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<p>So much sightseeing greatness hides in the shadows of Europe&#39;s more p ...

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Source: https://www.ricksteves.com/tms/feed.rss

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<title>Rick Steves' Europe</title>
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<title>Italy’s Ravenna: Once Powerful, Still Glorious</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/ravenna-italys-byzantium</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-05-30</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Ravenna is on Italy's tourist map for one reason: its 1,500-year-old churches decorated with best-in-the-West Byzantine mosaics. While locals go about their business, busloads of tourists slip in and out of this town near the Adriatic coast to bask in the glittering glory of Byzantium, the eastern Roman Empire.
Imagine…it's AD 540. The city of Rome has been looted, the land is crawling with barbarians, and the Roman Empire is crumbling fast. Into this chaos comes the emperor of the East, Justinian, bringing order and stability — and an appreciation for mosaic art.
As the westernmost pillar of the Byzantine Empire, Ravenna was a flickering light in Europe's Dark Ages. To fully appreciate the mosaics in its ancient churches, bring your binoculars and take in every last detail. Sit in a wooden pew, front and center, and feel yourself transported to a spiritual world.
My favorite church in Ravenna is Justinian's <a href="https://www.ravennamosaici.it/en/basilica-of-san-vitale/" target="_blank">Basilica di San Vitale</a>. The building's octagonal shape — very much an Eastern style — actually inspired the construction of the magnificent Hagia Sophia church built 10 years later in Constantinople (now Istanbul). While it's impressive enough to see a 15-centuries-old church, it's even more exciting to see one decorated with brilliant scenes in marble and glass mosaics — each chip no bigger than a fingernail. High above the altar, Christ is in heaven, overseeing creation. To the left of the altar, running things here on earth, is Emperor Justinian — sporting both a halo and a crown to show he's leader of the church and the state. On the opposite wall is his wife, Theodora. A former Constantinople showgirl, she ruled alongside her emperor husband in their lavish court.
The mosaics on the walls and ceilings of San Vitale sit at a tipping point in time, when European art shifted from the style of ancient Rome to that of the Middle Ages. Above the altar, Christ is beardless, in the manner of the ancient Romans, but nearby, decorating an arch, is a bearded Jesus, the standard medieval portrayal. Yet both scenes were created by artists of the same generation.
The humble-looking little <a href="https://www.ravennamosaici.it/en/mausoleum-of-galla-placidia/" target="_blank">Mausoleum of Galla Placidia</a> has the oldest — and to many, the best — mosaics in Ravenna. The little light that sneaks through its thin alabaster windows brings a glow and a twinkle to the very early Christian symbolism that fills the little room. Pre-dating Justinian, the mosaics here are purely ancient. Even Jesus is dressed in gold and purple, like a Byzantine emperor.
Another spot to gaze upon the sparkling mosaics of Ravenna is at the austere Basilica di Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, decorated with two huge and wonderfully preserved decoration above both sides of the nave. The tiny colored glass and gold-leaf mosaic pieces here are practically as brilliant and beautiful as they were in Justinian's time.
Justinian turned Ravenna into a pinnacle of civilization. After 200 years, however, the Byzantines got the boot, and Ravenna eventually melted into the background, staying out of historical sight for a thousand years. Today the local economy is stoked by a big chemical industry, the discovery of offshore gas deposits, and the city's booming popularity as a cruise-ship stop.
Ravenna is a doable, though long, day trip from <a href="/europe/italy/venice">Venice</a> or Padua (about three hours by train each way) and worth the effort for those curious about old mosaics. The key sights are all easily walkable from the train station, but this is a fun city to do by bike. A handy bike-rental place is right next to the station. (I've long enjoyed doing my guidebook-research rounds in Ravenna on two wheels.)
At the town's center is Piazza del Popolo, created by Ravenna's Venetian rulers in the 15th century. A river once flowed here, but it silted up and became infested with mosquitoes. (Dante died here of malaria.) In the centuries since it was paved over, the people of Ravenna have treated this spot as their communal living room. Today, in the shadow of Venetian facades, it's a fine place to join the old guys on benches, watching locals parade by, quite at ease about sharing their town with the world's most exquisite mosaics.
So much sightseeing greatness hides in the shadows of Europe's more popular tourist attractions. While Ravenna can't hold a candle to nearby Venice, it still gives off its own glittering light.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/174/medium/a298a0cb4026f646a354821fbd3329dc/article-italy-ravenna-san-vitale-mosaic.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Empress Theodora has been gazing upon visitors to Ravenna's Basilica di San Vitale for nearly 1500 years. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/030/287/medium/951ef844628177b18d9f9ece490febb9/article-italy-ravenna-basilica-di-san-vitale-ceiling.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Every centimeter of the sanctuary walls and ceiling in the Basilica di San Vitale is decorated with beautiful Byzantine mosaics. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/030/286/medium/a195229e7d92a1d09125bdf93de4cb9b/article-italy-ravenna-mausoleum-of-galla-placidia-ceiling.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The oldest — and best — mosaics in Ravenna are in the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Medieval Erfurt’s Unspoiled German Charm</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/erfurt-simple-unspoiled-germany</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-05-23</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Long ago I gave up looking for an untouristy, half-timbered medieval German town, but a few years back I stumbled upon it in the sleepy town of Erfurt.
The capital of the German region of Thuringia, Erfurt has history swinging from its eaves. It's most notable as the place where Martin Luther studied and became a monk, and (by translating the Bible from Latin into the people's language, German) essentially planted the roots that set into motion the Protestant Reformation. It's also the rare city in the center of <a href="/europe/germany">Germany</a> that emerged relatively unscathed from World War II, after which it became stuck in the strange cocoon of East German communism for half a century. Because of this, Erfurt has a surprising time-capsule quality.
I arrived in Erfurt by train. After spending the previous week in the touristy beer halls of Munich, Climb Every Mountain Salzburg, and Boys' Choir Vienna, I was excited to be in a city that was unfamiliar.
I hopped in a taxi to my guesthouse, run by the monastery Martin Luther called home. A tiny wooden cross decorated the otherwise blank wall above my single bed. The inlaid tiles and creaky floor felt like pre-WWII Germany. Pushing out my shutters, I leaned out my window to survey the scene — a thick deciduous forest, chirping and hooting birds, a babbling brook, and a well-groomed lane with locals who seemed as happy to be in Erfurt as I was.
To orient myself, I took a walk through the city, starting in the main shopping square called Anger. Meaning "meadow," the name evokes the grazing land that once sprawled just outside the city walls. Famished, I dropped by a characteristic bratwurst stand to buy a Thüringer brat, a long, skinny pork sausage. The man paused until I realized I was supposed to pick up and spread open my roll so he could place the sausage in it. I beaded it with hearty mustard and then snuck in a little ketchup (a tourist move, I admit). Purists put only the locally made Born brand mustard on their brat.
Munching the sausage, I strolled down to the river. Erfurt is named for a shallow point where ancient traders could ford (-furt) a river. The Er- comes from an old German word for "dirty" — the water was muddied when people would cross.
As I explored, it started sinking in: I wasn't in quaint, beer-and-pretzel Bavaria anymore. Erfurt has that old-Tupperware aura of East Germany. People seemed more hardscrabble, less exposed to the world. English was suddenly very foreign. I hadn't heard an American voice all day. Despite being very popular among German tourists and Martin Luther pilgrims, Erfurt remains largely undiscovered by American visitors.
I walked across the Merchants' Bridge, which spans the river. Unlike the famous shop-lined Ponte Vecchio in Florence, people make their homes along this bridge. As in ages past, the residents live upstairs and run shops downstairs, such as at Theatrum Mundi, featuring the brilliant work of puppetmaker Martin Gobsch. For €1, I saw an intricately detailed, fully articulated rendering of the Snow White story.
Across the bridge is the Old Synagogue, one of Europe's earliest surviving synagogues. Its cellar features the Erfurt Treasure, consisting of 60 pounds of gold, silver, and jewels. The prize piece is a finely detailed golden wedding ring from the early 14th century, inscribed with the words "mazel tov," indicating that it once belonged to a Jewish woman.
From the synagogue, I took a short walk to the Preachers' Church, Erfurt's main Protestant church. Despite being rebuilt after World War II, it still features the original 700-year-old wood wall used in pre-Reformation days to separate people from the clergy. Behind the altar is a kaleidoscope of colorful windows, pieced together from the original medieval glass windows shattered in the war. The church also has a glorious circa-1650 Baroque pipe organ that is used for weekly concerts in summer.
My walk through Erfurt culminated on the vast Cathedral Square, dominated by twin churches — the Church of St. Severus and the cathedral where Martin Luther was ordained a priest. As I soaked up the scene, I was enveloped by the sounds of an opera troupe rehearsing on the square while the dark churches rung with the sound of pipe organists practicing.
October 2017 saw the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther kicking off the Reformation, and all the attention brought Erfurt a lot more tourists. But as the big day fades into the past, visitors can once again enjoy this delightful slice of simple, unspoiled Germany in peace.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/180/medium/78e160d3d35adb85e0a212c330c3959f/article-germany-erfurt-merchants-bridge.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Picturesque Merchants' Bridge spans the shallow river that gurgles through the middle of Erfurt. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/515/medium/1606d3f58bc21d84ebc9e1b455acc5bd/641_Erfurt.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Erfurt's half-timbered, many-steepled medieval townscape makes the town an inviting destination. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/516/medium/7b2d0c57c0fc564a46f60e0229e5a302/641_ErfurtWindow.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>At Preachers' Church, the colorful stained-glass windows shattered during World War II have been beautifully salvaged. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">103</guid>
<title>Obeying the Power of the Alps in Switzerland’s Lauterbrunnen Valley</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/the-power-of-the-alps</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-05-16</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[I learned to respect the power of nature in the shadow of Switzerland's towering Jungfrau, just south of Interlaken in the <a href="/europe/switzerland/lauterbrunnen-valley">Lauterbrunnen Valley</a>.
