Some things change while others stay the same. Siena was pretty much as I remembered it from my previous trip, although wetter this time. It’s still a very attractive city which somehow manages not to let the vast influx of tourists each year drive out its charm.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I drove to Siena directly from San Gimignano, taking a wrong turning, knocking the right side-mirror off the hire car and finally managing to squeeze into a very full car-park next to the football stadium.

I’m starting to learn that the problem with walled cities, as pretty as they are from a distance and on foot, is that parking can be a nightmare.

San Gimignano, in case you had not already guessed, is a walled city. I picked the parking lot the furthest from the route from the main road — quite sneaky I thought — only to find it already full and the path out almost blocked by a badly parked SUV.

Florence is both the capital of Italy’s Tuscany region and was very much as the centre of the Renaissance, which makes it fairly large and packed with treasures. As usual, I tended to stay outside rather than wander around galleries.

I found that the easiest way to get into town — not fancying the drive into the centre of a major Italian city — was to first go to Fiesole, park there and take the number seven bus straight into Florence. The bus goes practically straight past one of the major sites — the Duomo — so this is where I started.

Initially I thought that I was going to be staying in Fiesole for the entire trip. The description of the villa and some of the directions mentioned it explicitly so before flying out I made some effort to read up on the place. It turns out that it’s actually older than the now much larger city of Florence (Firenze). As such it has its own respectable church and some fairly extensive Etruscan ruins.

Head to continental Europe too early in the year and you’re likely to get rain. Or go too late and all the locals are on holiday and everywhere is overrun with other tourists. May seemed like a good compromise so we hired a big villa and all flew over to Tuscany.

In the end we got a bit of everything. Some rain, some sun; some areas with more English and German spoken than Italian, some parts where no-one spoke any foreign language; some good food and some really great food; and some fine wines and some fantastic.

It’s funny how it’s the places nearest you that you never quite get around to visiting. It was only a couple of years ago that I first went to Paris (and a couple of years before that when I went to France). This time the unvisited destination is only an hour away from home; so close that I have colleagues that commute from nearby. Brighton. Happening south-coast destination, home of a famous pier and Norman Cook. But was it worth the wait?

This is not the first time that I’ve had plans to go to Denmark. It was a bright and sunny Saturday morning in June 2002. The previous day had been my last working in the Norwegian capital city and I had a week of sight-seeing planned. First I would head west, to the fjords around Bergen and then I’d head back, through Oslo into Sweden, down the coast and cross the Oresund Bridge into Denmark.

Today we do the famous parts of Cairo: the pyramids and the Egyptian museum which includes remains from various burials, most famously Tutankhamen. (I always think of a cartoon: a pyramid door with a horn and the sign “toot and come in.”)

The traffic makes itself known again, making the journey across town take some time. But the pyramids appear suddenly behind other much newer and less grand buildings. That’s the first surprising thing: you hear that they stand right next to Giza but you don’t realise just how close.

The funny thing about Alexandria is that the all the things that it’s famous for are no longer in one piece; it’s a city famous for what it was.

First stop are some Roman ruins, a small but well preserved amphitheatre. One spooky part is a spot in the middle where your voice gets amplified, you hear back anything you say with a slight delay.

Next stop: catacombs. These were the tombs of a rich, egyptianised Roman. Most interesting was some of the art work which combined Roman and Egyptian style, sometimes with errors (deliberate or accidental?), such as only three jars next to the mummy (there are supposed to be four for the internal organs of the deceased) and the dead having head-gear normally reserved for gods.

As we approach the capital I feel my life hovering in front of my eyes as the near-death experiences merge into one.

The bus continually lurched from lane to lane, overtaking on which ever side seemed the most convenient at the time, braking and accelerating heavily as obstacles loomed and evaporated. At one point we’re overtaking on a blind corner only to find a man in the middle of the lane carrying a tire towards a broken-down car. The look of horror on his face is going to stay with me for a long time. Our driver is unfazed and laughs as he flicks the bus over into the next lane. Honestly, I’m not sure whether it’s the best driving I’ve ever seen or the worst, but either way it’s surprising that you don’t see more Egyptian Formula 1 drivers.