France, off the beaten track.

There is a Paris you pass through without seeing. The one of hidden courtyards, of heavy doors that close softly and of workshops whose windows have not changed in thirty years. The 11th arrondissement is particularly good at this: you enter through a noisy street and come out two hours later feeling as if you have visited a village.

In the morning, follow the courtyards: rue de Charonne, cour de l’Industrie, passage Thiéré. In the afternoon, walk along the canal Saint-Martin and let one street lead to another. The rest of the time, stop. That is the only itinerary worth having.

The Luberon has a bad reputation in summer. People imagine it packed with cars and queues. They forget that the villages wake early and that the best roads are often the ones you take by accident.

Gordes before the coaches arrive, Roussillon and its ochre path, the abbey of Sénanque in its valley: three stops, three kinds of light. In the evening, a nameless road between two fields is enough to sum it all up.

Lyon reveals itself through its slopes. In Croix-Rousse, the streets are staircases, the walls are the colour of sand, and the windows open onto courtyards where you can still hear looms in memory.

In the morning, climb on foot rather than taking the metro. The traboules open as you pass: speak quietly, do not ring at doors, turn back if the entrance is closed. At noon, a bouchon, a short menu and a lunch that lasts. In the afternoon, the banks of the Saône are made for doing nothing.