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France seems to feature a lot in our travel plans, and one of the easiest illustrations of this is the annual day trip to Boulogne-sur-Mer with Sheila and Andrew to stock the Galleywood cellar (okay, garage) with the alcoholic stuff. However, this summer we’ve boarded Le Shuttle twice. The first was on 3 July, but this weekend we were in the northeastern town again, although not before we’d driven a few miles further southwest down the coast to Le Touquet (or Le Touquet-Paris-Plage to give it its full name).

A place of childhood memories for Nik, the seaside resort has a reputation as the most elegant holiday resort of northern France, and is often seen (according to Wikipedia) as ‘the playground of rich Parisians’, with many luxury hotels. Chic and well-to-do it may be, and no doubt even chicer in the summer sunshine, but we weren’t shortchanged yesterday with the weather. With the sun making the golden sands look much more yellow than they probably were, we had no right to be walking along the beach’s wooden boardwalk in such unseasonal weather (fierce wind notwithstanding) for late September.

Walking past the 1930s style beach huts, you really do get a sense of past glamour and chic. Nearby Hardelot is dotted with fashionable villas in tree-lined avenues, and it’s the same in Le Touquet. With architects drawn to the town’s strict planning regulations, it’s quite unlike Boulogne, which is where we ended up for supper, sitting as we always do, in the shadow of the once major port’s Italian-inspired cathedral. Getting on the fuss-free Euro Tunnel service meant we could enjoy a long and late meal, and leave sated and relaxed for the short journey home.

Just like the previous few, once again our last (almost) full day dawned bright and warm. Until Friday we’d avoided the typical landmarks, but yesterday we once again hit the tourist trail. At least to begin with. A visit to Paris isn’t complete without a trip to Place des Vosges in the Marais district, where you can sit in the sun or under a shady tree, admiring the fine 17th century architecture which frames the square.

Not one of the best-known landmarks, it’s still busy with a steady stream of snappers and sightseers, who came for the same reason we did. Suitably breakfasted, we made our way to the 4.5km long Canal St-Martin, which neither of us had walked along before. Connecting the Canal de l’Ourcq to the river Seine, its construction was ordered by Napolean I in 1802.

Strolling along the wide banks, we stopped to watch boats rise and fall on the locks to continue their journey south to the mouth of the river. Making our way back to Montmatre for the Sacre Coeur and to collect our bags from the hotel, we stumbled across another street flea market. We accidentally walked into one the first Sunday we were here, and like that first one, sellers jostled with potential buyers, putting all sorts of discarded possessions onto the pavement, roads and cafe fronts.

There were all sorts of objects, some good some bad, some old, some not so. If it wasn’t for our bags, lack of space on the train and different modes of transport for the journey home, we could well have come home with armfuls of vintage lamps and lights. Just like the 20 plus year-old Kylie records on sale at the first market, we had to bypass the many potential luminary objects and content ourselves with looking but not buying.

Arriving at the Butte Montmatre in time for an early lunch on a hot Saturday could have been a mistake. Thronging crowds made for a frustrating climb up the steps to the wedding cake basilica atop the hill, but its welcoming seats made ideal stops for weary and sweating bodies. A quick walk around inside even gave allowed time for me to light a candle for dad, to follow the one I lit for my grandparents in Lyon.

Departing from Gare du Nord meant only a short stroll back to the hotel from Sacre Coeur to get our bags. Finding a fast baguette in the station, we boarded the Eurostar smoothly. In an ironic (and rare due to it being partly British) twist, we were held on the outskirts of Paris due some problem or another, and once underway, the journey was no where near as enjoyable as the French-only TGV.

Loud and bad-mannered children and adults meant headphones were used for almost the entire journey, and once back in London, Tube closures meant delays and more frustration. Thankfully, our usual slow and problematic National Express East Anglia line home was fine; a bit like the last week then, where that word could easily be applied to our time in France. When can we go back?

We’re back in the French capital for just under two days, before boarding the Eurostar and making our way home. And it seems that Paris’ nickname as the ‘City of Light’ is two-fold; in the daylight there is plenty to see, but when darkness falls and the buildings are lit up, its beauty is arguably even more spectacular. Last night, we explored the city as darkness fell around us, walking from south to north, and passing landmark after landmark. On the tourist trail for sure, but when you’ve one night left, why not?

We’d arrived earlier that day to a hotel with a tree-lined avenue and Sacre Coeur view, glorious sunshine and a desire to do a whistle-stop walk around the city, catching the tourist hot spots that we didn’t see in the first half of the week. Lunch at Trocadéro started us off, taking us past the ever-graceful Eiffel Tower in the direction of Île des Cygnes – just past the Grenelle Bridge – and the smaller replica of the Statue of Liberty. It taught us that Paris’ beauty isn’t just in its buildings either; the architecture of the overground Metro lines is equally stunning in all its 1930s glory.

