Imperial past turns up the sightseeing heat as rivers go East

 VIKING’S GRAND EUROPEAN TOUR, WEEK TWO Regensburg, Passau, Melk, Vienna, Budapest*

As you sail steadily towards each sunrise, everything gets grander. Church spires become domes, domes morph into showy onions crowned with golden spikes. Buildings take on increasingly festive colours and more statuary adorns their walls. The architecture of the aristocracy … palaces, gardens, tombs and abbeys … becomes more extreme.  

The first week had plenty to dazzle, but seemed a bit more democratic in its appeal. From Amsterdam through Nuremberg most of those historic towns had fierce merchant guilds who proclaimed their independence, or ancient universities pitting gown against town. The closer you get to the heartlands of the Habsburg emperors, and to the starting points of the exotic trade routes that filled their coffers, the more imperial it all gets in art, architecture, food and wine.

Even the waterways turn up the power. First comes the Rhine-Main-Danube canal, a miracle of modern engineering only completed in 1992. It's essentially an aquatic staircase climbing up and over the European watershed, which is marked my a monument in an otherwise pastoral scene. The canal connects the waterways that empty into the Black Sea with those that drain into the North Sea and the Atlantic, allowing navigation across the continent. The highest point is 406 metres above sea level and you get there through locks that are as deep as a five story building. When the ship pulls into one, and you're at the bottom of that inky cement well, it's both frightening and awe inspiring. 

Once up and over, you're into the Danube (Donau in the local language), the width of which makes the Rhine and Main seem small. And that's before it's joined by two tributaries at Passau and gets even larger; it's the first European river I've been on that can match the Mississippi. It's also generally the same muddy colour, despite what Strauss' waltz might lead you to expect. the Wachau Valley around Melk, however, is a good deal more picturesque than anything American rivers can throw at you, even without the castles and abbeys that elevate the landscape.

Besides the sailing itself, here are the highlights.

Regensburg and Passau

These two towns on the Danube have a lot in common. Both were Roman settlements marking the Northern edge of empire, both evolved into vibrant trading centres in the Middle Ages, wealthy enough to pack their city centres with lovely architecture, and both managed to avoid much WWII damage. And though both are technically in Bavaria, they're both in a bit called Franconia that stands proudly aloof from Munich.

By population, Regensburg is triple the size of Passau, but its town centre is still easily walkable. Though the architecture is primarily medieval through baroque, it's oddly cosmopolitan, with some buildings feeling almost Venetian, others copying the exterior fresco style of Southern Bavaria and most adorned in festive colours of more Southern climes. Our tour guide explained that much of this is fairly new; Regensburg has been on a 20-year mission to beautify its streets and attract tourists. Though it's slow waking up from COVID, the campaign has clearly worked, with a town centre rich with galleries and local craft shops, interesting hotels and a food scene that had been booming. Of all the places we visited, this was the one that leapt onto my "potential girls' trip" list. (And regular readers will know the balance of culture, restaurants, spas, shopping and exclusivity that we ask from a girls’ trip is tough to achieve.)

King Ludwig I of Bavaria was quite fond of Regensburg, too, building himself a neo-gothic summer residence on the edge of town and two magnificent neo-classical monuments on the river on either side. The Befreiungshalle to the West is a circular temple bedecked with goddesses representing the Germanic tribes, built to celebrate defeat over Napoleon. Walhalla, to the East, is a Parthenon-inspired temple to German genius, full of portrait busts of the nation's great and good. Sadly, these wonderful places were beloved of Hitler and tarnished with his ignominy. But, like much of Wagner's repertoire, enough time is passing that people are starting to appreciate them for their merit before the Nazi hijack. While both are spectacular seen from the river, I'd love to go back and get inside. 

Regensburg’s cathedral is also a blockbuster, complete with a spectacular triangular entry porch I can't remember seeing elsewhere. It's exterior stonework is delicate as lace, its statues expressive and all getting a good clean at the moment. Cologne Cathedral is traditionally thought to be the most significant on this trip's route, but I think Regensburg is better inside and out.

Passau’s claim to fame is the meeting point of three tributaries of the Danube. It's here that the river reaches its full, majestic power, and the landscape reflects the glory. The town centre is on a promontory shaped like an arrowhead pointing to the confluence where three differently-coloured streams come together. Hills rise on each side, adorned with castles and churches.

The town centre itself is a bit hilly, rising to a point with its magnificent baroque cathedral, and the surrounding buildings continue the Baroque look thanks to a fire in 1662 that triggered the building boom you seed today. The price-bishop's residence is on a grand, bustling square behind and below the cathedral; though it's mostly used for administrative offices you can poke your nose in and see the magnificent staircase.

Quieter streets towards the confluence point offered up surprises like early Medieval wall paintings preserved in a chapel set behind glass (just across from the Modern Art Museum) 

… and a magnificent potter's shop. 

Passau's also home to several quirky museums, including one about glass and another devoted to dachshunds. Just across from the glass museum is a lovely town hall with a carillon in its tower that offers concerts three times a day. On sunny days, the Ratskeller moves service from the basement to the square out front, where you can listen to the chimes while looking across the Danube at the castle above you.

Melk

When British royalty travelled around the country, they chose to say with the peers of the realm, leaving the UK with a legacy of grand country houses. When the Habsburgs and their nobles moved around their empire, they stopped at abbeys instead. It’s only by wrapping your head around this fact that you can make sense of the ludicrous grandeur of religious establishments dotting the Austrian countryside. (I’ll write more about another, Gottweig, in an upcoming post.) They weren’t just religious communities and schools, but royal palaces that could be fired up to accommodate the court. Abbey churches needed to offer a suitable backdrop to imperial ceremony. Nowhere makes this statement more profoundly than Melk, which is generally the No. 1 example trotted out in art history books for the pinnacle of the Austrian baroque.

