur’s Seat
Was crowded, crammed, frustrating. Murder mile. The upper segment is mercifully pedestrianised, the lower segment is not. Edinburgh Castle, perched menacingly at the summit of the Royal Mile, is a truly magnificent beasty. Dating back to the 11th century with medieval embellishments (amongst others) the castle has jobbed as a royal residence, military garrison, prison and fortress. Retirement has seen it become a treasured tourist destination.
We spurned the opportunity to enter (visited before, long queue) though certainly not a reflection on the castle. If the occasion arises, do pop in.
Another historical treat lounges at the base of the royal Mile, the 16th century gothic Palace of Holyrood. Constructed in the grounds of the now ruined 11th century Holy Rood Abbey and renovated, by George V, in the 20th century. The Palace is both older and prettier than Buckingham Palace.
And spare a couple of glances for Abbey Strand, a small section around the Palace of Holyrood and leading up to the Palace gate. Renovated 16th century buildings dot the area.
Plus, the much maligned Scottish Parliament stands nearby. We both felt it was trying too hard, neither especially ugly or especially attractive.
And what about that bit inbetween the castle and Palace of Holyrood, the Royal Mile itself? It’s tourist nirvana predominately packed with tacky tourist shops, overpriced restaurants and underwhelming bars. The usual suspects. Exceptions exist including St Gile’s Cathedral about half way down. Nevertheless, resist temptation and peek above the shop fronts. You’ll be rewarded with a mischievous mixture or architecture classics from the gothic to Victorian. Renovations from all eras thrown in for free.
The Royal Mile is a beautifully elegant and handsome thoroughfare. Take a moment to enjoy.
The weather, somewhat to our surprise, went against form and remained clement. Warm but breezy. A short hike seemed to be in order. Arthur’s Seat (eh) sits within 640 acre Holyrood Park, a short stroll from Edinburgh’s Royal Mile.
Arthur’s Seat, is actually an ancient volcano sitting 251m above sea level. Not that we noticed. It’s also the site of a large hill fort dating back 2,000 thousand years. Nope, not that either. And one clambers over the remains of said fort to reach the absolute summit. And a site of Special Scientific Interest. Nope, passed us by too.
What we did notice was the steep scramble – 50 plus flights of stairs according to our all knowing iPhones. It’s a slog and would be deeply unpleasant in rain. And tricky, treacherous even. Particularly descending.
Panorama views across Edinburgh, the sea and surrounding landscape are spectacular.
Once descended from the ruined hill fort greenery welcomes picnickers. No facilities as such but a delightful site for a pork pie.
On the way up, over the cacophony of ragged breadth, we’d noticed a grass pathway presumably used for emergency vehicle access. We were later to spot a ranger’s Land Rover plodding resolutely upwards. Not wishing to scrabble back down the rock and scree pathway this seem ideal for those of more mature years. Still steep, though less so than the scree pathway. And considerably less people populated. Always a bonus.
The only downside? It meanders gracefully around Arthur’s Seat. If you’re in a rush, take your chances on the scree pathway. Otherwise you’ll fail to rush to whatever it is you’re rushing for.
Five to ten minutes from our hotel was the Hanging Bat. Sus again. Eighteen taps tempt, including a single cask.
Weirdly, on our visit, Northern Monk appeared to be showcasing. Plentiful seating indoors, pavement seating outside. Food available from a small menu. One fridge and behind the bar provide takeouts. At a 15% discount from memory.
An agreeable and chilled evening.
Grassmarket, Victoria Street, Rain
Grassmarket, located in old town, sits directly below Edinburgh Castle.
Once a market place, once a hanging place, once a cattle market place. Now, with architecture ranging from 17th century tenements to 21st century offices, Grassmarket is a delightful square crammed with pubs and restaurants.
We bench perched, sipped coffees, munched coronary cookies whilst watched Edinburgh wander by.
Victoria Street, constructed between 1829 and 1834, is one of the most photographed and iconic of all Edinburgh thoroughfares. Stretching upwards from Grassmarket, colourful shop store fronts are overlooked by darker, larger Victoriana. Picturesque indeed.
A return to Rose Street – Sus had yet to peruse – before a spot of lunch. Then rain. No complaints, the weather, to date, had been tourist friendly. The forecasts, before our visit, had been somewhat less optimistic.
Sus returned to the hotel, I returned to Hanging Bat.
Trip Advisor, Museum, Home
Our last day. Flying back to London late afternoon.
Before foddering we nipped into the National Museum of Scotland. It’s free – apart from certain exhibitions – hosting an eclectic and fascinating collection. The Victorian central atrium is an architectural jewel.
Makars Mash Bar (https://makarsmash.com/) is one of the most highly rated eateries – anywhere in the world – on Trip Advisor. Not necessarily an endorsement. Nevertheless, an Edinburgh establishment. Prepare to queue, prepare for a waiting list.
We’d tried to eat at Makers the previous day but times offered didn’t suit. Today they did. This is not gourmet fodder, this is Scottish comfort food. And surprisingly expensive. Nevertheless, both thoroughly enjoyed our haggis (Sus’s was vegan). Definitely merits a queue.
Hotel, airport, London.
Summary
Tourists herds dominate Edinburgh. With the exception of London I can’t recall a UK city with such a tourist invasion. Americans in particular. Europeans not far behind. A few to unearth their inner highlander. Tartan purveyors were suspiciously common in tourist hot spots.
Edinburgh would be an easy city to live in – large enough to provide all those must have amenities, small enough to not be overwhelming. Not necessarily for us – London still rules our hearts – but if you did end up posted here, it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship.
Edinburgh is a worthy Capital. It’s beautiful, elegant and fascinating. Easily walkable with friendly natives. Try it out.
A 3.30am alarm call. Not a popular choice. A dodgy wheel on suitcase. Unbounded joy. It was raining.
Things quickly improved. Apart from that dodgy wheel. Lizzy line took us to Heathrow Terminal 2. This being well before 5am. Flight to Geneva, a hour’s train to Lausanne. Happy days.
Brief History of Lausanne
Those roaming Romans founded what we now recognise as Lausanne. Roman remnants still exist though don’t recall bumping into, or trading upon, any.
Post Italian dalliance, and by the 6th century, Lausanne had morphed into a religious powerhouse thanks to a bishopric. Profitable and so on trend. The 14th and 15th were significantly less fun, the city succumbing to plague, fires and civil unrest. As did so many other great cities.
Protestant reformation swept the city in the 16th century. As did Bernese rule, noisy neighbours from up north. Napoleon booted the Bernese out with Lausanne gaining independence in 1803.
Lausanne again flourished in 19th century becoming both a cultural hub and the capital of Vaud. And a tick box destination for those on the Grand Tour. Lucky buggers.
Lausanne
The train into Lausanne was not especially cheap (CHF30 each). Mercifully, unlike incomprehensible German ticket machines, their Swiss brethren were straight forward. The exception, an American chap struggling a tad with the public transport concept.
Our hotel was a steep climb away. On cobbles. With a dodgy wheel. Bit of a slog. Deposited offending bag – too early to check in – before heading out. Into the rain.
Lausanne hotels offer tourists ‘Lausanne Transport Card’. Travel within the city, discounts into museums, buildings etc. We asked the price. Free. Concierge probably should have led with that.
Jumped on the Croisettes/Ouchy Metro Line – our hotel a couple of minutes from Bessiéres metro station. Efficient, clean and very deep. Don’t sniff at the lift and take the stairs. I did. Not my best decision.
The metro terminates at Ouchy, sadly not pronounced as some of you may be hoping. We alighted.
Ouchy, skirts the monumental Lake Geneva, featuring parks, waterside promenades, a rose garden and a 12th century chateau. The latter now a hotel. Riff raff in their hotel? The original owners must be turning in their mausoleum, pondering how to charge rent.
Cafes and bars sprinkle the promenade. As did an impressively large number of impressively large crows. Swans were also much in evidence. Scary buggers.
Not many humans. Wet and windy conditions may have been a contributory factor.
Squelched back to Ouchy Metro, alighted at CHUV, a couple of stops after Bessières. Thought a stroll through the Rues of Lausanne might be enjoyable. Thought wrong. Pissing it down. And stop for city hospital. Neither appealed.
Jumped back onto metro, jumped off at Ours, one stop after, eh, ours. Ambled to hotel, checked in, slept.
Emerged, a little dazed, a couple of hours later. Cathédrale de Lausanne was a short (uphill) walk from our hotel. It’s a gothic marvel with added 16th century gorgeousness.
The organ, though modern, imitates an angel and quite spectacular. Some of the beautiful stain glass has survived from gothic time. Later centuries have seen ongoing renovation and conservation.
As a bonus, the cathedral courtyard offers dramatic vistas over Lausanne, Lake Geneva and onto the mountains. Selfie paradise.
The following 45 minutes found us meandering the old town, Lausanne Cathedral being the highlight. The old town is an agreeable mix of period properties ranging from the medieval to 20th century. Won’t necessarily send you into raptures of architectural superlative but very much merits a meander.
Finished our day with an expensive but excellent Poke bowl.
