The Guardian

Lübeck – Queen of the Hanseatic League – has a fading charm and vulnerability absent from the likes of Berlin, Munich and Hamburg … and most of Germany. I loved my trip there, wandering the cobbled streets, climbing every brick gothic church tower – generally alone! Thomas Mann wrote the unbearably sad novel Buddenbrooks there, then fled to the US from nazism in 1939. The Tin Drum author Günter Grass lived and worked in Lübeck in later life. Visit their former houses, now museums, the Grass-Haus and the Buddenbrook Haus. A singular German city, full of history and significance.Martin Charlesworth

For more than a century and a half, the Vulcan Hotel served dockers, railway workers, artists, sports stars, gamblers and dreamers and the demolition in 2012 of this beloved, spit-and-sawdust Cardiff pub felt like a bereavement.

It’s a noise the former railway tunnel probably hadn’t heard in a while. Somewhere in the dark is a hooting part-owl, part-forlorn steam train. My sister Ele has stopped on her bike to blow determinedly across her cupped hands like a flute. As she recreates this long-gone sound, I pedal on through the cool, damp air. Water drips steadily from the stalactite-coated brickwork as my front light illuminates pedestrians and their dogs looming from the echoing shadows.

Sunday day-trippers to Venice flashing their €5 entry ticket QR code to get through the turnstiles at the city’s main access points look bemused when football supporters simply show their match tickets instead. Attending a sporting event just happens to be one of the exemptions in the opaque regulations behind what locals see as an attempt to turn their town into a living museum.

In the last two decades many UK seaside towns have undergone a quiet transformation. Art galleries, boutique hotels and Michelin-starred restaurants are breathing new life into once down-at-heel resorts such as Blackpool and Margate, while coastal hotspots like Padstow, Southwold and Whitby continue to draw the crowds on sunny days. While these places are popular for good reason, we’d love to hear about your favourite “unsung” seaside towns – the places that don’t often grab the limelight or become unpleasantly overcrowded, but which have kept their charm intact. You could win a £200 holiday voucher (sorry if you were hoping for a cuddly toy or some candyfloss).

On the first Sunday of May every year, Chapel Street, where central Manchester and Salford meet, comes alive with DIY art, music and spectacle at the Sounds from the Other City festival. It is a vibrant public celebration of the “community spirit and collaborative working” which co-director Emma Thompson says sustains much alternative culture in the region.

Bordering the Consall Nature Park, a nature reserve featuring 740 acres of woodland, heath and moor, is The Tawny, a “deconstructed hotel”. This means that instead of a single house with rooms there are a collection of boathouses, huts and treehouses scattered around the woodlands and lakes. At the top of the hill is a modern glass building, the Plumicorn restaurant, and a heated outdoor pool looking out over the gardens. Stargazing sessions and night-time meditation are on offer, while spa treatments can be booked in the thatched cottage onsite. Huts from £240 B&B; thetawny.co.uk

Irrespective of rain or sunshine, the Danes are always ready to embrace hygge, a concept that involves enjoying the good things in life – and that definitely includes enjoying the excellent cuisine the country has on offer. Dive into Denmark’s gastronomy at these top-notch eateries which carefully source and celebrate every ingredient.

It was the small and enigmatic Berlengas archipelago that drew us to Peniche harbour. Peniche, 60 miles north of Lisbon, is famous for its surfing beaches, but the islands off its coast often get overlooked. Every morning a couple of hardy passenger boats bounce over eight miles of waves from the peninsula of Peniche to Berlenga Grande. We took our seats on deck between sacks of onions and oranges and, flecked with sea-spray and followed by flocks of screaming gulls, we watched green hills emerge from blue waves ahead. At the port, the goods are unloaded with gulls wheeling and cawing overhead.

‘Do you ever get seasick?” Timm Schirmer, a 27-year-old DJ with a fabulous blond moustache, asks me shortly before we board the Techno Train. “When you’re dancing on the train it can feel like you’re at sea, because you can’t always see that you’re moving.” Worryingly, I have indeed spent many a past holiday retching on boats. But Timm’s question comes after I’ve paid €100 for a non-refundable ticket for what social media suggests is the most intense train ride in Europe. I knew it wouldn’t be plain sailing.

