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I had been told Cinque Terre was 'too touristy' by at least four people before I went. They were wrong, or at least they had gone in August. I arrived on a drizzly Tuesday in late September and found something genuinely magical: five villages stitched together by a coastal trail, each one tumbling down a cliff face in shades of terracotta, lemon yellow, and faded coral.

I arrived in Prague on a grey Thursday morning with three days to fill and no firm plan beyond 'see the bridge, find good coffee.' I left four days later — I quietly extended by one — with a full sketchbook, a baffling amount of svíčková consumed, and a firm opinion that Prague is one of the most underrated cities in Europe for a slow, wandering kind of trip.

The Amalfi Coast is one of those places that lives up to its photographs and then refuses to let you go. I spent eight days walking its cliff paths, eating in family-run trattorias, and painting everything I could see — which, from most points on this coastline, is extraordinary. Here is my honest, ground-level account.