Montreux/Vevey
Out by 10am. And on a Montreux train by 10.30. CHF15 return. Each. This for a 20 minute journey. Switzerland is not for the budget minded. The train travels alongside Lake Geneva organising the occasional glimpse.
On arrival, a less than glamorous route, via stairs and car park, deposited on Montreux High Street.
Popped into tourist information, helpful lady planned our day. First up, old town. And up it was. The old town’s handsome, Belle Époque architecture make for a pleasant meander.
The Church St Vincent, a little above the old town, offers stunning vistas from its grounds. Traces of its Romanesque roots can still be spotted though the current incumbent dates from the 15th century.
We wandered back down to the Montreux Promenade which borders Lake Geneva. The Alps shout for your attention, rising as they do, from the opposite bank of the lake. This is as an agreeable stroll as you’ll likely to agree on.
The medieval Château de Chillon (Chillon Castle) is, remarkably, built on a small island on Lake Geneva. Its origin story dates back to the 11th century, though much of what we now see, sprouted a century later. Later centuries, particularly the 15th century, brought updates and embellishments. Systematic renovations continued into the late 19th century.
Châteaux de Chillon both defended and protected profitable trade routes. Basically a very pretty toll bridge.
The Châteaux is deceptively tardis like. We paid €15) to explore the interior. Took us about an hour and 45 minutes. Time constraints permitting, merits a looksee.
Caught the 201 bus (electric, bendy, air conditioned, loveliness) back to Moureaux. Meandered the promenade, sought out the underwhelming casino and fun Freddie Mercury statue. Six Queen albums were recorded in Montreux with Mercury divided his time between London and Montreux from the early 1990s.
Montreux has a little bit of Monaco about it. Though prettier. With the exception of the Châteaux Montreux, though likable, was not our cup of casino chips.
Vevey
Vevey was. Instead of returning to Lausanne we stopped off in Vevey. And rather pleased we did. So was Charlie Chaplin. He resided in Vevey for 25 years until his demise in 1977.
A short amble from Vevey train station is the huge main square welcoming, on one side, Lake Geneva. Spectacular Alpine vistas included.
The old town, adjacent to the main square showcases medieval architecture (Église Réformée Saint Martin) and later architectural genres. Winding streets, artisan wares and those spectacular views all included.
It is possible to swim from the main square. Plus, for added realism, a small artificial beach has been created. With deck chairs for added authenticity.
Other beaches live nearby evidenced by damp dogs and humans squishing, happily home.
We spent the late afternoon, early evening in Le Carre, a popular local and tourist bistro. People watched, ate delicious local produce and drank even better local wine.
Vevey was a favourite. It’s elegant, beautifully located with a relaxed vibe. Recommend a half day, more if time permits.
Is a UNESECO world heritage site. Culture and wine. Genius.
The tradition of winemaking, in Lavaux, is all thanks to medieval monks. Getting pissed and making money more appealing, apparently, than a small, cold cell and self-flagellation.
From Gare de Lausanne (central train station) board a local train (R train) stopping at Lutry. Alight, use underpass to access opposite platform. Turn left out of Lutry station and again left up the hill at the end of the road. Two minutes up the hill, on the right, you should discover a paved pathway. One entry point – of many – into the terraces.
Don’t, as you leave the station, be fooled by signs pointing to information. Fake news. It’s a so called information board showing info easily eked out of google. Other search engines are available.
Once happily embedded amongst the vines a number of paths – marked with coloured arrows – present themselves.
The route we followed, perhaps halfway up the terraces, was conveniently marked by yellow arrows and, occasionally, a yellow man hiking. We detoured from our yellow friend, both above and below, in our wilder moments. Our chosen destination was Epesse, perhaps two and a half hours from Lutry. Excluding wine time. And detours.
Where pavements are available, our yellow chum, occasionally detoured onto a local road. And the paved pathway itself, for much of its length, is accessible to local traffic and cyclists. So beware, once the vino kicks in and common sense is kicked out. Water fountains (literally) are helpfully sprinkled along the route.
You’re surrounded by vines, Lake Geneva is below, the Alps lurking beyond. Pretty villages (Aran, Epesse) dot the landscape. It’s utterly, utterly captivating.
One minor issue. Nothing was open. And there’s no shortage of wineries. This was a Monday, around midday. Not an inspired choice of time or day.
Nevertheless, one undoubted highlight, was spotting a reddish bird of prey (kite?). To our astonishment this magnificent creature literally hovered before diving almost vertically. An insect, perhaps searching for its own lunch, became lunch. Or, at least, a starter.
Eventually, somewhat bizarrely, we came across a self service vineyard. A small shop showcased, amongst assorted edibles, the vineyard’s wines in a fridge. We picked a half bottle, left dosh in a cash box, sipped our bounty on a terrace overlooking vines and Lake Geneva.
Epesse, probably the fairest of the Lavaux villages, also had a vineyard open. We ambled in, ambled out 2 hours later.
To be honest, it wasn’t a problem. I suspect, if more vineyards had been ouvert, we wouldn’t have completed our intended route. And that would have been a dreadful shame.
Transport costs? Nothing. Covered by the Lausanne Travel Card. The wine? Sadly not free though reasonably priced. Lack of air miles.
Tours, obviously are available. And a tad silly motorised wine train that winds through the terraces. Spotted it only the once. Full of bored Japanese tourists presumably heading for a Lake Geneva boat tour.
Tours may well suit, and understandably so. Our tip would be go DIY. Check wineries are open, especially if it’s one you’ve picked out in advance. Research routes, read a blog and trust Apple Maps to guide you. You’ll have a fabulous time. We did.
Wandered down to Epesse train station – about 15 minutes from the village centre – and returned to Lausanne. Trounces the view from North Ealing station. Encouragingly, for North Ealing, the tube is far more frequent.
Supermarket (obviously), take out, writing this.
Highly recommended. A must do. Plan a day. And perhaps the following to recover and eat fruit. As opposed to drinking it.
Coffee and suitcase
The Coop were having a sale. We needed a new suitcase. Happy ending for all. Celebrated with an excellent coffee.
Returned to Lutry, only 10 minutes from Lausanne by train. Not for wine but for a swim. The healthy option. Do take the time to explore Lutry. It’s a handsome town, with a well to do commuter vibe.
The beach, a stone’s throw from the town centre, is stone. Doubtless all the stone throwing. And the sun was shirking its responsibilities. Nevertheless, the beach had a lovely local vibe with clean toilets, changing facilities and bbqing cafe. It just felt right.
After initial trepidation, we spent half an hour in the lake attempting to get warm. Lake Geneva is fresh water not salt water. One emerges cleaner and fresher than one’s initial foray. Fabulous.
Once out, dried out, warmed up opted to walk back to Lausanne. Paused here, lingered there taking a couple of hours to reach Ouchy.
Micro beaches, handsome waterside pads, cafes and bars unobtrusively wander into one’s eye line. Lake Geneva and the Alps keep you company. A marvellous meander. Weather permitting, recommend you do the same.
Metro from Ouchy to hotel. Grabbed a take out curry. From a supermarket. Where else.
Spent the late afternoon/early evening in La Mise en Bière. Perhaps 30 taps of local and not so local beer treats. Plus, and owned by the same people, a bottle shop next door with a comprehensive selection of beery lovelies. Cloudwater, Track and Verdant all well represented. Great breweries but, when travelling, one should sample the local brews.
Seating inside and out, cheese and meat boards also available. Helpful staff, relaxed atmosphere – this was a Tuesday – made for an enjoyable end of day. Might still be there if Sus wasn’t falling asleep.
Supped quality ale, observing folks wander by. Recommended for any craft beer fans.
A mighty fine day.
Lausanne
Weirdly the only full day we were to spend in Lausanne. Wandered the handsome shopping precinct, encountered the very elegant and presumably very expensive Palace Hotel. Housing a 2 star Michelin restaurant. Presumably very expensive.
A little further along is yet more elegance in the shape of Palais de Justice and Casino. Encased in pleasant parkland greenery.
Serendipity found Quartier du Flon. So should you. Apparently, once an industrial wasteland Flon is now a bustling, innovative and thriving district. Warehouses have been converted into theatres, art venues, bars and restaurants. The main thoroughfare is thoughtfully pedestrianised, seating is plentiful.
Now we understood why so many passengers exited metro at Flon.
Next metro adventure, Vennes for Lausanne Aquarium. It’s expensive (CHF32) though, mercifully, on our visit, mostly empty of screaming children. We actually checked before purchasing ticket.
If you love fish, snakes, an occasional frog (and who doesn’t love frogs) and lizards of various sizes, this is for you. Otherwise, may I suggest La Mise en Bière. Probably cheaper.
We emerged a most enjoyable 2 and a half hours later. Highlights, a Komodo Dragon that may have been at the fermented fruit, mating frogs, impossibly coloured fish and splendid snakes.
Hotel for a short intermission. Post intermission food and beers (latter from Epiq) to enjoy back in our room.
I wanted to catch The Germany/ Spain game. And discover who’d be the lucky recipient of facing England in the final.
Spain as it turned out. Damn.
Return to Geneva
We checked out, caught a train to Geneva. We’d scheduled a couple of days in the city before heading home.
We’d checked in, deposited luggage and headed out to the old town all before midday. We were enveloped with a warm feeling of smugness. Mainly me really.
