By Mary Richardson
Sometimes travel is like a French meal with seven courses. It tells you about a particular cuisine and immerses you in its deliciousness. Other times, traveling can be like a tray of appetizers. You get a taste of this, a taste of that. The river boat cruise that Joe and I took from Budapest to Amsterdam was full of appetizers. And, like a good appetizer should, it left us looking forward to the whole meal. We know we are going to have to return for longer visits if we want dessert.
A trip across Europe via the riverways was one of our dream trips that had not yet materialized. Then our travel agent, Anne Rose, found a special, last-minute price of $6,000 — including airfare — for a 15-day river cruise on Emerald Cruises. We booked it immediately.
Over two weeks, we traveled almost 500 miles by river, going through six different countries and stopping at 15 different cities. We sailed on three famous, immensely important rivers – the Danube, the Main, and finally, the Rhine when going into Amsterdam.
I saw breathtaking beauty, both man-made and natural. Each day had some new wonder. But the greatest takeaway from the whole trip was a realization of the extent of my ignorance — how much I didn’t know, didn’t understand, and didn’t appreciate.
My first inkling of this ignorance came from looking at the itinerary. I had never heard of many of the places we would be visiting. Yes, I knew about Budapest, Vienna, Amsterdam and Cologne (kind of), but Bratislava, Melk, Dürnstein, Passau, Regensburg, Würzburg, Wertheim, Bamberg, Rüdesheim, Miltenberg and Český Krumlov? Not so much. And, while I knew something about Germany and the Netherlands, I was pretty vague about Hungary, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and even Austria.
Each place had a distinct story to tell. Here are just a few of the highlights for me:
BRATISLAVA
The realization of my ignorance started in Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia and a city of about half a million people, nestled on the banks of the Danube and within view of both Austria and Hungary. I was in a city that had gone through World War II on the Nazi side, and had only recently transformed from communism to a democracy.
A lovely young woman, probably in her mid-20s, led us through the old part of the city up to the Bratislava Castle. As we looked over the walls toward the modern city and the river, she told us how times had changed. Because of democracy, she knew she had to work for a living, and whether or not she succeeded was up to her. However, she said, her parents had grown up in communism, and it was harder for them to realize that the state was not going to provide for their every need. They missed the old way.
Bratislava was not always in Slovakia. It was in Czechoslovakia, which was formed after the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire at the end of World War I. In 1939, Czechoslovakia was dismantled. It became the First Slovak Republic, a Nazi puppet state. I hadn’t known this.
We walked down the hill from the castle and came to a plaque on an old stone wall. It read, “In this house in 1847 Sigmund Steiner established the Antiquarian Bookstore STEINER. The Steiner family lived here from the 19th century (except during the Holocaust) through the first half of the 20th century. The memorial plaque is also in memory of 16 members of the family who died in concentration camps in 1942-44. May their souls be bound up in the bond of everlasting life. Remember and never forget.” During World War II, more than 15,000 Jews were deported from Bratislava, and most died in concentration camps. Bratislava’s Jewish Quarter was largely destroyed. I hadn’t known that.
The city was bombed by Allied forces in 1944 and liberated by the Soviet Red Army in April, 1945. Czechoslovakia was re-established. “The people welcomed the Russians,” our guide told us. “But we didn’t know they were going to stay and occupy us.” Then came 1989. A huge public, student-led demonstration against the Russians began in Bratislava and Prague. It was called the Velvet Revolution because of its peacefulness; no shots were fired. I hadn’t heard of it.
Our young guide remembered another political split — the Velvet Divorce, so called because it was also non-violent. She recalled a morning in 1993. “I woke up and my mother told me we were no longer Czechoslovakians,” she said. “We were now Slovakians.” She explained that the two most powerful men in the country had both wanted to be prime minister. “So they decided, just the two of them, to divide the country,” she said. Overnight, they created Slovakia and The Czech Republic. “I was pretty surprised,” she said. I was, too.
VIENNA
Vienna was once the imperial capital of the all-powerful Habsburg monarchy. Today it identifies itself as the “City of Music,” as it produced Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Haydn, Brahms, Mahler and Strauss. It is also the home of the artist Gustav Klimt, and every souvenir store was filled with cups and plates decorated with reproductions of his gold-gilted figures.
Sigmund Freud lived and worked here, as did many other Jewish intellectuals, artists, and scientists before World War II.
The magnificent, iconic St. Stephen’s Cathedral rose almost 500 feet into the air. The roof was dazzling, as sunlight illuminated every one of its 230,000 colorful glazed tiles. But the commercial nature of the town intruded. All the expensive brands like Louis Vuitton had palatial-looking façades on the main square. And a huge sign for Coca-Cola hung from a building adjoining the church. It was so large it almost overshadowed the church’s architecture.