Avalanches are a part of life here — where humble yet tough mountain huts are built on the downhill side of giant and protective boulders. Hikers, hearing rivers of falling snow rumble in the distance, scan the edges of distant glaciers hoping for a glimpse of the icy action.
Aiming for the heart of the Alps, I catch my train from the belle-epoche resort town of Interlaken down a long, lush valley that leads south to the snowy peaks of the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau. Once in my seat, I slide open the big window. The lush air, perfumed with the sweet, sweaty smell of freshly cut hay, fills my car.
Grassy banks speckled with alpine flowers remind me of my first ride on this train. While my girlfriend and I eagerly leaned out the window at a slow corner, overwhelmed by the views, a railroad worker surprised her with a bouquet of alpenroses offered through the window.
Below me a swollen stream charges noisily down the center of the valley, chattering excitedly about the wild ride it just survived. I crane my neck so I can see what all the excitement is about. Slowly we glide higher and higher into the Lauterbrunnen Valley, a glacier-cut garden of traditional Swiss lifestyles. This scenic rut has kept me from exploring the rest of Switzerland. From the Alps, I need nothing better.
The train drops me across from a grassy patch of land cleared by an avalanche. I remember bringing a tour group here. My group had seven days of Italy ground into their clothes. Not only had I been lifting spirits all day with promises of a self-serve laundry, I promised that our assistant guide would wash clothes for the entire group. Spirits were soaring as we approached the corner where I would reveal Lauterbrunnen's launderette. Then we saw it — or at least its freshly crumpled remains. Our launderette had been crushed under an avalanche. Everyone on our tour — except perhaps the assistant guide — was heartbroken.
Hiking past the bare patch of land where the launderette once stood, I head out of town and up the valley to a mighty waterfall.
For years, I've marveled at Staubbach Falls from a distance. Today, I climb for a close-up look. Scrambling up a pile of glacial gravel — as if struggling up a sand dune — I eventually work my way to the roaring base of the waterfall. Through the noisy storm, a black rock face soars 600 feet straight up. What was a river bursts over the cliff into a galaxy of excited drops. The sun glints through the mist as wet and fleeting prisms of color break into liquid fireworks.
I feel alone, engulfed in the roar. Then I notice a gray silhouette — a man — on the far side of the rainstorm. Suddenly, he grabs his head and falls to the ground. Racing to help him, I realize that Staubbach Falls hurls rocks (and that the small mountain of rocks he and I had climbed hadn't gotten here by dump truck). I feel under attack.
As I help the injured man climb down the glacial gravel, we pass a sign that causes us both to pause. It says, in very clear German: "Vorsicht: Steinschlag." Looking up past the hand holding his wounded head, he translates it for me: "Beware: falling rocks."
A little further up the valley, <a href="https://truemmelbachfaelle.ch/e/" target="_blank">Trümmelbach Falls</a> — a waterfall inside a mountain — makes its point differently, but with equal power. I buy my ticket and climb a series of wet switchbacks to a tunnel that leads deep into the mountain, to an elevator that zooms me up.
The elevator doors open into a misty cavern. The river roars, busy at work, cutting — like God's thundering bandsaw — through the mountain. Sheltering my camera from the angry mist, I try to capture this spectacle on film. A guard in an orange raincoat cautions me to watch my step. Last year, he tells me, a tourist, camera at his face, backed into Trümmelbach Falls. He was found six months later in a log jam. "His skin looked like wood," the guard says.
Hiking down the switchbacks to the valley floor, I look back and notice a Swiss flag. While many flags signal conquest, to me this tiny red-and-white Swiss flag flying from the top of Trümmelbach signals surrender. When I see nature flexing its muscles it seems determined to teach us that the best way to control her is to obey her.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/175/medium/c19a35fb4e45a940642ea69d52ae77d1/article-switzerland-lauterbrunnen-valley.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Switzerland's Lauterbrunnen Valley looks pastoral — but hides a powerful dose of natural wonder. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/031/796/medium/3d912b65218685a54fc431c160846758/article-switzerland-berner-oberland-lauterbrunnen-town.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Though nestled deep in its namesake valley, the town of Lauterbrunnen is at the mercy of the mountainous terrain high above. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
</description>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">125</guid>
<title>Beyond Barcelona: Montserrat, Figueres, Cadaqués, and Sitges</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/beyond-barcelona-montserrat-figueres-and-sitges</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-05-09</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[It's hard to top <a href="/europe/spain/barcelona">Barcelona</a>, Spain's most cosmopolitan and fun city. But it's still worth considering at least one of several temping, scene-changer day trips from Barcelona: the mountaintop monastery of Montserrat, the Salvador Dalí museum at Figueres, and the seaside towns of Cadaqués (with Dalí's home) and Sitges (great beaches).
For almost a thousand years, Benedictine monks have lived atop Montserrat — the "serrated mountain" — which dramatically rockets up from the valley floor northwest of Barcelona. With its unique rock formations and dramatic cliff-clinging monastery, Montserrat is an inviting excursion for pilgrims with (or without) hiking boots. A one-hour train ride from Barcelona links up with a rack railway or a cable car to get you to the lofty site. Serious pilgrims walk up.
Legend has it that in medieval times, shepherd children saw lights and heard songs coming from the mountain. They traced the activity to a cave, where they found a statue dubbed "La Moreneta" — the Black Virgin. The monastery quickly became a pilgrim magnet. The small wooden Mary is now behind protective glass in the Montserrat basilica, but the royal orb she cradles in her hand is exposed, ready to receive the venerating touch of the faithful. Newlyweds in particular seek this Mary's blessing.
For hikers and nature lovers, a funicular climbs nearly a thousand feet above the monastery. Up top, the air is fresh and the views are spectacular, sweeping — on the clearest days — from the Mediterranean to the Pyrenees. From the trailhead here, well-signposted hikes radiate out.
If you're a Dalí devotee, head to Figueres (two hours north of Barcelona) and the strange, fanciful <a href="https://www.salvador-dali.org/ca/museus/teatre-museu-dali-de-figueres/" target="_blank">Dalí Theater-Museum</a>. From the Figueres train station, it's an easy 15-minute walk to the museum. You can't miss it: It's painted pink, studded with golden loaves of bread, and topped with monumental eggs and a geodesic dome. For fans of Surrealism and Dalí, it's one of Europe's most enjoyable museums.
Wandering around the building (a former theater), I can't help but wonder: Am I crazy, or is it Dalí? Pop a coin into Dalí's personal 1941 Cadillac, and it rains inside the car; peek into the Mae West room to see that the sofa lips, fireplace nostrils, painting eyes, and drapery hair come together to make the face of the sultry actress. And Dalí himself is entombed in a crypt below center stage.
Nearby Cadaqués is a seaside gem at the easternmost tip of Spain. With whitewashed buildings and dreamy bay views, Cadaqués is idyllic and remote-feeling. (It has no train service; buses and taxis connect it to Figueres along a tiny access road.)
Most travelers in Cadaqués are here to see the <a href="https://www.salvador-dali.org/en/museums/house-salvador-dali-in-portlligat/" target="_blank">home that Dalí shared with his wife</a> (and muse) Gala. Together they converted a fisherman's home — about a 20-minute walk from the city center — into their semipermanent residence. It was here that Dalí did his best work, and I consider it the most interesting home of a deceased personality in all of Europe. Though Dalí was raised in Figueres, he spent childhood summers in a family cabin here in Cadaqués, where he was fascinated by the rocky landscape that would later be the backdrop for many Surrealist canvases.
Though Cadaqués otherwise offers little in the way of sights, the old town is remarkably characteristic. I love to stroll along the waterfront or climb to the Church of Santa Maria for commanding views from the top of town. Uphill, Cadaqués' Jewish Quarter is still rich with vestiges of the strong Sephardic community that thrived in Spain until 1492.
If you simply want to kick back without an agenda, take the frequent 30-minute train service from Barcelona to welcoming Sitges. With a much slower pulse than Barcelona, this resort town southwest of the city is a perfect break from sightseeing. Sitges has jet-set status, but it's hung on to its Old World charm while managing to be both family- and gay-friendly.
There are Modernista-style mansions here and a few worthy little museums, but I recommend just poking around the old town's whitewashed streets, crammed with cafés and boutiques. Then head for the water to soak up the sun, sea, and sand on one of nine beaches that extend southward. Along the seaside promenade, you have your choice of restaurants and chiringuitos (beachfront bars) for tapas, paella, and drinks.
If you happen to visit during one of Sitges' two big festivals (St. Bartholomew in late August and St. Tecla in late September), you may see teams of castellers competing to build human pyramids up to 60 feet high. Balancing on the shoulders of the people below, the castellers are judged by how quickly they can assemble and take down their people towers. No one is really sure how this quirky tradition got its start, but it's a perfect reflection of the region's team-building bent.