The Geneva Transport Card offers complementary travel within Geneva. As with Lausanne your hotel should offer this benefit. If they don’t, ask.
First stop, the International Monument to the Reformation, inaugurated in 1909. This being the 16th century Protestant Reformation , not a reality tv show depicting spare toilet makeovers.
Located in the attractive grounds of the University of Geneva it depicts important Protestant figures from around Europe. John Calvin – the chap who’d gave us Calvinism – settled in Geneva and one of those lucky enough to be depicted. A significant historical moment in Geneva’s development, if not our cup of worldview.
And at 100 metres in length, a tad tricky to miss.
Ambled into the old town, cobbles, elegance and peaceful. The 13th century Saint Peters Cathedral dominates Vieille Ville. Revisions and renovations have taken a little away from those long ago days though the organ is indeed a thing of beauty.
Architecturally, Vieille Ville is a smorgasbord of medieval and later genres. And blended harmoniously together affording tourists a glimpse into numerous bygone days. The near absence of tourist tat trap establishment, replaced with artisans and tempting restaurants, only adds to a sense of charm and calm.
Back to hotel to pick up keys, transfer bags to room and briefly recuperate.
Yellow water taxis (Mouettes or seagulls) ply their trade across Lake Geneva. Lines 1 and 2 are free with the Geneva card, and plonk tourists at the English Garden. We get everywhere. The crossing is perhaps 10 minutes offering an alternative perspective of the city.
The English Garden is an attractive small stretch of greenery hosting both a fountain and bandstand. Alongside, and beyond, is a lakeside paved pathway. A promenade. And busy with people promenading.
There’s a boardwalk out to the 140 meter high, and famous, Jet d’Eau. A symbol of Geneva.
Small public beaches and grass expanses to picnic on. There’s toilets, showers and a restaurant incorporated into the largest of the 2 harbours. If we lived here, we’d be down here.
Parc La Grange, across the road from the beach area, is a beautiful and tranquil spot resplendent with an 18th century villa.
After ambling through a small slither we emerged onto Rue de Eaux-Vives. The neighbourhood, of the same name, is adorned with handsome 19th century architecture and a mite upmarket. Eatme supplied us with scrumptious food and delectable wine.
On leaving, headed back to the hotel. Slumber time. We know how to party.
Chocolate Day
After an excellent breakfast at our hotel we went in search of Tourist Information. We knew they lived in Geneva Train Station, and after numerous false starts, found them. Signage isn’t a Swiss strength.
Once found a young lady proved most helpful. She mentioned they were searching for new premises as tourists struggled to locate them. Not a selling point for a tourist information
We purchased a Chocolate Pass from our young lady friend allowing tourists to visit and receive sample chocolates from 10 participating chocolatiers. A map guides choco lovers on a self-guided tour.
Cost? CHF30. Which equates to, conservatively, 50 chocolates. Most of which currently reside in suitcase somewhere in the bowels of Geneva airport. Sus doesn’t eat milk chocolate so little point buying a second pass. One should be enough for most couples. Even, as we believe, good chocolate being one of life’s essentials.
A number of the chocolatiers gave a prepared spiel, others were happy to chat. All but one were helpful and friendly. Martel being the exception. We felt an inconvenience, not spending enough money to warrant their time.
We sampled a few of the chocolates, all were delicious, this being quality stuff. Pride, in their chocolate, was obvious. Bit like McDonalds.
The pass covers any one 24 hour period. Activated at the first chocolatier reached. A number of the chocolatiers are to be found in the old town or nearby. Others require more effort. Many have a second or even third shop not participating. We decided to visit all 10, including the furthest away – La Bombonniere – which had 2 shops partaking. You decide which of the two you wish to visit.
Total time? Perhaps 3 hours. We neither rushed nor dawdled. And a marvellous way to acquaint oneself with the city.
Geneva is not a huge metropolis and, as with most cities, discrete neighbourhoods blur into one another. However, not forgetting the old town, a couple of stood out – Rue-Basse and Eaux-Vives.
For posh shopping nirvana, have a stroll through the beautifully elegant Rue-Basses. Rue du Rhone and Rue de la Croix d’Or forms part of this elegant consumer paradise. Bon chance unearthing a bargain. Rue-Basses is more Gucci than Primark.
The hitherto mentioned Eaux-vives includes Jet d’Eau and one of the heftier neighbourhoods. It’s the neighbourhood for those who have a penchant for late 19th and early 20th century architecture. Stylish, liveable and difficult to avoid.
In our wanderings, we touched on numerous others. And we both preferred Rue-Basse and Eaux-Vives to the old town.
We occupied our late afternoon and early evening at La Tenuta Wine Shop, Bar & Restaurant (https://www.latenuta.ch/). A wonderful and stylish way to complete our time in Switzerland.
Observations/Tips
Take advantage of the free travel offered, in your hotel, in both Lausanne and Geneva. If not offered, ask and thy shall receive. And ensure you understand which areas are included.
Similarly, if you take a train journey outside of the free travel, buy a ticket. Tickets, for local and regional travel, are not always verified. There are no barriers as such. However, if you’re caught without a valid ticket, expect heavy fines. But for Sus’s quick thinking we’d have found ourselves CHF75 worse off.
Clean, free public toilets are seemingly omnipresent. As is drinking water. Most commendable. Signage is not as commonplace. Following said signage to clean, free public toilets, after sampling the ubiquitous drinking water, may not end well.
Litter is noticeable for its near absence. Fly tipping is non-existent. Certainly in our small, Switzerland sample. It does exist, the suburbs are a tad less cleansed than more touristy bits. Nevertheless, it makes many a European city, including parts of London, look rather dirty. I’ve always blamed ignorant morons for depositing litter, not the local authorities striving to clean up. My impression was less ignorant morons exist in Switzerland.
Geneva and Lausanne are not cheap. Eating out, drinking out, supermarkets, train travel were all more expensive than London. I suspect hotels are price comparable.
Lausanne is a most agreeable city, friendly and easily navigated. Additionally, it’s is a wonderful base to explore the Swiss Riviera. Our recommendations, once Lausanne itself appropriately investigated? Lavaux Vignoble en Terraces an absolute must. As is Vevey. A stroll from Lutry to Ouchy another highlight. I would advocate at least 3 full days in Lausanne to allow, if nothing else, an outing to the wine terraces
Two days in Geneva wasn’t enough. I’d visited, 30 plus years ago, during the madness that is interrailing tick boxing. Another sojourn is entirely possibly. It’s a city we actually preferred to Lausanne.
Summary
Switzerland, or our Lake Geneva fragment, delighted us. Attractive towns and cities, affable inhabitants and pristine conditions. It’s safe (to be fair, we yet to visit somewhere that isn’t) and public amenities are second to none.
Yes, day to day expenses will be higher than those in Europe and the UK. Nevertheless, a winning combination of appealing conurbations and truly magnificent scenery is difficult to argue with.
The Lavaux Vignoble en Terraces will live long in the memory. And England ladies bettered Spain in the European Championships.
Our Ealing home to clearing Heathrow Terminal 2 security, one hour. Probably a record. And the reason we favour the Elizabeth Line and Heathrow for our jolly jaunts.
A robotic cleaner – with a sex upped name – was causing some amusement and curiosity. This clever, and surprisingly cute, machine asked travellers to clear its path in order to complete its cleansing duties. Initially politely. Reasonably sure I heard frustration creep in.
Direct flights from Heathrow to London only operate for the Christmas markets period. Outside of these consumer binges 2 flights are needed. Into Frankfurt, out of Frankfurt. The actual flights were both short and painless. The in between bits, less so. One runway taxi reminiscent of an M25 traffic jam.
Once landed, disgorged and happily reunited with one’s bag, we jumped on the U2, a cog on Nuremberg’s small but seemingly efficient metro system. To be fair, I only tested it once more. The return journey to the airport. Probably not a representative sample.
NUREMBERG – ARRIVAL
Our temporary home were the Brunnen Apartments. Central, comfortable complete. Equipped with a small but very serviceable kitchen. Invaluable for a week long stay. Check them out.
Once in, we were out. Our local ‘hood offered numerous tempting food haunts, many Korean or Japanese. Plus, my favourite, supermarkets. Two within a 5 minute walk.
No set agenda, meandered, toying with the old down. And discovered Bierwerk.
Sat outside and sipped a decent lager. Characterful inside, perhaps 10 taps mainly local lagers and beer. Fair enough. Bottles and cans available, showcasing a greater variety. Food also available. Worth a stroll, if not necessarily a hop head destination.
It was early evening, we were knackered. Back to the hotel, slept 10 hours.
Brief History
Nestled in Bavaria, Nuremberg Kaiserburg (castle) first appeared in the 11th century. Constructed, not as an apparition. Both Free Imperial City status was granted and city walls were erected in the 13th century. Probably not a coincidence. Growing economic power, wealth and, presumably, taxes inevitably followed.
The 13 and 14th centuries saw the construction of gothic masterpieces such as St. Lawrence Church (1298), Frauenkirche (1361) and the Luginsland Tower (begun 1377).
