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

Baroque, beer and blockbusters: Bavarian holiday surpasses all expectations

I owe Germany an apology.

Over two decades of prolific European travel, I've never given it much consideration.  I enjoyed a trip to Bavaria and the Tirol in 1986 (old travel diary entry resurrected here) but never felt the pull to return.  Other places always seemed more exotic, offered better food, dangled history and culture that was closer to my heart.  Germany was the home of close colleagues, and a useful place to add a bit of sightseeing on top of business trips (search "Berlin" for several earlier blog entries).  But as the venue for a proper two-week holiday, it never even made my top 20.

Then came my Germanophile husband.  The lover of Wagner and Mozart's German operas. Whose culinary foundations rest upon pork and potatoes.  Whose historical interests include the rise of Nazism, Napoleon's campaigns and the European wars surrounding the Protestant reformation.  A man with family roots stretching back to Western Bavaria in the 17th century.  A guy literally allergic to tomatoes, and spiritually allergic to sun-drenched beach holidays.  So it came as little surprise that, in control of the destinations for leisure travel during his big birthday year, he opted for a fortnight in Germany.

And thus he deserves all the credit for my revelation:  Bavaria is magnificent.

In culture, history and landscape it can hold its own against any other European destination.  In fact, on many fronts, it beats them.  The Wittlesbach family palaces, frankly, make the Windsors look like poor cousins.  This region arguably contains the finest flowering of the Baroque and Rococo in Europe, leaving more famous Italian and French examples looking tired.  (Admittedly, part of that may be because so much of what you see here has been painstakingly re-created since WW2 destruction; thus colours, gold gilt and fabrics are quite literally "like new".)  The Alpine landscape is jaw-dropping.  Should you be an active type, this is dream hiking country.  Meanwhile, down in the flat valleys and along rivers, bicycle trails abound.  Great music, history, art and architecture seem to be around every corner. While most of the dining falls into the hearty comfort food category, you can discover innovative modern cuisine if you look.  And, of course, there's some of the best beer in the world.  When you can't take any more "liquid bread", German whites shipped in from the northern part of the country remind you that their wines are deserving of much greater fame.  All this is delivered by an efficient, elegant and friendly people whose national pride is growing as the spectre of the last great war fades.

Our itinerary looked like this.

First up, Dillingen, a charming town on the Danube about 90 minutes northwest of Munich.  Well off the beaten tourist track, its appeal lay in personal history.  Some Bencards were famous printers here in the 17th century and this town, along with nearby Augsburg, is the earliest point of origin anyone in the family can trace.

Dillingen's glory days were the 17th and 18th centuries, when the Jesuits established a university here and made this their impressive headquarters for running the counter-reformation north of the Alps.  Today it's a relatively unknown place devoid of foreign visitors (the Jesuits are long gone), but the history means you'll encounter impressive architecture and some stunning churches.  And probably have it mostly to yourself.

The main street, Konigstrasse, is stage-set charming. (photo above) The university's Studienkirche and the Franciscan convent church deliver rococo religious fireworks; there's also a cathedral that's supposed to be equally impressive but is currently closed for renovation. The Golden Hall inside one of the university buildings (now a secularised teacher training college) is, frankly, worth a visit all on its own.  Pretty impressive for a sleepy place you can cross on foot in a brisk 15 minutes.

Then on to Schwangau, pressed up against the Alps in the shadow of King Ludwig's fairy tale Neuschwanstein.  I snapped the photo up top from our hotel balcony.  This area is all about Ludwig's architectural fantasies. In addition to the aforementioned (Germany's No. 1 tourist attraction) there's nearby Hohenschwangau and ... an hour's picturesque drive beyond ... Linderhof.  If you want to fully appreciate the story and genius of the so-called "Mad King", you need to spend time in all of these AND visit Herrenchiemsee on the road between Salzburg and Vienna.

The Museum of the Bavarian Kings, newly-installed in an old lakeside hotel nestled in the valley between the castles of Hohenschwangau and Neuschwanstein, is a perfect place to start any visit to the area.  We did it after chalking up five miles scrambling around the castles, and exhaustion dulled some of our appreciation.  Ideally, this is the first thing you'd do on a Bavarian holiday, since the Wittlesbach family influences almost everything you'll see.  Understanding their background and chronology helps to put everything else in context.

