Along the Currents: Waves of the Danube – Viking River Cruise to Famous Cities and Towns (Part 1)
“There are only two kinds of journeys: one is solely to reach the destination, so life then becomes nothing but two points, birth and death; the other is to turn your gaze to the scenery and encounters along the way, and then your life will be rich.”
— Milan Kundera
Europe’s beauty has many possibilities, and there are many ways to explore this land. This time, I split the trip into two parts. The first part was our beloved self-drive trip, and the second part would take me back to European soil aboard a Viking river cruise, following the meandering Danube deep into its heartland, collecting the beauty scattered among stunning little towns and deep river valleys.
This “cruise” is not the same as previous ones—those in Spain and Italy were ocean cruises, while this is a river cruise. They differ greatly in scale, facilities, and style. When most people think of a cruise, they picture a giant ship sailing the ocean with thousands of passengers. But this time, the ship is small and exquisite, only three decks high, sailing through Hungary, Slovakia, Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic, and other Central and Eastern European countries, following this most poetic and tranquil river to witness the stories of Europe.
1. Our trip was divided into three parts. We flew from Beijing to Prague, rented a car upon arrival, and drove south for five days until we reached Budapest, Hungary (returning the car in a different city). We then boarded the Viking cruise for an 11-day Danube journey, ending in Passau, Germany. After disembarking, we took the cruise company’s bus back to Prague, concluding the cruise portion. In Prague, we wandered freely for two days before flying back to Beijing. The detailed itinerary:
DAY 1: Beijing – Prague, Czech Republic (airport) – Kutná Hora – Litomyšl – Olomouc
DAY 2: Olomouc – Kroměříž – České Budějovice (CB town)
DAY 3: České Budějovice (CB town) – Hluboká (White Castle) – enter Austria – Hallstatt
DAY 4: Hallstatt, Austria – Melk Abbey – overnight in Slovakia (Belá)
DAY 5: Belá, Slovakia – Štúrovo – enter Esztergom, Hungary – return car in Budapest, board the Viking cruise.
2. Cruise route map:
DAY 1: Budapest (Hungary) – guest arrival day.
DAY 2: Budapest (Hungary) – full-day city tour.
DAY 3: Bratislava (Slovakia) – full-day city tour.
DAY 4: Vienna (Austria) – full-day city tour, evening opera concert.
DAY 5: Cruise through the Wachau Valley, visit Göttweig Abbey, wine tasting.
DAY 6: Český Krumlov (CK town, Czech Republic) – evening dock at Linz (Germany) pier, free time ashore.
DAY 7: Passau (Germany) – full-day city tour.
DAY 8: Passau, Germany – Prague (Czech Republic).
3. Two days free wandering in Prague, then fly back to Beijing.
Czech Republic, this former socialist country, is a holy land for artsy youth—Prague—and the beloved Bohemian style among fashionistas. A brief glimpse years ago left an unforgettable impression, and stepping back onto this longed-for land still gave me a little thrill.
We arrived at Prague Václav Havel Airport at 6 a.m. The car rental company opens at 8, so we had coffee at the airport to wake up and happily planned the day.
When the office opened at 8, we were the first to pick up our car. We got a brand-new Czech classic—the latest Škoda. The odometer showed only 1,500 km. It was sparkling new inside and out!
Outside the capital Prague, the Czech Republic’s highlights are hidden in its medieval towns, which are scattered at varying distances from each other. The best way to string them together is a self-drive trip. Off we go, ready to explore the beauty along the way!
The weather wasn’t great, with a constant drizzle. We drove about 72 km south of the city to Kutná Hora, a beautiful small town listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site. I’d been there on a European self-drive five years ago, but I couldn’t bear to just pass by. We got out to stroll—a revisit, after all.
Kutná Hora lies in central Bohemia. It was founded in the early 13th century after silver was found in the Kutná Hora mountains. The town grew and developed with the silver mining industry and became famous across Europe. Many architectural masterpieces symbolizing the city’s prosperity and glory sprang up. It was once immensely splendid, even becoming a royal city.
Wealth from silver mining made the nascent Kutná Hora rich overnight and influential. The mined silver was mainly used to mint coins for various European countries, and the city gradually became the second-largest in the Kingdom of Bohemia, where the king also resided.
The former Silver City, Kutná Hora, was one of Europe’s wealthiest cities. Here, you can admire architecture from different periods and styles, and among those enduring buildings, the splendor of the churches always takes the lead. The UNESCO-listed St. Barbara’s Church is unquestionably the city’s most sacred site.
I’d been here years ago but arrived too late; the church was closed, so I didn’t get to visit inside. This time, I was determined to make up for it.
Walking up the straight uphill road in front of the church (Barborská Street), you can see the distinctive spire of St. Barbara’s Church from afar.
On the left side of the road is a low wall lined with statues of saints; on the right is the old Jesuit college.
Stepping inside and looking up, the ceiling is a mosaic of floral patterns and various family coats of arms, like the world inside a childhood kaleidoscope—exquisite and mysterious, not overly ornate but elegant and dignified.
The church has a chancel, eight radiating side chapels, and a choir loft. What makes it unique is that it’s a church themed on silver mining. It preserves precious original medieval frescoes depicting silver mining, coin minting, and silverware crafting, recording the town’s golden days.
A few dazzling sunbeams slanted in through the windows. The sky finally cleared. It felt as if the divine sensed my devout heart, wanting to engrave this beautiful moment deep into my memory. Grateful!!!
The stunning large stained-glass windows are a major highlight. Unusually, they aren’t made with the typical glass mosaic technique; instead, oil paints were directly applied onto the glass, making the colors more vivid, the lines more delicate, and the depicted content richer and livelier.
The three towering, elongated spires, the massive net ribs, the intricately decorated rose window, and the 27 decorative pinnacles on the flying buttresses all combine to create an extraordinary, profound elegance—mysterious and dreamlike, a uniquely beautiful cathedral.
St. Barbara’s Church took five hundred years to complete. In every detail, you can feel the boundless courage and persistence of generations of builders. Five centuries of construction and dedication convey the power of faith. In terms of architectural aesthetics, some say St. Barbara’s is a masterpiece of Gothic churches, like a nocturne is to Chopin.
Another special aspect: It wasn’t funded by church collections but by the miners themselves. The frescoes and stained-glass windows depict stories from the Bible related to miners’ deeds, dedicated to miners’ patron saint—St. Barbara. A church with miners at its heart.