Skipping out of Barcelona for the day is easy. Whether you experience the sacred, the surreal, or the seaside, you'll return to the city recharged and ready for all it has in store.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/744/medium/35bb4e880992cb542622238dc9f7eade/article-spain-montserrat-plaza.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The rock pillars of Montserrat are home to a Benedictine monastery as well as hiking trails. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/176/medium/5678c57b1b0c26e3ed38bf147e0ed57a/article-spain-figueres-dali-theater-museum.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The Dalí Theater-Museum is a treasure trove for fans of Surrealism. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/538/medium/97dc003de3d2f34b566b1a8ef4af48de/652_sitges.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The beach at Sitges is ideal for a sightseeing time-out. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
</description>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">1994</guid>
<title>Wrecks, Rafts, and Replicas: Scandinavia’s Remarkable Maritime Museums</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/scandinavia-maritime-museums</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-05-02</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Scandinavia's Viking days may be long gone, but its legacy of maritime exploration (and plunder) continues to capture our imagination. Tap into the region's seafaring heritage by visiting excellent museums in <a href="/europe/sweden/stockholm">Stockholm</a>, <a href="/europe/norway/oslo">Oslo</a>, and just outside <a href="/europe/denmark/copenhagen">Copenhagen</a>.
Scandinavia's entrance into civilized Europe was swift and dramatic. On June 8, 793, a fleet of pirates came ashore on the northeast coast of England and sacked the Lindisfarne monastery, slaughtering monks, burning buildings, and looting sacred objects. Their victims called them "Normanni," "Dani," "Rus" — or worse — but the name they gave themselves came from the inlets and bays (vik) where they lived: the Vikings.
Strategically located along one such Danish inlet is Roskilde, about 30 minutes from Copenhagen — home to Denmark's <a href="https://www.vikingeskibsmuseet.dk/en/" target="_blank">Viking Ship Museum</a>. Here, you'll see a ship like the one Leif Eriksson took to North America a thousand years ago, two longships, a wind-powered coastal trader, and a small row/sail hybrid that was used for whaling and hunting seals. These five ships were all deliberately sunk during the Viking era to block the entrance to this strategic and rich city, and finally raised from their salty grave in 1962.
Along with the ships inside, outside you can watch the creation of replica Viking ships — and for less than $20, sail around Roskilde's fjord in one of these replicas.
<a href="/europe/norway">Norway</a> has long had another Viking Ship Museum, along with three more nautical museums, clustered in Bygdøy, a park-like peninsula just across the harbor from downtown Oslo. The Viking Ship Museum, however, is closed for a much-needed renovation till 2026. When it reopens, as the much larger, state-of-the-art <a href="https://www.vikingtidsmuseet.no/english/" target="_blank">Museum of the Viking Age</a>, it will once again show off two finely crafted, majestic oak Viking ships dating from the ninth and 10th centuries, and the scant remains of a third vessel — icons from those days of pillage and plunder. Gazing up at the prow of one of these sleek, time-stained vessels, you can almost hear the screams and smell the armpits of those redheads on the rampage. The new facility is specially designed to preserve these precious vessels, as well as an impressive collection of remarkable artifacts that give insight into Viking culture, including a horse cart and sleighs ornately carved with scenes from Viking sagas.
The adjacent <a href="https://frammuseum.no/" target="_blank">Fram Museum</a> holds the 125-foot, steam- and sail-powered ship that took modern-day "Vikings" Roald Amundsen and Fridtjof Nansen deep into the Arctic and Antarctic, farther north and south than any vessel had gone before. The Fram was well equipped with instruments that enabled the explorers to bring back important new data from the polar frontiers. You're welcome to walk on board, explore the boat, and imagine yourself among the crew of the Fram's 1893 maiden expedition, who — pumped for a salty adventure — ended up spending three years adrift in the Arctic ice.
In an adjacent A-frame is Amundsen's Gjøa, the first ship to sail through the Northwest Passage. Together, the exhibit spins a fascinating tale of adventure, scientific exploration, and human determination…all at subzero temperatures.
The <a href="https://www.kon-tiki.no/" target="_blank">Kon-Tiki Museum</a> next door houses two ships built by the larger-than-life anthropologist, seafarer, and adventurer Thor Heyerdahl. In 1947, the Norwegian explorer and his crew constructed the Kon-Tiki raft out of bamboo and balsa wood. They set sail from Peru on the crude and fragile craft, surviving for 101 days on fish, coconuts, and sweet potatoes. About 4,000 miles later, they landed in Polynesia. The point of this expedition was to show that early South Americans could have settled Polynesia. (While Heyerdahl proved they could have, anthropologists doubt they actually did.) In 1970, Heyerdahl's Ra II made a similar 3,000-mile journey from Morocco to Barbados — on a vessel made of reeds — to prove that Africans could have populated the Americas.
Also in Bygdøy, the <a href="https://marmuseum.no/en" target="_blank">Norwegian Maritime Museum</a> takes a wide-ranging look at Norway's maritime heritage through exhibits that include artwork and film. If you like the sea, this museum is a saltlick.
Stockholm's <a href="https://www.vasamuseet.se/en" target="_blank">Vasa Museum</a> is my favorite maritime museum anywhere, with the chemically petrified, ultimate warship housed in a state-of-the-art museum.
This impressive ship sank just minutes into her maiden voyage: It was 1628, and the Swedish king was eager to expand the reach of his domain with a formidable new ship. Unfortunately, his demands to build the ship 172 feet tall, but narrow and laden with an extra row of cannon, made it extremely unstable. As it sailed out, all the sailors went to one side on this top-heavy boat, waved at their loved ones…and about 1,000 yards from its dock the most expensive ship in Europe tipped over and sank to the bottom of Stockholm's harbor, where it sat in the mud for over 300 years. In 1961, with the help of steel cables and huge inflatable pontoons, the Vasa rose again from the deep.
Detailed models show life on board and evoke the instant when the hopes and aspirations of this mighty ship and her crew were dashed. Artifacts on display humanize naval live in the 17th century. This awe-inspiring ship is a time capsule from an era when <a href="/europe/sweden">Sweden</a> was a European power and was gearing up to expand its empire.
The Vasa may have been a flop, but there's no doubt about the seafaring strength of the Scandinavians — from the Vikings to intrepid Arctic explorers and daring Heyerdahl and his Kon-Tiki. Don't miss the opportunity to delve into the fascinating maritime history as you visit Scandinavia's great cities.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/023/931/medium/e53acef8983c5bc6f8afae001c97f337/sweden-stockholm-vasa-museum-041918-az.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The enormous Vasa, decorated with hundreds of wooden statues, was designed to show the power of Sweden's king. The top-heavy ship sank on its maiden voyage. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/023/932/medium/7e97f45a0421a0305b18027488aa3e22/denmark-roskilde-viking-ship-museum-041918-ch.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>In Denmark, visitors can view replica Viking ships in Roskilde's harbor — and even row and sail a reconstructed ship around the fjord. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Bratislava: Slovakia’s Capital Makes a Remarkable Comeback</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/booming-bratislava</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-04-25</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[<a href="/europe/slovakia/bratislava">Bratislava</a>, the capital of <a href="/europe/slovakia">Slovakia</a> and once a nearly desolate ghost town, is one of Europe's great urban success stories. Its compact old town bursts with colorfully restored facades, lively outdoor cafés, and swanky boutiques. Its ramshackle industrial quarter, just east of the center, is rapidly being redeveloped into a forest of skyscrapers. The hilltop castle gleams. And even the glum communist-era suburb of Petržalka, right across the Danube, has undergone a Technicolor makeover. It's arguably the fastest-changing city in Europe.
Sitting quietly in the very center of central Europe, wedged between bigger and stronger nations (Hungary, Austria, the Czech Republic, and Poland), Slovakia was brutally disfigured by its communist regime, then overshadowed by the Czechs. But in recent years, this fledgling republic has found its wings. Locals brag that the region around Bratislava has the hottest economy and highest per capita income of any region in the former Communist bloc.
Bratislava has also forged a twin-city alliance for trade and commerce with <a href="/europe/austria/vienna">Vienna</a> — which is less than an hour's train ride away, and whose lights you can sometimes see from here — making this truly the nexus of eastern central Europe.
Many Bratislavans fancy themselves the yang to Vienna's yin: If Vienna is a staid, elderly aristocrat sipping coffee, then Bratislava is a vivacious young professional jet-setting around Europe. Bratislava at night is a lively place, thanks in part to tens of thousands of university students.
Though lacking blockbuster sights (you could easily have a great day here without paying a single admission fee), Bratislava is made for strolling. If you have just a few hours to spend, head straight to the old town and wander its mostly traffic-free streets, finishing with one or more of the city's fine viewpoints: Ascend to the observation deck atop a funky bridge or hike up to the castle for the views. With more time, stroll along the Danube riverbank to the thriving, modern Eurovea development — essentially a riverside park with luxury condos and a modern shopping mall. Enjoying a drink in one of its chic outdoor lounges, you'll get a glimpse of where Slovakia is heading.
From the end of World War II until Czechoslovakia's Velvet Revolution in 1989, Bratislava was a damaged husk. The communist regime had no respect for the town's heritage, selling off the old town's medieval cobblestones to cute German towns rebuilding after the war. Locals avoided this stripped-down, desolate corner of the city, preferring to spend time in the Petržalka suburb across the river.
With the collapse of the communist regime, the new government began returning buildings to their original owners and over time, the city made the old town traffic-free, spruced up public buildings, and encouraged private owners to restore their buildings as well. Life has returned with a vengeance and Bratislava's old-town charm is on full display.
Most visitors first encounter this charm via St. Michael's Gate, which is topped by the last surviving tower of the medieval city walls. It leads to the delightful Michalská Street, crammed with cafés and boutiques, and a symbol of how far the city has come. The town's modest main square, Hlavné Námestie, feels too petite for a national capital. Its style is a mishmash — every building around it seems to date from a different architectural period. Elsewhere in the old town, you'll find the Old Market Hall, which dates back to 1910, and is now a busy community center that hosts concerts and a Saturday market. Laurinská Street is Bratislava's fashion drag, lined with fun-to-browse boutiques. And look out for the many whimsical statues that dot the old town. Most date from the late 1990s, when city leaders wanted to entice locals back into the newly prettied-up and fun-loving center.