In the 15 and 16th trade booms, wealth accumulates, city walls reinforced (wise). Nuremberg, centrally located, has become a European trade hub.
Early in the 19th century Nuremberg loses its Free Imperial City Status as Bavaria goes all ‘Borg’ and assimilates the city.
Ironically, parts of the original city walls are destroyed in the 18th century to allow expansion – sounds vaguely familiar.
Nuremberg, in the 19th century, witnessed a revival of interest in medieval art and architecture, leading to restoration of the castle. Many of the still surviving neoclassical building flourish during this period. Paradoxically, perhaps, Nuremberg also becomes a major industrial centre for mechanical engineering and electrical equipment.
NUREMBERG PROPER
Suffice to say, this wasn’t our earliest start.
Sus Christmas marketed Nuremberg a few years ago. It’s is a tad warmer. As I write, just shy of 30 degrees.
I’ve dallied with visiting both Nuremberg and Bamberg for too long. With chum Mike. For the beer. Bamberg, in particular, is a renown centre for German beer production. Numerous brewpubs dot the city. A tad ironically, a recent and fascinating employment jaunt within the wine industry delayed my beery Nuremberg plans. Beer is in a few days, now is for tourist.
As many will know, Nuremberg was tragically bombed, for the people who live here and the architecture they populated, by the allies during WW2. War, that’s a great idea.
The old town has been restored to its medieval glory – 90% of the old town perished. The merits of which can be argued. It generates tourist pounds, dollars, euros. Perhaps even creating a more favourable environment in which to live. Certainly beats 70s tower blocks. Done that, didn’t work.
After some searching we found Kettensteg (The Old Chain Bridge), constructed in 1824 and the oldest European example of its kind.
Riverside vistas, the Pegnitz river is a constant and welcome companion, birdlife and the odd fish all add extra adorability. A remarkable transformation considering the river was once heavy polluted due to waterside industries.
The Thames has undergone a similar transformation and now considered one of the cleanest metropolitan rivers in the world. Don’t be deceived by its murky appearance. Remarkedly, 100 plus fish species now call the Thames home.
Further directional confusion brought us to Weißgerbergasse (Tanner Lane). With its half timbered houses, cobbled street many consider Weißgerbergasse Nuremberg’s most iconic street. Built on the wealth of Nuremberg’s medieval leather industry Weißgerbergasse now hosts cafes, bars and restaurants.
At the top of Weißgerbergasse is St Sebald’s Church. Constructed in the 13th century in the must have Romanesque style and supplemented in further centuries. Including the always popular 17th century Baroque. It suffered serious damage during WW2 and, like much of what we saw, has since been reconstructed.
Sebald, the man, actually financed St Sebald’s and, literally, helped to build it. Buried there too. Must have loved that church. Popped in. Popped out. Worth a glance.
There are no Cathedrals in Nuremberg. Likely due to the embrace of Protestantism. Over time most Nuremberg Catholic churches have been converted to Nuremberg Protestant churches.
Nuremberg Altes Rathaus (town hall) was again built in the 14th century including a great gothic ceremonial hall. Again it was smashed to smithereens. Again it was painstakingly rebuilt post WW2.
Next up, Platz am Tiergärtnertor, a straight run from Altes Rathaus. An attractive square with classic medieval (reconstructed) architecture. The square is a popular place to enjoy a beverage or two and lively later on.
One oddity is Das Hase, a tribute on an Albrecht Dürer picture of a young hare. Not something you would wish queueing behind you at Tescos. And hidden by the larger tree on left of photo. Some would say a positive.
Abrecht was born, lived and died in Nuremberg and is one of their most famous sons. It’s possible to visit the house he once lived in, one of the few surviving burgher houses from Nuremberg’s golden age. Now a museum.
There’s also tours of the WW2 art bunker where Nuremberg, sensibly, stored many of its art treasures during the allied bombing.
The Kaiserburg (Imperial Castle) looms large directly above Platz am Tiergärtnertor. It’s a castle with baggage. Fascinating baggage. It has links to the Holy Roman Empires, assorted kings and the Nazis.
Kaiserburg dates back 1,000 years. Trashed in the 15th century, rebuilt in the 19th century, trashed (yep, WW2) and rebuilt in the 20th century. Remarkably some Romanesque and gothic elements survived. You’re able to wander the large courtyard for free. Which we did. Payment grants access to inner rooms. Which we didn’t. Another time.
Nuremberg was Hitlers favourite city. Not a ringing endorsement. He felt it was the most German of German cities. Hence the rallies. Hence the bombing. Hence the Nuremberg Trials. The latter to crush any symbolism Nuremberg might hold.
We toddled into Bierothek, a craft beer take out place only. Both traditional and not so traditional ales though no refrigeration. Worth a look.
Completed our Nuremberg exploration in a supermarket. Where else. Returned to hotel, rested before a short wander to Aztoria Wine.
Then another supermarket, a sausage sandwich for me, something healthy for Sus.
Large windows in our hotel opened affording a snoopers view of the pedestrian, shopping street one floor below – Breitegasse. A street for posturing, preening, chatting, sitting, watching. A place for teenagers, those from a decade later, friends and families. A wonderful spectacle. A human safari.
We ate, people watched, watched people, people watch. No one looked up. They rarely do. A regular morning and evening ritual.
BAMBERG
Brief History
Bamberg was largely spared the allied bombers as strategically irrelevant to the war effort. There’s an insult in there somewhere. UNESCO, those cheeky cultural curators, have awarded Bamberg World Heritage Site status. Deservedly. It has over 1,300 listed buildings.
Bamberg, nestled in Bavaria, was first gossiped about in 902. A fort had been built exiting locals. Yesterday’s fort, today’s Cathedral Hill. Domplatz.
A century later (1007) Bamberg rose to prominence when Emperor Henry II established a bishopric. This transformed Bamberg into a spiritual and political hub of the Holy Roman Empire. Nicely played Bamberg.
By the 12th century the town had developed and flourished economically, architecturally and culturally. Its bishops becoming imperial princes in the 13th century, further cementing power and influence.
The 17th and 18th centuries again brought benefits to Bamberg. And though remaining Catholic throughout the Reformation Bamberg embraced the Enlightenment attracting original thinkers of the time. Baroque architecture flourished.
With its loss of ecclesiastical independence in 1802 Bamberg was indecently quickly consumed into Bavaria. Yummy.
Nevertheless, the 19th century witnessed population growth and canal and railway expansion leading to improved trade and connectivity. And greater prosperity.
We were on a train to Bamberg by 10am. As we’re most of Nuremberg. Dressed in traditional lederhosen. Most supping on an ale. Probably not their first. It would shock a hardened footy fan travelling to an away game.
I asked a lovely chap why. Apparently, a beer crawl across various cellar based drinking establishments in Erlangen. The train emptied at Erlangen. Some may not make it back. Possibly not out of the station.
The journey, around 45 minutes, was straightforward. The journey pretty in parts, non-descript in others. No airport exists in Bamberg, Nuremberg is the closest airport and city.
The ‘Bayern’ ticket, on advice the helpful Hapbahnhof staff, cost €25 for both, for 2 days. Unlimited travel within the Bayern environs. Bargain.
Our initial plan was to discover Maximilianplatz. This largely 18th century square, with the 19th century Maximilians Fountain centrepiece, is Bamberg’s largest and most significant. It appeared to be an ideal place to start.
Didn’t happen.
An unintentional detour deposited us in an agreeably local neighbourhood. ???? Provided coffee and cake.
We sat outside, watched local traffic, watching us, watching them. Buses wandered by at surprisingly regular intervals. Local bus services are alive and well and apparently living happily in Bamberg.
Yet again missing the now mythical Maximilianplatz we discovered Domplatz. Where to start.
Domplatz – or Cathedral Square as it’s sometimes known – hosts some of the most significant structures in Germany let alone Bamberg. It’s cultural, historical and really, really quite splendid.
Bamberger Dom – Bamberg Cathedral – is perhaps the darling of the Square. Constructed in the 13th century in the Romanesque style with later Baroque additions. Due in part to fire. We did quickly visit, the sheer size is striking. Trouble is, it’s again just another church.
Neue Residenz, adjacent to Bamberger Dom, completed in the 17th century (hence the ‘new’) was home to the Prince Bishops of Bamberg until 1803. The rose garden is supposedly a highlight.
It contains over 40 ornately magnificent rooms. Religion appears to have been replaced up extravagant living. Im sure the poor would have approved.
Alte Hofhaltung, or old court, constructed in the 16th century replaced older constructs lost to fire or demolished. It also house those lucky Prince Bishops before relocating to Neue Residence.
Completed on 1733 the Diozesanmuzeum, next to the Cathedral, was once a Jesuit College. It now houses a vast collection ecclesiastical art spanning several centuries including relics and manuscripts.
Some buildings are possible to visit. We didn’t as not our cup of ecclesiastical. However, if your cup of ecclesiastical, the museum will be deserving of your time.
From Domplatz, towards Kloster Michaelsberg, one might find oneself visiting the 1,000 year old Jacobskirche. Bit of a survivor this one. Renovated in the 13th century, sighted for demolition during Bamberg’s secularisation, it still welcomes visitors and worshippers to this day.
