Another Damn Bus: When Our River Cruise Ran Dry.

Somewhere on a motor coach in Croatia, several hours after I’d lost track of how long we’d been sitting there, I realized something: I had become remarkably good at packing a suitcase. Three weeks earlier, I would not have considered that an essential European river cruise skill. But low water on the Danube had turned our cruise into a series of diversions, hotel stays, and ship changes. By day 19 of our European Sojourn, the trip had slipped from ‘great’ to ‘OK.’ The ‘see what comes your way today’ adventure had become the grind of international travel. This was the ugly side of diversion. We started at a hotel in Budapest: luggage outside the room by 6:30 a.m., breakfast at 7:00, and onto the bus at 8:30 for a 260-mile ride through Croatia and into Serbia. There, we would board our third—and final—look-alike Viking longboat. A bleak, overcast day wasn't doing its part to improve either the scenery or our enthusiasm.

What made the day harder to swallow was my understanding that a more direct route could have shortened the trip. Instead, we traveled through Croatia, stopping briefly for lunch. Croatia had been part of the cruise from the beginning, but low water had eliminated our chance to actually visit by boat, along with all the excursions we'd expected to take. Now, ironically, we were traveling through Croatia anyway, just nowhere near any of those places. Technically, yes, we'd been to Croatia. But adding time to an already grueling transfer just to keep it on the itinerary struck me as a bit ludicrous.

Then there were the two border crossings.

•  Checkpoint 1, Hungary to Croatia: No passport control. Both countries are in the Schengen Area, so we drove straight through.

For those who don’t know—I didn’t either until this trip—the Schengen Area is a group of European countries that allows travel across their shared borders without routine passport checks. 

•   Checkpoint 2, Croatia to Serbia: Full passport control. All 48 of us got off the bus, passports in hand, to be checked out of the Schengen Area. Then we climbed back aboard, drove less than a quarter mile, and stopped again for Serbian border officials to review our passports for entry.

The border crossing added another hour to an already long ride. After battling rush-hour traffic, we finally reached our next Viking longboat around 6:30 p.m. And we were the lucky ones: ours was the first bus to arrive. Others spent more than 90 minutes at the border as buses backed up. By then, I was wondering aloud how a 23-day river cruise got me here.

Lunch in Stephansplatz

Just four days earlier, we’d been sitting at an outdoor café in Vienna’s Old Town on a sunny afternoon. Now this was what European travel was supposed to feel like: good food, people to watch, and beautiful architecture. No suitcase. No motor coach. Nobody announcing tomorrow’s revised departure time. Vienna may be the “City of Waltzes,” home to Strauss and Mozart, but oh, it’s not just about the music. Nay, nay. At Stephansplatz, the heart of the Old Town, St. Stephen’s Cathedral drew our eyes upward to its soaring spire and colorful tiled roof. From there, we wandered along the Graben, a broad promenade lined with grand historic buildings and elegant shops, then over to Kohlmarkt, with its luxury storefronts and the famous pastry shop, Café Demel. Four days later, sitting on that bus, Vienna already seemed a world away.

St Stephens Cathedral double-headed eagle, which was the imperial coat of arms of the Habsburg-ruled Austrian Empire.

And because one memorable European e-bike adventure apparently wasn’t enough, Judy and I decided Vienna deserved one too. This time, however, we weren’t just riding around the city. Our route took us along the Danube and out into the countryside toward Klosterneuburg Abbey.

Johnny & Debbie, Julie & Richard Judyy & Steven at Klosterneuburg Monastery

Now, dig this: the abbey isn’t just a historic building. It’s still a working monastery, home to an active Augustinian community, and wine has been produced there since 1114, making it Austria’s oldest continuously producing winery. We visited the Imperial Edifice and Treasury, surrounded by centuries of religious and royal history. But the story isn’t all sacred treasures and imperial grandeur. There’s winemaking, too. Monks, Habsburgs, and wine. Now that’s quite a combination.

