Luxembourg City was the obvious centre of this part of our journey through the Grand Duchy, although our experience of the country had already been shaped by much smaller places such as Grevenmacher, Wasserbillig and Junglinster. Travelling with a four-year-old child and our dog also made us look at the capital differently from the way we might have approached it on a short city break. We did not need to fit as many monuments as possible into a few hours. What mattered much more was being able to move around easily, spend time outside and understand a city whose geography is so unusual that simply walking through it is already part of the visit.
The first thing that makes Luxembourg different from many other European capitals is the landscape itself. The historic centre does not sit on a simple flat plain but high above the deep valleys of the Alzette and Pétrusse. Streets and buildings suddenly end at cliffs, bridges cross enormous gaps between different parts of the city and neighbourhoods that appear close together on a map can be separated vertically by a considerable height. The result is a city where viewpoints appear almost without warning. From the upper town it is possible to look down towards the Grund, with the Alzette winding between tightly packed houses, old walls and the former Neumünster Abbey. It is this mixture of city and landscape rather than any single building that gives Luxembourg much of its character.
The unusual geography is also the reason the city exists here at all. In 963, Count Siegfried acquired the rocky Bock promontory above the Alzette and established a small fortification known as Lucilinburhuc. A settlement gradually developed around it and, over the following centuries, Luxembourg became one of the most heavily fortified places in Europe. Its strategic position between the major powers of western Europe meant that control of the fortress repeatedly changed hands. Burgundians, Habsburgs, Spanish rulers, France and eventually Prussia all left their mark on its defences.
By the seventeenth century the fortress had become particularly formidable. After Louis XIV’s forces captured Luxembourg in 1684, the military engineer Vauban enlarged and strengthened the defences. Later Austrian and Prussian engineers added still more works, eventually creating such an extraordinary network of walls, forts and underground passages that Luxembourg became known as the “Gibraltar of the North”. The comparison makes much more sense once the landscape is visible: the city already had steep natural valleys protecting several sides, and the military works turned those natural barriers into an enormous defensive system.
The surviving casemates are one of the clearest reminders of that period. Kilometres of galleries were cut into the rock to shelter soldiers, equipment, horses and supplies while allowing defenders to move through the fortress largely underground. The Bock Casemates occupy the same rocky promontory where the city’s story began in the tenth century. They are not simply underground rooms added as a tourist attraction; they are remnants of the military structure that determined the shape and history of Luxembourg for centuries.
That military era came to an abrupt end in 1867. A dispute over Luxembourg had brought France under Napoleon III and Prussia under Bismarck dangerously close to conflict. The resulting Treaty of London confirmed Luxembourg’s neutrality and required the fortress to be dismantled. Demolition continued for years and removed a large proportion of the defences, but destroying everything would have been almost impossible because so much of the fortress had been built directly into the cliffs and rock. The surviving fortifications, together with the old quarters, were eventually inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1994.
What remains today produces a city that is much more pleasant than the phrase “former fortress” might suggest. Former defensive ground has become parks and promenades, while the old walls now provide some of the best viewpoints. The Chemin de la Corniche follows the edge of the old fortifications high above the Alzette and the Grund and is often described as one of the city’s most impressive walks. Below it, the atmosphere changes completely. The Grund feels far removed from the administrative streets above, with the river, old houses, bridges and steep cliffs enclosing the neighbourhood on almost every side.
The upper town is much more formal. Around Place Guillaume II, Place d’Armes and the surrounding streets are many of the institutions associated with the capital. The Grand Ducal Palace stands directly in the old centre rather than being isolated behind an enormous park. The building began as the town hall after an earlier structure on the site was destroyed by a gunpowder explosion in 1554, and it has served as the Grand Duke’s official city residence since 1890. Beside it stands the Chamber of Deputies, so the political centre of the country occupies a surprisingly compact part of the old town.
This compactness was something that suited the way we were travelling. Luxembourg may be a national capital, but its historic centre is small enough that the important areas are relatively close together. At the same time, the changes in height mean that a short distance on the map does not always mean a completely effortless walk, especially when travelling with a young child. Fortunately, the city has built some unusually useful connections between its different levels. The panoramic lift between Pfaffenthal and the upper city is one of the most striking examples, combining an ordinary piece of public transport infrastructure with a viewpoint over the valley.
Transport in Luxembourg was also one of the most practical things about travelling through the country. Since 1 March 2020, ordinary buses, trams and second-class trains have been free throughout Luxembourg, not merely for residents but for visitors as well. That changes the way a motorhome trip can work. There is much less reason to force a large vehicle into the most central streets simply to save the cost of a bus or tram ticket. For us, travelling with a motorhome almost seven metres long, the possibility of separating the vehicle from the actual city visit made far more sense than trying to treat Luxembourg like a destination where the motorhome had to follow us everywhere.
The same applies when travelling with a child. Rather than making every move on foot simply because public transport might otherwise become expensive for several people, it is possible to use buses, trains and trams freely and change plans whenever necessary. Luxembourg’s scale also means that countryside and smaller towns are never very far from the capital. During this part of the journey we had already experienced places along the Moselle and farther east, and the contrast with Luxembourg City was considerable. Grevenmacher and Wasserbillig felt closely connected with the river and the German border, while Junglinster was much more practical and suburban. The capital brings together something different: government institutions, an old fortified core, deep natural valleys and modern districts all occupying a surprisingly small area.
It is also a city where the difference between old and new can be particularly abrupt. From the medieval and early-modern streets of the upper town it is only a short distance to the Kirchberg plateau, dominated by European institutions, offices and modern architecture. Luxembourg was one of the founding centres of European integration after the Second World War and remains home to several European Union institutions. That modern international role can feel completely disconnected from the image of Vauban fortifications and narrow streets, yet both belong to the same city.
What stayed with us most about Luxembourg was therefore not one enormous landmark. The city works because so many different things are compressed together. A formal square can be only minutes from the edge of a cliff; below an administrative centre there can be a quiet riverside district; modern bridges cross valleys created by rivers long before the fortress existed; and remnants of one of Europe’s strongest military complexes now form walking routes and viewpoints.
For a motorhome journey, Luxembourg City also demonstrated something we increasingly appreciated during this trip: the best way to visit a large city is not necessarily to search for the closest possible parking place to the centre. Being able to leave the motorhome somewhere sensible and use Luxembourg’s free public transport removes much of the stress that normally comes with a larger vehicle. Travelling with our four-year-old child and dog, that flexibility mattered more to us than being able to say that we had parked directly beside a famous monument.
Luxembourg City is small for a European capital, but it never felt insignificant. Its geography alone gives it a sense of scale that its population would not suggest, and its history is much larger than the country around it might lead someone to expect. What began as a small castle on the Bock in 963 became one of Europe’s greatest fortresses, then the capital of an independent Grand Duchy and eventually one of the institutional centres of modern Europe. During our journey through Luxembourg, it provided the historical centre to a country that we had otherwise been discovering through much smaller and quieter places.