Small town blues

Start spreading the news: after two years of pandemic restrictions, for the past six months it has been possible to travel once again.  I have been taking advantage and getting onto planes and trains to enjoy the capital pleasures of Europe.  Top of the list was Lisbon, which I visited over Christmas, followed by Paris in February, Athens in May, and then Berlin and Edinburgh in June.  I will be in Belfast briefly this month, before a trip to Vienna in August, on my way to a friend’s wedding in Transylvania.  Having grown-up in a monochrome commuter town, I count myself lucky to have escaped suburbia for the multi-coloured metropolis.   Now, I live in the centre of London and when I go on holiday, I want to wake up in a city. 

That’s not to say that the countryside does not have its pleasures.  I enjoy spending time on the west coast of Ireland, which I visit regularly.  I like the silence of the moors, save for the sound of water cascading down mountain streams, and the challenge of climbing the steep local summits, to enjoy views of the Atlantic and the sea breeze in my face.  It’s easy to find that I’m king of the hill after walking for hours without another person in sight.  And later, in the evenings, to sit and read with only the sound of the wind for company.  There is comfort to be found in the solitude of the wild places of the earth, and a sense of rejuvenation right through the very heart of it. 

Nonetheless, given the choice, I prefer to pass my time in the major cities.  There is something intoxicating about urban life: the movement of people – on foot, scooters, and cycles; in buses, trains, and trams – into and out of the centre; the buzz of activity from early morning until late into the night; the endless interplay between work and leisure that never sleeps; the sounds, sights, and smells; and the cosmopolitanism of the people, who come from anywhere and everywhere.  Each day is different, each morning a brand-new start, all around there is novelty jostling with tradition, innovation gaining a foothold while yesterday’s fashions are melting away.  There’s so much to see and do, it’s up to you.  Cities have been reinventing themselves for as long as they have existed.  Their only constant is perpetual change, and I want to be a part of it.

When I visit cities, I like to walk: if there are good pedestrian routes, I’ll make it anywhere.  Trains and taxis are sometimes required when moving luggage, but once my bags are safely stored, I prefer to wander the pavements and parks, looking at the architecture, the layout of the streets, and the types and distribution of shops, offices, and houses.  Cities are never identical, and I find myself curious to discover the reasons why different urban patterns emerged in different places: sometimes these are the result of political history, of conquest or subjection; other times they are products of the local geography and meteorology; in other cases, they evolved around trade routes and the presence of nearby markets; very occasionally, they were laid out in accordance with the ambitious plans of rulers, who wanted posterity to know that they were once the head of the heap.  All this is best discovered on foot, for which reason when I travel, I always takes a couple of pairs of comfortable vagabond shoes with me.

There is nothing better than waking up knowing that I’m leaving today, for another trip away from home, a chance to satisfy my longing to stray.  European capital cities are great destinations, and I love to visit them, but I must confess that my “number one” is on the other side of the Atlantic, and if I can make it there soon, I will be very happy.  For, if I’m not in London, my favourite place to be is New York, New York.