Durnstein Castle

Somewhere in all of this was Dürnstein, Austria. I know this because I have exactly two pictures to prove we were there, which, considering I routinely come home from an afternoon excursion with enough photographs to document a congressional investigation, pretty much speaks for itself. One of those two is of the beautifully ornate blue-and-white tower of Dürnstein Abbey, which rises above the Danube and has become something of a landmark of the Wachau Valley. Apparently, I saw what I needed to see, took my two pictures, and called it a day.

Lady Liberty Statue, Budapest, Hungary

And then, as I had done so many times before, I packed the bags for another transfer, via, you guessed it, motor coach, from Vienna to Budapest. Somewhere along the way, however, I picked up an unwanted souvenir from one of my fellow travelers: a blooming head cold. By the time we pulled into the parking lot atop Gellért Hill, I was starting to feel pretty lousy. Still, the chance to escape the bus was enough motivation to rally, and boy, I was glad I did. After a short walk uphill, Budapest suddenly opened up below us. From roughly 750 feet above the Danube, I could see the river slicing through the city. What I hadn't really appreciated before seeing it from above was that Budapest grew from separate cities. Buda, Pest, and Óbuda were joined together in 1873, and from up there you could actually see why the names still matter: hilly Buda on our side of the Danube and flatter Pest on the other. The view was spectacular. And there I was, staring across one of Europe’s great cities while desperately searching my pockets for something, anything I hadn’t already blown my nose into. I eventually claimed a bench beneath Budapest’s Liberty Statue, the enormous bronze woman holding a palm leaf above her head. The monument was unveiled in 1947 with strong Soviet symbolism, but after communist rule ended, that imagery was removed. Today it honors those who sacrificed their lives for Hungary’s independence, freedom, and prosperity.

Saint Stephens Basilica, Budapest, Hungary

The surrounding Citadella was actually built by the Habsburgs in the 1850s, although it certainly didn’t look that old. A major restoration completed in 2026 had given the historic fortress an almost brand-new appearance. Sadly, Budapest was looking considerably better than I was. By the time we reached the hotel, my cold had taken over. I spent much of my remaining time there alternating between doing laundry and lying in bed feeling miserable. Ah, the glamorous life of international travel. I couldn't blame Budapest, though. I’d simply gotten sick at exactly the wrong time, and I left feeling like I’d barely scratched the surface. I hope to someday go back and finish what I started.

 

And somewhere in the middle of all this, something completely unexpected happened. At my son’s suggestion, I had recently started fooling around with Instagram. It seemed that many of my previous 82 blog posts had already become fodder for AI bots scouring the blog for travel information, so I figured, why not? By chance, I recorded and posted a short reel showing the long line of Viking passengers heading for yet another motor coach because our ship couldn’t take us where we were supposed to go. Nothing particularly glamorous. No stunning European cathedral, beautiful sunset, or carefully composed travel photo. Just the reality of what our river cruise had become. Twenty-four hours later, that little reel had been viewed more than 25,000 times. A week later, it had blown past 100,000 views, with more than 600 likes, along with shares and new followers I certainly wasn’t expecting. Go figure. We’d traveled thousands of miles to see some of Europe’s most beautiful places, and apparently what people really wanted to see was us getting on another damn bus. Maybe that’s fitting. The beautiful parts of travel are easy to show. But sometimes it’s the unexpected, inconvenient, and downright ridiculous parts that make the better story. And now you know… the Rest of the Story.

By the way, if you want to see the video portions of this blog please see us on Instagram. Follow the link @couplescoachs23

Castles, Canals, and Unexpected Currents: Squeezing Through Scenic Germany.

Our European Sojourn River cruise finally had us doing what we’d come for: watching the scenery slip by from the water.

