Category: Sight and Sounds: Material Culture of Heritage Cities in Europe

We arrived early in Luxembourg after a short Ryanair flight from Porto, where we joined a crowd of returning Luxembourg nationals and Portuguese residents. Over the past several decades, Luxembourg has seen significant immigration from Portugal, and today, around 16% of Luxembourg’s residents are Portuguese—a blend that gives the city a uniquely multicultural feel. It was barely morning as we made our way through the terminal, and soon we found ourselves in the cool dawn air of Luxembourg City, ready to explore.

The city was quiet, with only the hum of trams and the sound of early commuters setting out for the day. We wandered briefly, looking for a place to grab coffee before we dove in deeper. Our search led us to the business district, where we found a café filled with mostly early risers, suited up and glued to their phones. The tall, modern office buildings stood in contrast to the old stone structures we’d soon explore, and the faint sounds of conversation in French, German, and Luxembourgish reminded us how many cultures intersect in this small city. After a quick espresso, we were ready to get moving, so we rented e-bikes to navigate Luxembourg’s winding streets and leafy parks.

Riding through the city, we admired the organized streets and clean, minimalist architecture, dotted with green spaces and bordered by the old city walls. The walls, which are a UNESCO World Heritage site, were incredible to see up close. With the e-bikes, we could move easily along the narrow lanes and take in the sweeping views of the valleys below. The fortifications, built hundreds of years ago, were shaded with thick stone, and we took in their muted greys and faded beige hues, blending into the cityscape. The Alzette River glistened far below, winding quietly through the city.

By the time we needed a break, the sun was high and warming up the streets. We found a small bar, tucked away and somewhat quiet, with only a few tables occupied by older men talking quietly. There was a noticeable shift in energy here compared to Iberia, where café conversations tend to be lively and louder. We ordered beers and took in our surroundings. This was clearly a finance hub—the buildings looming in the distance and the quiet professionalism all around were far from the easygoing vibe we’d left behind in Porto. Conversations were subdued, and people seemed more private, absorbed in their own worlds. It was a distinct cultural change from the vibrant, bustling energy we were used to, yet Luxembourg’s calm had its own appeal.

Notably Luxembourg’s soundscape is marked more by what you don’t hear than by what you do. It’s a place where the sounds blend into a soft, unobtrusive background rather than competing for attention. Unlike the lively bustle of southern European cities, where laughter, voices, and street performers fill the air, Luxembourg’s atmosphere is gentler, shaped by subtleties. It definitely felt more like home as we edged further north.  

Later, as the day turned toward evening, we headed out of the city to Petange and Niederkorn, where we were staying with Laura’s friend. Their family home was a beautiful structure, built in a style that immediately felt familiar, like the Swiss homes my (Ben) relatives live in, with sturdy wooden beams, warm, inviting rooms, and neatly kept gardens. The colors around us were earthy, with tones of dark wood and green from the plants all around. The smell of the countryside mixed with the lingering warmth of the day made it feel welcoming. Luxembourg’s countryside is known for its rich natural beauty, and this small, charming home nestled within it felt like the perfect spot to stay.

The next morning, we woke up to a bright and clear day. Stepping outside, we found figs ripe for the picking on a tree in the yard, and the morning air was crisp and slightly sweet. The fig tree’s branches swayed gently in the breeze, and we felt lucky to be here. After breakfast, we set out for Le Titelberg, an ancient Roman site near the town, surrounded by fields of wheat. Walking among the ruins, we were struck by the juxtaposition of the crumbling stone walls against the soft green hills and open skies. The wind picked up as we walked along, rustling through the wheat and creating a subtle background symphony that gave the place a sense of timelessness.

Just before our departure, Laura’s friend Rob shared with us some of his thoughts on life in Luxembourg, especially as a resident without citizenship. He told us how obtaining Luxembourg citizenship can be challenging and that many residents, even those with deep roots in the country, face difficulties in navigating the complex rules. His reflections added depth to our experience here, highlighting how Luxembourg’s multicultural identity is a strength, though not without its political complexities.