Legend has it that Barbara was an ordinary nurse in the church. Her devoted care won the miners’ deep gratitude. After she died, the church canonized her as a saint, making her the patroness of miners. The main figure enshrined is not the Virgin with Child but the statue of St. Barbara above. Traditionally, churches portrayed saints, nobles, and Biblical figures—architecture of the elite, leaving no place for laborers and commoners in church imagery. So, this is a church of the common people.
St. Barbara is the patron saint of silver mines, and the church is a gift to her. Thus, the miners are elevated to a grand setting. The reason this great building is classic but not luxurious lies in this difference between nobles and commoners.
Near the church is a great viewing platform with a panoramic view of the town. Before becoming the “Silver City,” this place was sparsely populated, mostly vineyards for wine. The serene, undisturbed scenery gently yet powerfully strikes your senses—a richly layered, colorful medieval panorama unfolds before your eyes.
No matter how the outside world changes, this place remains the same. On the platform, a couple was taking wedding photos, dressed in pure white wedding attire before the divine. That moment must be unforgettable for them. I silently wished that their love would always stay just as it is.
Speaking of the town’s past glory: it rose from silver and declined with it. In the latter half of the 13th century, its prosperity peaked, but that didn’t last long. As the silver mines gradually depleted, it began to wane. Yet during two centuries of bounty, people built a splendid medieval city with silver. While the prosperity faded, the dazzling architecture still bears witness to those poignant times.
After the mines were exhausted, Kutná Hora’s glory days ended, but the old town’s historical relics remain intact for posterity to trace its former brilliance.
Lunchtime: We found a small Italian restaurant with many customers in the town’s central square.
Their pasta was remarkably good.
Well-fed, we continued our journey to the next UNESCO destination, Litomyšl Castle, renowned for its Renaissance architecture. The roads were mostly two-lane country lanes.
Litomyšl, home to the castle, is a small town in central Czech Republic.
It’s compact and charming, not breathtakingly beautiful, yet famous worldwide because of one castle and one person. The composer of the timeless symphonic poem “Vltava,” Bedřich Smetana, the “Soul of Czech Music,” was born here.
The great musician composed this immortal masterpiece of world music while deaf. It incorporates the emotions and will of the Czech nation and has become a national symbol. The beautiful melody of “Vltava” has won everyone’s heart. Each year, Litomyšl hosts the Smetana Opera Festival in his memory.
The town’s landmark—Litomyšl Castle, a Renaissance aristocratic residence. Its cultural significance transcends borders and it was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999. Once a noble’s mansion, it’s now state property.
The Czech Republic issued stamps for Litomyšl Castle in 1958 and again in 2002.
The UNESCO-listed castle dates back to the late 10th century. It’s a classic Italian Renaissance style: large arcades, Baroque decoration, and classical frescoes—grand and exquisitely beautiful, hailed as “an architectural pearl.”
We arrived a bit late and could no longer go inside; we could only wander the courtyard.
This arcaded aristocratic residence and its dependencies have been preserved unchanged. This Renaissance arcade style, originally from Italy, flourished in 16th-century Central Europe. In short, Litomyšl Castle uniquely and fully showcases the architectural style that emerged during the European Renaissance.
A blend of classical and modern art: modern sculptures in the garden.
The castle’s exterior features sgraffito decoration with ‘envelope’ brick patterns. The grounds are huge, like a park, with ancient trees and lush lawns, but I prefer the French-style garden. The castle is an outstanding example of Bohemian Renaissance architecture—well worth a visit.
The whole town has a strong religious atmosphere.
The long, narrow main square is essentially a long street at the heart of the old town, lined with colorful Renaissance arcaded houses. The square developed along the old trade route by the river below the castle hill, stretching nearly 500 meters, with quaint shops and cafés.
Near the end of the square stands a statue of composer Smetana.
A good day starts with breakfast, but today’s weather was disheartening. Pulling back the curtains revealed grey skies and a drizzle. We’d stayed at a cozy little hotel between Litomyšl and Olomouc the night before. It was warm and welcoming with a nice breakfast.
After quickly finishing a full plate, we headed to Olomouc, a city in eastern Czech Republic on the Morava River—known as the “Baroque Rose.”
Entering Olomouc felt like the word “low-key.” It lacks the bustle, noise, and crowds of other cities, even though its cultural heritage is second only to Prague’s in the Czech Republic. Yet, foreign tourists are relatively few.
We parked and walked toward the city center square. Just a few steps in, we found a large, square courtyard that seemed like a government institution. In one corner was a very old church with a beautifully carved wooden door; an information plaque indicated it was a protected historical site.
In the center of the courtyard were many very fresh fruits and vegetables, clearly priced, with no one tending them—entirely on the honor system. People took what they needed and left money in an empty basket.
We followed the map to the city’s most important landmark, the 35-meter-high Holy Trinity Column, described by UNESCO as “one of the most outstanding examples of the Central European Baroque peak.”
From a distance, we saw a slender memorial column standing in a small square and excitedly circled it, snapping photos frantically.
After calming down and reading the plaque, we discovered this was the Marian Column of Olomouc—not the Trinity Column. And this square was a small one (Upper Square), not the main square. European cities are like that: squares within squares. Confusing!
It’s also a Baroque plague column, topped with a Virgin Mary statue, surrounded by eight saints at the base.
Olomouc also boasts several Baroque fountains themed on Greek and Roman mythology. In 2002, a modern fountain with a peculiar tortoise joined the ensemble, adding a lively, mythical touch.
Suddenly, a dark cloud rolled in heavily, heralding a downpour. We quickly ducked into a cake shop on the square.
All sorts of adorably shaped pastries—too exquisite to dare eat. After dithering, I settled for a more conventional raspberry cake. Not too sweet, it melted in my mouth. Delicious! I was grateful for the rain, otherwise I wouldn’t have taken time to sit quietly, watching the rainy street through the window, sipping fragrant coffee, and savoring the refreshing dessert. Everything happens for the best!
A little aside: Let me talk about Czech consumption (excluding crowded Prague). Spoiler for dinner location: another city not far away, Kroměříž. At the town’s top-rated restaurant, we ordered the famous local garlic soup, roast pork neck, and a steak. Total: €26. As for taste, even I, a die-hard fan of Chinese food, must give two thumbs up. Early to escape the rain, this shop: two coffees and cakes, total €6. The prices were incredibly fair. After that huge slice of cake, I had no appetite for lunch. I love this country—it’s truly a breath of fresh air in the Eurozone! Come spend in the Czech Republic, everyone! I guarantee you’ll spend without hesitation!