Imposing Bratislava Castle is the city's most prominent landmark. Habsburg Empress Maria Theresa transformed the castle in the 18th century from a military fortress to a royal residence. Big and iconic as it is, frankly it's dull up close — and the exhibits inside are not too exciting. Still, it's almost obligatory to head up for the views, especially as it's surrounded by a delightful public park.
Spanning the nearby river, just downhill from the castle, is the huge flying-saucer-capped SNP Bridge, the communists' pride and joy. ("SNP" is shorthand for the 1944 Slovak National Uprising against the Nazis, a common focus of communist remembrance.) Locals aren't crazy about this structure — not only for its questionable Starship Enterprise design, but also because of the oppressive regime it represented. However, it's been reclaimed by capitalists, and the restaurant and observation deck have been renovated into a posh eatery called "<a href="https://www.redmonkeygroup.com/en/index.php" target="_blank">UFO</a>."
I admit that Bratislava used to leave me cold. But changes in recent decades have transformed it into a delightful destination. Bratislava's energy is inspiring.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/025/841/medium/67cf2c683a9587d7162a72df5c942f2a/slovakia-bratislava-michalska-street-053019-rs.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Bratislava's old town has come a long way since it was nearly a ghost town in the Communist era. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/025/840/medium/dd63581e2a8b6f639512c447083b90dc/slovakia-bratislava-snp-bridge-053019-gs.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The SNP Bridge's observation deck and "UFO" restaurant provide stunning views of Bratislava. (photo: Gretchen Strauch)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/410/medium/cab5a78eea5a42dc51712f51a2839aea/article-slovakia-bratislava-eurovea-park.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The ambitious riverside development of Eurovea offers popular lounges and shopping. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Finding Peace Among the Crowds on Mykonos</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/mykonos-a-greek-island-treasure</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-04-18</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[I'll never forget the moments after I'd jumped ship in Mykonos: While enjoying a glass of ouzo in a tiny taverna, I watched my mighty cruise ship sail away and take with it the 3,000 tourists who had inundated the charming port just an hour before. Having pushed their postcard racks back indoors, it seemed the shopkeepers were satisfied that they'd made their money for the day, and suddenly a sleepy charm blanketed both the locals and the visitors who remained on perhaps the most famed island in the Aegean Sea.
Mykonos is the classic Greek-island stop and, along with Santorini, it's the most touristy. But being on <a href="/europe/greece/mykonos">Mykonos</a> that day reminded me how enduringly charming the Greek islands are — if you can avoid those crowds.
Mykonos' port, Chora (more often referred to as "Mykonos town"), is a humble seafront village crouched behind a sandy harbor, thickly layered with blinding-white stucco, bright-blue trim, and bursting-purple bougainvilleas. Thank goodness for all that color, since otherwise this island — one of Greece's driest — would be various shades of dull-brown. On a ridge over town stretches a trademark row of six windmills, overlooking a tidy embankment so pretty they call it "Little Venice."
The sea, the wind, the birds, and the weather-beaten little whitewashed churches all combine to give the town a vibrant allure. Everyone gathers in the cafés and pubs to nurse an ouzo or other drink, and to watch the sun set to the rhythm of the sloppy, slamming waves.
While Mykonos town has some museums, they merely provide an excuse to get out of the sun for a few minutes. The real attraction here is poking around the streets: shopping, dining, clubbing, or — best of all — simply strolling. The core of the town is literally a maze, designed by the Mykonians centuries ago to discourage would-be invaders from finding their way. That tactic also works on today's tourists. But I can think of few places where getting lost is so enjoyable.
When you're done exploring the town, it's time to relax at one of the enticing sandy beaches around the island. Each beach seems to specialize in a different niche: family-friendly or party; straight, gay, or mixed; nude or clothed; and so on. (Keep in mind that in Greece, even "family-friendly" beaches have topless sunbathers.)
The low-key beach in Ornos, ideal if you brought your kids, is easy to reach and has an unpretentious charm. Or you might try Psarou and Platis Gialos — two beaches along a cove to the east of Ornos. Psarou is considered a somewhat exclusive, favorite retreat of celebrities, while Platis Gialos feels more geared toward families (and is therefore more crowded). And Paradise is Mykonos' famous "meat-market" beach, a magnet for partiers in the Aegean. Located at the southern tip of the island, Paradise (a.k.a. Kalamopodi) is presided over by hotels that run party-oriented bars for young beachgoers.
My favorite beach is Agios Ioannis, a remote patch of sand tucked behind a mountain ridge that gives me the feeling of being on a castaway isle. Two restaurants share this sandy, idyllic Robinson Crusoe spot between Ornos and Kapari.
All these beaches have comfortable lounge chairs with umbrellas out on the sand. Just take a seat — someone will eventually come by to collect money. Be warned that in peak season — July and August — it can be difficult to find an available seat.
From Mykonos town, you can take a public bus to any of these beaches, or you can ride a boat to Paradise, then beach-hop on the shuttle boat that connects Paradise, Super Paradise, Platis Gialos, and Paraga beaches. Another alternative is to rent a car, motor scooter, or all-terrain vehicle (ATV). If I wanted to drive a scooter or ATV on a Greek isle, I'd do it here, where the roads are not too heavily trafficked (you'll pass more fellow scooters and ATVs than cars), and idyllic beaches are a short ride away.
Popular as Mykonos is today, it was just another island centuries ago, and the main attraction was next door: the island of Delos. According to Greek myth, this was the birthplace of the twin deities Apollo (god of the sun) and Artemis (goddess of the moon).
Today Delos is reachable only by a 30-minute boat trip from Mykonos; it has no residents — only ruins and a humble museum. If you go, you'll see the much-photographed Lions of the Naxians — a row of five sphinx-like lion statues — some nice floor mosaics, and a windswept setting pockmarked with foundations.
Delos was a pilgrimage site for believers who came from all over to worship this "birthplace of light." Judging by the present-day sun-worshippers who scramble for the best patch of sand on Mykonos each summer, things haven't changed much around here.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/173/medium/d7c0b05af781c34d791d1e9059b504da/article-greece-mykonos-shopping-street.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Strolling the maze-like streets of Mykonos' main town is a delight. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/447/medium/2b80e2fad204a2345bb1404515c9b057/607_MykonosBeach.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Unlike some of Mykonos' "meat-market" destinations, Agios Ioannis beach is off the tourist radar. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/448/medium/675b38f5dc5005bfbb2770933969f9fb/607_MykonosWindmills.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>A row of windmills sits above the port on the Greek isle of Mykonos. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Istanbul’s Old Soul Lives On in the Grand Bazaar</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/istanbuls-grand-bazaar</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-04-11</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Dodging four men pushing a cart full of honeydew melons, I step out of the noisy traffic of Istanbul, pass through the horseshoe-arched door, and trade one commotion for another. Suddenly the air — heated by millions of watts of electric bulbs — is several degrees warmer. Like carnivorous flowers, merchants seduce from glittering shops. They say "Welcome to the Grand Bazaar."
This labyrinthine warren of shops is called Kapalı Çarşı, literally "Covered Market." While much of the bazaar is overrun with international visitors, it still has virtually tourist-free nooks and crannies that offer an insightful glimpse into the "real" Istanbul.
In its heyday, this was the "world trade center" for the entire Ottoman Empire — locked down and guarded by more than a hundred soldiers every night. The Grand Bazaar remained Turkey's commercial hub through the 1950s, its 4,000 shops bursting with both practical and exotic wares.
But then the Grand Bazaar was discovered by travelers seeking the ultimate "Oriental market" experience. Prodded by shopaholic tourists with fat wallets, prices and rents skyrocketed, and soon small shopkeepers and manufacturers were shoved to the fringes of the market, crowded out by souvenir and carpet shops.
The main drag is "Hatmakers' Street" (Kalpakçılar Caddesi). Historically each street, alley, or corner of the bazaar was dedicated to a particular craft or item. They still bear those names — even if hat racks are replaced by jewelry showcases.
The many jewelry shops are a reminder that Turks love gold, not because they're vain or greedy, but because they're practical. Since their local currency has a tendency to devalue, people prefer to invest in something more tangible. Traditionally, Turks celebrating special occasions — such as a wedding or a circumcision — receive gold as a gift. In fact, in the most traditional corners of Turkey, the groom's family still must present the bride's family with gold bracelets before the couple can marry.
Because all this gold is used primarily as an investment tool, and only secondarily as an accessory, it's most commonly sold in the form of simple 22-carat bracelets (24-carat is too soft to wear). If you see a woman whose arm is lined with these bracelets, she's not making a fashion statement — she's wearing her family's savings on her sleeve…literally.
The Grand Bazaar is made up of a series of bedestens — commercial complexes of related shops. The Sandal Bedesten, one of the oldest, dates from the late 15th century. Over time, the bazaar grew organically — with new bedestens sporadically sprouting up, each one devoted to a particular trade or item. For the convenience of both the shopkeeper and the customer, shops dealing with similar items clustered together.
Surprises await in the low-rent fringes of the market. Hearing a commotion of shouting, I venture into a cluster of alleys packed with boisterous men hollering into cell phones and waving their arms. This is a poor man's Wall Street, with currency brokers frantically swapping fortunes of euros, dollars, and Turkish lira.
