Not many photos came out of our trip to Amsterdam. Rather, most of our time was spent getting lost in the maze of canal-lined streets, turning maps upside-down and sideways, and feeling overwhelmed by its utter charm and the realisation we’d not given ourselves enough time to explore it [two and a half, rather than perhaps three or four full days, inclusive of a mini-break to nearby Lisse]. And so this is how I learned that Amsterdam urges one to be cool and take things as easily as is physically possible - because fussing and fretting, as its typical weed-seeking tourist will teach you, leads nowhere in a city that’s so clearly chilled out.

Rather than the more obvious sights, sounds and smells - chocolate box houses, cyclist bells ringing and, of course, sex shops or the occasional waft of weed - it’s the little things that truly enchant here. A visit to the quaint coffee shop within the Oude Kerk - the city’s oldest building - feels just like stepping into another world (one where the decor is retro-chic and the hot chocolate is so sweet and divine). Spots of graffiti tucked between rows of perfectly imperfect buildings reveal a sense of fun and wonder. Hidden gems - the Foam photography gallery, Mook Pancakes down De Clercqstraat, and a darling antique shop where the smallest piece of Delft pottery is more expensive than the cost of your entire trip - all showcase a great love for flavour-packed, historically-founded and culturally-rich experiences.

The city centre by night is a particular sight to behold, too, as streets are near-deserted and people’s curtains remain open, their apartments put on display for the world to see. Though perhaps perverted, gazing in reveals a tranquillity, a slowed pace and a devotion to fine design that will leave one feeling completely enamoured with the local way of life. ■

London, your people can be fine sometimes. ■

Vienna was never on the list. Cheap flights, a cheap hotel, a birthday weekend away with a friend and a seriously pretty stock photo of Stephensplatz, together made for an unplanned trip. I expected it not to live up to Copenhagen, I felt the fear of disappointment creep in, and eventually couldn’t be sure if I’d made a mistake choosing this city - but I never know what I want, anyway, so with an open mind I took flight. When these trips come up only once a year, it’s all you can do to make sure that, no matter where you end up, you’re making the most of it.

I guess I was never blown away by Vienna, or it flew under the radar as Amsterdam, Budapest and the big old Japanese dream stood in the way. I’d expected the elegant buildings, the frescoes, the traditional cafés, the landscaped gardens; the eccentric squares and coffee shop culture and patisseries lined with the rolls, tarts and cakes for which Austria is famous. So much so that the more I thought about it all, and saw it all in pictures, the more I thought I’d be bored of it. What I didn’t expect was the level of grandeur, the contrasts with which this all splayed out before us. No amount of research, of trawling through Google images, can prepare you for this place or even do it justice. The gardens so neat, the schnitzels [of Figlmueller fame, no less] and sachertortes so fearlessly exaggerated in size and flavour, the red velvet curtains draped dramatically and chandeliers hung in multiples within small and old coffee shops, themselves puffing cigarette smoke through cracked window frames; the occasional pockets of quirkiness in the shape of the Kunst Haus Museum and old-school Prater theme park; the art museums robust and covered with trypophobic detail. The churches and buildings are the main deal here - set in soft gradient hues, occasionally adorned with [but never defaced by] graffiti; all so tall you’d struggle to trace their silhouettes against the sun. And The Kiss, Klimt’s beauty amongst many, dominated all other paintings within a palace so confident in its own splendour that it would put any other attempt at elegance to shame.

What I loved and kept with me of this city was its distinct lack of temporality. As old as the architecture was, it was at every turn, spotless and seemingly brand new - the kind of architecture that, like Copenhagen’s older sister, seemed to show it how things were done. It was the young who knew no sense of style, while the elderly were as impressive in their camel coats and hats and rouge as surely they had been in their day - though, it very much is still their day in Vienna, which they continue to embody with such pride. You live here in the in-betweens - coffee shops so chill you’d not hear your watch tick time away, side streets lined with fur coat boutiques and overtaken by vintage trams [with wooden sun-soaked seats], frescoed ceilings hidden in most unassuming buildings, churches simple on the outside yet dripping with devoted details from within, a weather forecast that makes no sense whatsoever - in the same hour, April’s weather brought windy blows down Spittelberg, slashes of rain across Bäckerstrasse and spots of sunshine along Stephensplatz. One might feel dazed, empty at first from Vienna’s near-clinical perfection, consistency and perfect charm, but boredom never strikes. These are how, as gracefully as it does, Vienna opened me up more to embracing the unknown, and suddenly made Copenhagen feel so young and small. ■

A spread of places this time around, from Shoreditch down to a side street off Tottenham Court Road. Of this bunch, Kaffeine (bottom right) in Fitzrovia looks most like your typical hipster locale, with its brick feature wall, oversized indoor neon signage, and sliiiightly overpriced cakes and sandwiches that will tempt you to stinge rather than indulge. It’s a delightfully small and quiet space, though, and tucked away enough for enjoying a break from Soho’s crazed tourists. Ozone (bottom left) near Old Street Station churn out the nicest cakes along with a good coffee, but visit The Old Shoreditch Station (top right) for a more atmospheric space - think fresh flowers, dramatic overhead lighting, plush flea market seats and a laid-back crowd urging you to slip into relax mode. And one for the cocoa lovers: if you like yours super sweet, TAP No.26 (top left, main) delivers on hot chocolate that tastes like a melted 60% bar (they say the coffee’s good, too, so double whammy there). ■

So… I wasn’t blown away by Oxford. Cambridge’s younger brother, it’s one for history buffs and calm-seekers. Perhaps I’m too used to bigger cities, and so this one felt too tame and small. It’s still worth the day trip for a few reasons: charming side streets, the ceiling of the Divinity School at the Bodleian Library (don’t pay for the guided tour though; it’s no more than a rip-off and your £5 will be better spent in a coffee shop), the architectural gems that are the Oxford University Museum of Natural History and Ashmolean Museum, and occasional celebrity-spotting (who else can say they’ve made eye contact with Rachel McAdams at an actual Harry Potter filming location?) ■