W14' Lock @ Würzburg, Germany

We weren’t on the Rhine as promised, but we were on a river nonetheless—and it was nice to settle into our third-deck stateroom and enjoy the view. Compared with our ocean cruises, this felt more intimate, with far fewer passengers. Viking called our situation “Full Diversion” mode, sending us upstream on the Main from Frankfurt. The Main stretches 325 miles from the meeting of the White Main and Red Main near Kulmbach, Germany; 241 miles are navigable by ships our size. Our route climbed 483 feet to Bamberg, where we entered the historic Main-Danube Canal. Massive locks lifted us higher still, across the continental divide just east of Nuremberg at what is described as the highest navigable water point on earth. Eventually, we joined the Danube for our last two cruise stops: Regensburg and the impressive city of Passau. It wasn’t the route we’d anticipated, but at least we were finally enjoying a river cruise from the river.

I’d like to say we enjoyed the passing scenery not only from our stateroom but also from the top deck, just one level above us. Unfortunately, the top deck was closed for this 241-mile portion of the cruise. Instead of sipping local wine topside, we watched the scenery drift by from the Aquavit Terrace, the lounge, or the ship’s side windows. Why was the deck closed? There was a good reason: low bridges. The locks keep the water high and stable enough for ships to navigate, but that leaves very little clearance beneath some bridges. The Main River and the connecting Rhine-Main-Danube Canal have some of Europe’s lowest historic stone and concrete bridges, so nothing can be left on the top deck. Believe me, some of those bridges looked awfully close as we passed underneath. These longships even have a “sinking wheelhouse”: the captain’s bridge sits on massive hydraulic lifts that lower the entire structure into a recessed pocket in the deck as the ship approaches a low bridge. Down goes the wheelhouse, and under a 15^th-century stone arch bridge we squeeze.

Day Nine: Würzburg, Germany

Rococo Architectural Style of the Käppele Rooftop

We kicked off our day at the Käppele, a hilltop pilgrimage church that looks less like traditional Germany and more like an exotic fairytale, thanks to its onion-shaped cupolas. Our guide traced its history back to a simple fisherman’s shrine in 1640, though today it's a full-blown Baroque masterpiece. Gravity was our friend on the way down as we walked the monumental staircase, winding past terraced gardens and 14 station chapels filled with life-size stone sculptures.

Winding Terraced Garden with 3 Station chapels

We crossed the Alte Mainbrücke (Old Main Bridge) and zigzagged up the steep limestone terraces of the Marienberg Fortress.

We were literally hiking right through the working vineyards of the Bavarian State Winery, home to the local Silvaner white grape. Fun fact: they bottle this wine in short, flat, round green flasks called Bocksbeutels, which look delightfully like antique potion bottles. The fortress at the top dates back to the eighth century and was home to the Prince-Bishops from 1253 to 1719. Today, it houses the Museum für Franken’s collection of Franconian art and historical artifacts. A reward for our vertical hike was the terrace view—a spectacular, panoramic look across Würzburg with centuries of history behind us and a living wine tradition right underfoot.

After watching the Viking longship clear the 14-foot water lock at Würzburg, we ate a quick lunch on the ship, then headed back out to visit the Würzburg Residence. Apparently, the Prince-Bishops got tired of their drafty hilltop fortress and built a grand downtown palace meant to rival Versailles. The inside is jaw-dropping, featuring a massive staircase beneath a ceiling fresco so large that skeptics at the time predicted the roof would collapse (it didn't). It survived the 1945 bombings because the stone vaults held strong, protecting the art. From the glittering glass and gold of the Mirror Cabinet to the maze of wine cellars buried beneath all that luxury, there’s more here than words can capture. Keep an eye out for my Instagram video link below to see the rooms in action!

Spectacular, panoramic look across Würzburg, Germany 

Day Ten: Bamberg, Germany

Upper Bridge (Obere Brücke) & Old Town Hall (Altes Rathaus)

If you close your eyes and listen to the gentle rush of water against stone, you might temporarily forget you are in the heart of Upper Franconia. Walking through Bamberg feels remarkably like stepping into a medieval Venice. The Regnitz River splits and carves its way directly through the historic center, dissecting the town into a storybook patchwork of islands and pedestrian paths.