The rain stopped. Through a side street off the square we reached the heart of the old town: Horní náměstí. In the center is a combined Gothic-Renaissance building, the Olomouc Town Hall (Olomoucká Radnice).
From a distance, a giant tortoise appeared sprawled on the ground, with two little kids circling it to study if it was alive. Hehe!
By the clock tower on the north wall of the town hall is the world-famous Astronomical Clock, first documented in the 15th century. It’s one of the few astronomical clocks globally that depicts a heliocentric model. Every hour, as the chimes ring, the clock comes alive: twelve lifelike figurines emerge to strike the bell. Heavily damaged in WWII, it has been restored multiple times.
What we see now is the version restored during Czechoslovakia’s socialist era, symbolizing socialist ideals. The clock face mosaic is in the then-fashionable socialist realist style. Instead of the original twelve saints from the Bible, now proletarian and worker figures representing various professions dance and perform—very lively and cute.
The upper dial represents the celestial sphere and shows constellations, the sun, earth, planets, and zodiac signs. The calendar at the bottom indicates the Czech “name day.” In the Czech Republic, besides national holidays, every day of the year is associated with a personal name. People celebrate their name day on the date that corresponds to their name. Name days are as important as birthdays, a good occasion for exchanging gifts. Red lines on the calendar mark important dates of the communist regime, such as the birthdays of Stalin and Czechoslovak Communist Party leader Gottwald.
Towering over the square is the pride of Olomouc: the largest Baroque sculpture group in the Czech Republic, the Holy Trinity Column, built between 1716-1754, 35 meters high, with significant historical and artistic value.
Built in the 18th century to commemorate the end of the plague, it has since become the city’s symbol. The column’s ornate exterior and organic beauty truly deserve its UNESCO World Heritage status.
The design of the Holy Trinity Column is three-tiered. The top tier features a gilded Holy Trinity group. On the 10-meter mid-section, the Assumption of the Virgin group hangs—the gilded Virgin Mary is carried by two winged angels, bridging the divine and earthly realms. Elaborately decorated, each tier is surrounded by statues of six saints. The pedestal rises from a seven-stepped base.
From the base, you can ascend steps to the first level and pass through an archway into a small chapel inside. In 1754, when the column was completed, a grand Catholic thanksgiving ceremony was held in the square. The only female ruler of the Habsburg dynasty, the de facto ruler of continental Europe, Maria Theresa, and her husband, Holy Roman Emperor Francis I, personally attended and performed the first consecration in the chapel beneath the column.
Roaming cities across Europe, such scenes are familiar: commemorations of people and events, from tiny markers to grand monuments. Of course, we observe them with the benefit of hindsight, but everything has its trajectory of origin and development.
Beautiful buildings came into view one after another. Surrounded by cafés, ice cream parlors, and restaurants, with streets radiating everywhere, we followed the map through narrow lanes to the old town.
Olomouc’s old town is dotted with centuries-old buildings in Romanesque, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo, and other styles—a comprehensive anthology of European architectural history. It’s like walking through a vast architectural museum.
With reverence, we strolled along the quiet streets, absorbing Europe’s architectural beauty. No need to search; history meets the eye everywhere.
The Czech Republic isn’t just Prague; it’s also Olomouc, where history meets a future. Old Olomouc is also called a “university city,” with the highest density of university students in Central Europe—about 25,000 (the total permanent population is only around 100,000). Palacký University, founded in the 16th century, is the second oldest in the Czech Republic and is dubbed the “Czech Oxford.” University buildings are woven into the city’s fabric, integrated with residential blocks, so students are everywhere, giving the ancient city a youthful vitality.
Leisurely living is Europe’s main theme. The narrow streets form faded medieval pictures, with colorful trams gliding through, their historic facades bearing traces of time.
Information about Olomouc online is extremely limited. Many Chinese visiting the Czech Republic seem to skip it. The Wikipedia entry for Olomouc notes: “Despite its attractions, Olomouc has fortunately not been discovered and overrun by tourists like Prague, Český Krumlov, and Karlovy Vary.”
Olomouc also has a profound religious atmosphere. It became a diocese in 1063 and an archdiocese in 1777. Once one of two Catholic archdioceses in Czech lands, the St. Wenceslas Cathedral is a neo-Gothic cathedral built in 1107, the city’s most prominent religious building. Its tower is 100.65 meters high, the fourth-tallest building in the Czech Republic.
The cathedral has three towers and is named after Duke Wenceslas I of Bohemia. The façade is delicately carved. It was here that Empress Elisabeth (“Sisi”)’s husband, Franz Joseph I, was crowned Emperor of Austria; he reigned for 68 years. The cathedral gained renown from this, drawing many pilgrims.
Nobel Peace Prize laureate Mother Teresa (Blessed Theresa) also visited.
Adjacent to the cathedral is the Olomouc Archdiocesan Museum, specializing in religious art from the 12th to 18th centuries. Part of the Olomouc Museum of Art, it was once the palace of the Moravian archbishops. Today, half serves as a museum, the other half still as offices.
Children were listening to their teacher recount tales of the past.
Tranquil and distinctive is the impression Olomouc left me—no excessive embellishment or clamor, just a worldly, refined elegance and calm. Not the hottest tourist destination in the Czech Republic, but a city that shouldn’t be forgotten.
Onward we drove, racing across the vast Bohemian countryside. The feeling of a road trip was wonderful, thoughts drifting with the wind. I suddenly recalled the film and song “Bohemian Rhapsody.” The Bohemian style appears chaotic and unorganized yet is naturally formed; it rebels against norms, overturns traditions, and is romanticized, folkloric, diverse. Amidst beautiful chaos, it offers thrills; through sensory impacts, it liberates the soul. It’s neither unconventional nor merely individualistic—it’s the freedom and romance nurtured by the Bohemian black earth.
We passed a quiet little village with a beautiful church.
The village receded, just the church’s red spire remaining. A breeze stirred, and yellow flowers by the roadside swayed, a golden sea moving like ocean waves sweeping the land, a green field with golden billows rolling on and on, surging forward in waves. The fragrant scent and intense colors blended into a magical attraction that made me wildly rush toward them...
It was around three or four in the afternoon. The morning’s cake was long gone, and we urgently needed refueling. Checking the map, we saw we’d just passed a town called Kroměříž. But our stomachs were growling, so we turned the car around and sped into the small town.