Walking farther, I enter the "Master of All Eunuchs Alley" (Kızlarağası Han), which led to a humble courtyard where sooty smiths labor before furnaces, melting gold shavings and silver fragments from other workshops into a more useable form.
Ayhan, one of the goldsmiths here, welcomes me into his charred little world, proud to let me watch him work. His fire made his shop almost unbearably hot, and then he tosses in some white powder, making it even hotter. Within moments, a tiny shovel of gold fragments is melted, poured, cooled, and a tidy little brick of gold is placed with a smile into my hand. Giving it back, I compliment Ayhan with one of my only Turkish phrases: çok güzel (very beautiful).
Ayhan belongs to a dying breed. Today most goldwork is done in large factories outside the city. But locals believe the Grand Bazaar needs both shops and workshops to be successful. If a product isn't perfect, the shopkeeper can send it to his workshop for an adjustment. And if workshops like Ayhan's are forced out by high rents and replaced with more "Made in Taiwan" gift shops, the Grand Bazaar will eventually become a shopping mall only for tourists.
Ayhan steps out of the heat and joins me for tea at a teahouse table across the Master of All Eunuchs Alley. The dainty hour-glass shaped tea glass accentuates the roughness of his goldsmith's hand. The backgammon board — inlaid, with its softer wood worn below its harder wood — smells like tea and tobacco. The dots on the dice don't quite line up. Tossing them, I'm thankful the soul of old Istanbul survives. You can find it in the back streets of the Grand Bazaar.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/177/medium/ec465c531de8a33dddafd72d41957ee5/article-turkey-istanbul-grand-bazaar.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The Grand Bazaar is a unique Istanbul experience. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/030/441/medium/b926b2cc0dc630b24cbc5bf749547465/article-turkey-istanbul-bazaar-shopkeeper.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Bantering with the Grand Bazaar's gregarious merchants is fun if you respond to their pitches with a sense of humor. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/093/medium/5c6ae2a86c2c27f6291b0d67a19c1e2b/251Goldsmith.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Ayhan the goldsmith is happy to share his work with curious visitors. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Nice: Laid-Back Capital of the French Riviera </title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/nice-capital-city-of-the-french-riviera</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-04-04</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[A hundred years ago, bigwigs from London to Moscow began flocking south to the French Riviera and the sun-drenched city of Nice. They came to socialize, gamble, and escape the dreary weather at home, and ended up creating Europe's first tourist boom. Today, this classy resort town is a popular fun-in-the-sun destination that caters to everyone.
Those early English visitors wanted a place to stroll and admire Nice's perfect crescent bay without getting their shoes dirty. So they built the seaside Promenade des Anglais ("Walkway of the English") and studded it with palm trees. Today, this iconic pathway is a fun people scene, where the chicest of the chic and the cheapest of the cheap scramble for a spot in the sun.
The beach has something for everyone: volleyball, table tennis, paddleboats, windsurfing. While some stretches of the beach are public, much of it is private. Anchor yourself in a beach chair to watch Europeans at play. It's about $45 to rent a spot for the day, complete with towel, mattress, lounge chair, and umbrella. 
But <a href="/europe/france/nice">Nice</a> is much more than its beach and the sea. With its fine palette of museums (most of which are free), good food, and ramble-worthy old town, Nice is the enjoyable big-city highlight of any <a href="/europe/france/french-riviera">Riviera</a> visit. The city is reinventing its public spaces, creating green parkways and demolishing old eyesores. A modern, smooth-as-silk tramway running through the center of town makes it cheap and easy to get around.
The old center itself is traffic-free. With its soft orange buildings and steep narrow streets, this part of town feels more Italian than French. It's not surprising, because until 1860 Nice was ruled by an Italian king. The fresh-pasta shops (which you'll find nowhere else in France) and many gelaterias remind you how close <a href="/europe/italy">Italy</a> is. This mixed pedigree has left Nice with a likeable blend of French superiority and Italian informality.
The plaza called Cours Saleya, a commotion of color, sights, smells, and people, has been old Nice's main market since the Middle Ages. Boisterous flower and produce stalls trumpet the season with strawberries, white asparagus, zucchini flowers, and more. Whatever's fresh gets top billing. Locally produced soaps, sachets, and spices are attractively packaged and make good souvenirs. On Mondays, antique vendors take over the space.
Any day of the week, this is a good place to sample socca — a thin chickpea-flour crêpe seasoned with pepper and olive oil. I make a point of heading to a busy stand where the socca is gobbled up as quickly as it can be sliced — hot out of the oven. This peasant staple predating tourism is still dear to local hearts.
In this ideal Mediterranean climate, fragrant roses, lavender, and jasmine seem to grow effortlessly, and it's no wonder that perfume is a local industry. The Molinard family, for one, has been making perfume from Riviera flowers for a century. (You can enjoy a fragrant visit at their elegant <a href="https://molinard.com/en-us/pages/nice-workshops" target="_blank">boutique </a>near Nice's promenade.) Perfume makers like to say that scents are first distilled like cognac and then aged like wine. They aren't exaggerating: 660 pounds of lavender go into just one quart of pure essence.
Nice's sublime light and weather have attracted not only tourists, but many influential artists. In the early 20th century, Henri Matisse and Marc Chagall were among the masters who came here, and the city has a museum devoted to each. The <a href="https://musees-nationaux-alpesmaritimes.fr/chagall/en" target="_blank">Chagall Museum</a> is a delight, even for those who are suspicious of modern art. Chagall painted a cycle of canvases just for this museum, each a lighter-than-air collage of images inspired by his Russian-folk-village youth, his Jewish heritage, and biblical themes.
The small <a href="https://www.musee-matisse-nice.org/en/" target="_blank">Matisse Museum</a>, housed in an elegant orange mansion, is a fine introduction to the man who wrote: "When I understood that every morning I would see again this light [in Nice], I could not believe how happy I was." As you tour the museum, look for his cheery motifs — fruit, flowers, sunny rooms, and curvaceous women. Matisse, the master of leaving things out, could suggest a woman's body with just a single curvy line.
Some of those curves could have been inspired by the smooth arc of Nice's landmark bay. See for yourself by hiking up Castle Hill, the rocky promontory that moors one end of the beach. For a grand finale to any day, go at sunset with a picnic and a bottle of local wine, and soak up the sensational 360-degree views of the grand promenade and the spectacular Alps-to-Mediterranean scenery.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/141/medium/7e88d185767022f16084b046f6568ddf/article-france-nice-promenade-des-anglais.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Walk the Promenade des Anglais to admire the azure Mediterranean and soak in the vibes. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/475/medium/2a7ddaa2ce34764b3e455a506938e9f1/621_Nice.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>At the Cours Saleya market, the emphasis is on local products. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/476/medium/a7f494084dc062cae28f219a7711dc74/621_NiceBay.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The perfectly blue water of Nice's bay has been drawing tourists since the 19th century. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Tasting High Culture in Vienna</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/wining-and-dining-in-vienna</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-03-21</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[If any European capital knows how to enjoy the good life, it's <a href="/europe/austria/vienna">Vienna</a>. Compared to most modern urban centers, the pace of life here is slow. Locals linger over pastry and coffee at cafés. Concerts and classical music abound. And chatting with friends at a wine garden is not a special event but a way of life.
For many Viennese, the living room is down the street at the neighborhood coffeehouse, which offers light lunches, fresh pastries, a wide selection of newspapers, and "take all the time you want" charm (with famously grumpy waiters). Each coffeehouse comes with its own individual character. <a href="https://www.cafesperl.at/en_home.html" target="_blank">Café Sperl</a> dates from 1880, and is still furnished identically to the day it opened — from the coat tree to the chairs. <a href="https://hawelka.at/" target="_blank">Café Hawelka</a> has a dark, "brooding Trotsky" atmosphere, paintings by struggling artists who couldn't pay for coffee, smokey velvet couches, and a phone that rings for regulars. When Mrs. Hawelka died a couple of weeks after Pope John Paul II, locals suspected the pontiff wanted her much-loved Buchteln (marmalade-filled doughnuts) in heaven.
Make it a point to stop by <a href="https://www.demel.com/en/" target="_blank">Demel</a>, the ultimate Viennese chocolate shop, filled with Art Nouveau boxes of choco-dreams come true: Kandierte Veilchen (candied violet petals), Katzenzungen (cats' tongues), and much more. An impressive cancan of cakes is displayed to tempt you into springing for the cake-and-coffee deal (point to the cake you want). You're sure to see Sacher torte, the local specialty. Apart from its apricot filling, the recipe seems pretty simple...chocolate on chocolate. You can sit inside the shop, with a view of the cake-making, or outside, with the street action. Fancy shops like this boast on their sign: "K.u.K." (meaning good enough for the König und Kaiser — king and emperor).
For another royally good experience, head to the Heurigen (wine gardens). Clustered around the edge of town, at the start of the legendary Vienna Woods, wine-garden restaurants feature cold-cut buffets paired with fine Austrian wines in an old-village atmosphere with strolling musicians. If you visit in fall, try Sturm, the semi-fermented new wine made from the season's first grape harvest and only available in autumn. Many locals claim that it takes several years of practice to distinguish between Sturm and vinegar. The red version is so hearty and fruity that locals say "Eat up!" when toasting with it.
Of the many wine-garden suburbs, Grinzing is the most famous and lively. To avoid tour groups, try Nussdorf, popular with Viennese. Music lovers head to Heiligenstadt to visit the <a href="https://www.pfarrplatz.at/en/" target="_blank">Beethovenhaus</a> wine garden, where the composer lived and began work on his Ninth Symphony.
