Europe’s most (and least) family-friendly country? Five writers have their say

There are numerous metrics by which our home continent can be assessed, weighed and measured; hard statistics which define its biggest country (Russia, obviously) and its smallest (Vatican City), its most densely populated (Monaco) and its least (Iceland, assuming you regard Greenland as part of Denmark – which, politically speaking, it is).

But other matters are a little trickier to quantify. Which country produces the best wine (calm down, France, it’s just a question)? Which has the greatest national cuisine (again, France, there’s no need to shout – we all know “cuisine” is one of your words, and while this may well be proof of your undeniable flair in the kitchen, please keep it civil)?

And what of that most intangible of concepts – family-friendliness? Is Germany the most at ease in relation to die kinder; is Italy the campione when it comes to belli bambini; or has another European nation made itself the undoubted expert at suffering little children?

This, of course, is a wholly subjective question. Which is why it has taken several writers to (attempt to) answer it. Here, five of Telegraph Travel’s regular contributors offer their opinion on the identity of Europe’s most family-friendly country – and, in turn, on the corner of the European map where the patter of tiny and mid-sized feet is least tolerated…

Friendliest: Greece

Perhaps it is the clearness of the skies, perhaps it is the unfailing blue of its summer seas – but I have never seen Greece as a country of anything less than a sunny disposition, content in the warmth of its weather, and happy with its lot amid the rustle of olive trees.

And if that sounds like something of a cliché, then, well, that has generally been my impression of the land at Europe’s south-easternmost corner. I do know that, away from the beach and the taverna, Greece has its bad days and its burdens, but I have rarely witnessed those sour moments, when the smile turns to a frown. Unruffled by whatever the world might throw at it, the Greece of my significant experience, over the course of 20 or so visits, has always been bright, engaging, affable – and yes, unfailingly friendly.

I’m not sure I even need to add the prefix of “family” to “friendliest” – though, of course, an openness to and an affection for children is all part of the Greek temperament. This is one reason why Greece has been such a regular holiday destination in the decade since I became a father. I can recall numerous small acts of kindness, but none more memorable than the chef at a little restaurant in Parga, up in north-westerly Epirus, who – a mother herself, she explained – paused to walk our very young son around the tables for five minutes, allowing two tired parents the chance to eat, briefly, in something akin to peace.

Least friendly: The UK

Perhaps it is its greyer skies, but this country has – to me at least – never felt quite as family-friendly. From crowded theme parks defined by endless queues and a general surliness, to restaurants where children should apparently not be seen, let alone heard, the British attitude to its younger members of society is often lacking in the geniality so present on Mediterranean shores. Or perhaps it is the fact that I live underneath those greyer skies for the majority of the year, rather than for two sun-swaddled weeks every July and/or August. What is that old adage about familiarity and what it tends to breed?

Chris Leadbeater

Friendliest: Wales

My two children have dined on conveyor-belt sushi in Japan, boat-tripped to castaway islands off Mauritius and ridden camels in Morocco. Ask them where they actually want to go though and the answer is always the same: Wales.

You may be incredulous and they may be tweens (aged 10 and nearly 13), but they remain fairly feral and Wales has everything they need: orienteering through muddy fields, spotting newts, wading through streams in wellies and spending nights under canvas with just hooting owls for company. For parents, there’s the welcome bonus that Welsh thrills can be cheap.

Crossing the Welsh border on foot by traversing wobbly Biblins Rope Bridge across the river Wye costs nothing (unless you count the marshmallow-topped hot chocolate in the café on the other side). Mooching through Hay-on-Wye’s second-hand bookshops is also free, and the treasures within are the sort that they will keep forever. Meanwhile, rolling down hills to a stream-lined basin where tadpoles breed in puddles is the kind of fun you’re never too old for (if you fancy it, make for the area around Castrogi Brook in Llanvair Discoed near Chepstow).

From Tintern Abbey (where a guide whisked the kids off on an impromptu private tour and fired their imaginations with tales of hidden inscriptions and ghosts) to Llangollen’s Oggie Shop, where the server showed immense patience while they picked out pastries, Welsh people have always been kind to us too. Which is why we’ll be going back this year.

Least friendly: Crete, Greece

It turns out that Crete’s version of winter sun can feel surprisingly chilly. So when we checked into a hotel east of Chania, it hardly mattered that our route to the beach was obstructed by a busy stretch of highway across semi-industrial wasteland (the island sees new hotel openings every year, so scenic, accessible locations are probably hard to come by).

Instead of sandcastle building, we opted for Chania’s Archaeological Museum, where we found Roman mosaics, a Minoan sarcophagus – and a security guard shouting at children who got too near the glass. We headed to a water park to cheer ours up: it did the trick, but we crossed our fingers every time they flew down one of the rickety slides into freezing, worryingly cloudy water while uninterested lifeguards looked the other way.

Family-focused service didn’t seem to be one of the island’s strong points, but we did have a brilliant meal at a restaurant hidden down a flower-filled lane in a nearby fishing village. It was there, while taking a post-dinner stroll along the beach, that we encountered two dead rats on the sand. It was a scene so foul that even the local gang of wild cats seemed unimpressed – although my son later listed it among his holiday highlights.

Amanda Hyde

Friendliest: Italy

It isn’t the history. It isn’t the art. It isn’t the culture. (Have you met a child recently?) And it sure as Schengen isn’t the long – “booooring!” – queues at every airport (and hotel check-in desk, and car hire office, and tourist attraction…).