Kroměříž’s central square isn’t large; you could pace its dimensions in a few steps. The aforementioned top-rated restaurant was right on the square. Total €26. What a treat!
Over dinner, I checked my phone and scoped out the area, discovering that Kroměříž has a beautiful castle and garden that is also a UNESCO World Heritage site, right next to the square.
Passing through this gate leads to the castle. This Baroque palace and gardens served as the summer residence for the archbishops of Olomouc. On this not-so-sunny autumn evening, it felt slightly bleak yet still elegant, exuding a lazy, luxurious air—an impoverished elegance, but elegance nonetheless.
We bid a hasty farewell to this little-known town and continued south. That night we stayed in the capital of South Bohemia—České Budějovice, also called “CB town” by Chinese. Golden sunlight broke through thick clouds, shining through the dancing leaves of roadside trees, casting dappled shadows on the undulating road. Hello sunshine, long time no see!
When mentioning the Czech Republic, it’s always tightly linked to Bohemia. And why does the Bohemian style always lead fashion trends? Where exactly is this so-called Bohemia?
Bohemia comes from the Germanic word, an old Central European toponym, geographically referring to the entire area within the former Czechoslovakia. Historically, the Czech lands were a melting pot of ethnic groups and a gathering place for the Roma. Today, Bohemia borders Germany to the west, Poland to the north, the historical Moravia region to the east, and Austria to the south, covering two-thirds of Czech territory. Of the country’s 10.3 million inhabitants, about 6 million live in Bohemia.
The free-spirited Roma people, with their freedom, rebellion, and unconventional ways, formed a life philosophy of pursuing freedom while coexisting harmoniously—a counter-traditional lifestyle during their wandering journeys.
Bohemian style is synonymous with romance, free-spiritedness, and passionate enthusiasm. If you can pull off the Bohemian look, you must be someone with a wild, freedom-loving heart.
By the time we reached České Budějovice, it was already pitch dark. Our hotel (the picture above is where we slept) was at the entrance of the old town. We dropped our bags and set out to explore the night.
Entering the town, an ancient church stood before us, looking even more mysterious and solemn under the dim yellow lights.
České Budějovice lies in the heart of the South Bohemian Basin. Many don’t know it, but mention Budweiser beer and almost everyone knows it. “Budweis” is the German phonetic rendering of Budějovice. The name Budějovice is a bit of a mouthful, so Chinese often call it “Budweis Town” or “CB Town.”
The Czech Republic is a major beer producer and consumer. Among its many beers, the most famous are Budweiser and Pilsner. The former became famous as the royal brew 500 years ago; the latter is one of the world’s oldest breweries. This is the authentic birthplace of Budweiser and also a beautiful, serene, and unassuming town.
The capital of South Bohemia, České Budějovice, is also a UNESCO-listed historic town with centuries of history. The town boasts two “bests”:
1. A huge rectangular square, measuring 133 meters on each side—Přemysl Otakar II Square, named after the Czech king. It’s the largest square in the country. “Largest” is relative, of course, in a small country like the Czech Republic; compared to China, even an average city square might be its equal.
2. In the square’s center stands a Baroque fountain over 20 meters high, the tallest in the Czech Republic. It’s called the Samson Fountain, based on the Biblical story of Samson slaying the lion, and has great artistic value.
Buildings around the square feature varied styles, ornate and exquisite, with richly colored facades—a mix of Renaissance, Baroque, and Gothic. Bohemian style is reflected not only in today’s fashion design but also in the countless architectural marvels across Czech lands.
On the west side, the Town Hall features four statues above its gate representing Justice, Courage, Wisdom, and Diligence. Imposing, with a tall tower soaring skyward.
In the northeast corner stands the Cathedral of St. Nicholas, alongside a 16th-century, 72-meter-tall clock tower, dark grey all over, known as the “Black Tower,” a city landmark. A golden clock face hangs on its outer wall. Climbing 225 steps to the top offers a panoramic view. Besides telling time, the Black Tower also served as a city fire lookout.
A city’s character always reveals itself in its nooks and crannies. We ducked into narrow alleys, searching for those subtle urban details.
By the way, walking through these winding alleys late at night, I felt no sense of insecurity. Strangers passing by always smiled.
Let’s get a classic photo of our hotel.
The town lies at the confluence of the Vltava and Malše rivers. The Vltava, mother river of the Czechs, winds around, adding charm to the ancient city.
Now, about that century-old, unresolved Budweiser beer feud. Even as a teetotaler, I knew Budweiser is an American brand but never knew this was its authentic birthplace.
As mentioned, medieval Czech lands were a melting pot. Besides the Slav majority, there was a deep-rooted Germanic presence, hence the town’s German name “Budweis.” Famous for its uniquely flavored, creamy beer, it proudly called its home brew “Budweiser”—the town’s most cherished name.
The founder of American Budweiser often came here on business in the late 19th century. He became enamored with the local beer, took the Bohemian recipe, and started production in the USA, even copying the name “Budweiser,” which became the world’s number one beer brand. This led to the century-old trademark battle. Today, American Budweiser can’t be sold in Europe; only Czech Budweiser is sold. Anheuser-Busch once tried to buy the genuine Czech Budweiser, partly out of atonement, but the Czech government refused.
For Czechs, Czech Budweiser has long surpassed the meaning of beer itself. To them, it’s part of Czech history and culture, a source of national pride. Czechs now often label it “Original Budweiser.”
Like many medieval city plans, the square is surrounded by municipal buildings, the main church, and the clock tower central to civic life. Nowadays, the square center often serves as a parking lot, but during markets or events, it becomes a gathering place.
The ground floors of surrounding buildings feature arcades similar to the “qilou” of Fujian and Guangdong, housing many shops, cafés, and ubiquitous pubs. If you tire of tourist-packed, overly commercial cities, come to České Budějovice. Experience authentic Bohemian culture and sit down to savor the city’s centuries-old glory.
The South Bohemian region of the Czech Republic is home to many medieval castles. Today’s important itinerary, and most anticipated, was the most beautiful castle in the South—Hluboká Castle, also known as the “White Stag Castle.”
Nine kilometers north of České Budějovice lies a lakeside town by a hill—Hluboká. The castle sits atop a hill there. We parked in the public lot and walked.
Near the parking lot was a vividly colored, elegantly shaped church.