Kloster Michaelsberg (St Michael’s Abbey) is, inevitably, a bit of a climb. Located on one of the 7 hills of Bamberg. The temperature was hovering at a skin frying 30 degrees Celsius. Those monks were a selfish bunch.
It was undergoing renovation on our visit – a wedding held in the brewery must have wrangled a good deal.
The monastery dates back to 1015 with the 12th century St Michael’s Church a particular highlight. Later Baroque buildings, including afore mentioned brewery, add to the architectural ambience. Though unable to enter, and with scaffolding inconveniently positioned, its magnificence is not diminished.
Ambling down, desperately seeking shade, we spotted a stork nesting on a small tower of a large residence. Its mate was flying gracefully above and soon to join its wife/husband. The nest was the largest I’ve seen. The storks huge, beautiful with a hint of dinosaur. We even spotted beaks of the young being fed. An absolute privilege. Thanks guys.
From storks to early medieval fabulousness. Bamberg Old Town. As smooth a segway as you’ll ever see.
Bamberg Altstadt is an architectural gothic mediaeval, masterpiece. With Baroque embellishments. Fairytale half-timbered houses, secular and ecclesiastical edifices all shouting ‘look at me’. There’s even the odd bit of Roman ruin. Remember to look up. This helps to negate the same old, same old restaurants, tourist tat shops and fast food joints. Classier shopping establishments also available.
One particular must see is the Altes Rathaus (Old Town Hall). Constructed in the 14th century and liberally coated in frescoes (very Baroque). It actually rests on an artificial island in the River Regnitz. That cheeky little sister of the River Pegnitz.
My advice is to just aimlessly wander. No set agenda. Just meander. Until you pass the Altes Rathaus for the third time. It’s that kind of place.
Brewpubs also dot the city. More on these cheeky chappies a couple of days on.
Finally Maximilianplatz. Oh dear, bit of a disappointment. It’s a large and attractive square – likeable even – but sadly lacks the character and personality of the rest of the town. If discovered first, perhaps with a market, we may have formed a more favourable view.
From Maximilianplatz we strolled back to the train station. It’s worth remembering Bamberg Altstadt is a 10-15 walk from said train station.
Bamberg is an absolute must see. A fabulous, fairytale masterpiece. And to any traditional German fan, this is mecca. The must see sights (Altstadt, Domplatz) can be seen in perhaps half a day. However, a couple of days would better do Bamberg justice.
REGENSBURG
Happened accidentally. And expensively. Our intention was to go to Furth, a mere 7 minutes away on our still valid ticket.
I mentioned Regensburg, and before you could say ‘wrong train’ we were moving.
It was an ICE service. A cross continent train. Cost us £40 one way. Each. On the plus side, it was quiet, comfortable and fast. And the toilets were nice. Though I never worked out how to lock them. As one poor chap discovered.
A kind hearted passenger agreed to purchase tickets and we pay him back in cash. The guard had asked for volunteers. It’s bizarre no facility for onboard payment was available. Either for tickets and/or fines. Presumably, tickets need to pre-booked.
The calming vistas of rolling, wooded hills, farmland and pretty villages soothed away the financial pain. Sus was calmness personified.
Once Regensburg came into view, chum guard made sure we knew. And quickly exited his train. We didn’t part friends. Can’t blame him really.
Brief History
Regensburg was founded as a Roman fort called Castra Regina in 179 AD. The later medieval period was generous to the city. It became a significant medieval trading centre and Bavaria’s first capital.
In 1245 Regensburg achieved self-governance as a Free Imperial City. Go Regensburg.
From 1663 to 1806 Regensburg also served as the location of the Perpetual Imperial Diet effectively becoming the Empire’s political heart.
1810 saw Regensburg eaten by Bavaria. Bit of a muncher that Bavaria. Though damaged by a careless Napoleon Regensburg retained much of its medieval character and earned UNESCO World Heritage site status in 2006.
The rest is history.
Regensburg Rumble
As with Bamberg, strolling from the train station to the properly pretty parts takes between 10-15 minutes. The Old Stone Bridge, dating back to the 11th century, is oldest preserved bridge in Germany. A medieval masterpiece. Quite beautiful.
The 12th century, gothic St Peter’s Cathedral is a focal point of medieval Regensburg. We did have a peek. The 13/14th century stained glass windows are especially memorable. Even if the message is less so. The roof is gothic gorgeous. A Gothic ribbed vault was an 15th century addition.
Unfortunately, the dosh ran out in the 16th century and the twin towers were not actually completed until the 19th century. Whoops.
Porta Praetoria is the remnant of Regensburg’s Roman gate. It’s been cleverly incorporated into a later building and simple to stroll nonchalantly past. I did. Sus spotted it. Perhaps a little underwhelming. Thankfully, Regensburg’s good bits are conveniently walkable, so equally simple to discover by chance. All hail serendipity.
The Altes Rathaus has both gothic and medieval elements. We actually explored a couple of the rooms that were open to the public. A more comprehensive tour is available.
The Historisches Museum Regensburg is housed in a 13th century monastery. Those mischievous monasteries get everywhere. We didn’t partake. Nonetheless, with artifacts ranging from the stone age to the more modern, given the time we may well have.
It had started to rumble with thunder. Huge rain drops menacing tourists. We made a dash back to the station. Arrived dry, caught the next train back to Nuremberg.
A couple of confessions. I’m scribbling my Regenburg musings a couple of weeks after returning. Everywhere else, notes were taken at the time or soon after. And, before this streak of honesty moves on, we probably didn’t do Regensburg justice. For example, there’s Schloss St. Emmeram, Thurn und Taxis. A Rococo castle built atop a medieval monastery. Sounds like a cake. Which we neither ate or saw.
Regensburg is deserving of your time. A few hours is all you need. However, to properly acquaint oneself, make a day of it. This medieval town will thank you.
NUREMBERG – PROPER, PROPER
A slightly lazy start, 3 days of heat and wanderings had taken its toll.
We weaved down the more modern Köningstraße and more modern market – fresh produce, artisan nibbles and obligatory sausage stand. The Pegnitz gurgles happily to itself close by.
Narrenschiffbrunnen, or the less enticing ‘Ship of Fools’ Fountain, sits oddly on Köningstraße. It’s a modern sculpture based on a much older (1494) book of satires. Merits a glance.
We continued our weave down to Hauptmarkt of Christmas market fame.
Nuremberg was once 2 towns separated by one river. Naughty Pegnitz. Hauptmarket became the city centre of this particular universe when the 2 towns merged in the 13th century. As mentioned Nuremberg sat – and presumably hasn’t moved since – in the centre of Central Europe. And, during the medieval era, became a major trading hub. Location, location, location. The city even dabbled with the Silk Road. Cheeky.
Back in the 13th century, the idiots that be (men) of the time needed the land for a new town market. The Jewish settlers had turned a swamp into a settlement. They were banished, about 600 were killed in a pogrom in one night. Or 10% of the then population.
Being the self-important men they believed themselves to be, this was easily justified. Isn’t it always. The fact the Jews had become the city’s main money lenders may also had a bearing. All debt was cancelled. And Frauenkirche, nearby, was constructed during the 14th century on the site of a demolished synagogue.
One of the most notable features of Frauenkirche is the Männleinlaufen, a mechanical clock celebrating the Golden Bull of 1356. Think Holy Roman Empire not an award for fibbing. A Imperial Diet was the deliberative body of the Holy Roman Empire. Power and prestige came to any city granted an Imperial Diet. Nurenberg was well chuffed.
Whilst admiring Frauenkirche – and waiting for the mechanical clock to put on a show – we spotted one of those popular free tours. We went over, asked if it was in English, it was, we joined.
We spent an enjoyable couple hours plus with latest chum, Martin. And a small ground of similar minded souls from various bits of the world. One lady had arrived from India only the previous evening.
Though much of the tour covered previous explorations, it added both history and useful context. Some I’ve since incorporated into this blog. It also introduced us to sights we’d missed or missed their significance.
A WW2 survivor is Schöner Brunnen a 14th century fountain living in Hauptmarkt. It translates to Beautiful Fountain. Subtle.
It’s modelled on a gothic spire dotted with statues of religious and town worthies. Tad presumptuous. Doubtless said worthies paid for the privilege. At 19 metres tall and brightly painted it’s easy to tick off. A gorgeous wrought iron fence was erected around the fountain, by a lovelorn local craftsman, in the 17th century. I’m rather fond of a bit of wrought iron. Preferred it to the statue.
The wonderfully named, single arched Fleishebrücke (meat bridge), was constructed in the 16th century. It’s rumoured to be modelled on the Rialto Bridge in Venice. It also miraculously survived the carnage of WW2.
This area sold meat, good, bad and quite possibly lethal. A small river island, visible from the bridge, was where the nasty stuff was sold off cheaply.
St Lorenzkirche (St Lawrence) church was begun in the 13th century, the magnificent west facade in the 14th century, the twin towers in the 15th century. The west façade survived WW2 as purposefully protected with concrete blocks. Much of the rest wasn’t so lucky.
We visited post tour. It possesses a strange juxtaposition of Catholic and Protestant (converted from the former to latter). It works. Genuinely one of the most striking church interiors we’ve seen. And we’ve seen a lot.