As we boarded the bus to Brussels, we thought about the kindness we’d encountered throughout our short stay. The free public transport, the family welcoming us into their home, and the open countryside had left us with a sense of calm and appreciation for Luxembourg’s quiet beauty. It’s a place where history and modernity meet, where cultures converge yet keep their unique identities, and where even a brief visit offers rich experiences. The bus rumbled along as we watched the green fields fade into the distance, and with them, the memories of a city as charming as it is reserved.

 

Photographs taken July 2024, 35mm film on Yashica FX-3

Staying in the heart of Barcelona’s Gothic Quarter felt like stepping into a vibrant, living museum. The narrow, labyrinthine streets were alive with the hum of life at all hours, drawing both locals and travelers into their tight embrace. Every corner revealed something new, whether it was the scent of fresh food wafting from a small eatery or the flash of ornate street lamps casting golden light over historic facades. The energy was palpable, a flow of people weaving through centuries-old passageways that seemed to echo the stories of the past. The Gothic Quarter is more than just a district; it’s a gateway into the soul of Barcelona.

Barcelona holds countless hidden gems, from the quiet corners of Ciutat Vella to storied landmarks like the Temple d’August and the city archives. Nestled in this part of the city, the Temple d’August, a remnant of ancient Roman times, stands as a stoic witness to Barcelona’s diverse historical layers. Nearby, the Barcelona city archives store centuries of documentation, preserving the city’s narrative, piece by piece. Walking through these spaces, one can feel the weight of history juxtaposed against the dynamic, modern pace of the city. These relics are cherished by locals and act as subtle reminders of Barcelona’s commitment to preserving its heritage, even as the city races forward.

Exploring local art and language, you quickly realize the fervor with which Barcelonans celebrate Catalan culture. Catalan isn’t just spoken in conversations at markets or cafes; it’s breathed into public spaces, showcased in murals, and honored through local events. Artists, whether through street art or formal galleries, weave the essence of Catalonia into their work, reflecting pride in a unique identity distinct from the rest of Spain. This deep connection to Catalan culture is pervasive, and you feel it in the rhythm of everyday life, from the conversations echoing in the narrow alleys to the art that covers the walls. There’s a sense of respect here, a determination to uphold this identity against the tides of change.

The majesty of La Sagrada Família rises above the city like a surreal sentinel, its intricate spires and organic shapes a testament to Gaudí’s unmatched vision. This unfinished masterpiece captures a peculiar beauty, merging nature with spiritual reverence in stone and color. Standing in its shadow, it’s easy to understand why this structure has captured the world’s imagination. Even as it remains under construction, La Sagrada Família continues to inspire awe, a perpetual work in progress that speaks to the patience and pride of the Catalan people.

Barcelona offers peaceful retreats, too, like Parc de la Ciutadella. This lush oasis, tucked away in the city, is a sanctuary where locals come to relax, and musicians often fill the air with melodies, creating a soundtrack that perfectly matches the scenery. Children play by the fountains, couples picnic under sprawling trees, and friends gather to escape the urban rush. The park’s beauty lies in its simplicity, a patch of calm amid the city’s energy, where the pace slows down and the worries of the day seem to drift away.

One of our most memorable stops was the Hospital de Sant Pau, a remarkable example of Catalan Modernism designed by the visionary architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner. We arrived after a leisurely morning wandering through the La Gràcia neighborhood, which retains a charm distinct from Barcelona’s more bustling areas. As we approached the hospital, its elaborate design became visible—ornate mosaics, brightly colored ceramic tiles, and sculpted facades that seemed more like art than architecture. Originally founded in 1342, the hospital is one of the oldest in the world, later renovated between 1902 and 1930 to embrace an Art Nouveau aesthetic that feels both grand and intimate. Today, the complex serves as a cultural and research center, its spaces alive with artistic legacy. A pavilion displayed haunting images of the hospital’s final days as a working medical facility, nurses clad in Nike sneakers, early Nokia phones in hand—a fascinating juxtaposition of history and modernity within this hallowed Art Nouveau space. The hospital’s blend of healing, beauty, and architectural mastery is a profound reminder of the value placed on aesthetic spaces within functional buildings, a concept the Catalans champion in ways few other cultures do.