Following the gently winding hill path, the view grew wider. At a bend, a Bohemian panorama unfolded, with the Vltava flowing quietly below. Gradually, lush trees replaced houses, and passersby became scarce. Stepping on thick fallen leaves and rounding the next curve, the white castle appeared like a dream.
This is a manorial castle, looking delicate and light. Originally Gothic from the 13th century, it was the private domain of the Bohemian king. In the 16th century, the German noble Schwarzenberg family took over and, over centuries, expanded, renovated, and decorated it with their immense wealth. It was remodeled into Renaissance, Baroque, and Neoclassical styles over time. In the 19th century, the lady of the house, returning from England, remodeled it in the neo-Gothic style inspired by Windsor Castle. After WWII, the castle was nationalized, becoming a prominent geographic symbol in the Czech heartland.
Approaching the gate, the first thing visible is the ornate copper coat of arms of the Schwarzenberg family, the second owners. Next to it is a peculiar door handle: an eagle fiercely pecking out a person’s eye. It’s said to represent the Schwarzenbergs’ campaign with the king against the Turks; the victim is a captured Turk—cruel, fierce, yet proclaiming the lord’s valor.
This is a defensive castle. The highest bastion is hexagonal; the front one is quadrangular with crenellations for watchmen and archers. The walls are thick stone, connecting various towers of different sizes and heights—the tallest is an eight-story clock tower. The castle has 141 rooms, about 30 open to visitors. Photography is not allowed inside.
Stepping through the heavy copper gate, the real wonder begins. Majestic, flawless deer antlers are embedded high on the walls, like proud knights overlooking future generations and subjects. The Schwarzenbergs were keen hunters, and the antlers from their quarry were used for decoration. Each set of antlers has a different crest, representing different family branches, with the name of a brave warrior inscribed beneath. Hence the nickname “White Stag Castle.”
The interior decorations are incredibly luxurious, with rich collections. There are Chinese porcelain, 16th-century tiles, Western paintings, Persian carpets, and various precious ornaments and items. The largest room is the library, holding over 12,000 rare books in five languages, many with parchment covers, extremely valuable.
At every turn, fierce little stone beasts bare their teeth, covered in mottled moss, as if about to leap out of their long hibernation—maybe also functioning as guardian spirits.
The castle is pure and beautiful. Over 700 years, through wars and many vicissitudes, there’s no hint of a princess-and-prince fairy tale. Instead, among the mighty antlers, you glimpse battlefields, slaughters, triumphant celebrations, and final laments.
Stepping to medieval notes into a Bohemian painting, we bid farewell to the most beautiful castle and headed to our next goal. This pace felt rushed, defying our initial free-spirited intentions, but the more we learned, the deeper we were drawn. This small country, each town and castle holds a moving past. I admit I’m greedy, not wanting to miss a single highlight. The Czech towns did not disappoint. Even on a gloomy, rainy drive, the scenery sliding past the window was still intoxicating.
Goodbye, most beautiful castle of the Czech Republic. Finally, the skies smiled upon us—blue, blue sky, white clouds, the most brilliant colors before our eyes. One press on the gas pedal and we crossed the border into Austria’s Salzkammergut region.
The Salzkammergut is a region of overlapping mountains and glittering lakes. Driving past Lake Traunsee, having not seen clear skies and blue water for days, I couldn’t resist pulling over for a few shots, even though I knew more beautiful sights awaited.
The rare good weather got the kid excited, doing somersaults—quite agile! Hehe!
This area was royal domain, a favorite holiday and hunting ground for nobles and royals since the Middle Ages. The movies “Sissi” and “The Sound of Music” were filmed here.
The lake water is clear and deep blue, all meltwater from the Alps. The water quality is superb and drinkable. The English poet Coleridge said, “Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” At least here, you can drink it.
The waters of Lake Attersee show different colors from near to far, from crystal clear near the shore gradually transitioning to gem-like green. Sitting by the lake, a gentle breeze blows, and everything relaxes, surrounded by a vast expanse of lake and mountain scenery.
Someone once said a thousand-person town stuns the world, like a postcard from heaven, a textbook of European town scenery. It is the classic poster child of Austrian tourism, today’s ultimate goal: a lake, a town, a paradise—Hallstatt.
Nestled deep in the mountains, Lake Hallstatt is the most spiritual among the Salzkammergut lakes. Surrounded by peaks over 3,000 meters, it has a natural barrier, giving it an otherworldly aura. The lakeside village of Hallstatt sits between towering green mountains and the gem-like lake—not with grandeur, but with ethereal tenderness.
Fairytale-like old wooden houses are everywhere. Even hidden in this secluded, idyllic nook, its stunning beauty can’t be contained. If fairy tales and paradise on earth truly exist, they must be here.
Hallstatt is one of Austria’s oldest towns, with thousands of years of history. Compact hotels and houses climb the hillside from the lake, and the quaint alleys are crowded with visitors.
The Protestant church on the small market square is Hallstatt’s most famous building, its steeple visible from every corner.
As far back as 2500 BC, a highly developed human civilization existed here; it’s even identified as the cradle of the European Iron Age. It’s also a “salt treasure trove.” Salt mining drew the first inhabitants. There are the world’s oldest salt mines, where ancient Celts extracted their “white gold” – rock salt. Salt mining not only fueled the economy but added profound cultural value. To this day, the salt mines are still active. Visitors don protective gear, and a guide takes them on a rail cart deep into the chilly salt tunnels.
The town nestles between mountain and water like a graceful ribbon winding between lush forests and the emerald-green lake. Various small wooden houses perfectly adorn the lakeside and hillside, with boats gliding gently and swans playing merrily.
What’s most commendable: the huge economic benefits from booming tourism haven’t made the town superficial. It retains a natural and simple commercial atmosphere. No hawking vendors or tour guides, no haggling noise. Everything remains clean and peaceful.
The town has barely a thousand residents. They love to cover windowsills and balconies with lush climbing plants, blooming flowers dotting the cascading green like a waterfall. Every corner is a delightful sight. Wandering slowly up the winding, narrow lanes, I soaked in the serene atmosphere and the ubiquitous vitality.
Nearby, cheers and songs reached us; a few young lads and an older gentleman were having a friendly competition, with a crowd—friends or strangers—egging them on. It was a joyful scene.
Another small group was drinking, singing, chatting. Happiness truly can be this simple!
I spotted a good-looking guy, undeniably artsy, with unruly shoulder-length blond hair and a gentle, slightly shy smile that’s disarmingly charming. Hehe, I acted like a total fangirl!