The 3 piece organ is one of the largest anywhere. And who wouldn’t want a 3 piece organ. A chap was rocking some tunes (in an ecclesiastical kind of way) for a short time during our visit.
Anyway, did some light supermarket shopping before heading back to hotel. Out again, meandering mainly down by the river, for a couple of hours.
Our evening routine. With wine.
SUS’S BIRTHDAY
Was the following day, 17 June. Actually still is as I write.
Relaxed morning before a climb back up to the castle. There have been many harder castle climbs over the years.
Martin, our guide from the day before, had suggested climbing the Sinwellturm Tower and checking out the castle well. He appeared less enthusiastic concerning the castle interior.
Accordingly, we bought tickets for the well and tower only. And timed it perfectly for a well talk. Never realised a chat and demonstration relating to a 14th century could be so fascinating. Shout out to the lady guide.
Sinwellturm Tower is, miraculously, another 14th century survivor. One does wonder how they missed. It is a bit of a clamber up via wooden stairs though the offered vistas are fabulous. However, the most poignant moments came from period photographs demonstrating before and after the allied bombing. Heartbreaking.
Four Euros gains access to both. Recommend splashing out.
The afternoon was spent in Achtzehn97, a wine bar in a Nuremberg suburb. Decent wine, interesting food, lovely staff.
Walked back to hotel and relaxed.
SUS GOES HOME, TONE GOES TO BEER FESTIVAL
Post Brekkie, we walked to the train station. Sus left for the airport, I returned to Bamberg to meet chum Mike.
His first time so strolled the old town, and returned to the glorious Domplatz. Bamberg is undoubtably suited to a second visitation. Me and Mike strolled streets me and Sus hadn’t. The waterside Fisherman’s Cottages were a particular delight. Time well spent reacquainting myself with this beautiful city.
Brewpubs next. First up, Schelenkerla for their famous smoked beer. Surprisingly good. Very good in fact. Cynically, my first thoughts were a gimmick. Tempt tourists in, sell them an average product so they could take photos (OK, we did) and boast to chums back home (yep, did that too). I was wrong. Yes there was a touristy element but plenty of locals too. And most importantly, the famous smoke beer lived up to the hype.
Same result at second brewpub, Klösterbrau Bamberg. Another cracking ale. Very local, very good.
Only half litre served in both establishments. No tasters, no thirds or no halves. Probably too many tourists asking too many questions.
Rushed back to the station, returned to Nuremberg for the Fränkisches Bierfest. Said beerfest is convivially convened in the Imperial Castle moat. A most splendid, perhaps even baronial, backdrop.
Supposedly, one of the longest beer festivals anywhere. According to chum Mike. Having strolled the length of it I’m inclined to agree. Traditional beer dominates. Supped a couple, agreeable without being distinctive. And, as with Bamberg, half a litre only serving size option.
Oddly, and a little awkwardly, a deposit was paid for a glass. But said glass needed to be returned to the same brewery for said deposit. Same again with each following brewery. Each style has its own unique glass. As did some breweries. Mike was reprimanded for daring to be different and used the wrong glass for the wrong beer. Naughty boy.
We sank a couple of beers before going separate ways. Mike was staying with family a little outside Nuremberg in Erlangen.
CORPUS CHRISTI DAY
This year, falls on the 19th June. Today. My trip for a healthy breakfast was somewhat curtailed as very little – less than even a Sunday – is open. Including supermarkets. Where my healthy breakfast resided.
As the day progressed, a greater number of bars and restaurants opened their doors. Supermarkets and hight street shops remained closed.
Meandered accidentally (really) into the red light district getting a couple of half hearted hellos from the ladies. Not sure who was more surprised, them or me. Sus and I had toyed with the edges of the red light district a few days earlier. Without realising. Nightclubs, bars and pole dancing joints. Not my cup of entertainment.
Beat a hastily and welcome retreat to the less seedy part of town. Explored a little more before heading back to hotel and scrape together breakfast.
More meandering, a bratwurst bap, before a second visit to the bierfest. Connected up with chum Mike around 2 pm. Plus new chum Gregor, a relative Mike was staying with. Top bloke and, helpfully, knew his way around the breweries.
We saw a few punters with considerably smaller steins. Perhaps half a pint. Gregor asked and apparently these were available, and for a discount, could be filled halfway or to the top dependent on the brewery. Perfect.
We grabbed a couple and set about sipping. Guided by Gregor. Our very own German beer sommelier. Beer, conversation and bladders all flowed. A fabulous afternoon and early evening.
The beer festival was free, the toilets €0.50 a squirt. Probably made more money than charging entrance fee. Talking of water – kind of – no free wet stuff is provided. According to Gregor quite common though slowly starting to change.
Mike and Gregor went onto a rock bar for a couple of hours. I politely declined. My limit had been reached and flying home the following day.
Home
Not much to say. Checked out our Hotel, wandered hindered by large suitcase before U2 Metro and airport.
OBSERVATIONS
Most high street shops a supermarkets are closed on Sundays. As are many bars, cafes and restaurants. Nevertheless, plenty of bars, cafes and restaurants are open, particularly in and around the train station.
Some stay closed on Monday.
Metro tickets are purchased from machines. No barriers, no checks, a singular lack of interest, in whether we paid or not. We did by the way. Hamburg was the same. Fines for non-payment occur so best to purchase viable ticket. You know, the one time you don’t……
More people smoke, less vape.
Public toilets are not free. Prices range from a pee inducing €1.50 to a more reasonable ‘let’s go again’ €0.50.
CONCLUSIONS
We’re unapologetic Europhiles. Brexit, an awful name for a worse idea. So it will come as no surprise we rather enjoyed our time in Germany.
Nuremberg has an incredibly laid back and relaxed vibe. More than many other large cities we’ve visited. As already remarked, this may be related to the rebuilding its medieval heart. Whatever, it proves a delightful spot to stroll, sip a coffee or relax with an ales or two. A long weekend should cover most of the basics.
You may decide to linger in Bamberg or, alternatively, visit from Nuremberg. You should do one. Bamberg is a gem, worthy of an overnight stay. And for any beer buff Bamberg is mecca. I’m toying with popping back at some future point. Lingering for a few days to better study and understand the cities’ beer culture.
Regensburg is another worthy destination. Nevertheless, if only one can be visited, it should be Bamberg.
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.
BriefHistory
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.
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.
Lisbon and Porto are inconveniently built on hills. Lots of them. We recently visited both in the same week. And spent an inordinate amount of effort trudging up and then back down said hills. Strangely, cyclists were not a common sight.
For those preferring mechanised transport both cities thoughtfully offer metros, trams and buses.
LISBON
A little light history
Lisbon was originally settled by the Phoenicians back in 1200 BC, followed by the Romans who established it as a municipium called Olissipo. The Moors later conquered the region in the 8th century AD, leaving a lasting mark on its architecture.
After the Christian Reconquista, Lisbon became the capital of Portugal in 1255. During this period, Gothic architecture flourished, seen in landmarks such as Lisbon Cathedral (Sé de Lisboa) and the Monastery of São Vicente de Fora.
Lisbon played a crucial role during the Age of Exploration in the 15th and 16th centuries. The wealth generated from trade with newly discovered territories contributed to the construction of magnificent structures such as Belém Tower and the Jerónimos Monastery, both UNESCO World Heritage Sites.
In 1755, a devastating earthquake followed by a tsunami and fire destroyed much of Lisbon, including many historic buildings. This earthquake is very much responsible for the Libon we see today. An architect by destructive default.
The Marquis of Pombal led the efforts to rebuild the city, introducing a new architectural style known as Pombaline, characterized by sturdy, earthquake-resistant buildings with simple, symmetrical facades.
Lisbon experienced further growth and modernization during the 19th and 20th centuries. The cityscape became a blend of architectural styles, including neoclassical, Art Nouveau, and Art Deco, reflecting the changing tastes and influences of the time.
In recent decades, Lisbon has seen a resurgence in contemporary architecture, with notable projects such as the Champalimaud Foundation by Charles Correa and the Lisbon Oceanarium by Peter Chermayeff.
We checked into our hotel, inevitably uphill, around 7pm. A short stroll from the hotel was the Santa Justa Lift or Carmo Lift. I wasn’t expecting a lift. Crafted in the late 19th century, entirely from wrought iron, it’s a handsome beast. It connects Chiado (top) to Baxia or downtown (bottom). We didn’t take it.
Nope, we took the free, less busy lift close by. Though it deposits tourists from and into the same area it has the look of something from a 3 star hotel lobby.
Baxia is resplendent with restaurants. All apparently boasting the same fare from menus advertising scaringly florescent food. Bit of a tourist trap. However, and far more interestingly, Baxia is quite lovely – classy plazas joust with classic 18th century Pombaline architecture, a delightful spot to stroll and people watch. Pedestrianisation is a welcome bonus.
Back to the lift, the hotel and bed.
Can we walk the whole of Lisbon in one day, day?
Nope, but it felt like it.
First up, São Jorge Castle. I’m not especially bothered about so called Patron Saints though continually surprised how much St George got about. Bit of a tart that lad.
Another lift efficiently elevates one to Castelo, a tiny neighbourhood surrounding the castle. Do take a wander.