Barcelona’s food culture is as much a celebration of tradition as it is of flavor. Casa Alfonso, a restaurant that has been serving locals since 1934, encapsulates this perfectly. The air inside is thick with the aroma of garlic, jamón, and smoked meats. We quickly found a small nook by the door, nestled under shelves stacked with vintage bottles of olive oil. Deep red walls and the clinking of glasses set a warm, intimate ambiance. Plates of chorizo, anchovies, and glistening cured meats arrived in quick succession, each bite bursting with rich, savory flavors. This is the kind of place where you squeeze your way to the bar, order a glass of vermouth, and settle in to savor every bite. For dessert, the crema catalana arrived—a perfectly caramelized crust that cracked to reveal a smooth, citrusy custard, the ideal ending to a meal steeped in tradition and hospitality.

In the quieter La Gràcia neighborhood, we encountered another facet of Barcelona’s character. Here, the walls are sometimes emblazoned with the phrase “TOURIST GO HOME,” yet the bakeries still offer a warm welcome. The scent of freshly baked bread pulled us in from the street, and we found baguettes with a crisp, golden crust, while ensaimadas—soft, indulgent pastries—tempted from the shelves. Each bite reminded us of the care and tradition infused into Catalan baking. La Gràcia felt like a hidden gem, a place where the city’s soul can still be found away from the busier tourist zones.

Our journey to Tarragona began with a packed train ride down the coast from Barcelona. The train was filled with a mix of tourists and locals, all heading toward the seaside. As we rode along, we enjoyed the views of the Mediterranean Sea on one side and the hills on the other, despite the 75 minutes standing on the carriage. 

Arriving in Tarragona, we immediately headed in to the old town to see the city’s rich history and Roman heritage, one of the main reasons for our trip. The Roman ruins here are some of the best-preserved in Spain, and one ticket gets you into all the ruins (albeit not the cathedral as we found out). Our first stop was the impressive Roman amphitheater, which sits right on the edge of the sea, with the stunning blue waters of the Mediterranean providing a dramatic backdrop. The amphitheater is incredibly well-preserved and you are permitted to visit all of it. From there, we wandered over to the Roman Circus, another incredible site where chariot races were once held. The scale of the Circus is huge, and it’s fascinating to see how much of the structure has survived through the centuries. The site also offers fantastic views of the city and coastline, making it a perfect spot to pause and take in the scenery. This particular day was about 33 degrees, so we didn’t pause for too long and headed to find some much needed shade (a constant theme of our travels I’m sure you may note). While seeking this out we had a chance to chat with some friendly locals. They spoke enthusiastically about Tarragona’s history and its growing popularity as a tourist destination. They were proud of their city’s heritage and were happy to see more people coming to appreciate its unique blend of ancient history and coastal beauty but struggled with the new businesses that had taken to serving tourist tat along their high streets.  Tarragona had no music playing anywhere as such, but this was a welcome break for us. The streets were hushed and quiet, befitting of a basilica town. I found myself maintaining a lower volume, and keeping to the shaded side of the street. This quiet contrasted with the bustle of Barcelona, and I didn’t mind it, it reminded me of home. The idea of accumulating music on this trip had now been muddled in with noticing sounds on a more macro scale. The absence of sound is just as loud as a heavy metal band. 

 

We decided to relax in one of the bustling squares, where we enjoyed a few cold beers (Mahou I love you). The square was lively with locals and tourists alike, all enjoying the warm weather and laid-back atmosphere. The cool drinks and lively chatter around us provided the perfect break before our next destination. Later in the afternoon, we hopped back on the train and headed to the seaside town of Sitges. By the time we arrived, the day had grown even hotter, and we couldn’t resist heading straight to the beach. We ended up wandering to the northern side of the beach, finding an alcove where I believe they were dredging the sand out of the bay. This created a huge smell of fish in the air. We spent the rest of the day swimming and soaking up the sun. The lively, relaxed atmosphere of Sitges was the perfect contrast to the historic charm of Tarragona, and there was lots of european pop music coming out of rival speakers from bars straddling the beach. This battle for superiority reflected the growing issue this area has with tourists (of which we were a part of). We ended the day heading back to Barcelona, ready for our next trip onwards.  

