When reading about Durbuy on travel blogs and tourist board websites, an exceptionally rose tinted view emerges. It is a “fairytale” place, “picture perfect”, “romantic”, a “hidden gem” and “charming”. Having just visited, these epithets seem equally true and untrue. It’s certainly not hidden, but it’s a pretty, historic place with a castle and cobbled streets in the midst of beautiful Ardennes countryside. That, though, comes with caveats.
In far larger places that have a life beyond tourism, it’s normally possible to avoid the worst of mass tourism. Durbuy, a small Wallonian ‘city’ beloved by Instagrammers, is not one of those. It’s no larger than a village and simply has no defence against the volume of tourists who cram into its narrow streets. It felt like a Disney theme park when I was there in early May. The summer high season must be unbearable.
If Dante’s Inferno had seven rings, Durbuy has three. In the centre is a picturesque castle that everyone comes to see, except it’s not open to the public, so it’s mostly just a photo opportunity. The middle ring is what was once an actual village and is now just cafes, bars, restaurants and tourist shops. The outer ring is simply an enormous car park that surrounds the village. At Disney they put the car park far from the action.
There are some pedestrianised streets, but a road runs through the centre of Durbuy that resembled a race track at lunch time. Does anyone actually live here? I can only imagine not because it must be Hellish for much of the year. That’s a shame because the walk to get here from the nearest train station at Barvaux, following the winding River Ourthe through rolling, wooded countryside, was absolutely gorgeous.
In the early morning, my only company was birdsong, a gentle breeze and the occasional dog walker. The scenic walk was around 8km, which explains why so many people drive to Durbuy, but the Ardennes countryside is stunning and walking is the best way to enjoy it. I arrived in a still quiet Durbuy uplifted. A couple of hours later I’d been yanked back to reality by the deluge of visitors and cars: Belgian, Dutch, German and Luxembourgish.
Durbuy is something of an historical oddity. In 1331, it was granted city privileges by the Count of Luxembourg, creating a paradox: a place no larger than a village became a city. That means Durbuy can market itself as the smallest city in Belgium, even the world. A title contested by others. Despite being pretty remote today, in the medieval period it was an important commercial centre.
That has bequeathed it a set of picturesque cobbled streets – the Rue Daufresne de la Chevalerie is paved entirely with pebbles taken from the river – lined with stone and wood-framed houses in its centre. All of which sits amidst sheer cliffs topped by woods rising up above the town. I decided to climb up to the top of the cliffs to get a better view of the car park, I mean charming medieval village and castle.
To be fair, the view is spectacular, but a word of advice, unless you want to pay €10 for the privilege, don’t use the Belvédère de Durbuy as your view point (access is only with a ticket on the tourist ‘train’). Instead, if you have a head for heights and sheer drops, climb up the path to the top of the Roche de la Falize, a dramatic cliff. They should probably fence it off, it isn’t exactly health and safety compliant.
I spent an hour or so strolling the streets and along the river bank before stumbling upon the garden of the Aux 10 Clefs restaurant. It’s a little out of the centre and was quiet. I ordered a local beer and some charcuterie, relaxed in the sun and pondered on the horrors commercial scale tourism has produced in this pretty place. It’s hard not to feel a tragedy has overtaken one of Belgium’s most attractive villages.
I admire your consistent skill at being able to both raise concerns about the overcrowding and in the same postings capture images which are devoid of any other visitors. You must get up very early in the morning to beat the crowds.
I don’t really enjoy photos with crowds, it’s true. Even then, Durbuy was an early start!