Whether it was passersby chatting happily or the silhouette of an elderly person in an alley, everything felt warm, familiar, and tender.
Roaming aimlessly through the streets, simple joy is the way of life here. I think it’s also a dream for many people today.
A writer once said, “This world appears noisy, filled with all kinds of people, a mix of good and bad, but essentially, it’s still your own world. If you are clear, the world is clean; if you are simple, the world can’t be complicated. If you don’t compromise your integrity, the world holds no ambiguity.”
Strolling through, waves of flowers greeted me endlessly. Wooden doors, lattice windows, flowers in full bloom. Every window is decorated with colorful flowers. At least one window of each house faces the emerald lake, quietly maintaining an elegance that has lasted millennia. Here, I encountered every kind of beauty.
The town is really tiny—you can walk from one end to the other in about ten minutes. Precisely because it’s small, every view is unique and unrepeated. You can also rent a small boat to paddle on the lake, drifting between green mountains and clear waters, and admire the ancient buildings along the shore from all angles.
Many places in town rent boats: electric, pedal, and rowing boats, with prices varying by type.
Actually, spending a night in the town would be perfect—to see it in the early morning and at night. But space is extremely limited and parking is a big problem, so we searched for a nearby ski resort hotel nestled in a mountain valley. A perfect pastoral idyll and another pleasant surprise.
During ski season, this hotel is fully booked, but now in the lowest season, the rates were quite attractive.
In this rapidly changing, overwhelming world, it seems the tentacles of worldly chaos have not yet reached here. Everything is as it always was. In the illusion of time rewinding and the outside world ceasing to exist, one can almost easily grasp a sliver of pure peace, letting everyone listen to their heart and feel grateful for the beauty of life.
The hotel breakfast room: open the door and you step right into the most pristine pastoral landscape to revel in nature.
The hotel is a solid wooden structure, and the rooms have multiple beds, convenient for family trips where everyone comes together.
Opening the window in the early morning, another gloomy day. The moist air, fragrant with grass, drifted in gently. The thin mist enveloping the village was gradually dissipating. Lush greenery stretched endlessly. In the distance, gentle hills, lush meadows, and undulating mountains offered a tranquil peace. Everything was so pure and silent.
After breakfast, we drove back to Hallstatt. Today’s plan was to visit the oldest salt mine.
Hallstatt not only has peerless scenery but is also a famous salt-producing area in Austria. Salt mining began as early as 900 BC. The discovery of salt is what gave birth to Hallstatt, hence the nickname “salt treasure trove.” Salt was an extremely precious resource then, bringing prosperity and wealth to the town.
At the town entrance square, a statue of a salt miner carrying a large wooden salt barrel commemorates the early inhabitants who brought the golden age and the legend of salt.
You can also take the funicular for a panoramic view of the whole town.
Street breakfast stalls had opened, wafting irresistible smells.
We went to the tourist information center to ask about the salt mine tour. The staff apologized, saying it was canceled due to expected heavy rain. They suggested visiting the Bone House (charnel house).
Standing by the lake, leaning on the railing, the early morning village exuded an even more ethereal, reclusive aura. Misty houses, swans gliding gracefully on the dark green lake, an occasional flat boat—the ripples spread. It felt like standing at the edge of a dream, so hazy and unreal.
Winding up the lakeside path, the church bells echoed through the valley. Flower-adorned wooden huts drew you into a painting.
The Bone House is on the hillside not far from the small central square. The entrance is small and easy to miss. The compact area includes a Catholic church, a cemetery beside it, and the charnel house behind the cemetery.
The charnel house interior is only about 20 square meters. Shelves facing the entrance are filled with skulls painted with different designs, with neatly stacked limb bones below.
Due to thousand-year-old traditions, the town developed a unique custom: ten years after burial, the deceased’s bones are exhumed by relatives to make room for “newcomers.” Why this custom? Because this prime location is too precious, too limited.
After cleaning, only leg bones and skulls are kept. After weeks of sun-bleaching, a professional ossuary artist delicately paints the skulls with the deceased’s name, date of death, oak leaves and laurels symbolizing glory and victory, evergreen ivy full of life, roses for love, snakes for death, and crosses for divine salvation.
These now artfully decorated pieces are displayed in the ossuary for posterity to pay respects. Besides solemnity, there’s a special warmth. It is said this custom has over 1,600 years of history.
The cemetery is a small platform extending from the hillside outside the church, about 30 square meters, with trees, flowers, and tombstones. In Chinese terms, resting in such a blessed spot should bring fortune to descendants.
The graves, bones, skulls gave me no sense of gloom or fear, but rather the serene beauty of autumn leaves. Standing there felt like a profound spiritual cleansing. The value of life seems extended through these “skull artworks.” Eastern and Western attitudes toward death are starkly different ideologically. One seeks ancestral blessings in another world; the other is remembered and missed in this world...
“We were once what you are now; you will become what we are now,” reads a profound inscription at the church door, encapsulating the cycle of life and death...
This place is almost cut off from the world: no airport, train station, or major dock—just a tiny bus depot. Despite being in central Austria, getting here isn’t easy. Perhaps that’s why the town has preserved its thousand-year-old appearance.
“A few days in the mountains, a thousand years have passed in the world,” this phrase best captures the town.
Back on the road, continuing Austria’s classic pastoral symphony. The rain grew heavier. Tomorrow is boarding day, so now we head toward Budapest, Hungary, planning to stay in Slovakia tonight.
We’ve entered the most beautiful stretch of the Danube in Lower Austria, the town of Melk. In the film “Sissi,” the princess traveled down the Danube from her native Bavaria to Vienna to marry Franz Joseph; the last stop before arrival was Melk. In this town of fewer than 5,000 people stands what people call “the most beautiful monastery in the world,” and its library is hailed as one of “the most beautiful libraries in the world.” For nearly a millennium, it has been the spiritual and cultural heart of Austria.
In 976, Leopold I of the Babenberg dynasty was the Count of Melk. He built a rather splendid “Melk Castle” on the rocky outcrop high above the Danube as his residence. In 1089, Leopold II donated the castle to the local Benedictine monks, and it was converted into Melk Abbey (Stift Melk) for monastic life and preaching. For centuries, it was the highest theological college in Austria.
Note: The Benedictines are a monastic order founded by Saint Benedict of Nursia in the early 6th century, one of the oldest Catholic orders.