The best way to experience this fairytale landscape is simply to wander across its bridges. Standing on the iconic Upper Bridge (Obere Brücke), you get a view that looks entirely surreal: the stunning Old Town Hall (Altes Rathaus), which looks like it's floating right in the middle of the rushing river.

Just a short stroll away, the Lower Bridge opens up to Bamberg’s affectionate nod to Italy: Klein Venedig, or Little Venice. Here, a picturesque row of brightly colored, 15th-century fishermen’s houses stand shoulder-to-shoulder on wooden poles over the riverbank. Complete with tiny flower gardens, private moorings, and the occasional authentic Venetian gondola drifting by, it’s easy to see why this unique layout earned Bamberg its UNESCO World Heritage status.

Day Eleven: Nuremberg, Germany

Leaving Bamberg's storybook streets behind, we followed the Main-Danube Canal toward Nuremberg.

Imperial Castle of Nuremberg, Germany

Our introduction to the city came with a driving tour through the former Nazi party rally grounds. It was a striking experience to see those massive, sobering structures still standing, yet completely reclaimed by modern life, with locals jogging and playing sports in the surrounding public parks.

Tiergärtnertor Tower

Soon, the coach stopped beneath the medieval stone ramparts. We climbed the long, elevated ramp and walked through a tunnel into the Imperial Castle courtyard to see the Deep Well—an incredible feat of medieval engineering hand-carved 50 meters straight down into solid sandstone.

From the castle, we followed steep cobblestone paths past half-timbered houses, crossing the Pegnitz River into the bustling Hauptmarkt square. Looking around at the vibrant market, it was hard to comprehend that Allied air raids had reduced roughly 90 percent of this medieval center to rubble. Nuremberg chose to rebuild stone by stone using the original medieval blueprints. Knowing that the history we were walking through had been so painstakingly resurrected gave the lively city streets an entirely deeper meaning.

Overlooking the Lower City of Nuremberg, Germany

Day Twelve: Regensburg, Germany

Oskar Schindler Residence

Winding through Regensburg’s Old Town, we came face-to-face with an exceptionally preserved slice of medieval history. Unlike many major German cities, Regensburg escaped devastating Allied bombardment during World War II, leaving its Roman and medieval architecture remarkably intact. Among these streets, we discovered the former residence of Oskar Schindler, the industrialist who saved over a thousand Jewish lives. His brief stay here after the war added a poignant chapter of 20th-century history to our walk.

Stone Bridge (Steinerne Brücke)

Next, we wandered across the city’s most iconic landmark: the famous Stone Bridge (Steinerne Brücke). This masterpiece of medieval engineering has connected the Old Town with the Stadtamhof district for nearly 900 years, and it is still bustling with local foot traffic today. Gazing out from the river, our eyes were naturally drawn to the towering spires of Regensburg Cathedral (Dom St. Peter). This massive French Gothic masterpiece dominates the skyline, though it seems to be under perpetual restoration. We learned that generations of stonemasons have worked tirelessly to clean and repair the delicate limestone carvings from the ongoing toll of pollution and weather.

Day Thirteen: Passau, Germany

St. Stephen's Cathedral, Passau, Germany

Our morning walking tour in Passau wound through cobblestone lanes to St. Stephen's Cathedral, where striking green onion domes rose above a grand Baroque interior. Outside, the rivers told a more turbulent story. At the Old Town Hall, we studied the high-water marks recording past historic floods—a sobering reminder of how easily this center can disappear beneath the currents. Later, from a panoramic overlook, we watched the blue Danube, the alpine Inn, and the dark Ilz meet at the Dreiflüsseeck. Seeing three rivers, each with its own distinct color and current, collide below us was a remarkable view.

Then, we traded cobblestones for pedals. A 20-mile e-bike excursion carried us along sunny river paths as the green countryside unfolded around us. Crossing a pedestrian bridge straight into Austria gave the afternoon a fun international twist. Along the way, an outdoor beer garden offered the perfect pit stop for a cold beer, a warm homemade pretzel, and some sunshine. We looped back through a leafy riverside park, bringing a perfect mix of grand architecture and open-air adventure to a close.

