A whistle-stop tour of Luxembourg: Where to eat, stay and shop in this quiet European nation

As the wheels of the De Havilland Q400 jolted down on the runway in Luxembourg Airport, I peered through the airplane window at the thick fog clinging to the nearby spires. It was my first trip to the tiny European nation. Not knowing exactly what to expect and keen to make the most of moments between meetings, I hatched a plan with a little help from some key Monocle contacts. Here’s what I learned on a whistle-stop touchdown in the Grand Duchy.

To stay
Accommodation options have taken a turn for the better with the opening of Villa Pétrusse late last year, an 1880 townhouse in Ville Haute that has been brought back from the brink in a meticulous five-year renovation project. There are two restaurants (one smart, the other outright fancy) and 22 rooms kitted out by French designer Tristan Auer. 

An honourable mention goes to the family-owned Hotel Grand Cravat down the road, which still has the most characterful bar in town: Le Trianon. Its interiors are rather dated, with marble floors, low lights and velvety chairs, as well as some of the most delightfully kitsch painted trompe l’oeil panels you’re likely to see. Monsieur Cravat, please never renovate.

To see
Luxembourg’s architecture ranges from Mitteleuropean fairytale twee to the aggressively functional, with many shades of the beastly and the beautiful in between. If you haven’t been, IM Pei’s museum of modern art, Mudam, might just help restore your faith in contemporary architecture. Built amid the foundations of Fort Thüngen in Dräi Eechelen park, it’s an angular assemblage of stone, glass and concrete that celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. What’s baffling is how a contemporary structure can feel both cutting edge and as meant-to-be-here as the castle foundations around which it’s arranged. It’s magnificent. 

The retrospective of oddball US performance artist Eleanor Antin, on until mid February, is worth a visit too, especially the humorous photo series and deployment of 100 black rubber boots.

To eat
Luxembourg’s best restaurant – according to my trusted source – came with an inauspicious catch: it’s in an art gallery. The Public House in Luxembourg’s Casino art centre is a masterpiece in its own way. Its tall-ceilinged dining room is atmospheric with its decorative plasterwork, antique mirrors and vast windows. The modern touches – a neon light, a hand-drawn logo of a wine glass, something poetic scribbled on the crown moulding – are small and mostly well-considered but the food is the draw. With one starter, three mains and two desserts, the menu set a confident tone: particularly a piquant, fennel sausage from local butcher Anne Kaiffer nestled beside a buttery pomme purée with citrussy mustard greens on top. Glass of crémant anyone? This place deserves a toast.

To shop
Kyo, on Côte d’Eich in the Ville Haute is a good concept shop to stumble across, packed with a range of hard-to-find Japanese makers as well as Finnish blankets, wool from the Faroe Islands and brands including Merz B Schwanen, Howlin’ and Onslow. It’s just missing some nice Luxembourg-made goodies. A thank you to my Luxembourgish colleague Annick Weber for the recommendation.

To ponder
Since 2020, Luxembourg has made public transport free for everyone. It’s good and it works, especially if you’re a small and wealthy nation. But what’s less well known is that city mayor Lydie Polfer outlawed begging two years ago. While locals are split on the ban, it seems to have concealed the issue rather than managed it. A man approached me to ask whether I spoke German or Russian, then launched into a story about hardship while soliciting for change. So as not to fall visibly foul of the law, he used text on his phone to communicate so it might have looked to a passing policeman as if he – or I – were asking for directions. I politely declined and walked away wondering if other cities should be discussing the issue.

To copy
My colleague and I visited Belval in Esch-sur-Alzette, 25-minutes southwest of the city proper. It’s a mixed-use space in an old steelworks complete with eerily well-kept blast furnaces and an old pressure reactor around which universities, offices and homes have been judiciously smattered. The project’s overall success isn’t for me to proclaim but for a cold winter day the streets seemed to hum and the revival of the site tempts 20,000 people a day who commute or live there. 

It’s a pleasant project but also a metaphor for how industry has changed in Europe from the tangible to the technological – and maybe a warning. Of what is being built today by wealth managers and AI enthusiasts, what will we remember, cherish and preserve?

To fix
The city is clean, safe and secure, which is surprising given the global and geopolitical context. It also takes some attractive things from its neighbours in terms of German forthrightness and efficiency, some French food and flair, and a general sense that you’re in a slightly polished version of Europe but not always sure which bit. (In somewhat chaotic Italian fashion, several restaurants I walked past were playing bad music loudly into the street – less of this please.) 

But Luxembourg lacks a little deft branding. Some confidence to speak its mind, perhaps? Everything from the too-colourful buses daubed with the overthought “Multiplicity” label to the AI assistant (Renó the fox) who “helps” you join the airport wi-fi feels slightly like a compromise: too muddled, too busy. I was happy to hear that there is an agency called the Brand Image Promotion Unit under the Ministry of the Economy. Its motto – “Let’s make it happen” – is a start but it needs to follow that promise and help the world understand what the nation stands for and what happens next.

With the city still shrouded in fog, I found myself back at the airport. As the plane headed to the de-icer, I felt that I could begin to discern the shape of this enigmatic and alluring little European nation. Plus, I hope, a few reasons to return soon and learn a little more.

Josh Fehnert is Monocle’s editor.