Walking from the parking lot along the road outside the abbey, you first pass an impeccably manicured English-style garden as precise as a meticulous painting, with a pink Baroque garden pavilion that now serves as a visitor restaurant—a place for a quiet, sumptuous meal or refined afternoon tea. Inside, the restaurant is covered in exquisitely imaginative hand-painted frescoes, a bit like Eden.
The entire complex’s exterior is a distinctive yellow. It’s said the abbey received Habsburg support, becoming an imperial residence, and this striking yellow was the favorite color of Empress Maria Theresa, known as “Theresian Yellow”—the same color as Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna.
Through the gate and antechamber is the Prelate’s Courtyard, a quadrangular courtyard surrounded by magnificent Baroque buildings. In the center is an old fountain. From here, you can see the abbey church’s dark green Baroque dome.
I’m not a religious person. I detoured here because of an award-winning older film, “The Name of the Rose,” starring the ever-charming Sean Connery. Based on the novel by the great Italian semiotician Umberto Eco, the story was inspired by a manuscript left by a 14th-century German monk at Melk Abbey. In 2018, it was adapted again as a series by Jean-Jacques Annaud, director of “The Lover.” Having watched everything, how could I miss the place that inspired this great novel and film?
So, let’s enter Melk Abbey, which completely overturns the bleak, austere image of a monastery. Unfortunately, indoor photography is entirely prohibited, and staff closely watched those of us with cameras. However, while the guide was passionately explaining, I quickly snapped a few with my phone (hence these very precious indoor photos), my heart pounding. I promise never again!
Walking through the Prelate’s Courtyard, we came to this predominantly pink corridor and ascended the Imperial Staircase—elegant and warm in tone.
Entering what I consider the most awe-inspiring place: the library, a UNESCO World Heritage site, a divine presence in the library world. It houses nearly 100,000 medieval manuscripts, all priceless treasures covering subjects at the pinnacle of medieval science: religion, philosophy, psychology, medicine. Its prestige and academic value are immeasurable. Calling it a supreme temple of human letters is no exaggeration.
I heard from the staff that in the mid-18th century, the abbey urgently needed massive funds for renovation. Selling just three manuscripts could have raised it, but no one dared commit such a sacrilege. In the end, Empress Maria Theresa of the Habsburg dynasty provided generous support, funding the complete renovation that preserved it to this day.
The library has 12 rooms with nearly 100,000 books and manuscripts. The most precious are scriptures hand-copied by monks a thousand years ago. Stepping into the hall, it’s nothing but awe and more awe. Rows of neatly arranged ancient works make you truly feel the boundlessness of the sea of books.
Throughout history, the abbey has been a bastion of learning, only for those dedicated to theological study and a religious vocation. It continues as a premier world-class theological college with over 900 students. Even today, it’s common to see black-robed monks.
Following the tour route out of the library, you reach the large terrace on the second floor, offering views of the majestic abbey church towers, the beautiful Wachau Valley, and Melk town.
The panoramic view from the terrace is excellent, overlooking all of Melk and the Melk River, a tributary of the Danube. The Church of the Assumption on the left is Melk’s landmark. It’s said the church exterior in “The Sound of Music” was filmed here.
If I didn’t already know, within my limited perception, I’d never imagine such a sprawling, palatial complex is an abbey. In the misty rain, Melk Abbey looked even more solemn and sacred.
From the terrace, you can photograph the abbey’s front. The central building is the abbey church, flanked by the Marble Hall and the library.
Passing from the library to the church through a spiral staircase—the highlight arrives. This nautilus-shaped staircase is a photogenic spot. Layers upon layers spiral infinitely, so luxuriously fantastical it makes you dizzy and gasp in surprise.
The spiral staircase seems bottomless, with a strong sense of dimension, elongating a space that isn’t actually vast. Looking up from the bottom, the people walking seem to be emerging from a painting.
Profoundly deep, it truly gives the feeling of infinite space and eternity. If there were a stairway to heaven, it must look exactly like this!
Still in awe from the staircase, I walked into the church and was stunned again. Exquisite, magnificent dome; intricate, splendid frescoes; ornate gilded saint sculptures cover every corner. Such a mix of colors, piled together yet orderly, feels like a meticulously orchestrated symphony—noble and sacred. I was completely blown away by this ultimate Baroque feast.
Numerous religious paintings by master painters, each priceless. Large frescoes cover the ceiling, each a masterwork of art.
The dome is richly woven with celestial beings, shining upon the golden altars—complex but not cluttered, elaborate but not chaotic.
A large wooden clock from 1810 in Melk records the centuries the abbey has weathered.
Melk Abbey is also a museum with 11 rooms of religious artifacts, housing many 17th- and 18th-century Benedictine historical items and treasures collected by successors—dazzling and far exceeding imagination.
Melk Abbey is the pinnacle of Baroque art fused with religion. Rome wasn’t built in a day. How did this historical relic achieve today’s glory step by step? Different moments string together forming complex history. This massive, cross-century, continuously completed work embodies the wisdom of countless world-class masters. This immortal Baroque pearl carries a vast repository of medieval civilization for today.
Isn’t the €11 entrance fee far better value than the exorbitant tickets for so-called 5A tourist attractions back home?
We bid farewell to Melk Abbey and dashed off, quickly leaving Austria for Slovakia. That night, we stayed at a castle hotel in Belá, Slovakia, near the Hungarian border.
There’s usually a staple in our European travels: staying at European heritage hotels. I highly recommend it as an experience not to be missed.
Note: Heritage Hotels of Europe is an alliance of hotel associations from various European countries, representing hotels created from historical and cultural heritage: castles, mansions, monasteries, etc.
We arrived after dark, making several phone calls and loops before finding the hotel’s “gate.” Calling it a gate is generous, especially on a pitch-black night.
Castle—a word that conjures mystery and fairy tales. It might be an ivy-covered gloomy castle, an ice queen’s pristine palace, or one perched on a cliff, solemn and deep with a magical aura.
In such a castle created by real royalty or nobility, in these rooms, I dreamt a fleeting princess dream. Sweet, half-awake dreams!
The village where this castle hotel is located is only 12 km from the Hungarian border. We had most of the day free to roam; we just needed to reach Budapest by evening to board. The picture below shows the gate we couldn’t find last night; even GPS got confused. The gate is really too small—just wide enough for a small car.
Staying at this hotel was like being in a museum. After a night of wonderful dreams, I couldn’t stay in bed too long, getting up early to explore the many unknowns awaiting me. After a lavish breakfast in the exquisitely decorated dining room, I started wandering around.