The castle dates back to the Moors though much of what we see today is a restoration following that dreadful earthquake of 1755. Nevertheless, chez St George is worth the 15 Euro entrance fee. Several of the towers are climbable and the walls can be promenaded along. The views back over Lisbon are properly spectacular.
As are the many peacocks strutting their stuff within (and on) the castle walls.
Alfama and Graca and Baxia and Pink Street
Though stretching from a smidgen below the castle to the Rio Tejo most tick boxers will head towards the so called Fisherman’s Village. As did we.
But not initially. Nope, we strolled into Graca the adjoining neighbourhood. Graca was a welcome surprise from tourist Lisbon – albeit deservedly. Graca could be where you live, or I live. Normality exists here. We liked it.
We drank coffee at a wonderfully busy and local cafe before eating the tastiest food of our time in Portugal at Graca 77. Their house red also being the best wine quaffed whilst away. A gem of an eatery.
In need of exercise we then wandered uphill to The Church and Monastery of Graça. It’s a huge and handsome beast dating back hundreds of years though has been extensively restored. Expansive views across Baxia and Barrio Alto are a bonus.
Back to that fishy village.
In the 1755 earthquake many Christian churches were destroyed. Alfama, perhaps a tad ironically, survived virtually intact. It’s Lisbon’s oldest surviving district.
Miradouro das Portas do Sol is a huge terrace, squatting above Alfama, revealing the district in all of its labyrinth loveliness. The streets are stupidly steep, even by the standards of Lisbon, cobbled and narrow. Plazas, churches and alleys make up this characterful area – becoming lost may be the best way of stumbling upon Alfama’s hidden gems.
Historically squatting outside of the castle walls, Alfama was home to home to the poorer and perhaps less fortunate elements of Portuguese society. With Portugal becoming one of the preeminent seafaring nations Alfama soon become home to sailors with a reputation as a tough and deprived district. Essentially that fisherman’s village.
Today Alfama has morphed into an artisan and tourist enclave though some commentators do feel it’s lost much of its traditional vibe. Whatever that was. We felt, after exploring (getting lost) for an hour or so a modicum of old charm had survived the onslaught of gentrification and tourist infestation. Abetting this charm is the total absence of ridiculously rotund and possibly pointless SUVs clogging the streets. No cars of any size do. The streets are just too narrow.
Don’t be fooled though. There are tacky tourist shops and restaurants with those scaringly bright menus aplenty amongst more interesting finds.
Alfama’s populace may has gone upmarket, the architecture hasn’t. It’s worth at least a couple of hours of anyone’s time.
Strolling along the River Tagus we encountered Praça do Comércio, the daddy of Lisbon’s squares. Highlights include Rua Augusta Arch – completed in 1873 celebrating the rebuilding of Lisbon post earthquake – and and Equestrian Statue of Joseph I, the unlucky king on the big chair during the earthquake.
The square back onto Baxia and so rude not to wander back in before meandering our way to Pink Street. A strange little street. Not especially pink and with a bar worshipping all things Liverpool FC. I support Sheffield United (my birth city) so feel unable to criticise. Other bars offer alternative viewpoints though all seem to exist to serve as much beer to as many thirsty punters as possible. I heard many an English accent.
Chiado may be a shopping district but it’s an attractive little number. And where, allegedly, the world’s oldest bookshop contentedly lives. We had a looksee and content it very much was. Locals apparently shop here as well as the tourist hoards – it was, a tad surprisingly, one of our favourite Lisbon districts.
May sound like Gotham’s evil twin but is, in reality, a tad more mundane. It’s Lisbon’s westernmost district, where the River Tagus encounters its watery maker, emptying into the Atlantic.
During the Age of Discovery Vasco da Gama left from Belem and Columbus popped in for a cuppa on his way back from a some unfortunate discovered land.
Getting there proved our very own Age of Discovery. It only dawned, when our intended tram clanked past, that our stop was currently on a hiatus. Even the copper, waiting for that same tram, appeared vaguely perturbed.
Back to the hotel. Coffee, google and a wee (2 in my case) helped us plan an alternative route. Metro, topped up our travel cards for 24 hours, train, Belem. Easy. Unfortunately not. To our frustration the 24 hour top up ticket did not take kindly to the train. Another top up ticket, and a short train journey, finally brought us to Belem.
On arrival, and once a short lived but bad tempered squall had passed, we strolled along the waterfront. It’s all rather agreeable. There’s the river, an opposite bank revealing wooded hills and, alongside the river path, the occasional building (new and older) masquerading as restaurants or hotels.
A short detour took us away from the waterfront and bizarrely through a petrol station. Reunited with the waterfront we were plonked in front of the imposing concrete and limestone Discoveries Monument. Rebuilt in 1960 from an older monument it celebrates 15th and 16th century celebs. Men really. Only a single women is represented and she’s someone’s mum. Nevertheless, it is striking. Though shaped like a ship, architecturally, there’s a whiff of 1950s Russian propaganda about it.
Belem Tower is a bit of a looker. Built in 1515 as both beacon and fortress guarding the entrance to Lisbon’s harbour.
Belem Tower is a stunning piece of Gothic architecture utterly deserving its World Heritage Site status. It’s more Disney than Disney. I loved it.
We reversed our route, moving away from watery wonderland into urban landscape. Belem Palace, built in the 1500s though renovated in the 1800s, is currently the official home of the President of the Republic and pretty in pink. A tad oddly, unlike other royal residences, it lives on a high street. Two ornately dressed guards alerted us to it’s self importance. Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful building even the glimpse we were given.
Next up, more weak bladder than by design, was Belém Cultural Center (CCB). Constructed in the 1990s, it’s an imposing and oddly attractive building – now housing the MAC/CCB Museum and it’s large auditorium, hosts world class performances. The 4 huge living walls especially appealed.
Jerónimos Monastery, a short saunter from the CCB, is a stunning example of 14th century Gothic architecture. No surprise it’s a World Heritage Site and one of Lisbon’s most recognisable attractions. This being a Monday, it was closed to tourists. Perhaps it’s the day of their team meeting.
Established in 1837 Antiga Confeitaria de Belém or Pastéis de Belém is the birthplace of the famous custard tarts. High church to custard desserts. Those Monks, presumably on a Monday, were allegedly responsible for the still secret recipe.
We succumbed. Though an obvious tourist trap said flavoursome fripperies were not extortionately expensive. A small, west London shopping centre hosts a pasteis store as well as Hammersmith tube station.
Nearby is Rua Vieira Portuense with its 16th-century houses. Worth a gander.
MAAT (Museum of Art, Architecture and Technology) is a dramatic modern architecture structure, it’s roof doubling up as a vantage point overlooking the river. The 19th century factory close by, now part of MAAT, is properly gorgeous. If you like that kind of thing. I do.
The weather had become rather bad tempered. A sit down and glass of wine seemed most opportune. And so we did in the museum cafe. A pleasant vibe with river views helped to distract from the overpriced and distinctly average vino.
LX Factory is a complex of industrial buildings – dating back to 1846, underneath the 25th of April Bridge (not my birthday) – has been transformed into a dynamic hub for art, culture, and commerce. Over 50 restaurants, bars and cafes live here and LX Factory is bang on trend and a Lisbon hotspot.
It’s perhaps a little contrived, though likably contrived. Nevertheless, the street art is fab and genuinely inventive.
I adore chocolate, always have, always will. Strangely, I’ve never been a hot chocolate devotee. I am now. Sus persuaded me to pause for a hot chocolate whilst in LX Factory. Lush. As young people say.
Belem is a fascinating and hugely significant district with distinct contrasts. We didn’t but Belem merits a day of your hard worked for holiday. We caught glimpses of gardens and museums are aplenty though were unable – and on occasion didn’t wish too – to stop. Hopefully you will.
An 7.5 mile day. We bussed back to central Lisbon.
PORTO
The following morning we checked out, metro to the train station (Santa Apolonia) and jumped – it was a huge step up – onto the Porto train. We (Sus) had bought tickets online the previous evening.
The 3ish hour journey passed comfortably, the scenery was agreeable, the train was pleasant. Highlight was cranes hijacking large metal pylons for luxury living. Fabulous. Though how the highest perches were allocated I’ll never know. Long time residents or new money?
A short trip on a local train brought us into Porto proper. Apple Maps appeared to direct us to our hotel in a somewhat roundabout way. We obviously ignored Apple Maps and went direct. An impossible incline harbouring steps and cobbles quickly showed us the error of our ways. Trust AI.
We checked in, rushed out. Our hotel shared Praça da Batalha with the 18th century Church of Saint Ildefonso and the Royal Theatre of São João. The original theatre dates to 1794 though was rebuilt in 1908 following a fire.
Porto’s town centre or A Baixa roughly encompasses Cordoaria, Praça da Liberdade and São Bento Station – the central station of our arrival and subsequent battle of the cobbles.
Attractive streets (Avenida dos Aliados), squares (Praça da Liberdade), city hall and government buildings vie with locals, tourists and consumerism. Century old trees decorate Cordoaria Gardens providing shelter and sunburnt tourists a place to belatedly lather on suntan lotion. It all feels familiar and rather likable.