Cala Galdana beach – and its neighbours – are spectacular. Turn off at Ferreries and take the attractive Me-22 road that brings you to a breathtaking horseshoe bay shrouded by pine trees. The golden sandy beach is peaceful, even on a busy day. There are beach toilets and a cafe. There are also water sports facilities if you want a bit more activity. Neighbouring Cala Mitjana, a beautiful beach a short walk to the east, is wilder, as is Cala Macarella, two miles by footpath to the west. If I could be teleported to any beach on my day off here’s where I’d go to.Bethan Patfield

OK, we’ll admit it. Danish isn’t the easiest language to learn – pronouncing certain words involves some invigorating tongue gymnastics and a talent for gulping down glottal stops. With just 6 million native speakers, Danish hardly matches widely spoken Mandarin (941 million speakers) or Spanish (486 million speakers) either.

There’s something quite particular about small but perfectly formed Assos – butterscotch and rose-pink houses line a horseshoe bay, with Venetian ruins scattered between the narrow alleys. There are two small beaches, but the real joy is to rent a motor boat and discover the small bays and coves that fringe this part of the Cephalonian coast. Walkers can follow the path out on to the headland to the ruins of Assos’s 16th-century castle; there’s not a huge amount to see, but the views make the walk worth it. Roi Suites is a bougainvillaea-clad cluster of well-equipped studio flats in a waterfront neoclassical building, with gorgeous sea views from the pool terrace. Doubles from £117 (minimum seven nights), roisuites.com

The Bay of Arcachon, on the south-west coast of France, is a happy place. It must be, because I’ve been visiting it with my family nearly every year for the past 15 years. We usually rent a small apartment in Arcachon town for four or five days, but such is the draw that we have been known to make a two-hour drive just to spend the day there when we’ve been in that part of the world. Everything about it speaks of summer joy: the promenade thrumming with cyclists and strollers; the parade of bistros serving moules, oysters and buckets of chilled rosé; families playing beach tennis on the sands; and a bay brimming with pleasure boats and ferries. It’s like a scene from a Raoul Dufy painting.

Stargazing, seals and sandbanks in MandøDenmark’s wilderness zones and sparsely populated isles have long been havens for nature lovers and stargazers. Mandø, on the south-west coast of Jutland, is the most recent addition to the country’s four Dark Sky Parks. A small island in the Wadden Sea National Park, Mandø is most easily accessed at low tide via tractor bus over the causeway from the mainland – adding to the adventure and reducing the chances of latecomers’ annoying car headlights ruining your night vision. By day, you’ll likely want to visit the lovingly preserved, thatched and white-walled Mandø House museum (an early 19th-century shipmaster’s home), not to mention the island’s landmark windmill and church. Observe thriving seal and migratory bird species on a bike ride around the marshes and sandbanks.

I have travelled all over Spain for both work and fun in the past two decades, but the Catalan seaside town of Cadaqués had somehow failed to register on my radar. Last year, my husband was working in Catalonia and when he had a few days off between jobs, I proposed an impromptu tryst. The brief: somewhere by the sea.

Denmark is a haven for cyclists of all abilities, with 11,000km of marked cycle routes to ride. From adventurous cycling on multi-day trips that take in the country’s most varied scenery, to day trips and wine tours, these are the country’s best bike routes for everyone, from hobbyists to expert-level athletes. To make it extra easy, accommodation options line the routes, including simple campsites and shelters, run by the Danish Nature Agency and offered for free or almost free, as well as B&Bs and hotels especially set up for cyclists, with bike rooms, e-bike charging stations and rooms made available for fixing your bike as you go. Aktiv Danmark has a list of bike-friendly accommodation and there is also a group of Danish Bike Hotels that have bike facilities. Bike rental is available in major cities and towns all over the country.

I hadn’t heard of Pesaro before my ex-flatmate sent me there in summer 2018. I was writing a book at the time, and Giulia reckoned the best place for me to do such work was in her grandad’s old flat, a modest unit in a block put up in 1946, during the short reign of Umberto II. It had lain empty since her nonno – Dottor Spinicci – died of liver failure, having failed to take his own medicine.

With the weather slowly starting to improve, it’s time to start planning camping trips in the UK. We’d love to hear about your favourite places to camp. Maybe it’s somewhere wild near the sea, or a campsite with the best facilities for a memorable family holiday. Tell us about your adventures under canvas and in glamping pods and yurts for the chance to win a holiday voucher.

It was a morning of brooding green banks and dark skies on the River Tweed. Heavy rains had hit southern Scotland and the waterway had turned into a fast flood, with the deluge sweeping our two-seater canoe downstream through farmland and fishing beats as fast as a salmon escaping a rod and reel.

I cycled into birdsong, into colour, the light glimmering against the white of the low stone walls. There was a spaciousness as I cycled, a lateral stretching of soundscape, big skies, birds fluting. I didn’t meet anyone else on the narrow lanes and had a sense of being completely alone on an island of 2,000 people. Is there anything happier than being on a bicycle early in the morning, heading to the sea?