It may not have been the Grand Tour, the 18th and 19th century fashion for travel in Europe to visit its great cities that saw wealthy aristocrats typically travel from London to Paris, then through the Alps to Italy. After spending time cosplaying amongst sites of Roman and Greek antiquity, they would return through Germany and the Low Countries.
Yet, my recent wanderings around Europe took me to some of the same places, although probably involved more bierkellers, brown cafes and pubs than those of 19th century travellers.
It started with a trip to London and over the next few weeks took in North Lancashire, the Yorkshire Dales, The Hague and Berlin, with periodic stops in Brussels. Finally, we went to somewhere we hadn’t previously lived: Spain. It has been almost a year since I was last in London, given it’s two hours on the Eurostar I really should visit more.
A day spent roaming around the streets of Hampstead and its lovely heath, ended with a party in glamorous Notting Hill. There was just time to have a stroll through our old neighbourhood in Hoxton, and a traditional pub lunch at the Fox & Anchor in Smithfield, before heading off to spend a few days close to the Red Rose City of Lancaster.
Here, in the imposing castle, the Pendle Witches (a group of innocent women accused of witchcraft) met their violent end; the town also has a fascinating maritime history linking it to the evils of the Transatlantic slave trade. Lancaster’s tiny Maritime Museum does a good job of exploring a history most would rather forget. The weather in the Lake District was terrible, so I spent a day doing the unthinkable: walking in the Yorkshire Dales.
It has been many years since I last visited the area near Malham. Little seemed to have changed. Small, pretty villages still nestle amongst glorious landscapes of rolling limestone hills, but Malham Cove has become a hotspot for Instagammers thanks to its Harry Potter connections. Luckily, there weren’t many people taking selfies on a grey and damp late October day. Tick-Tocking is a warm weather enterprise it seems.
There was a quick return to Brussels before a visit to our former home, The Hague. This was our first visit since we left over six years ago. A lot of trips were taken down a lot of memory lanes. The Ron Mueck exhibition at the wonderful Voorlinden Museum was the catalyst for the visit, but it was complemented by cycle rides, strolls along the beach and meanders through the historic heart of this massively underrated town.
There was also the classic Hague ‘four seasons in one day’ experience, as well as a brand new experience at the Museum Beelden aan Zee. I never visited this underground sculpture museum when we lived here. It had an excellent Miro special exhibition which just about justified the €22.50 ticket price. We ended with a nostalgic stroll down Oude Molstraat and a beer in my favourite bar, Proeflokaal Het Gulle.
There was just time to catch breath back in Brussels before a long train ride east to Berlin. We lived in the city on the Spree for three years, a period that included enduring the misery of the covid pandemic. Returning for the first time since we departed one late July day three years ago, reinforced just how much I miss living here. It is a place like no other, a capital city that feels independent from the rest of the country.
Berlin was a work trip, but I squeezed in some sightseeing – they have finally finished rebuilding the Berliner Schloss, but the grand entrance to the Pergamon Museum is still a work in progress after more than six years of messing around. How hard can it be Berlin? I also managed a trip to Braunschweig, or Brunswick as it’s known in English. This was unfinished business from our time living here, it’s a fascinating town.
Twenty-four hours after returning from Berlin, we left again and headed to Palma de Mallorca – a first ever visit to the Balearic Islands – and then Alicante and Murcia. It was strange to be in a place that was so close to the disaster in Valencia, which played on every TV screen, and yet for everything to feel so ‘normal’. I resisted visiting Alicante (its package tourist Hell reputation does it no favours), but it is a city of surprises.
It’s been a packed few weeks but these travels, and all the many encounters with good people along the way, were reassuring. Sitting in a cafe in Palma watching the US election results destroy any illusion that we live in anything other than troubling times, this reflection helped with what felt like a body blow.
Well, well you have been busy. Compliments.