They even have a smoking area outside the restaurant—so thoughtful.
The hotel restaurant serves traditional Austrian and Hungarian cuisine, with many ingredients from the castle’s own garden. Other large and small dining venues, from the Vinotheca wine room to private banquet halls and orangerie for grand celebrations and weddings, cater to all needs.
I began exploring this rural castle hotel. Rooms upon rooms, connected endlessly.
Here’s a lounge for guests to rest and chat. On a corner table is a guestbook where visitors from around the world can write. I ceremoniously added a few lines, hehe.
The castle is French Baroque. In 1780, a local noble built a small chapel, the castle’s original core. In 1834, Mr. Antal Baldacci from Corsica bought it and began major expansion, reaching its current size by 1874. To this day, the castle still serves as the town’s local church, hosting weddings and religious events.
The castle owner was an antique collector, possessing many valuable paintings, sculptures, furniture of precious wood, and even Asian art from afar. He used his life’s collection for this history-steeped hotel, placing them in different rooms for guests to appreciate up close. The picture above shows a real, life-sized elephant tusk, taller than me.
This is a smaller, more private lounge, perfect for calling a few close friends to chat about life, read, or have afternoon tea.
A reading room with many classics.
Regarding the castle’s story: In the many years following the French owner, the castle changed hands several times, always carefully maintained and well-preserved by successive owners.
In 1945, the socialist Czechoslovak government took it over, using it as a chemical plant, making it state property. In 1990, it became part of a national trust.
Not until 2000, when a descendant of Slovak nobility purchased it, was it restored in a way that maximized its original state yet personalized, transforming it into this hotel, opened in 2008, turning it into a place where history can be directly touched.
Wandering through rooms of different styles felt like a marvelous time-travel experience, a museum night, utterly delightful.
That’s the Heritage Hotels of Europe emblem.
The courtyard, shaded by ancient trees, was elegant and serene like a noble lady.
The historic castle hotel, nestled in the picturesque southern Slovak countryside, connects to endless rural fields at the back. You can fish in the lake, horseback ride, play tennis, stroll, or simply daydream—enjoying yourself in the most comfortable way.
Looking far into the gentle hills, lush meadows, and undulating mountains—it’s all real, visible, and tangible. The pastoral serenity, so peaceful and beautiful, is tangible; the air is so fresh it seems sweet, with only the quiet rustle of the wind, letting you savor this loveliness alone.
They even have cute little rabbits—probably for the children.
Old walls, ancient trees, flowers all over the ground. Fragrant grass and gentle sounds. Such secluded tranquility seems always linked to romance. Strolling here with a loved one, let the shutter capture the marks of love amid the green grass and blossoms.
Roaming to the garden, with its fountain and archways, the compositions of humanity and nature are flawlessly beautiful. Without worldly distractions, you might wish to cast aside all else and elope here with your beloved.
Inside the hotel, corridors are filled with enchanting light and shadow, restored frescoes, and antique furniture—a blend of retro and refinement, with French classicism everywhere.
Across Europe, many castles and palaces slowly decay with time. To revive them, many national or private initiatives convert well-preserved, favorably located heritage buildings into hotels, with income used for maintenance and restoration. This is respect and continuation of culture; their protection of historical relics is an inherent genetic instinct.
A fairytale world may be distant, but castles are close. Mysterious, romantic, luxurious yet elegant, they hold fast to what should be kept, and change what should be changed. If you’re tired of cookie-cutter modern hotels, these places can transport your thoughts back to the distant past. Why not experience these breathtaking hidden gems and give yourself an unforgettable travel memory?
We headed straight for the border, passing the Danube border town of Štúrovo.
A winding path leads to the castle hill. The church tower’s profound historical ambiance makes one sigh at the years of hardship endured before the Danube finally enjoys this tranquility.
Strolling along the riverside borderline, the Maria Valeria Bridge spanning the Danube connects Hungary and Slovakia. One river separates two towns; one bridge links two countries.
The Maria Valeria Bridge, about 500 meters long, was built in 1895. Destroyed by German forces in WWII, crossing relied on ferries afterward. Due to historically strained relations between Hungary and Slovakia, the broken bridge remained unrepaired until 2001, when it was rebuilt with EU financial support.
Over the bridge is the Hungarian border town of Esztergom. This town holds special meaning for Hungarians. It’s the cradle of the Hungarian state: where the founding father, King Stephen I, was born and crowned. It was the capital in the early kingdom (until Béla IV moved the capital to Buda). The royal palace and castle have been destroyed by war, leaving only a basilica.
The basilica stands majestically on the Danube bank, facing the Slovak town of Štúrovo. After the main structure was completed, a grand consecration ceremony was held. The great composer Franz Liszt specially wrote his “Gran Mass” as an offering and personally conducted at the consecration. It is Hungary’s largest and highest-ranking church, the second-largest in Europe and fourth-largest in the world. Without stopping elsewhere, we went directly to this basilica.
The basilica is 118 m long and 40 m wide, rising 100 m from the crypt to the central dome, topped by a 7-meter golden cross. Commanding the center of Castle Hill, backed by the Danube, with 22-meter-high columns, people are dwarfed before its massive, imposing presence.
Unfortunately, for some reason the basilica was closed today, so we couldn’t visit inside. The world’s largest altarpiece—the Assumption of the Virgin—the world’s largest single-canvas oil painting, and the world’s largest high altar are inside this basilica.
Behind the basilica is a viewpoint next to the Danube. Standing on the damaged, fragmented granite wall, gazing into the distance, the Danube flows quietly below.
Here is the most beautiful bend of the Danube, where the river turns sharply at 90 degrees south toward Budapest. Across is the Slovak town of Štúrovo.
Next, we headed directly to Budapest. Today was the cruise check-in day. At noon, we had lunch with a friend working at the embassy. In the afternoon, we returned the car at the airport and boarded the Viking cruise ship in the evening, ready to embark on another wonderful journey.
As soon as we boarded and dropped our bags, I rushed to the banks of the blue Danube, taking photos until I was completely exhausted!
Meeting this city that makes my heart race with its beauty again felt like a dream.
Under the night sky, all the bridges over the Danube were fully illuminated, shimmering with light. The palace and Fisherman’s Bastion on the hill were draped in golden splendor, magnificent and proud!
Some say Budapest is one of the top three European cities worth revisiting. I truly returned, because... of its night!
At night, it’s also a favorite among the young, both tourists and locals...