Most tourists, of course, are dashing through this area on bus excursions from Munich.  They only hit the highlights and don't have time to linger.  The crowds can be oppressive, but the Bavarian Palaces Department does a remarkably efficient job of moving people through and the minute you stray away from the "must see" stuff, the people fall away.  You'll be pressed body-to-body in Neuschwanstein, but will often find yourself alone in the Kings' museum and are never more than 10 minutes away from a quiet, isolated walk in Alpine forests.  While the bus tours are an efficient way to see the majors when your time is limited ... and that's how I first encountered this area ... I felt sorry for the herds.  Several days in the area meant we could linger in the museum, take some picturesque drives, have the time to explore the grounds and garden follies at Linderhof (almost as impressive as the palace itself) and visit the Pilgrimage Church of Wies, a UNESCO World Heritage Site of staggering rococo splendour.

Another area highlight is the Zugspitze, Germany's highest mountain offering a thrilling cable car ascent and breath-taking views.  It lies just outside the pretty and well-heeled resort town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, someplace that would have merited a wander if we'd had more time.  Even with our more leisurely schedule, we couldn't fit in all this region has to offer.  The famous village of Oberammergau, filled with wood carving shops and painted houses, and the architectural blockbuster of the monastery at Ettal were things we could only drive by and note for another trip.

Next came three nights in Salzburg, where we swam against the usual Sound of Music stream to concentrate on Mozart.  The museums at Mozart's birthplace and his residence in his early 20s give some fine insight into his genius.  You can gawp at the magnificent churches in which his music was first heard (we liked the Franziskanerkirche best) and wander through the grand residences of the prince-archbishop who didn't appreciate him enough.  (He should have spent lass cash on architecture, and more on his musician.)  But the highlight for me was seeing Mozart's Magic Flute performed by the Salzburg Marionette Theatre.

The main town is small enough to be easily walkable and you can cover most of the sights in a day.  That left us time for a day in Berchtesgaden, an Alpine national park best known as being the rural retreat of Hitler and his inner circle.  We did a fascinating half-day tour here to learn about the World War II history; with more time we would have loved to have added in the boat ride on the achingly beautiful lake Konigsee.

We then headed to Munich for eight nights, which seemed like an eternity when we checked in ... but like everywhere else, there was plenty left unseen on the wish list when we left.

This is a royal city awash with lavish palaces, impressive art and sophisticated architecture.  While most people have heard of Mad King Ludwig, few outside of Germany these days appreciate the power, wealth and grandeur of his Wittlesbach forebears, who were kings, dukes and Holy Roman Emperors from this base.

Munich is a spiritual sibling to Florence.  Perhaps no surprise as the Wittlesbachs married in to, and admired, the Medici.  Indeed, the facade of the Residenz is a copy of the Pitti Palace.  Nearby you'll find a near-exact duplicate of the Loggia dei Lanzi serving as the terminus of a wide boulevard of what seem to be Italian Renaissance palaces ... but are actually German university buildings.  A major difference, however, is that Munich is ringed by thriving high tech and manufacturing businesses.  Visitors share space with affluent, busy locals, making this a living, thriving city rather than an historic stage set preserved for tourism.

We balanced "proper" sightseeing (the palaces of the Residenz and Nymphenburg were highlights, the Deutsches Museum disappointed) with gentle rambles around town, chilling out in the Sofitel spa and plenty of time in those famous beer gardens, watching the world go by and chatting to the friendly people who shared our long, communal tables.  We also joined the bus tour masses for one day on an excursion to Nuremburg; a strange juxtaposition of traumatising Nazi history with Disney-cute town centre.

It all came to an oompah-filled climax on the opening day of Oktoberfest, when we joined hundreds of thousands donning traditional dress and cheering when the mayor tapped the first keg.  The opening day parade was impressive, the fairgrounds awash with photo opportunities, but any spot in one of those famous beer tents impossible to come by.  Having drunk the atmosphere, we adjourned to a garden off-site to drink the beer.

In coming weeks I'll cover these highlights in some depth.  First up, the extraordinary Japanese-German fusion meal that we both agreed was one of the most memorable events of the holiday.  Maybe even of the whole year.

A walk around Vienna makes another business trip tolerable

Wednesday, 10:30 pm, Heathrow's unspeakably dreary Terminal 2. I was standing in the pouring rain, waiting at the appointed spot for my taxi driver who'd been "5 minutes away" at 10:05. The plane had left Vienna half an hour late; a half hour, because of Vienna Airport's irritating security-at-the-gate policy, endured without drinking water because there's no chance to buy more once they take it off you. Upon arrival in London, another 20 minutes lost waiting on the plane because the jetway was broken. This, I thought drearily, was the reality of business travel.

But, now home, dry and with a lovely Thanksgiving behind me (blog entry to come), I can admit that there are almost always upsides to business travel, and this was no exception.