Within Vienna, you'll find a colorful pub on nearly every street corner, filled with poetry teachers and their students, couples deep in conversation, aspiring musicians on their way home from cello lessons, and waiters who enjoy serving hearty, affordable food and drinks.
Vienna claims to be the only city with a cuisine of its own. Vienna soups come with fillings, such as semolina dumpling or pancake slices. Wiener schnitzel is a breaded and fried veal (or pork) cutlet. For hardcore Viennese cuisine, drop by a Würstelstand. The local hot-dog stand is a fixture on city squares throughout the old center, serving a variety of hot dogs and pickled side dishes with a warm corner-meeting-place atmosphere. Or eat at <a href="https://www.trzesniewski.at/filialen/dorotheergasse" target="_blank">Buffet Trzesniewski</a>, famous for finger sandwiches with toppings like chicken liver or herring. The <a href="https://www.wien.info/en/shopping-wining-dining/markets/naschmarkt" target="_blank">Naschmarkt</a> open-air market has two parallel lanes — one lined with fun eateries, the other featuring high-end produce and gourmet goodies. This is where top chefs like to get their ingredients.
From July through August, a thriving people scene erupts each evening in the park on Rathausplatz, the welcoming park in front of Vienna's City Hall, where free concerts are broadcast on a giant screen. Scores of food stands and picnic tables are set up. There are no plastic cups, just real plates and glasses — Vienna wants the quality of dining experience to be as good as the music that's about to begin. About 2,000 spots on comfy benches face a 60-foot-wide screen up against the building's Neo-Gothic facade. The program differs every night, with filmed performances ranging from opera and classical concerts to more contemporary fare.
Of course, as the music capital of Europe, Vienna abounds with opportunities to enjoy live performances, with 10,000 seats in various venues around town. Outside summer you can see the famous <a href="https://www.viennaboyschoir.org/" target="_blank">Vienna Boys' Choir</a>, and year-round you can attend the city's world-renowned <a href="https://www.wiener-staatsoper.at/en/calendar-tickets/calendar/" target="_blank">opera</a>, and classical performances ranging from the <a href="https://www.wienerphilharmoniker.at/en/" target="_blank">Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra</a> to touristy Mozart or Strauss concerts performed by powdered-wigged musicians.
In this regal city, culture is king and locals are experts in the art of good living. Any traveler with an interest in slowing down and experiencing the finer things — a good cup of coffee, fine wine, heavenly music, or a Sacher torte with whipped cream — will feel right at home.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/017/413/medium/3cb916823e81fc093d07110a3c438473/austria-vienna-demel-shop.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Demel's cancan of cakes tempts all who pass. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/171/medium/e068be51fa5f58bd7f69bb9302f25fc8/424b_HotDogStand_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>You'll find hot-dog stands sprinkled in squares throughout the old center. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/017/414/medium/c1bacb5aa3083d873f2fc5898d8fda68/austria-vienna-heuriger-restaurant.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The Viennese enjoy lingering with friends at peaceful wine gardens. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>The Highlights of Happening Helsinki</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/things-to-do-in-helsinki</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-03-14</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Helsinki — Europe's youngest and northernmost capital city — feels like an outpost of Europe. While it lacks the cutesy cobbles of <a href="/europe/denmark/copenhagen">Copenhagen</a>, the aristocratic setting of <a href="/europe/sweden/stockholm">Stockholm</a>, or the futuristic vibe of <a href="/europe/norway/oslo">Oslo</a>, Helsinki holds its own among Nordic capitals with its creative spirit, zest for architecture and design, and a steamy love of saunas.
Perhaps the best way to understand Helsinki's origins is to take the short ferry ride across the harbor to the sleepy island-fortress of <a href="https://www.suomenlinna.fi/en/" target="_blank">Suomenlinna</a> (now a popular park). Little <a href="/europe/finland">Finland</a> was long caught up in the superpower chess moves of its big neighbors, <a href="/europe/sweden">Sweden</a> and Russia. The Swedes dominated the country from medieval times until 1809, when they lost it to the Russians, who held it until 1917.
The Swedes built Suomenlinna in the mid-1700s to counter Russia's rising power. Peter the Great had just created his new capital nearby, at St. Petersburg, and he was eyeing the West. With five miles of walls and hundreds of cannons guarding the harbor, Suomenlinna squelched the Russian threat (at least for the time being). With all that activity, small-time <a href="/europe/finland/helsinki">Helsinki</a> took off, becoming a boomtown in support of the grand strategic fort.
Helsinki is buffered by more than 300 islands, and its harbor is always busy. Frequent passenger ferries cross the Baltic Sea from Stockholm, Tallinn, and even St. Petersburg. The arrival of cruise ships — sliding through tight passages between the surrounding islands — energizes the city each day. Mighty ice breakers moored in their summer slumber are the only reminder of the bitter Baltic winters.
Almost everything worth seeing is walkable from the harbor. Most visitors head directly to Helsinki's fun harbor plaza, called Kauppatori. This colorful outdoor food bazaar is the place in town for a casual, quick-and-cheap lunch (moose meatballs and salmon grills are favorites). Everyone from the Finnish president to visiting tourists stops by for a dash of local flavor.
Daily bus tours run from the docks for a rapid-fire overview of Finnish history and a quick look at the top monuments and churches. Or you can stretch your legs along Helsinki's grand boulevard, the Esplanade, leading from the water into town. With wide sidewalks and a friendly park sandwiched in the middle, this is the city's best stroll for window shopping, people watching, and sun worshiping.
Then delve into the boutiques of the <a href="https://designdistrict.fi/en/" target="_blank">Design District</a> for some of Europe's most eye-pleasing fashion and home decor. A surprising number of global trends — from Marimekko's patterned fabrics to Nokia's pioneering mobile phones to the Angry Birds gaming empire — have been born right here in design-conscious Helsinki. (The local <a href="https://www.designmuseum.fi/en/" target="_blank">Design Museum</a> displays these innovations and more.)
Helsinki is famous for its 20th-century architecture, from its central train station, an Art Nouveau masterpiece by Eliel Saarinen, to the modernist simplicity of the Finlandia concert hall by Alvar Aalto. The city also boasts beautiful and diverse churches: the gleaming white <a href="https://www.helsinginseurakunnat.fi/en/index/helsingintuomiokirkko.html.stx" target="_blank">Lutheran Cathedral</a>, a Neoclassical gem; the red-brick Russian Orthodox Cathedral, a reminder of Russia's long dominance here; and the underground <a href="https://www.helsinginseurakunnat.fi/en/index/temppeliaukionkirkko.html.stx" target="_blank">Temppeliaukio Church</a>, blasted out of solid granite and capped by a copper and glass dome.
There's also the little <a href="https://www.kampinkappeli.fi/index/visit_1.html" target="_blank">Kamppi Chapel</a>. Sitting unassumingly on a city plaza, the spruce structure encloses a windowless cylinder of silence. Inside, indirect light bathes the alder-wood paneling in warmth and tranquility. Does it resemble Noah's Ark? The inside of an egg? Although it's a church, there are no services; it's open to anyone needing a reflective pause.
Overall, I find Finns to be pretty quiet and contemplative. I once wandered into a flea market in Helsinki, closed my eyes, and listened to the soundtrack of 300 Finns. It was almost silent — I could have been in a mountain meadow. So I was surprised to discover the Finnish love affair with lotteries and gambling. Slot machines and games of chance are everywhere, including restaurants and supermarkets, manned by Finns eagerly stuffing in coins. There's even a roulette lounge at the Helsinki Airport.
A more traditional touchstone of Finnish culture is the sauna. These days, with so many Finns affluent enough to have saunas in their homes (5.4 million Finns have 3.3 million saunas), some of the working-class spots I've long enjoyed have gone upscale. The chic <a href="https://www.loylyhelsinki.fi/en/" target="_blank">Löyly</a> complex is typical of the new trend, with its saunas finely crafted from warm woods, a restaurant serving fashionable Nordic cuisine, and a seaside terrace for lounging.
Helsinki seems designed to promote a sense of community, and when the weather warms, everyone takes full advantage. The city blooms with bikers, picnickers, runners, and walkers, and cafés push their tables out to the sidewalk. <a href="https://www.raflaamo.fi/en/helsinki/kappeli" target="_blank">Café Kappeli</a>, an Old World oasis of pastry and relaxation, sits proudly at the harbor's edge. It's the perfect spot to sip a coffee while waiting for your ship, already savoring your Helsinki memories.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/024/593/medium/6118978d4db8b1e1a07abbba1a3254ce/finland-helsinki-harbor-091318-rs.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Helsinki grew up around its busy harbor, overlooked by the gleaming white Lutheran Cathedral. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/024/594/medium/d2440b77de0613e84754830b5a618139/finland-helsinki-kamppi-chapel-091318-ch.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Meditative spirituality and modern architecture converge beautifully in Helsinki's Kamppi Chapel. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/348/medium/6def52aeee34b8952609f744d7432d0c/560__SuomenlinnaFort.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Suomenlinna Fortress — the second mightiest fort of its kind in Europe after Gibraltar — boasts five miles of walls and hundreds of cannon. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Italy Connoisseurs Choose Leisurely Lucca </title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/lucca-italy</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-03-07</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[On a sunny summer evening in <a href="/europe/italy/lucca">Lucca</a>, Italy, I witnessed the simple joy of an old man bicycling with his granddaughter atop the town's wide, fortified wall. Then, on rented bikes, a group of chatty tourists frolicked by. Their enthusiasm was contagious. Squinting at the energy in their smiles, surrounded by dazzling sunshine, it struck me that the sun in Italy seems to have a special glint. It's as if it's telling visitors, "Embrace life!"