Looking back, we found it amusing that almost every single stop on this portion of the cruise ended in either “-berg” or “-burg.” In German, Berg means a mountain or hill, while Burg means a castle or stronghold—a linguistic quirk that perfectly echoed the landscapes we explored. From Würzburg’s vineyard slopes and Nuremberg’s fortress to Bamberg’s waterways, Regensburg’s stone bridge, and Passau’s three rivers, this "diverted" route gave us far more than a change of scenery. We may not have cruised the Rhine as promised, but we left Germany with a priceless collection of memories. It was a beautiful reminder that the best part of a journey isn't always the route you expect, as we tell… the Rest of the Story.

By the way, if you want to see the video portions of this blog please see us on Instagram. Follow the link @couplescoachs23

Windmills, Medieval Wonders, and Unforgettable Days Along Germany’s Main River.

Walking to the Busses in Amsterdam

Quick question for all my readers: What do you call a European river cruise when the rivers are too low for much cruising? We signed on for an upbeat Viking adventure, imagining Europe drifting past our window—without maneuvering our behemoth GMC 3500 dually and fifth wheel through the narrow streets of Germany and the Netherlands. Instead, our elegant floating hotel stayed put, buses became our tow vehicle, and the trip began to resemble RV touring—minus our kitchen, closets, and comforts of home. We found ourselves living out of suitcases and heading off on daily excursions. So what does Viking become when the river refuses to cooperate? I called it a Boutique Riverfront Staycation—with Excursions—and, in true glass-half-full fashion, an entirely different European adventure. Enough said!

Kinderdijk Windmills

That “different kind of European adventure” began the next morning, when our river cruise took to the road. After a short walk to our motor coach, we rode 45 minutes to the nearly unpronounceable Dutch town of Kinderdijk—“Kinder-dike.” This UNESCO World Heritage Site has nineteen 17th- and 18th-century windmills standing amid a spectacular, water-woven landscape. Without its network of canals and pumps, this fertile region would be swallowed by the sea. The windmills were massive water pumps and remain operational backups to modern pumping stations. Judy joined a walking tour while I explored by e-bike, sharing the paths with helmet-free “Dutchies” who flew past like speed demons. Most amazing was how millers and their families lived inside these working machines. Only a small portion was usable living space, yet a family might include 10 or 12 children, tucked into tight quarters beside the great gears and machinery. Millers also maintained the canals, including the muddy job of “mucking them out.” Dodging locals while balancing my camera brought

E-Bike Ride through Kinderdijk

 an adrenaline rush, but those families gave me even greater appreciation for the ingenuity and toughness of the people who kept this land above water.

 

 

Act I: The Grueling Transfer To Frankfurt and the Heart of the Altstadt

Römerberg: Currently a City Building

That “Boutique Staycation” hit a jarring roadblock: a 452-kilometer (281-mile) motor-coach marathon from Amsterdam to Frankfurt that cost us a day to highway asphalt. By the next morning, however, the fatigue evaporated into a lovely Saturday. A walking tour through the Altstadt led us to the stunning Römerberg. Its crown jewel, the Frankfurter Römer, is a magnificent medieval complex with stepped gables that has served as city hall for over 600 years. The postwar reconstruction is staggering; among the ornate half-timbered facades, it is nearly impossible to imagine that this “parlour of the city” was flattened by RAF incendiary bombs in 1944.