From there, we caught the underground up to the Bois de Boulogne, a massive wooded park in the north of the city, famed for its reputation as a playground for the ladies of the night once the sky turns black. We were on Velibs – Paris’ bikes for hire – though, so if any of them got mistakenly frisky, we could ride off and escape.

A convoluted sign-out and sign-in process made securing our somewhat wobbly two-wheeled steeds harder than was necessary, but once on the move, we were glad of the change of transport pace. I certainly wouldn’t use the Velibs on the main roads. With Parisians seemingly taking as much care of them as their cars, mine felt decidedly unsafe at times, and once we’d got among the bustling crowds coming out of the French Open at Roland Garros, I was pleased to be walking once more.

Back in the centre of the city we made for the Latin Quarter for an early supper, so we could go out and get those night-time pictures. Snapping Notre-Dame, the Pompidou Centre, the Louvre, and the Moulin Rouge, the Sacre Coeur was to be our last stop before the hotel, but once we’d made the climb to the top of the hill just after midnight, we were disappointed; the basilica was swathed in darkness. It would appear that the lights are turned off just after the witching hour, so it was back to the hotel for our final night under the Parisian stars.

Wednesday morning saw us leave the old town and visit Part Dieu, dominated by the distinctive Crédit Lyonnais office block. As you would expect, the industrial heart of the city is nowhere near as pretty as the old town, though some jewels do lurk within. Head to Villeurbane, and you will find genuine Art Deco skyscrapers from 1934. Hard-edged and white in colour, Gratte-Ciel is a stunning architectural development, and one of the must-sees of the city.

Keeping with a white theme, the Fourvière basilica opened its doors to us on Wednesday afternoon. Taking the funicular railway to the top of the hill is recommended (all Metro tickets permit entry), and once you’re there, you can’t fail to be impressed by the gleaming ‘white elephant’. So-called because it looks like an upturned jumbo, the building was completed in 1896, and easily rivals the Sacré Coeur in the imposing stakes. It similarly keeps guard over the city, and once at the summit on which it sits, there are panoramic views across the central and eastern parts of Lyon.

Not far away, just a walk down the hill is the Théâtre antique de Fourvière, an anicent Roman amphitheatre. Like Paris, Lyon is almost prettier in the evening, and once dusk falls, light picks out the buildings and shows them off to magical effect. Wanting to brush up on our nightime photographic skills, we walked back along the river bank after supper and shot lots of long-exposure pictures.

Today was our last in Lyon, and with the weather holding out, we ventured out to Parc de la Tête d’Or, France’s largest urban park. On the north tip of the ‘island’, there’s a large lake, a 1930s velodrome, a boules court, mini-golf, horse riding, a miniature train, botannical gardens, and reportedly the largest rose garden in Europe. There’s also, a small zoo, home to bears, elephants, giraffes, lions, monkeys and an assortment of other animals. Amazingly, it’s all free, too; that wouldn’t exist in England, where a nominal entry fee would almost certainly be charged.

It was a wonderful finish to our stay, with the sun shining and the good transport links from the city centre (walk, metro, tram) showing how good integrated transport can be. Heading back to the Place des Terreaux, we enjoyed our last beer in front of the Hôtel de Ville de Lyon, before heading back in the direction of the hotel to eat, leaving the old town behind us. Eating early, we again headed out to take more pictures in the dark, enjoying the city for one last time.

In many ways, Lyon is like a smaller version of Paris, with avenues and avenues of lined boulevards at its heart, and a business district in a separate part of the city. We boarded the TGV in Paris this morning, and since then have enjoyed warmer temperatures and sunnier skies. The city is shaped by the Rhône and Saône rivers that converge to the south of the centre forming a peninsula.

Staying on the ‘island’, we’ve had the ‘Part Dieu’ business district to the east, ‘Vieux Lyon’ old town to the west and the hills of ‘Croix-Rousse’ to the north. Dominating the skyline is the Notre-Dame de Fourvière basilica and the TV tower, which replicates the last part of the Eifel Tower in Paris. Both Vieux Lyon and Croix-Rousse are UNESCO Word Heritage sites, and the ancient architecture is clear to see.

This afternoon saw us discover the slopes of Croix-Rousse. The part of the city that once housed all the silk workers, it’s not as pretty as the medieval Vieux Lyon across the river. The French have a great outdoor eating evening tradition, and here it’s arguably even more visible than in Paris, the doors of the old restaurants in the ancient town flung open, with chairs and tables crammed together on wobbly cobbles. And, with Lyon’s reputation as the gastromic capital of France, this evening’s meal in the ancient town was just as good as you would expect of a city with such a reputation.