Se neighbourhood, one of the oldest and traditional, and especially charming. Porto Cathedral resides in a picturesque square here and dates back to the 12th century. There’s been the odd nip and tuck since though, unlike an aging reality tv star, only embellishes an already beautiful building.
A surviving section of the medieval city wall is also in residence.
A Baixa is not flat. Porto is not flat. Neither is in any sense of the word flat. Sprinkle in a little snow (unlikely), predestination (more likely) and a developer or two and Porto would become a ski resort.
Talking of developers, Porto is undergoing a major refurb. Porto’s tram system is being extended and many older buildings renovated. Cranes and construction dominate the town centre – Porto appears to be a city on the way up.
Porto began as a Celtic hamlet before the Romans, as they did, popped over transforming the town into a successful trading centre. And renaming it ‘Portus Cale’. Which gives us ‘Porto’ and ‘Portugal’.
It then became a tad messy. In 456, the Visigothic King Theodoric II booted out the Romans, and fairs fair, in 716 the Muslim Moors booted out the Visigoths. In 868 Alfonso III of Asturiasreclaimed Porto from the Moors for the other side. The Christians.
Portugal however, as we now understand it, emerged post 1096. Afonso Enríquez, after inevitably bashing other parts of the region, laid the foundation of modern day Portugal. Hoorah.
The 15th and 16th centuries were Portugal’s Golden Age and pinnacle of maritime influence. Porto’s shipbuilding expertise and renowned shipyards helped to drive this exploration frenzy. Famous explorers such as Henry the Navigator discovered new lands, opened up trade routes and generally kicked bottom. Goa in India and the beautiful Parity in Brazil demonstrate the scope of Portugal’s exploration.
Less gloriously, on discovering the African coast, Portugal’s explorers enthusiastically embraced the abhorrent slave trade. Portugal was not alone.
Between 1580 and 1640 Spanish Habsburgs bossed the Iberian Peninsula. Porto was not best pleased and eventually regained independence. Weirdly, this period of Spanish rule, proved a hugely successful period for Porto and its inhabitants. In1756, after shockingly rising against a British monopoly on their famous wines, Porto went through what many believe was a golden age in terms of both commerce and architecture.
Until Napoleon visited in 1807, outstaying this unwelcome intrusion until 1814. In 1820 Porto was at the vanguard of Portugal’s Liberal Revolution demanding a constitutional monarchy. This was achieved in 1822.
During the 20th century Porto and Portugal became a republic (1910), succumbed to a dictatorship before becoming the country we know now.
Like many a larger metropolis Porto is a tasty smorgasbord of historical styles encompassing Baroque, Neoclassical and increasingly modern, cutting edge architecture.
Perhaps ‘rather a lot of history’ would have been a better heading.
A lot of pages day. And Porto’s Ribeira.
Sus keeps a diary of our travel exploits which forms the basis of this blog. Or at least the bits I can read. Many, many pages contributed to this particular day.
Ribeira is the classic picture postcard – iPhone postcard – and a World Heritage Site. It’s Porto’s historic centre and the city’s waterfront. The water in question is the Douro.
The boats in the picture were once used to transport the port.
Narrow alleys complete with small squares lead down to the waterfront. The riverfront waterfront is a wonderful pastiche of picturesque and colourful facades. Restaurants and bars vie for tourist Euros.
Who doesn’t love a little bit of Victorian architecture. Or, in the case of the Ponte Dom Luís I Bridge, a lot of Victorian river architecture. Completed in 1886 this metal and concrete monster magically combines handsome good looks with function. Not a bad epitaph.
We strolled across. Then up. Again.
To Mosteiro da Serra do Pilar. The monastery, yet another World Heritage Site, harks back to the 16th century. A large square fronting the monastery commands another fabulous viewpoint Porto apparently specialises in.
Wandering back down one encounters the Gaia District featuring gorgeous 19th century warehouses housing the famous wine (port) cellars.
Further warehouses and wine cellars lie behind the Gaia waterfront and give a glimpse of what the area must have been like 200 or so years ago. Wander uphill – this is Porto – and one discovers WOW, Porto’s cultural district. It’s a stunning combination of old renovated warehouses and modern edifices housing museums, restaurants, bars and stores. WOW’s sheer size unfortunately made the absence of humans palpable. Thankfully, as we disappeared, the lunch crowd appeared.
To be honest, we only walked around, went to the loo and considered a coffee. The Chocolate Museum and World of Wine warrant further investigation. The laws of time and space (I watch alot of sci-fi) meant this wasn’t possible.
The Teleférico de Gaia, cable car, gracefully ascends from the waterfront to the Jardim do Morro Metro Station offering pretty peeks of Ribeira and Gaia. It’s a tad expensive, lasting all of 5 minutes and offering only an alternative perspective, not anything new, Nevertheless, a pleasant diversion.
Port is a fortified – usually with brandy – wine. Red grapes are the norm though not exclusively so. Adding brandy shoves up the alcohol level to around 20% also preserving more of the natural sugars from the grapes by stopping the fermentation process. This adds sweetness. Many ports are barrel aged (Ruby and Tawny), Tawney up to an incredible 40 years. We sampled a 60 year old aged sherry at a wedding in Spain a couple of years back. Think what that sherry would have seen. If it hadn’t been stuck in a barrel.
The choice of a top tipple spots are many with port dominating. Now, neither of us are port drinkers, Sus has even less interest than me. Nevertheless, this being Porto, port felt a more appropriate choice than Heineken. I’m a beer snob. If it was Heineken or nothing, nothing would win. And has in the past.
I supped a Tawny, Sus a Ruby and the port, as it turned out, was delicious. And perched on a terrace (Sandeman), in the sun, certainly enhanced our port love in.
I did try a second from further down the port food chain and the difference in quality genuinely surprised me. I suspect cheap supermarket ports are properly nasty.
We wandered back across Ponte Dom Luís I Bridge – incidentally offering wonderful views of its own – and continued exploring the narrow streets that appear to make up much of Porto. Following a brief hotel visitation was wine and fodder at Genuíno. Genuíno, located in another of those interesting districts Porto specialises in, serves both organic wine and food. We tried and enjoyed both though Sus was limited by a small menu. Worth a gander.
Then back to the hotel for a final time. Where they were showing an FA Cup game. Marvelous. An excellent game, lovely staff, mediocre wine.
We’d planned to train it back to Lisbon the following morning. Didn’t happen. We decided to stay in Porto another day. On our brief visitation earlier we booked another night. No upgrade this time.
Stay in Porto Day
The weather was a tad bad tempered the following morning and still raining as we left the hotel. We bravely set forth.
Rua das Flores, dating back to 1521, is a gorgeous street in Porto’s historic centre. And it had stopped raining. Beautiful facades many with charming balconies – a Romeo and Juliet vibe.
The next hour or so we meandered. No set agenda, just choosing streets we didn’t recognise. Or did, halfway down. There’s very little I find more enjoyable, or relaxing.
The Mercado do Bolhão is a large, covered market dating back to 1839 though the current neo classical structure is newer (1914). Perhaps a tad less traditional than it once was locals do mix with the tourist masses. And Mercado do Bolhão still provides a tempting array of fishmongers, butchers, greengrocers and florists across it’s 2 floors. Both bought delicious snacks. We loved it. And would return.
Predictably, as we meandered, craft beer joints magically appeared. Baixa hosts Cerveja Musa on a pretty terrace overlooking the Douro. In stark contrast, Taproom Porto (Dos Diabos) is slotted into a residential street. Both offered friendly natives and good beer. For more details please pop onto https://wordpress.com/post/tonysbeersnobblog.wordpress.com/617.
A return to Mercado do Bolhão, Indiana Jones at the hotel before a final supermarket visit for breakfast goodies.
Lisbon, The Return Of
The following morning a train efficiently returned itself and us to Lisbon. We checked in to our latest home from home before a final exploration of Lisbon.
Tram 28 is tourist temptation – it trundles up and down narrow streets tick boxing many of Lisbon’s famous sights. We initially waiting at a tram stop currently not in use. Deja vu. Walked up to a previous tram stop and waited. And waited. Became bored. Left.
And strolled back up to the lovely Chiado. Attractive streets, pretty squares and a hustle bustle made it a favourite district.
Wandered into Bairro Alto, Lisbon’s party neighbourhood. Bairro Alto has a denser more claustrophobic vibe. It was quiet. Either recovering from the previous night or preparing for that night. Bars are everywhere, party central – and then some – indeed. Attractive though. And steep.
Walking down we passed and popped into another Musa for a cheeky half. Then the huge and crowded Time Out Market. Decent enough though I preferred the feel and food of Porto’s Mercado do Bolhão.
Our final stop was Outro Lado, my third and Sus’s second visit, to what has become a favourite craft beer destination. Anywhere.
Hotel, pack, sleep, wake up, quick breakfast, metro, flight. Home.
Final Thoughts
Our favourite? Porto. We loved the waterfront and the city felt a little less tourist focused, neighbourhoods a tad more distinct.
Nevertheless, Lisbon and Porto are easily recommended. Both charm with beautiful architecture, history and things to do. We could have had a couple more days in each.
Tony's Travel Blog 