The crossing is quick. England recedes. France arrives in soft greys — fields, sky, distance — until suddenly, Amiens rises.

Amiens Cathedral is less a building than an assertion. The largest Gothic cathedral in France, constructed with an ambition that feels almost impossible when you stand beneath it.

Inside, the air shifts.

Candles flicker against stone that has held centuries of quiet thought. We light one — for the living, for the lost, for everything in between.

Outside, macarons — said to follow a recipe once favoured by Catherine the Great — dissolve almost instantly, almond and sugar and air.

Travel sharpens appetite. For sweetness, yes — but also for meaning.

Chantilly: Discipline and Grace

We arrive in Chantilly as the light begins to thin.

This is horse country. Not decorative — precise.

At Chantilly Racecourse, thoroughbreds are trained with a level of detail that borders on the obsessive. Bloodlines traced back generations. Muscle tuned through interval work — short bursts of speed followed by controlled recovery. Heart rate monitored, stride length measured, temperament assessed daily.

Speed, here, is not an accident. It is constructed.

Nearby, cream — crème Chantilly — perfected in parallel. Softness and discipline, held together.

We sleep lightly.

At dawn, mist rolls low across the training grounds. Horses move through it like apparitions — strength contained, released only when asked.

We leave as the sun begins to rise.

Paris: Circles and Steel

Paris demands movement.

We enter the city early, before traffic thickens, and join the slow choreography around the Arc de Triomphe — twelve avenues converging in a geometry that is both chaotic and exact.

Then the Eiffel Tower.

Engineered for the 1889 Exposition Universelle, it remains a study in structural clarity — 18,038 wrought-iron components, assembled with over two million rivets. Designed to resist wind rather than oppose it, it shifts subtly in heat, expands, contracts, breathes.

What was once temporary has become essential.

We circle once, twice. The small engine holds its line — light, efficient, quietly determined.

Breakfast is taken standing. Croissants, still warm.

Then south.

The Ascent: Learning to See

The road tightens as we approach the Alps.

The TwinAir engine changes tone under pressure — a higher note, more insistent. Turbo engaged. Weight considered. Corners approached with intention.

There is no excess here. Only calibration. You begin to see differently. Gradients matter. Lines matter. Timing matters.

I think of Paul Cézanne, who wrote,

“The eye is not enough; one must think as well.”

The mountains insist on it.

Snow gathers at the edges of the road. Light fractures across rock. The landscape reduces to planes — colour, geometry, structure.

Driving becomes a form of looking.

Arrival: Genoa, Vertical City

Genoa does not reveal itself easily.

It rises in layers — port, palazzo, hillside — a city shaped by trade, by power, by necessity. Once a maritime republic to rival Venice, its wealth moved through these streets — banking, shipbuilding, empire.

And yet, there is friction here.

The caruggi are narrow, shadowed even at midday. Laundry strung between buildings. Scooters threading through impossibly tight spaces. The past sits close to the present, not always comfortably.

On Via Garibaldi, the palaces assert themselves — Baroque façades, symmetry, scale. Wealth, once absolute. And then, a skateboard shop. Music. Movement.

This is Genoa.

As Friedrich Nietzsche wrote,

“I love this city — it is the place where I feel most at home.”

There is something in its contradictions.

The Room: Hotel Bristol

At Hotel Bristol Palace, the past remains intact.

Room 641 opens onto a panorama of rooftops, slate and terracotta folding towards the port. But it is the staircase that defines the hotel — a sweeping elliptical form, rising through the building with a precision that feels almost cinematic. It is said to have inspired Alfred Hitchcock. You can see it immediately. Vertigo rendered in iron and plaster. Atmosphere, understood completely.

The Holy Grail

In the Cathedral of San Lorenzo, there is a relic — a glass bowl, faintly green, long believed to be the Holy Grail.

The Sacro Catino. Brought back during the Crusades. Revered, disputed, reinterpreted. Emerald, once thought. Now believed to be glass. It glows regardless.

Genoa understands myth — how objects accumulate meaning, how belief reshapes history. We go looking for it.

Aperitivo: The Lift and the Light

We take the lift — ascending through the city’s layers, emerging above the rooftops. An Aperol Spritz. Cold, exact. Pesto — basil, pine nuts, Parmigiano, olive oil — reduced to its purest form. Below us, the city shifts colour. Gold, then amber, then something deeper.