There’s a lot more to explore here than the famous church. The complex, a fantasia of yellow and white stucco topped with red tile roofs and billowing sculpture, sits on a promontory atop the town in the beautiful Wachau valley. The views from there are magnificent, and no traveller could miss it. Still a Benedictine abbey and a prestigious school, recent renovations have turned the old royal apartments … approached up one of those ubiquitous grand staircases … into an interesting and thoughtfully displayed museum of the abbey’s history, full of lavish treasures. From there you spill out into the grand hall that would have been used for royal business: windows on three sides taking in magnificent scenes, scagliola columns offering “marble” in outrageous colours, royals and classical gods frolicking on a tromp l’oeil ceiling. Grand as this is, it’s the least impressive of the sights to come.

Next it’s out onto a horseshoe-shaped balcony. A courtyard and the sinuous front of the abbey church is behind you, the sylvan glory of the Wachau Valley before. At the other end of the horseshoe is the entry into the Abbey’s famous library. More tromp l’oeil ceilings, but here they crown two towering stories of gleaming wooden bookshelves accented with gold gilt and exotic marquetry. Doors within the shelves open to alcoves set into windows not otherwise seen; you could choose a book in the dark glory of the library, then slip away to the sunny embrasure to read. A second library room is equally grand, though slightly smaller, and offers an exquisite wrought iron stair to ascend to the upper level. (Monks and scholars only.) 

But it’s the church that’s particularly noteworthy here, and it deserves its glory. You enter, gasp and fall speechless at a vision that is almost too spectacular for the human brain to grasp. Baroque churches were supposed to transport you, for the length of the service, into the bosom of heaven. This delivers all the classic elements … gold and silver gilt, swirling clouds, joyous saints … with a cumulative impact I’ve only seen in Munich’s legendary Asamkirche. 

Particularly noteworthy here is the use of silver, gold and rose gold gilt (I can’t remember seeing the last), and a series of “boxes” in the clerestory on either side of the nave. These looked like opera or theatrical boxes, almost sacrilegiously so, with obelisks, grills, curtains and the like featured in the architecture. There was nothing about this detail in the tour materials; I can only guess it was for the royals and their court to be seated with the saints in heaven during services. 

If the counter-reformation is about celebrating the theatricality of the religious service, then Melk is a supreme example.

Vienna

Two days is a ludicrous amount of time to spend in a place as big and treasure-rich as the Austrian capital, so much so that I’m giving it its own story.  Here, I’ll simply mention that if you are doing a power-tourism sweep through Europe, Viking makes the most of those days. The ship pulls in on the morning of the first day and leaves early evening on the second, so you do have two full days for sightseeing. A half-day tour, part bus and part walking, is included. Then you can load up on organised tours (Lippizaners, art, classical music, etc.) or do your own thing. We were fairly unusual doing the latter, but we were the only Europeans on board and both knew Vienna well already.

Anyone who questions the size and impact of the river cruise industry need only take a look at Vienna’s purpose-built cruise port at Handelskai. At least nine ships were docked when we were there, and the facility could have berthed at least four more. Access roads are designed so tour buses can sweep right up to the ships; if you’re only doing organised activities this was the most convenient of all ports. It’s also about a 20-minute walk to the Vorgartenstrasse underground station, and from there just four stops to the centre of town at St. Stephansplatz. One more stop, a change of lines and six more stations offers public access to Schonbrunn Palace (a fraction of the cost of the organised bus tour). If you’re feeling lazy, it’s about 20€ in a taxi … which is actually a good call at night since the lighting on Handelskai isn’t great and the walk to and from the underground could feel a bit edgy after sunset.

Budapest

I can’t think of another city quite as spectacular from its river (Prague comes close). The flat bank of Pest is lined with grand imperial architecture while the opposing hills of Buda offer medieval ramparts, renaissance towers and monuments from all ages. The bridges crossing the span are all as decorative as functional. Surely there’s no better capital to arrive into on the water than this one, and our stately gluide to our dock on the penultimate morning of our tour was one of the most satisfying pieces of scenic cruising during the trip.

After that spectacular arrival, however, I confess that I couldn’t warm to Budapest. Though forever linked with Vienna as a joint capital of the Austro-Hungarian empire and sharing the other city’s late-19th and early-20th century architectural style, Budapest lacks Vienna’s atmosphere. The grandeur on the Pest side is barely skin deep. Look carefully in even the best areas and you’ll see buildings in bad repair, weeds and unkempt public spaces. The further you get off the main tourist track the more obvious the blight. Much of Pest reminded me of Palermo, but without the madcap Italian energy.  (Clearly, Budapest was held back from chasing Vienna’s and Munich’s revival by its decades under Soviet rule; the current building boom is trying to overcome the communist blight but they have a lot of work to do.)

The tourist money seems to be going into Buda, where the old-town atop the ancient citadel, mostly flattened in WWII, is being steadily rebuilt in classic style. The must-see spot up here is the Fishermen’s Bastion, a 19th century, neo-Romanesque observation point almost completely rebuilt from the late ‘50s. It’s lovely, but the whole area lacked authenticity. It felt like Budapest produced by Disney. But I might have just been tired.

River cruising is a stately and relaxing European holiday alternative, but this particular agenda skews the most significant sightseeing towards the end. I was far less rested at the end of week two than at the close of week one. It’s something to keep in mind if you’re considering doing this route; for a more restful start, head off from Amsterdam. For a more relaxing finish, Start from Budapest. 

* Viking runs this itinerary back and forth all season. If you start in Budapest, then what’s described here will be week one