How to travel in Europe

Everyone seems to be on holiday. That was my experience traipsing through Edinburgh Airport last week. I was on the way to that now tropical destination called London, but in the queue to security I was surrounded by Americans. They spoke of their identical itineraries from the Trotternish Ridge to Oban, and somewhere called Edinburrow?

Scenes like these can be found across Europe, as foreign tourists sweep in from across the world. Is it still possible to travel “like a local”? The short answer is yes.

Obviously, a few places have gone forever. Barcelona, always overrated, has become a hostel with a city attached. Cinque Terre and the Amalfi Coast, likewise, have succumbed to the bucket-listing tendencies of those over the pond. I won’t even begin to describe certain attractions across old Europe. Despite this, a few kilometres away from all of these places you will quickly be on your own. However, there lies the issue. Most don’t want to be completely on their own.

The vast majority want pristine views, quaint attractions, and a meal far better than back home, but with the convenience regular tourism brings. Even worse, like the few dour Scots in the otherwise O’Hare-bound security queue, most hope food and drink will be cheaper than at home. Thankfully, this conundrum has a simple solution — go on holiday where the domestic upper middle class do.

This has never been easier. Our newspapers seem to be begging us not to go along with the crowds. Spain in particular is subject to modernity’s search for the undiscovered holiday destination. Fourteen of the country’s 17 autonomous regions have had places described as “undiscovered”, or words to that effect, by The Times in the last 10 years. Favourites rightly include Cantabria and Asturias, whose seaside villages are already flooded with Madrid’s Barbour-clad wealthy each year.

The best people at holidaying in Spain, France, or anywhere else are natives with money. They know the best rock to jump from in the Calanques, the best bar on a Sunday night in Vienna, or how to remove sea urchin spines from tanned Ischian ankles.

None of these places are undiscovered, of course; they are just not like the queue for the Alcázar in Seville, where I once witnessed two separate conversations about who was “on track to be perm sec”. Once you have seen the bucket-list attractions like Pompeii or the Alhambra, both mazes of identical-looking rooms which you dread to admit look the same after an hour, you are free to go somewhere more exciting.

But, like the swells of the Bay of Biscay, you can only ride the undiscovered wave for so long. Soon there are too many people, and restaurant owners realise they can take advantage of customers without being harangued by a vociferous 80-year-old called Angustias about how many prawns are in the paella. Everything is still very nice, but never quite what it was.

In many ways, it’s never been easier to travel. Now, instead of having to live by rules like never eating in restaurants on a square or in those with pictures of food, you can just look at the Google reviews. However, even this requires technique. Faced with typical Spanish service, a coddled professional from lands where customers are “valued” might be shocked.

Once, outside a Madrid bar, I saw a German couple look in disgust at the rubbish-strewn floor — it is typical for customers to throw their napkins, skewers, and whatever else on the ground to be swept up rather than using any bin. I reassured them the bar was fantastic and that this was just the Spanish way, but that failed to convince them. Given people of this sort are likely to review, there is value to be found if you don’t mind Russian salad on your shoes.

We’ll never run out of interesting places but interesting tourists are a far scarcer commodity

Luckily, Europe is big enough that this sort of value will always be found somewhere. The Catalan mountain village of Àreu, where I once had a lovely lomo sandwich on the way to Andorra, will never be thronged with visitors, nor will my favourite Romanian-run Spanish tapas bar in the Gancho district of Zaragoza. These might be the hidden finds of a penniless solo traveller, but those looking for more convenience won’t be overwhelmed either. When I asked friends for other destinations I could include in this article, I was provided with a list which effectively included all of rural France.

The reason we see Europe’s city centres merge into a mess of trdelník-covered sameness is because that’s what those paying want. Going to the graves of Thirty Years’ War generals like I used to — I’ve grown out of that now — is probably too far, but the level of intelligent curiosity needed to holiday like a native is thin on the ground. We’ll never run out of interesting places but interesting tourists are a far scarcer commodity.