I was in Vienna to present on "third party partnerships and content as a brand building strategy" at a telecommunications branding conference. Though the conference itself was disappointingly small, the attendees were from an excellent variety of companies and the presentations were, for the most part, both interesting and useful. My presentation was well received and generated a lot of further discussion at the break. I was asked to serve as conference chair for the second day, which was also good fun. (Although presented quite a challenge at one point when the conference's persistent bad boy was having a conversation throughout one guy's presentation. I was contemplating stopping proceedings and asking the rude bastard to step outside, but the presenter at the time was so good, and was carrying on with such force, I figured I'd let him power on and just ignore the distraction.)

The highlight of the trip, however, was the unexpected joy of ending business about two hours earlier than expected on Tuesday, meaning that my colleague Sarah and I were in casual clothes, wrapped against the cold and wandering around central Vienna while some dim light still hung in the air.

I hadn't been to Vienna since the summer after University. I liked Vienna then, but I hadn't traveled enough at that point to appreciate just how elegant and sophisticated it is in comparison to the rest of Europe. Viennese must feel like they're entering the third world when they come to London, with its rubbish-dotted streets, graffiti-covered trains, slow and expensive public transport and sizable percentage of badly dressed, badly behaved people. At least that's how London appeared, in reflection, as I strode down Vienna's wide, pedestrianised shopping street.

Elegant 19th century buildings rose on either side in pleasing harmony and generally unmarred by modern signage. Plenty of modern brands, they've just proved here that it is possible to promote your store without wrecking the architecture. Almost laughably ornate baroque monuments dot the place. Pavements, buildings ... everything, really ... is spotlessly clean. (I became obsessed with looking for rubbish. There must be some. In six hours I managed to see one discarded coffee cup lid.) The Christmas lights were up, but not jet lit. No tacky, advertising-subsidized stuff here. Festoons of lights criss-crossing from rooftops with giant chandeliers hanging at the intersections.

We walked the standard tourist route, starting at St. Stephen's cathedral. I'd forgotten how Catholic Austria remained in contrast to its German neighbours; the cathedral leaves you in no doubt, from its massive holy water fonts to its towering, reformation-fighting baroque monuments. The building itself is high Gothic and quite dark, probably not best seen at dusk on a winter day. Though it did add drama to have the main monuments looming out of the gloom under the drama of the occasional spotlight.

We stopped for the obligatory coffee in an elegant coffee house ... the historic Demel just behind the palace. Fortified by the hot drink and the generous glug of alcohol spiking it, we continued through the palace and strolled the ring road, taking in the gloriously over-the-top architecture of the National Library, the main museums, the Parliament building and the town hall.

It was at the last that we found one of the famous Christmas Markets open despite the early date. The scene lived up to expectations. The wonderfully ornate, neo-Gothic Rathaus loomed like a dramatic stage set over the scene, dramatically lit and with a line of high windows draped, numbered and ready to serve as a giant civic advent calendar. The venerable old trees in the foreground park had been hung with big lights ... basketball sized or above ... in the shape of different Christmas ornaments. The wooden huts sell piles of colourful glass ornaments, wooden nutcrackers and toys, chocolates, baked goods and many vats of mulled wine.

Reinthaler's Beisl was a welcome find amongst a dearth of traditional restaurants in the historic centre

After a thorough exploration, we started to hunt for a restaurant. Which turned out to be surprisingly challenging, as the central district seems not to have many. Plenty of coffee houses, a few sparse, modern, trendy places and a curious abundance of Italian food. But it was hard work to find what we really wanted: a cozy, old fashioned, local place with traditional cuisine.

Luckily another colleague had passed a guidebook on to me, which led us to Reinthaler's Beisl. This was just what the doctor ordered, and just in time to keep my ears from heading towards frostbite. Wood paneled, packed with locals, a warren of little connected rooms with a handful of waiters running the place with firm efficiency. They bundled us onto the end of a table already half-occupied; we exchanged smiles but no conversation with our neighbours as they, like everyone else in the place, were speaking German. I suspect that had either Sarah or I spoken the language we would have discovered a treasure trove of local delicacies on the hand-written menu. Limited to English, however, we had to go for the few recognisable dishes. Since we were after tradition, this wasn't really a problem. I went for the weiner schnitzel, Sarah the bratwurst with saurkraut. Mine was the best example of the dish I've had. Crisp and light coating, cooked just enough to get the meat piping hot but not overcooked, with that classic pairing of vinegared potato salad and other pickled salads. I had a bite of Sarah's dish, equally a top example of the form. Best of all, two mains and drinks cost us just 25 euros all in. Great traditional food and a bargain; you gotta love it.

I'm back in Vienna on business in 10 days. I found myself regretting not extending the trip. I've spent so much time away from home, I just wanted to get back after the meeting ended on Friday afternoon. Now I'm envisioning all I would have done had I stayed on through the weekend. But, like all business travel, I'll take the good with the bad and rejoice in the fact that I'll get another crack, however short, at this lovely city.