Liverpool: England through the eyes of a Frenchman – Part 1

This trip was in October 2013 and he hasn’t come back since was it me or my country? Now we know it was me… and probably Blackpool.

These places I have visited many times but this time I saw them from a French point of view. Five nights with Monsieur X, I was excited and nervous because every time I’ve visited him he showed me beautiful areas of France.  I couldn’t walk him around the Bullring and Brindley Place for 4 days so I took him to a different part of England every day.

He took a Ryanair flight from Marseille to East Midlands (no flights to Birmingham), and then my out of date sat-nav and train apps took us up and down the country.  I personally think English cities are all the same, same shops, same bars and restaurants chains so I stayed away from the shopping centres.


We were only 10 minutes away from our  hotel when it took us though a derelict part of the city, closed factories, industrial estates and a corner pub with tracksuits and dirty hair puffing on their cigarettes outside – not a good start. Luckily for us our hotel for one night didn’t have this view and it was on our tourist walking route.

The Dolby Hotel was clean and basic and the size of bathroom was what we paid for at £50 a night, (very small).  The selling point was free parking and position as it was by the docks.  For Monsieur X he didn’t feel like he was in England until the heavy rain storm started as we just parked up outside the hotel.

As tourists we had to visit the Cavern Club which he enjoyed, it was very busy on a Thursday night (full of tourists) and the band played ‘Here Comes The Sun’ his favourite Beatles song, so that was gold stars for me.  His observation on a wet mid-week night ‘no one goes out in Liverpool’.


Next morning we had a full breakfast outside the Gallery café, Albert Docks so he could smoke and after the waitress took our order outside and asked me to go in to pay first, his second observation was ‘you English trust no one’.  A few hours in the Tate gallery, seriously what is so special about a few folded blankets and video of couple of hookers having a tattoo? There was a Chagall exhibition on at that time which to me was nice paintings to Monsieur X it was amazing works of art.

Liverpool:  C’est Bon

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