Nope, sorry, Leonardo, it’s the food.

Pizza for every meal? Prego, signore! Spaghetti bolognese as the more sophisticated choice? Si, signora! All vegetables served battered and deep-fried along with bits of fish? Fritto misto per tutti, mate! Chuck in breadsticks and gelato and you’ve got a five-year-old’s fantasy of a family holiday.

Beyond that, there are the beautiful beaches of, say, Sardinia, for the bambinos; gory, gladiator-pocked Rome for the primary-schoolers; Insta-appeal icons such as Pisa’s Leaning Tower for screen-addict tweens; and the whole artsy Uffizi-Accademia scene in Florence for your fledgling undergrads or suddenly-serious sixth-formers.

Kids of all ages will love the easy-breezy Dolce Vita lifestyle and up-past-bedtime late dinners. In fact, the only trouble is, they get a bit too excited by it all. Couple of very large glasses of chianti for mum and dad with that round of pizzas?

Least friendly: France

Parents: [brightly] “Come on, Charlie, try out your French. Locals love it when you make the effort to speak a few words in their language, and it will really help you practise for your GCSE.”

Charlie: [haltingly, blushingly] “Bonjour. Puis-je…”

French waiter: [sighs dramatically, rolls eyes, adds €10 to the bill and talks over Charlie in impatient, impertinent but perfect English] “You want the burger, right?”

Seriously, France isn’t even adult-friendly, let alone child-friendly. The French regard their own offspring with shrugging indifference – and ours with ill-concealed contempt due to their fashion faux-pas and refusal to eat snails. Vacances elsewhere.

Ed Grenby

Friendliest: Austria

Good family holidays want three things: activities, cosy food and a cultural vibe that children are, if not centre stage, then at the very least, welcome. Austria delivers amply in each category (though I’d give a strong honourable mention to its fellow DACH members, Germany and Switzerland).

For activities, you’ll ski in the winter, take to the trails with a knapsack on your back in the summer, and swim in crystalline lakes, or explore Vienna, the world’s most liveable city.

For cuisine, my children, who are now teenagers, know no better cakes than those found in a Viennese kaffehaus (don’t forget, this is the birthplace of the viennoiserie that the French adopted as their own). And then there’s the schnitzel and excellent wine for the parents – plus Austria, Germany and Switzerland are all far more vegetarian-friendly than, say, France or, often, Britain.

Finally, Austria – and Germany and Switzerland – are wonderfully welcoming to children. There are the Kinderhotels, if you have young children, but also classic operas performed with marionettes, just one of the many ways the birthplace of Mozart makes classical music accessible.

Least friendly: Spain

“She gets too hungry for dinner at eight,” sang Ol’ Blue Eyes. This was not a reference to the eating habits of British children, but it could have been. The Spanish are notorious for their strictly late dining times: lunch begins no earlier than one, dinner at eight, and each goes on and on. If your child isn’t the sort to siesta on command, this proves challenging. The French are also strict on restaurant times, but tend to pitch them earlier, which suits young Britons.

Sara Sherwood

Friendliest: Turkey

I love Kalkan in Turkey for its safe, friendly, relaxed vibe. It’s a pretty coastal town near Antalya, a two-hour drive from Dalaman Airport. There are superb rooftop restaurants to eat mezze in, to the captivating accompaniment of the evening call to prayer. And yes, actually, I will buy my wife a single rose from the same chirpy flower-seller we see every year who greets us (I hope) warmly (and not mockingly) as “the chicken family” because the first time we met him we’d all just ordered the exact same poultry kebabs.

Day-time, it’s a beach club, a Turkish massage, and then a wander through the meandering hilly town’s boutiquey shops to buy knock-off replica football shirts for my son and fake branded perfumes for my daughter, while enjoying a mint tea and the chance to judge the motives for tourist passers-by being here – “the snorkelling”, “Turkey teeth”, etc.

We go October half-term, when the temperature’s 25C and the nearby beaches at Patara (set against Lycian ruins) and Kaputas (like every white-sand brochure snap) are quiet. For a day out it’s Saklikent Gorge (20 mins by car), where you can river-raft down one of the deepest canyons in the world and then, at the riverside restaurant afterwards, enjoy a lunch (while balanced on a hammock) that’s so good it once aggravated a gallstone yet I STILL had dessert.

The kids’ favourite is the day trip from Kas to the Greek island of Meis, where they swim in the beautiful nearby blue cave and then, later, watch my chelonia-phobic wife sprint from a harbour-side restaurant as Maximus the giant turtle visits for scraps.

Least friendly: Iceland

Iceland – the clue’s in the name. It’s cold. We visited for New Year and yes, the glacial, Game-of-Thrones-beyond-the-wall landscape is stunning, but eating a picnic in ski-gloves at a waterfall in the Golden Circle when the kids are turning blue in the 100mph winds and it’s –7C? Nah.

“Sneaker waves” randomly claim several lives a year on the treacherous beaches. The Northern Lights? Never saw them. Too cloudy. The capital, Reykjavik, is an ugly mess of concrete, cranes and corrugated iron, and one glass of average wine costs more than your meal eating out. Brilliant that they use thermal geysers to heat most homes, but it does mean everywhere smells of eggs. And I haven’t even mentioned the random wild ponies that can attack your car, or that everyone’s so bored and crazy from a deficiency of sunlight on New Year’s Eve they all fire rockets in the streets at each other for something to do.

Ben Hatch