Last of the summer shine

I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing about my travels. Not sure why, maybe it’s a consequence of revisiting favourite cities or an increasing familiarity with Europe in general, and everything feeling less remarkable.

Anyway, earlier this month I took myself to Sitges – via Paris and Lyon – to extend my summer, and thought I’d share a few photos I took, alongside some light commentary.

Paris

Given previous experiences, I try to avoid the French capital when venturing across Europe. If I’m travelling south, I’ll head to Lyon instead.

Thanks to train chaos this side of the Channel, I had to resign myself to spending a night in Paris. I found a predictably small hotel in the Saint-Paul district, close to Gare de Lyon and also Notre Dame. In this moment of mild desperation, I inadvertently found Temple de Jeanne, a hotel with incredibly friendly and courteous staff. Ça alors!

The next morning, before catching my rescheduled train to Lyon, I chanced finding a short queue outside the rebuilt and rejuvenated Notre Dame Cathedral. After 20 minutes, I was in.

Much like the Sistine Chapel, hoards of tourists prevented any possibility of me being awe struck. Here too are frequent requests for visitors to be silent, though given as automated announcements, the illusion of this being a place of solemnity soon vanished.

Lyon

My time in Lyon truncated, I reacquainted myself with each part of this beautiful city, split into three by the rivers Rhône and Saône.

Arriving west of the city in La Part-Dieu, I got to see the refurbished station concourse I saw glimpses of two years earlier.

Over the road lies the sprawling white jigsaw-clad Westfield shopping centre, with both the pencil-like Tour Part-Dieu and slender Tour Oxygène towers reaching above nearby.

Nestled among buildings in this area lie fine examples of brutalism (not pictured). The shell-shaped Maurice Ravel auditorium is a particular highlight, but on this visit the rigid lines of the 100 Cours Lafayette apartment blocks caught my attention.

Crossing a river in Lyon can transport you back a century or two. Crossing the Rhône, towers and concrete carbuncles give way to low-rise terraces and fine gothic buildings such as the Hotel de Ville and Opéra Nouvel. The large tree-lined Place Bellecour underlines the formality of this area.

Crossing the Saône, I retreated further into history. Although the neo-classical Palais de juctice historique de Lyon faces the river, it is here that you can find Lyon’s medieval cathedral and narrow cobble-stoned streets.

I didn’t climb (or take the funicular railway) up the hill this time, but if I had, I would have ventured further back and found the remains of a Roman amphitheatre.

Sitges

My eventual destination was Sitges, a little south of Barcelona. I picked this city for its beach and distance from major tourist attractions to make sure I had a proper holiday where I had little choice but to relax.

Of all its tourist attractions, I had hoped to visit the Palau de Maricel but as this opens on select Sundays, I had to console myself with a walk around the neighbouring museum instead.

Not much to show for my time here – the beach and hotel pool were both lovely, thanks.

Barcelona

Towards the end of my trip, I took the train into Barcelona for some architectural tourism. On the first day I visited the Gaudí-designed Park Güell (once I could get past the woeful digital-only ticketing system). Like Notre Dame, this is a beautiful location spoilt by an influx of visitors.

Approaching the park I spotted graffiti with the message ‘Tourists go home’ and I can understand why. I’ll try and resist the temptation to be and old man moaning about people preening and posing for Instagram. But tourism feels increasingly broken, less about seeing different places, but about being seen at those places. Park Güell (and its Dragon Stairway) is just one such example.

On the second day I headed to Montjuïc to see the Mies Van Der Rohe Pavillon, a replica of a pavilion originally built as the German Pavilion for the 1929 International Exposition. This is not a large building, small enough to question the €9 admission price.

I then found myself retreading the steps I had taken 16 years ago as I climbed Montjuïc and strolled around the Anella Olímpica, location of the 1992 Olympic Games. Three decades on, this area is showing its age, and could do with a bit of renovation. Calatrava’s distinctive communications tower is in desperate need of a lick of paint.

Paris (part deux)

I was able to get from Sitges to Brighton in one day, though it did mean leaving the hotel at 7am. I’d left myself some wiggle room between arriving in Paris and getting the Eurostar, so after checking my luggage into a locker at Gare du Nord, I wondered around the neighbourhood.

I soon stumbled upon Canal Saint-Martin, a little slice of Amsterdam in Paris, the city continuing to work its magic and slowly win me over to its charms.