Travel notes · France

France, off the beaten track.

Slow itineraries, villages that take their time, and tables where you stay longer than planned. Welcome to my notebooks.

French countryside at sunset, between hills and lavender fields

Latest noteParis, 11th — workshops, hidden courtyards and neighbourhood cafés.

12 notes published since 2021
0 domestic flights — trains first
∞ coffee breaks recommended

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Three escapes, three rhythms. Each note mixes an itinerary, addresses and observations taken on the spot.

Paris · 12 October 2026 · 6 min

Paris, behind the workshops

The 11th arrondissement, its hidden courtyards and its unassuming addresses.

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There is a Paris you pass through without seeing. The one of hidden courtyards, of heavy doors that close softly and of workshops whose windows have not changed in thirty years. The 11th arrondissement is particularly good at this: you enter through a noisy street and come out two hours later feeling as if you have visited a village.

In the morning, follow the courtyards: rue de Charonne, cour de l’Industrie, passage Thiéré. In the afternoon, walk along the canal Saint-Martin and let one street lead to another. The rest of the time, stop. That is the only itinerary worth having.

Provence · 28 September 2026 · 8 min

A summer in the Luberon

Lavender, dry-stone walls and a nap under the plane trees.

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The Luberon has a bad reputation in summer. People imagine it packed with cars and queues. They forget that the villages wake early and that the best roads are often the ones you take by accident.

Gordes before the coaches arrive, Roussillon and its ochre path, the abbey of Sénanque in its valley: three stops, three kinds of light. In the evening, a nameless road between two fields is enough to sum it all up.

Lyon · 3 August 2026 · 5 min

Lyon, between two hills

Croix-Rousse at dawn, the traboules and a lunch that lasts.

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Lyon reveals itself through its slopes. In Croix-Rousse, the streets are staircases, the walls are the colour of sand, and the windows open onto courtyards where you can still hear looms in memory.

In the morning, climb on foot rather than taking the metro. The traboules open as you pass: speak quietly, do not ring at doors, turn back if the entrance is closed. At noon, a bouchon, a short menu and a lunch that lasts. In the afternoon, the banks of the Saône are made for doing nothing.

Behind the notes

Maxime, a Sunday traveller — and a Monday one too.

My name is Maxime. I travel by train, I walk a lot, and I take notes in notebooks that no longer fit in my bag. Here I share the itineraries and addresses that made me want to stay one more day.

Write to Maxime

“The best travel memory is often an address you were not looking for.”

— Maxime, somewhere between two trains

An address to share?

A village, a table, a bookshop? Write to me, I read everything.

bonjour@francemax.ignorelist.com