 

 

Walking tour through the Altstadt

Act II: Live Music, Opera, and Silent Protests

Opera House, Frankfurt Germany

As the afternoon rolled in, the city truly woke up for the weekend, and we wandered over to the spectacular plaza surrounding the Alte Oper (Old Opera House). We completely lucked out and walked right into the energy of the Fratopia Festival, an incredible open-air event where live music echoed off the grand architecture and locals browsed a maze of vibrant stalls. Yet, just as we were returning to the ship for lunch, we encountered a quintessential piece of modern European culture: a rather large rally moving through the streets, touting a pro-vegan lifestyle. Then, at exactly noon, bells began ringing from the many churches in the area, adding to the cacophony of noise and excitement. We ultimately ended up marching right alongside the demonstrators as they headed back toward the Römerberg. By the time the rally settled into the main square, the area was absolutely mobbed with people, giving us a front-row seat to a city that is fiercely passionate, intensely alive, and beautifully chaotic.

Act III: The 328-Step Triumph

After lunch, we crossed the Main River via the iconic Eiserner Steg (Iron Footbridge), its steel cables weighed down by thousands of colorful lovers’ padlocks. We strolled along the opposite bank, taking in the skyline and Museumsufer (Museum Row), then looped back to Frankfurt Cathedral. Drawn by its red sandstone facade and vaulted Gothic interior, we paid 3 euros to tackle the famous spire. The breathless climb up 328 narrow, spiraling stone steps became a claustrophobic squeeze, forcing us to hug the cold wall to let others pass. Reaching the outdoor platform felt like triumph: a spectacular 360-degree panorama where medieval rooftops blended into glittering banking skyscrapers.

Frankfurt Skyline Across the Main River

Frankfurt Cathedral

View From atop Spire of Frankfurt Cathedral

Our whirlwind introduction to Frankfurt marked our fourth full day on this highly unconventional "cruise," and up until this point, our elegant longship had felt more like a permanent fixture of the concrete dock than a moving vessel. But after days of watching Europe through a tour bus window, the travel gods finally smiled upon us. As we sat down for supper, the hum of the ship's engines changed, the mooring lines were cast off, and the boat finally began to glide down the Main River, trading the highway for the waterways we had been dreaming of. Our destination for tomorrow? The storybook town of Miltenberg, a picturesque, medieval half-timbered gem nestled deep in the Franconia region of Bavaria—the largest and arguably most enchanting province in all of Germany.

Waking to the ship’s gentle movement was pure bliss. For once, no dreaded motor coach waited at dawn; our guides met us on the dock, and we walked straight into postcard-perfect Miltenberg. Nestled between the Odenwald mountains and the Main River, it escaped World War II bombing, preserving its centuries-old character. In the Schwarzviertel (Black Quarter), massive oak beams have shifted over time, leaving the half-timbered buildings beautifully warped and crooked. Yet Miltenberg has a cheeky side. We found the Staffelbrunserbrunnen, a fountain of three bronze boys gleefully peeing into a pool, each wearing a different expression. Nearby, a storefront displayed two artistic human pelvises—the man’s fitted with a water spigot, the woman’s with a heavy padlock. It was an irreverent surprise in an ancient town.

 

Oldest house, 1333, & uneven beams - Miltenberg, Bavaria

For all the grand architecture we looked up at in both Frankfurt and Miltenberg, the most impactful detail of the trip required looking straight down at the pavement. Our guide in Frankfurt first called my attention to the Stolpersteine, or "stumbling stones." These are small, 10x10 cm brass plaques embedded directly into the public sidewalks in front of the last freely chosen homes of Nazi victims. Each plate is hand-engraved with a single name, birth date, and their tragic fate. The artist behind them, Gunter Demnig, famously quotes the Talmud: "A human being is forgotten only when his or her name is forgotten." Looking down at those shiny brass blocks glinting in the historic cobblestones, I realized what a profound statement this makes about modern German society. They don't hide their darkest history; they weave it right into the fabric of daily life. You are forced to literally "stumble" over the memory of the neighbors who were stolen away, ensuring the past is never ignored. It is a powerful, decentralized act of collective remembrance that stays with you long after you walk past.