Walking through the historic center, today a UNESCO World Heritage Site, I felt like I was in the political and cultural heart of Central Europe. But there was another side. World War II has not been forgotten; history is not whitewashed here. In March, 1938, Nazi Germany annexed Austria in what is called the Anschluss. Hitler was extremely popular and his speeches in Vienna received massive public support. Before 1938, Vienna had a Jewish population estimated at 200,000, and was one of the largest and most vibrant Jewish communities in Europe. After Anschluss, Jews were fired from their jobs, evicted, assaulted and deported. In November of 1938, synagogues were destroyed during Kristallnacht. Viennese Jews murdered in the Holocaust numbered 65,000. Today, Holocaust memorials dot the area, especially on the historic street, Judengasse, and include the Shoah Wall of Names. Our guide told us there is a cultural focus on remembering what happened, not forgetting. I knew some of this, but somehow it felt more real when standing on the streets where all this took place.
ČESKÝ KRUMLOV
Sometimes traveling brings you pure unexpected delight. This was how we felt when we “discovered” Český Krumlov, a village in the Czech Republic that looks like a medieval stage set for a movie. Never mind that it was filled with tourists; we had never heard of it, so for us it was a personal discovery.
Český Krumlov, also a UNESCO World Heritage site, is probably the best preserved medieval town in Europe. We walked through streets dating back to the 13th century. The original Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque buildings have now been repurposed into hotels, restaurants and breweries (supposedly Budweiser got its start there). We watched people kayaking on the pretty Vltava River that encircled it, and, of course, we each drank a Budweiser “Budvar.”
Although in the medieval era, Český Krumlov was a thriving trade and administrative center, by the time World War II came along, it was no longer important. After the Munich Agreement in 1938, Nazi Germany annexed it as part of the Sudentenland, but no battles occurred in Český Krumlov. No bombs fell. Being too unimportant to bomb turned out to be very good for today’s tourism industry.
WÜRZBURG
Würzburg, located in northern Bavaria, is another beautiful medieval town. The Main River curves its way through a city of half-timbered houses and architectural wonders. I walked across the famous 15th -century Old Main Bridge to get to the narrow, winding streets of the old city. A fortress sits above hills of vineyards and church spires punctuate the skyline.
Then I entered the Würzburg Residence, a Baroque paradise. It looked like a palace but actually it had just been the main residence for the high-ranking church leaders of the Holy Roman Empire. Gold leaf adorned the walls, glass chandeliers hung over magnificent Rococo- style furniture, a grand staircase of gleaming marble rose from the main hall, and Italianate frescoes covered the ceilings. I felt like I was in the Palace of Versailles. Maybe it was a little smaller, but it was just as grand, just as ornate.
The beautiful town of Würzburg was a Nazi garrison town, with military barracks and training facilities. Enthusiastic Nazi rallies took place in the medieval town squares. On March 16, 1945, the RAF carried out an air raid that lasted 17 minutes. About 90 percent of the city, including the Würzburg Residence, was destroyed by the bombs they dropped and in the resulting firestorm. And 5,000 people were killed.
War-time photographs in the Würzburg Residence showed such destruction that restoration seemed impossible. Yet, in the 1940s – with much American help and a multitude of art historians, craftsmen and stonemasons – restoration began. It continued for 40 years, until, in 1981, the old city was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site. By 1950, artisans restored the old bridge to its formidable 15th-century Gothic form, even using some of the original huge stones. Without our guide, I would never have known what happened here.
COLOGNE
Our guide told us we would never get lost in Cologne if we just looked up. Towering above everything were the twin towers of the Cologne Cathedral. She was right. The towers soared 500 feet toward the heavens. They were never out of sight.
Then she told us that Cologne was one of the most heavily damaged cities in Germany during World War II (90 percent of the city center was leveled), but that the cathedral had survived because the Allied bomber pilots needed it for navigation. They didn’t bomb it because they needed it to know where they were. That was a nice story, and I wished it were true. Later, I found out the truth. It was hit 14 times. It was indeed damaged, but the cathedral’s robust structure was built from incredibly durable Gothic stones. It was not intentionally spared, but it survived anyway. Seeing those still-standing towers must have felt like a miracle to the people in Cologne in 1944.
Today, the town is bustling, lively, clean, and full of tourists. The buildings are a patchwork of medieval, Gothic, postwar modernist, and contemporary styles. Cologne did not try to recreate the pre-World War II city. With the help of the Marshall Plan, the political leaders decided instead to build modern buildings. They concentrated on infrastructure — roads, bridges and utilities. The most important old buildings were restored — the Cathedral, key churches, and a few Old Town facades. Today these historic buildings are right next to new modern blocks for commerce and living. I had never fully realized the complications, the controversies, and the effort required to rebuild a historic city that had been 90 percent destroyed by war. Many miracles occurred here.
IN CONCLUSION….
Each time we toured a city, I heard new stories, especially about a war that I previously thought I had understood. I heard about the people who supported the Nazis. Two of our guides told me that their grandparents considered the Americans who came in after the war to be “occupiers,” not “liberators” as I had been taught. These new perspectives kept surprising me.
I heard about living under communism. No one had anything good to say about that.
And everywhere I saw miracles of rebirth, of reconstruction, of making the old new again.
Each place called to us to come back. In these 15 days on the rivers, we had just had a taste, just the appetizers. We needed to stay longer to experience the rest of the courses. Maybe someday, with enough time, we could even find dessert.
Dining and Cooking