 

Geneva/Montreux

(14th of July – 16th of July)

I arrived in Geneva airport the morning of the 14th of July. Sleep deprived and £12 lighter for an airport breakfast, the task at hand was simple; navigate my way from Geneva airport to Nyon (the site of my hostel) without having to remortgage all the possessions in my belongings. I know Switzerland. My mother’s side of the family come from Gumligen, a village south of Bern, and so I am well versed on the tribulations and expenses of the transport system. Arriving in Nyon unscathed from the ticket machines, I trekked my way up the hill towards the site of the hostel and got ready for the day. 

Lake Geneva is beautiful. Wandering down from the hostel, I encountered several small musician stages playing by the water of the lake. The Montreux jazz festival was on this particular weekend, and the spillover of the music had reached the town of Nyon, where I watched a wine red faced man play “boogie-woogie” to a crowd of locals and tourists clutching plastic pint glasses (if you return them you get a euro back!). Montreux itself has hosted this festival since 1967, and whilst the jazz was not the main event upon my arrival (I heard Irish rock, samba, pop music ballads, techno and blues) it was definitely as carefree and fun as I expected a jazz festival to stand. Many of the stages were free, allowing locals and tourists alike to enjoy the music. Taking the train from Nyon to Vevey, I passed by the UNESCO heritage site, the Villa Le Lac. This small villa by the lakeside, is an example of Le Corbusier’s five points of architecture. Whilst a small feature, I would strongly recommend visiting for its beauty in minimalism. I arrived in Montreux shortly after this. 

The Montreux Jazz Festival is not really just an event; it is a cultural marker that has shaped the town’s identity and attracted music lovers from around the globe. Each performance, whether by a world-famous artist or a local musician, contributes a sound that honours the legacy of jazz while embracing a multitude of genres. Whilst this is done through the guise of a small arts and food festival, it really does foster an experience by the lakeside which appreciates the scenery and history of the area. Locals and visitors alike come together, united by their love of music and the atmosphere. This communal spirit is a testament to the festival’s enduring appeal and its ability to adapt and thrive over the decades. I took the train home later that evening, stopping for a small beer in Nyon and heading to bed amongst the other travellers. 

I set off a day later towards my next destination, Nice, where I (Ben) met Laura., Thus starting our joint travel. 

 

Nice

(16th of July – 18th of July)

Nice, the famously beautiful site on the Cote Azur, is known to the world for its waters, incredible architecture and the artists who have found infinite inspiration amongst it all. Arriving late in the evening and, we wandered from the train station down to the Vieux Nice and along the water,  enjoying the views of the people on the streets. The colours and archways of the buildings nestled together did not go amiss even in the darkness but the city came to light in the sunshine of the next morning.

The first stop was to see the water; to see what the city was known for best. We walked along the 19th Century Promenade des Anglais, the iconic landmark which stretches along the Mediterranean Sea stopping to watch how people moved amongst the palm trees and cafes and how they interacted with this heritage site- which was purposely built and funded by tourism- like those that walked along with the same wonder 200 hundred years prior. 

From here we headed back into the old town. We wanted to photograph the mazes of narrow streets and capture the experience the smells of dried lavender and brilliantly coloured fresh flowers from the markets, boasting the wares of nearby Provence. The streets and their inhabitants feel like a museum in themself, nodding toward elements of the city’s heritage at every turn and how it exists both in the past and breathes through until today. 

For music in Nice, the sole reason of the travel was not for a festival or gig. Rather we would say the main observation of sound was simply the language. Niçoise French accents, muddled in with the voices of American and English tourists adorned the close-knit streets of the old town. Tourism in Nice being a part of world heritage, the music and sounds of those visiting the city was our main focus.