Stolpersteine, (stumbling stone), Miltenberg, Germany

Our next destination, one we will actually sail to, is the energetic city of Würzburg. There, a special excursion will lead us from the iconic Käppele Sanctuary, perched high above the Main River, down to the riverbank and then back up through spectacular, steeply tiered vineyards. Waiting at the end is the magnificent Würzburg Residence, a grand palace filled with artistic treasures, architectural splendor, and stories of its own. It promises to be a fitting centerpiece for more unforgettable days in Germany, as we tell… the Rest of the Story.

By the way, if you want to see the video portions of this blog please see us on Instagram. Follow the link @couplescoachs23

Backspace, Backspace, Bon Voyage: How We Accidentally Booked Europe.

We’re traveling again—only this time, “Neil the Northpoint” is staying home, and we’re not rumbling down some familiar highway in the United States or Canada. We’ve traded road miles for river kilometers and signed on for a 23-day European cruise from Amsterdam, to Bucharest, Rumania. It began one night well past midnight, when the house was quiet, good judgment had gone to bed, and I was glowing in the blue light of my computer screen, searching for an RV-like way to explore Europe. That was when I wandered onto the Viking River Cruises website, and discovered just how easy they make it to get carried away.

“Would you like a 7-, 14-, or 23-day cruise?” the website asked. Twenty-three days? If you’re going all the way to Europe, why not see Europe? Click. “Would you like to choose your cabin?” Of course. Upper deck, balcony—somewhere to sip coffee while castles, vineyards, and medieval villages drift past. Click. “Airfare and transfers?” Sensible. Click.  “Premium airfare?” Amsterdam is a long overnight flight, and these knees aren’t getting any younger. Click.  “Arrive early for a curated tour of the city?” Absolutely. Click. “Extend the trip to Transylvania and the land of Vlad the Impaler?” That’s the stuff of legends. Click. Then came the drinks package. Nope. Beer and wine were already included, Judy and I aren’t big drinkers, and we had to save a few shekels somewhere. Feeling downright responsible, I clicked past it—and the grand total appeared. I won’t share the exact number, but let’s just say it could have bought a very nice new car. The room suddenly felt warmer. I stared at the total, found the Backspace key, and began: backspace, backspace, backspace… Never mind. It was late. I should have gone to bed.

Fourteen months later, our long-awaited journey began—not quite as advertised. A historic drought had left the Rhine too low for Viking’s ships to travel the entire route, making ship swaps, motor-coach transfers, and unexpected hotel stays part of the adventure. We knew disruptions were likely, but decided to go, make the best of it, and enjoy every detour. That decision brought us to Noordwijk and the five-star Grand Hotel Huis ter Duin—and we’re very glad it did.

Royal Delft Ceramic Factory, Delft, The Netherlands

First excursion the following morning was to the historic Royal Delft Museum and factory. Stepping inside feels less like a standard museum tour and more like entering a time capsule. In a world dominated by automation and digital spreadsheets, this historic institution still relies entirely on the human hand. The most mind-blowing part of the visit? They have an entire department dedicated solely to the clay slurry recipe. This isn't a digital file backed up on a cloud server—it is a centuries-old recipe kept on handwritten paper. It takes a precise blend of roughly 10 raw materials (including kaolin, chalk, feldspar, and quartz) to create the perfect canvas for their art. Watching the master painters work under the glow of modern 21st-century lighting while practicing a technique unchanged since 1653 is stunning. They map out their designs using charcoal, then use specialized brushes made of marten and squirrel hair to freehand the details.

They paint using a black cobalt oxide mixture that looks dull at first. But when fired in the kiln at over 1,000°C, a dramatic chemical reaction occurs, transforming that black paint into the vibrant, world-famous Delft Blue. It is a beautiful reminder that some of the best things in the modern world don’t need an upgrade.

After Delft, we headed to Gouda. First things first for my fellow Americans: we are pronouncing it completely wrong. It isn’t "Goo-duh"—the locals call it "How-dah," using a raspy, guttural Dutch "G."

