Curt, Me, and Hugh: A Travelogue



Hugh? Or maybe his unknown
brother, Herb?

Hugh Hefner was among the passengers on our Danube River cruise.

OK, not really, but this guy certainly was a reasonable facsimile. If he’d been sporting a bathrobe and had 20-year-old hotties hanging off him, it would have sealed the deal.

While Hugh was certainly a bit on the elderly side, it was apparent that the average age range skewed toward over-50 on this trip. One of Curt’s first observations at our welcome session: “We may be the youngest people on the boat.” This actually reveals more about the sorry state of our age-denial than about the age of the other passengers, because it didn’t take long to realize that a considerable percentage of those “old people” were about our age. That should have come as no surprise, as it’s not the sort of trip most people would take with young families. No, it’s the sort of trip that appeals to Curt and me: plenty of amazing sightseeing in foreign countries with all our creature comforts attended to by English-speaking crew members. Comfortable lodging, minimal packing and unpacking, great food and drink, and never having to worry about how much a liter of petrol costs.



Looking down at the village of Melk from the abbey

Though that doesn’t mean our trip was stress-free. Au contraire! Get this: We had to wake early so that we could breakfast on chocolate croissants (me) and sausages (Curt) before catching our scheduled tours of cathedrals and palaces (sorry to say I didn’t note what Hugh ate for breakfast). When shopping in the historic cities and villages, we had to cipher the dollar equivalent of euros. The weather was unseasonably cold and cloudy for October, requiring us to pile on unattractive, chub-inflating layers. And one time at dinner, the parmesan atop my tomato soufflé didn’t foam properly. Life can be cruel, can it not?

  

Our feet and legs were definitely tired at the end of each day, having roamed cobblestoned streets, climbed steps to monasteries perched atop cliffs, ambled through palace gardens, and gawked at castles. Having been bored by reading about these things in the history books—the wars, the invasions, the influence of the Church—it’s amazing how being there makes it all come alive and infinitely more interesting. So at the risk of boring my readers in kind, I’ll just skim over the highlights.


 

Inside the Melk Abbey Cathedral

 


Vista along the picturesque Danube Wachau Valley

 

Curt and me at St. Matthias Church, Budapest

Each day began with a tour of a different city. We began in Budapest, the city split in two by the Danube—modern Pest with its picturesque Parliament complex and Old City Buda with its massive hilltop castle complex. The next day we docked outside Vienna, where after the city tour (and a purchase of some Viennese chocolates) we toured Schönbrunn Palace, the ruling Habsburg family’s summer residence that employed 4,000 servants in its time. We cruised through scenic Wachau Valley, lined with villages, spires, ruined castles, vineyards, and ended up the next day at Melk, Austria, home to a 900-year-old abbey with a library of medieval manuscripts and a baroque cathedral. We then entered Germany, with our first stop in Passau, the City on Three Rivers, where we attended an organ concert in rococo-style St. Stephan’s Cathedral featuring a 17,000-pipe organ. Next was Regensburg, a fabulously well-preserved medieval city that escaped World War II bombing with its 12^th-century stone bridge and stained glass cathedral. Regensburg is also where Curt purchased his most prized souvenir, a rabbit-hair fedora, from Europe’s finest hatmaker (which also made a hat for the Pope for his 80^th birthday).

That afternoon the sun finally made an appearance, and we had an excursion to a seventh-century monastery, Weltenburg Abbey, with stunning views of the Danube River Gorge. After a tour of its ornate cathedral we enjoyed beer and pretzels from the on-site brewery, founded in 1050. Back on the ship, we entered the canal system and made our way upriver through 20-some locks to Nuremberg, where we ended our trip. This city is famous for its WWII Nazi rallies and was heavily bombed; it was rebuilt with every effort at maintaining 13^th-century authenticity. There we shared a table in a lively biergarten with two elderly German ladies who spoke no English.

Each evening we enjoyed a cocktail hour back on board, followed by a wonderful multi-course dinner accompanied by fine wines, and then music and dancing. With just 150 passengers, we met some wonderful people who enhanced the whole experience. In the “small world” department, we met a couple from Wheaton, Illinois, the city in which I work and is just down the road from our home; and a woman who taught elementary school in Ankeny, Iowa, back when Curt and I were both in high school, and who knew many of our teachers.



Fortunately, all was quiet on the terrorist and toxic sludge fronts. We fell a little short of my goal for the trip of getting in plenty of QAT*, but we did make it to the hot tub once. Considering we came home with vastly broadened horizons, an extra pound around the middle, and a pope hat, I’m calling it a winner. 

*Quality Ass Time; see October 14 post