Nice’s old town, where we were staying, has dark red streets. The sound bounces around and up, when you turn a corner the entire audio-scape changes to what you are facing. Cries from tourist shops, local patisseries and restaurants battled against each other, searching for victory in a turned head in their direction. Some buskers slashed through the noise, with poor covers of 90’s pop ballads, with lairy English tourists singing along to ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’. Slip for a second outside of the noise inside a roman catholic cathedral, into cold spaces of silence. Here the convention is hushed, and to bring the outside noise within would be to betray the trust placed in you by the building.

Another highlight was the Colline du Chateau, or Castle Hill. The castle that stood here was destroyed, and primarily the site is used for its wonderful views, which are an undeniable draw. When at the top, however, there are many little markers of the history of the site for those who wish to find it. 

 

The site was originally a Greek-Phonecian fortified town in the 3rd century BC, becoming Roman in early Christian times and a medieval city following that. A citadel was built on top of the medieval keep at the same time the Old Town (Then new) was constructed in the 16th Century. Though dismantled in 1706, the 19th Century’s boom of tourism turned this historic site into a public park. The Maps of where everything once stood are quite mesmerising. Illustrations of the tall walls and fortified buildings seem quite incongruent with the softness and lush green of Nice’s aesthetic impressions. That being said, as the architecture is shared between this dismantled castle and the old town, it was fascinating to notice the shared elements of steps and stones and other materials and techniques which trickled through the very foundations of the city. Where the obvious example had been removed, the heritage of the city was still clear under the feet of those who lived and walked within it every day. Spearheading the south side of the beach, it separates the old town from the new harbour. Walking up as the bustle of the city drifts away, you can begin to hear the sounds of the heritage site. Calm and peaceful, the view matches the sound. You relax in the tranquillity of a western view of the old city of Nice. 

Another highlight of Nice was its wealth of museums. We climbed to see the Jardín des Arenes de Cimiez and were met with the most incredible Olive Grove/Public Park. Within the park, families were picnicking and a band played at the bandstand; the masses of olive trees guarding everyone from the midday heat.

The Cimiez Monastery was the first stop, a 9th-century site with a drought history hidden through its contemplative stillness, silence, and altitude above the busy city below. The neogothic facades of the 19th Century, aligned with the styles of the city’s touristic boom hide the older frescos, stonework and other materials of worship which give the place such a long visual timeline of historic importance. 

The Matisse museum was a very exciting prospect and one that did not disappoint. Matisse’s use of colour has always been a big inspiration to me as an artist. I remarked on how Yves Klien’s time in Nice undoubtedly explained his draw toward his notorious shade of blue and how the Matisse poster on my wall at home could also give credit to the landscape for its chosen hue. The museum did a beautiful job of tracing Matisse’s life over the years and the influence of place which is so clearly reflected visually.

Adjacent to the Matisse Museum is the Architectural Museum of Cimiez. The museum granted access out to the Roman baths on the site, which are incredibly well preserved and to the huge facade of one of the buildings of their ancient urban life. Additionally, the amphitheatre across from the museum gates has a perfectly preserved archway entrance; an architectural site which is echoed throughout the city and mirrored through pockets of history interspersed throughout. Despite the boiling hot climb to the top of the site, over dual carriageways and suburbs, we remarked on the beauty and history of this particular part of the city of Nice. 

The visit to Nice showed a heritage which spanned from its ancient settlements, Greek and Roman, through to its development of the old town, its embracing of its touristic draw, its countless influence on artists and carried through to how the city and its people exist today. The city is characterised by its bursts of colour and strength of stone and how heritage, from every increment of its history, defines it today and will continue to define the heritage it continues to accrue. 

Leaving Nice late at night on the 16th of July, we sat within the bustle of the old town and enjoyed the talk from bartenders as they poured for us absinthe cocktails in clay jugs. Concurrently, the sharp and sweet taste of the cocktail mirrored our mood, bittersweet to be leaving but glad we visited! Our next stop in the journey was Barcelona, not far down the mediterranean coast. We left Nice thankful that we had visited, and very excited to hopefully return one day.