Camogli: Edge of Water

In Camogli, on the coastline Italians keep

to themselves, everything softens. Pastel façades. Fishing boats. A slower rhythm. Lunch is simple. Lasagne. White wine. Sea air.

At Hotel La Camogliese, our room is held between two sounds — a waterfall close enough to feel, and the sea just beyond. Water, constant in different forms. We sleep with the windows open.

Return: Water, Light, Discipline

Lake Annecy appears first as mist. Water held still between mountains, catching light with a precision that feels almost studied.

At Abbaye de Talloires, time slows. A former Benedictine priory, long associated with retreat, with observation, with quiet work. Writers, composers, painters have all passed through here, drawn by the clarity of the light.

Among them, Paul Cézanne — studying how landscape could be reduced to structure. Mountain, water, sky — planes, colour, permanence beneath appearance. You understand it here. The lake is not picturesque. It is composed. Morning moves slowly across the surface. Nothing is rushed.

Epilogue: The Small Engine

By the time we return to London, the car feels different.

Or perhaps we do.

The 0.9 TwinAir — small, efficient, slightly irreverent — has carried us the length of the journey without excess, without spectacle. In the Audrey Heburn classic ‘Roman Holiday,’ freedom arrives not in scale, but in movement — a princess discovering the city (and herself) on the back of a scooter.

The Cinquecento holds the same idea. Not power. Perspective. A smaller frame. A sharper way of seeing. You just have to look.

Viewfinder

Roomkey

• Hotel Bristol Palace — Old-world grandeur in the heart of Genoa. Book a high-floor room for rooftop views; stay for the extraordinary elliptical staircase, a masterclass in cinematic architecture.

• Hotel La Camogliese — Simple, intimate, perfectly placed above the Ligurian shore. Rooms framed by water — waterfall to one side, sea to the other.

• Abbaye de Talloires — A former Benedictine priory on Lake Annecy. Stillness, clarity, and light — a place to retreat, observe, and recalibrate.

• Chantilly stay (private hotel or château) — for proximity to the training grounds and early morning rides through mist.

Table With A View

• Genoa rooftop (via Castelletto lift) — Aperol Spritz and pesto Genovese overlooking the port, where the city unfolds in layers of light and history.

• Camogli seafront — lasagne, white wine, and salt air at the water’s edge.

• Chantilly — local restaurants serving crème Chantilly and seasonal French classics, best after a day at the racecourse.

• Annecy lakeside — simple Alpine cooking, lake fish, and red wine under clean mountain light.

Through The Lens

• Amiens Cathedral — candlelight against stone; quiet human scale within monumental architecture.

• Eiffel Tower at dawn — iron lattice catching first light, geometry revealed.

• Genoa rooftops from Room 641.

• Camogli shoreline — vertical colour, fishing boats, and deep blue water.

• Lake Annecy at first light — stillness, reflection, and Cézanne-like planes of colour.

On The Road

Car of choice: Fiat 500 0.9 TwinAir Blackjack Edition

Matte black vinyl wrap (a finish usually reserved for far larger cars) over a green body — compact, agile and fun. Two-cylinder turbocharged engine delivering just enough power to make the journey engaging without overwhelming it.

Route:

London → Eurotunnel → Amiens → Chantilly → Paris → Grenoble → Genoa → Camogli → Annecy → London

Best stretch:

Grenoble to Genoa — alpine switchbacks, snow lines, and dramatic descent into Liguria. A road that demands attention — and rewards it.

Windowseat

Rail & road:

Eurotunnel from Folkestone to Calais — fastest crossing, minimal friction, maximum continuity of journey.

Driving time:

London to Genoa: approx. 11–12 hours (split over two days recommended).

Best timing:

Early departures and late arrivals — cities at their most cinematic, roads at their quietest.

Pro tip:

Circle Paris at dawn. The city reveals its structure before it reveals its crowds.

Future Frame: The Considered Journey

• Travel light. Smaller cars consume less, ask more of the driver, and engage more fully with the landscape.

• Support independent hotels and regional restaurants — places where culture is lived, not staged.

• Respect historic environments — from cathedral interiors to alpine roads — as working spaces, not backdrops.

Travel, at its best, is not about arrival. It is about attention.