Well-preserved Lucca has no single monumental sight, unless you count its welcoming, human-scaled overall feel. Its mighty wall, which long protected this proud city from its enemies, now serves to corral Lucca's Old World charm. Even its mostly traffic-free old town feels more local than touristy (aside from a few cruise excursions from nearby Livorno that pass through each day). Neighboring Pisa has the famous tilted tower you can climb, but lesser-known Lucca is a favorite stop for many Italy connoisseurs. Just a 30-minute train ride from Pisa and an hour's ride from <a href="/europe/italy/florence">Florence</a>, it's easy to do <a href="/europe/italy/pisa">Pisa</a> and Lucca in a one-day trip from Florence.
Lucca began as a Roman settlement, and the grid layout of the streets — and the shadow of an amphitheater — still survive from Roman times. As was typical for Roman towns, Lucca's two main roads quartered the fortified town, crossing at what was the forum (main market and religious/political center) — today's Piazza San Michele. The amphitheater sat just outside the original Roman walls.
The city is a bit of a paradox — while it has Europe's mightiest Renaissance wall, it hasn't seen a battle since 1430. My friend Gabriele explained to me the difference between a Renaissance wall and a medieval wall. Medieval walls were thin, because with weapons like arrows and stones, there was no need for thick fortification. But in Renaissance times, the development of powerful cannons introduced the need for thicker, more substantial walls.
These days, locals like Gabriele treat their ramparts like a circular park. And, with plenty of rental bikes available, visitors can enjoy a lazy pedal around its two-and-a-half-mile circuit. It's a wonderfully smooth 20–30-minute pedal, depending on how fast you go and how crowded the wall-top park is. The best people-watching — and slowest pedaling — is during passeggiata time, just before dinner, when it seems that all of Lucca is doing slow laps around the wall.
In its heyday, Lucca packed 70 churches and over 100 towers within its walls. Each tower was the home and private fortress of a wealthy merchant family. Tower interiors were single rooms stacked atop each other: shop, living room, and then the kitchen, all connected by exterior wooden staircases. Rooftops usually served as vegetable gardens, with trees providing shade. Later, the wealthy city folk moved into the countryside, trading away life in their city palazzos to establish farm estates complete with fancy villas.
Strolling Lucca's main drag, Via Fillungo, lets you connect the town's two busiest squares: Piazza dell'Anfiteatro and Piazza San Michele. Between the two, you can get a taste of Lucca's rich past, including several elegant, century-old storefronts.
At delightful Piazza dell'Anfiteatro, you might feel the architectural ghost of the town's Roman amphitheater. With the fall of Rome, the theater (which seated 10,000) was gradually cannibalized for its stones and inhabited by people living in a mishmash of huts. The huts were cleared away at the end of the 19th century to better show off the town's illustrious past and make one purely secular square for the town market (every other square is dominated by a church). While the arena's long gone, its oval shape is a reminder of the city's classical heritage.
Piazza San Michele also has ancient roots. It's hosted a market since Roman times, when it was the forum. Today it's dominated by the <a href="https://www.turismo.lucca.it/chiesa-san-michele" target="_blank">Church of San Michele</a>. Towering above its fancy Romanesque facade, the archangel Michael stands ready to flap his wings — which, thanks to a crude mechanical contraption, he actually did on special occasions.
Nearby, the Church of San Giovanni hosts <a href="https://puccinielasualucca.com/en/home/">nightly concerts</a> celebrating the music of hometown composer Giacomo Puccini — one of Italy's greatest opera composers (La Bohème, Madame Butterfly, Tosca). Puccini's delightful arias seem to capture the spirit of this wonderful corner of Italy.
Just because you can see Lucca in an easy day trip doesn't mean you should. If you have time to simply relax on your vacation, this is a great place for it. Slow down, grab a gelato, and bask in Lucca's genuine charm.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/027/171/medium/08d82b0eebdee89a58f62a042e08f641/italy-lucca-guinigi-tower-020620-az.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Inside Torre Guinigi, one of Lucca's surviving medieval towers, 227 steps lead up to a small garden of fragrant trees. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/027/170/medium/7e66c22174810abb8c858784088ce7b0/italy-lucca-walls-020620-az.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>A visit to Lucca is incomplete without a leisurely evening "passeggiata" along the city walls. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Soak in Opulence at Budapest’s Thermal Baths</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/taking-the-plunge-in-budapest</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-02-29</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Centuries ago, the towns of Buda and Pest, the leading cities of a mighty Hungarian kingdom, united to become <a href="/europe/hungary/budapest">Budapest</a>. Today, Hungary's vibrant capital maintains its stately ambience and offers plenty of tourist-friendly activities. You can sample spicy paprika at the Great Market Hall (designed by Gustave Eiffel), sip coffee in a sumptuous turn-of-the-20th-century café, and enjoy an affordable performance at the luxurious Opera House. Budapest has its fair share of museums and monuments, too: You can gape at the implausibly lavish interior of the Hungarian Parliament, get a taste of the gloomy Hungarian psyche at the National Gallery, and wander through a field of giant communist statues at Memento Park.
But for me, splashing and relaxing in Budapest's thermal baths is the city's top experience. Though it might sound daunting, bathing in Budapest is far more accessible than you'd think. Tourists are welcome. The thermal baths are basically like your hometown swimming pool — except the water is around 100 degrees, there are plenty of jets and bubbles to massage away your stress, and you're surrounded by Hungarians having fun.
Locals brag that if you poke a hole in the ground anywhere in <a href="/europe/hungary">Hungary</a>, you'll find a hot-water spring. Judging from Budapest, they may be right: The city has 123 natural springs and some two-dozen thermal baths. The baths are actually a part of the health-care system. Doctors regularly prescribe treatments that include massage, soaking in baths of various heat and mineral compositions, and swimming laps. For these patients, a visit to the bath is subsidized.
In Hungary, a typical bath complex has multiple pools, used for different purposes. Big pools with cooler water are for serious swimming, while the smaller, hotter thermal baths are for relaxing, enjoying the jets and current pools, and playing chess. You'll also usually find a dry sauna, a wet steam room, a cold plunge pool (for a pleasurable jolt when you're feeling overheated), and sunbathing areas. Many baths have fun flourishes: bubbles, whirlpools, massage jets, wave pools, and so on. Expect to pay around $30 for admission and a personal changing cabin (a bit cheaper if you change in the locker room). Swimsuits are the norm; nudity is rare.
Two of Budapest's baths — Széchenyi and Gellért — are the best known, most representative, and most convenient for first-timers.
To soak with the locals, head for the <a href="https://www.szechenyibath.hu/" target="_blank">Szechényi bath complex</a> — a big, yellow, copper-domed building in the middle of Budapest's City Park. Recent renovation has restored the complex to its late-19th-century glory days, making Széchenyi Budapest's best bath.
The seemingly confusing entry procedure is like a time-warp back to communist bureaucracy...but that's all part of the experience, and somehow, it works.
Here's how my recent visit to the Széchenyi Baths went: I entered the elegant spa, bought my entry ticket and towel (I should have thought ahead and borrowed one from my hotel), grabbed my waterproof wristband, and headed through the turnstile. I was immediately lost in a labyrinth of hallways, until a white-smocked bath attendant pointed me toward the locker room. After I slipped into my swimsuit, I was finally ready for some hot-water fun.
Sitting in hundred-degree water under glorious Baroque domes, I felt my stress ebb away as I enjoyed some of Europe's most memorable people-watching. Hungarians of all shapes and sizes were stuffed into tiny swimsuits, strutting their stuff. People floated blissfully in warm water. Speedo-clad intellectuals stood in chest-high water around chessboards and pondered their next moves. It's Budapest at its best.
Afterward, completely relaxed, I changed back into my street clothes, gave my soggy swimsuit a spin in the centrifuge, and dropped off my wristband as I floated through the turnstile.
Budapest's more atmospheric option is the <a href="http://www.gellertbath.com/" target="_blank">Gellért Baths</a>, located in a fancy hotel. Gellért is more sedate and luxurious than Szechényi — with exquisite porcelain details and an air of mystery. And in the summer, the Gellért Baths have something Széchenyi doesn't: a huge, deliriously enjoyable wave pool that'll toss you around like a surfer.
While Hungary has several mostly nude, segregated Turkish baths, Szechényi and Gellért are less intimidating: Men and women are usually together, and you'll keep your swimsuit on the entire time. But even at these baths, there are a few clothing-optional areas, where locals are likely to be nude or wearing only a koteny (a loose-fitting loincloth).
With or without your Speedo, take the plunge. My readers often report that the thermal baths were their top Hungarian experience. If you go into it with an easygoing attitude and a sense of humor, you'll never forget bath time in Budapest.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/035/863/medium/6b843aaee1009b2c2575391657584227/article-hungary-budapest-szechenyi-baths.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Budapest's baths are fun and relaxing — BYO swimsuit and towel. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/186/medium/52f0e6dc6d66bb6b586b72b34e8188c6/430b_ChessBath_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Locals in Budapest love to play chess while soaking in their hot springs. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Booking It Through Europe: Top Literary Stops</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/booking-it-through-literary-europe</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-02-22</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Getting close to one of the big icons of Western civilization — the Acropolis, the palace of <a href="/europe/france/versailles">Versailles</a>, the Colosseum — can be the spine-tingling high point of a European trip. But don't paper over Europe's "smaller" achievements. Many of Europe's lasting cultural contributions are captured on dusty sheets of vellum or parchment. Paging through these literary treasures in museums and libraries can raise of few goosebumps of their own.