Making Stroopwafel at Berg's Bakery, Gouda The Netherlands

Learning the history inside an authentic cheese shop while practicing my pronunciation was a total blast. But the absolute highlight was diving into Gouda's other legendary creation: the stroopwafel! We stopped at Berg's Bakery, a fantastic local spot that bakes thousands of these sweet treats daily for the community. I actually got to step behind the counter to bake and taste an original stroopwafel with the owner himself (that's us in the photo!). Pressing the dough into the hot iron, slicing the steaming waffle, and sandwiching that warm cinnamon syrup inside was sticky, delicious, and pure magic. If you’ve only ever had the pre-packaged ones, trust me—you haven’t truly lived!

Steven with the Stroopwafle King. Gouda

Next up on day two was a quick, thought-provoking stop in The Hague to see the stunning Peace Palace. Driving by the sprawling international courts makes you stop and think, but standing right in front of the palace gates is entirely humbling. There is a profound, heavy irony to this beautiful building. Funded largely by American philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, it was built to house a grand international law library and promote global harmony. Yet, it officially opened in August 1913—just one single year before the devastating outbreak of World War I. Today, it still serves as a global beacon for international law. Looking at its grand towers through my camera lens, I couldn't help but think that over a century later, our world could still use a whole lot more peace. 

Peace Palace, the Hague, The Netherlands

Self-portrait, Vincent van Gogh, Rijksmuseum

Day three brought us into Amsterdam proper, and our first stop was the magnificent Rijksmuseum. The art is world-famous, but nothing prepared me for the building itself—a majestic cathedral dedicated to human creativity. Walking into the Gallery of Honour, with its vaulted ceilings, intricate frescoes, and golden light filtering through stained-glass windows, took my breath away. As much as I love the Louvre, the Rijksmuseum has an intimate grandeur all its own. The hall leads you past Vermeer’s luminous scenes and Frans Hals’ lively portraits to Rembrandt’s massive crown jewel, The Night Watch. Standing inches from those historic brushstrokes was unreal.

 

The Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Leaving the museum, we traded the majestic cathedral of art for the watery highways that define the city. We hopped onto a 90-minute canal ride, and it quickly became obvious that these famous waterways function exactly like an everyday taxi system.

Floating the Canals of Amsterdam

Floating along, we passed endless houseboats—some sleek and hyper-modern, others hulking, charming messes overflowing with potted plants. Looking up from the water, you notice something surreal: the buildings lean forward and bow outward like old friends propping each other up. Amsterdam was built in the 1600s over soft sand and wet peat—great for agriculture, terrible for tall buildings—so builders drove thousands of wooden piles deep into the mud to keep the structures upright. Today, strict local laws favor stabilization and careful renovation over demolition. That engineering remains essential; without it, half the Netherlands would be underwater.

At the Wheel of Canal Boat, Amsterdam

Our aquatic taxi dropped us near the Renaissance Amsterdam Hotel, bringing us face-to-face with the fluid reality of traveling in the Low Lands. Because river levels were too low to begin the tour safely in town, Viking housed its incoming guests right there in Amsterdam—a striking reminder that life in the Netherlands remains tied to the whims of the water, just as it has for centuries.

For those who have followed the first 82 chapters of our journey, this post marks a major detour. Since our last adventure ended in April, the blog has been quiet while Judy and I adjusted to life off the road. We’re used to exploring the United States behind The Beast—our trusty GMC 3500 dually—spending 450 nights making weeklong deep dives from our luxury 5th wheel. Europe turned that style completely on its head. Instead of roaring down wide interstates, we drifted along 17th-century canals past leaning brick houses. We watched Royal Delft artists preserve a centuries-old craft, laughed over warm cinnamon syrup at Berg’s Bakery, and stood beneath the cathedral-like grandeur of the Rijksmuseum. Even when low water forced Viking to pivot and house us in Amsterdam, we smiled. Whether traveling by 5th wheel or riverboat, the landscape and transportation may change, but the joy of discovery remains the same, as we tell… the Rest of the Story.

By the way, if you want to see the video portions of this blog please see us on Instagram. Follow the link @couplescoachs23