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Why would anyone go on a city break in our dystopian post-pandemic world?

Is this what you want from a city break? No, thanks - AFP
Is this what you want from a city break? No, thanks - AFP

It was a trip to Berlin in 2008 that awakened in me a love of the city break. I was 20, on summer holidays from university, and in the German capital for five days with two friends. We did not stop, drinking in everything the city offered us. We split our time between two different hostels, east and west, went to bed with the larks and woke for noon.

We were relentless in our pursuit of the city, rallying ourselves for museums and monuments in daylight hours before seeking the pulse of the world famous techno scene at night. We saw a Berliner riding a bike, cigarette in mouth, beer in one hand, ice cream in the other, so we did the same. We crashed.

Since then I have sought to understand many a country’s priorities and principles by its cities: St Petersburg, where Europe seeps into Russia’s window to the West; Lisbon, an encapsulation of Portuguese warmth and cheer; and Vilnius, a city striped in the optimism and verve of a new nation.

But the coronavirus has dampened my zeal for the city. There are many more on my list – I’ve never been to Vienna, or Prague, or Istanbul. But after months in lockdown, I am likely not alone in being desperate for open space.

We have spent nearly half a year worrying about the movement of people, air flow and droplets. The world’s cities have eyed each other warily, suspicious of infection rates and lax lockdowns. We have never been more attuned to spatial awareness; to visit another city now would surely provoke an anxiety attack of peak pandemic proportions.

Hazy summer days in Berlin do not have the same appeal - istock
Hazy summer days in Berlin do not have the same appeal - istock

The joy of travel is to leave the stress of the world behind, not to have to cope with it in a different timezone. The joy of a city break is to immerse yourself in the hum and thrum of a different neighbourhood, not to have to keep an eye on it.

I won’t lie there have been times in recent weeks when I have been drawn to the idea of a city break this autumn. The photos that emerged from Paris as the French capital eased its lockdown, of locals returning to the Jardin du Luxembourg, the terraces full again for the first time in months, immediately made me desire a return to the City of Lights. Equally, images of Venice empty, stiller than it has been in decades, made me yearn to seek out those little pockets of calm that La Serenissima still hides on even the busiest of days.

But as it stands, I struggle to see myself taking a city break for the foreseeable future. So long as Europe’s capitals are counting coronavirus cases like beans, ready with a finger on the lockdown button, I see no appeal in running the urban gauntlet, though “I got quarantined in Stockholm” does sound like a fun story.

No, I long for fresh air, rolling hills and empty mountains, where the only contact points I need worry about are between me and mine.