<h5>London</h5>
The <a href="https://www.bl.uk/" target="_blank">British Library</a> is vast, but its librarians have managed to cram everything that really matters into a two-room exhibition called "The Treasures." Early Bibles, a First Folio of Shakespeare's works, Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, the Magna Carta, and Beatles' lyrics (scribbled on the back of a greeting card) vie for your attention. Surrounded by this bounty, it's clear that the British Empire built some of its greatest monuments out of paper.
Fans can pay their respects to Britain's literary masters in the Poets' Corner at <a href="https://www.westminster-abbey.org/" target="_blank">Westminster Abbey</a>. Geoffrey Chaucer was the first literary great to be buried here (in 1400). Among those interred nearby are Charles Dickens, Robert Browning, Thomas Hardy, Alfred Tennyson, and Edmund Spenser.
<h5>Prague</h5>
Given their imaginative, sometimes fanciful culture, it's no surprise that the Czechs have produced some famously clever writers. Prague native Franz Kafka wrote his renowned Metamorphosis (elevator pitch: man wakes up as cockroach) in an Old Town apartment overlooking the Vltava River. That building was destroyed in 1945, but fans today can visit the <a href="https://kafkamuseum.cz/en/" target="_blank">Franz Kafka Museum</a> (good even for those who don't know much about him) and the Franz Kafka Society Center (bookstore and center devoted to him).
Ironically, until recently, many Czechs were not too familiar with Kafka, a Jew who wrote in German. During World War II, his writings were banned when Germans occupied the city and, after the war, his work was caught up in a wave of anti-German feeling. The ensuing Communist regime had little use for him either. Locals began to take him more seriously after the Velvet Revolution of 1989, when tourists from around the world started showing up wearing Kafka T-shirts.
<h5>Edinburgh</h5>
The lives and literature of Scotland's holy trinity — Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and Robert Louis Stevenson — are the focus of Edinburgh's <a href="https://www.edinburghmuseums.org.uk/venue/writers-museum
" target="_blank">Writers' Museum</a>. Burns was Scotland's bard, extolling his native land in poetry. Stevenson stirred the Scottish soul with evocative classics like Kidnapped and Treasure Island. Scott — who wrote the historical novels Ivanhoe and Rob Roy — revived his countrymen's pride in Highland culture and the Gaelic language.
With exhibits mingling first editions with personal artifacts (Scott's pipe, Burns' writing desk), the museum gives an intimate view of the masters. To enliven all the history, follow up a museum visit with Edinburgh's popular <a href="https://www.edinburghliterarypubtour.co.uk/" target="_blank">Literary Pub Tour</a>: a kind of walking theatrical performance, in and between three or four pubs, where actors wittily debate their takes on Scotland's literary greats.
<h5>Paris</h5>
The European love affair with books is charmingly demonstrated in the green metal bookstalls that line the Left Bank of the Seine River. Second-hand booksellers, called bouquinistes, have been a Parisian fixture since the mid-1500s, when such shops and stalls lined most of the bridges in Paris. (Business boomed after the Revolution, when entire libraries were "liberated" from rich nobles.)
Another writers' landmark is the <a href="https://shakespeareandcompany.com/" target="_blank">Shakespeare and Company bookstore</a>. Founded in 1919 by free-thinking American Sylvia Beach, the original shop on Rue de l'Odeon was a meeting place for Paris's expatriate literary elite. Ernest Hemingway regularly borrowed books from the store. When James Joyce struggled to find a publisher for his now-classic Ulysses, Beach published it. While the Nazis shut the shop down in 1941, its postwar incarnation near the banks of the Seine carries on Beach's tradition by supporting struggling writers.
<h5>Dublin</h5>
Of all the places I've traveled in Europe, Ireland excels in literary passion. Around the turn of the 20th century, Dublin produced some of the world's great writers. Oscar Wilde wowed Britain with his quick wit and clever satires of upper-class Victorian society. William Butler Yeats won a Nobel Prize for his Irish-themed poems and plays. Most inventive of all, perhaps, was James Joyce, who captured literary lightning in a bottle when he focused on Dublin's seedier side in his stream-of-consciousness Ulysses.
For a dose of witty Irish lit (and beer to boot), join the <a href="https://www.dublinpubcrawl.com/" target="_blank">Dublin Literary Pub Crawl</a>. Two actors take 40 or so tourists on a walk, stopping at four pubs, and with clever bantering craic (fun and conversation) introduce the language of Joyce, O'Casey, and Yeats.
But to experience the Irish gift of gab in its highest form, treat yourself to a night out at the <a href="https://www.abbeytheatre.ie/" target="_blank">Abbey Theatre</a>. Founded by Yeats to bring to the stage the "deeper emotions of Ireland," the theater has been promoting Irish writers and artists for more than a hundred years.
It's no exaggeration to say that Europe's literary documents changed the course of history. From pubs to museums to libraries, if you decide to target the literary culture of Europe, the entire continent can be a good read.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/021/695/medium/838f84daae8434dd2b4d58b366a6a635/england-london-british-library-031617-az.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The British Library, with the world's largest catalog, boasts 380 miles of shelving. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/021/696/medium/fba7f22feaf9907c1db8ef656fc561a1/france-paris-bookstore-031617-ch.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The English-language Shakespeare and Company in Paris is a bookworm's dream. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Stockholm’s Noble Past and Present</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/stockholms-noble-past-and-present</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-02-15</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[With its steel-and-glass Modernist buildings and dedication to green living, <a href="/europe/sweden/stockholm">Stockholm</a> has the feel of a gleaming metropolis, but it offers a satisfying mix of old and new, from a well-preserved 17th-century warship to its sleek and glittering City Hall from our age.
Before you go, check out the city's well-done <a href="https://www.visitstockholm.com/" target="_blank">tourist information site</a>, then consider whether to buy a <a href="https://gocity.com/en/stockholm" target="_blank">Go City Pass</a> — it covers a number of sights and includes bus and boat tours. And when you arrive, use the excellent public transportation system or taxis to get around. (Only a Swedish meatball would drive his car in Stockholm; park it in one of the park-and-ride lots that ring the city.)
Stockholm, with more than 2 million people, is built on an archipelago of 14 islands woven together by 54 bridges. Gamla Stan, the city's historic island core, is an Old Town of winding, lantern-lit streets, antique shops, and classy cafés clustered around the <a href="https://www.royalpalaces.se/english/royal-palaces-and-sites/the-royal-palace.html" target="_blank">Royal Palace</a>. The palace hosts a fun, spirited Changing of the Guard ceremony, and contains the <a href="https://livrustkammaren.se/en/" target="_blank">Royal Armory</a>, with one of Europe's most spectacular collections of medieval royal armor.
Famous Swedes include Astrid Lindgren, author of Pippi Longstocking (found in bookstores all over town), and Sweden's most famous sculptor, Carl Milles, whose statues are strikingly displayed in Stockholm's dramatic cliffside <a href="https://www.millesgarden.se/en/home" target="_blank">Millesgården</a>.
But let's face it: Sweden’s best-known artistic output is the bouncy, irresistibly catchy pop songs of ABBA. Stockholm's <a href="https://abbathemuseum.com/en/" target="_blank">ABBA: The Museum</a> is made for dancing queens — and kings — who want to soak up a little pop nostalgia.
Of course, Stockholm has plenty more sights to keep tourists busy. <a href="https://skansen.se/en/" target="_blank">Skansen</a> is Europe's original and best open-air folk museum. This huge park with more than 150 historic homes, shops, churches, and schoolhouses transplanted from all corners of Sweden, makes for a fun trip back in time, and brings Swedish traditions to life. The old interiors are wonderfully furnished, complete with guides dressed in traditional outfits. There's fiddling, folk dancing, and public dancing to live bands on summer weekends. Think of it as Swedish-culture-on-a-lazy-Susan, where visitors can sweep through the countryside and centuries of lifestyles without leaving the capital.
Near Skansen, the mighty 17th-century warship Vasa is chemically petrified and housed in a <a href="https://www.vasamuseet.se/en" target="_blank">state-of-the-art museum</a>. Heralded as the ultimate warship of her day, the Vasa sank just minutes into her maiden voyage, with 450 crew members on board. The year was 1628. The ship was top-heavy, with an extra row of cannons tacked on above and not enough ballast below. A breeze caught the sails and blew the ship over. The wreck spent more than 300 years at the bottom of Stockholm's harbor before being dredged up in 1961. And the city managed to turn this titanic flop into a brilliant museum and one of Scandinavia's great sightseeing attractions.
While churches dominate cities in southern Europe, in the Scandinavian capitals, city halls take the lead. It's clear that Stockholm's <a href="https://stadshuset.stockholm/en/" target="_blank">City Hall</a> rules the city. Constructed in 1923, it's an amazing mix of eight million bricks and 19 million chips of gilt mosaic. To see the interior, take the entertaining tour. And for the best city view, climb the 348-foot-tall tower (an elevator takes you about halfway up).
Stockholm's dazzling Nobel banquet commences every December in City Hall, where the Nobel committee awards its prestigious prizes for chemistry, medicine, physics, economics, and literature.
At the <a href="https://nobelprizemuseum.se/en/" target="_blank">Nobel Prize Museum</a>, portraits of all 700-plus winners hang from the ceiling, shuffling around the room like shirts at the dry cleaner's. The museum's Viennese-style café is the place to get creative with your coffee…and sample the famous Nobel ice cream. All Nobel laureates who visit the museum are asked to sign the bottom of a chair in the café. Turn over your chair to see who warmed the one you've been sitting on.
Nobel winners stay at Stockholm's <a href="https://www.grandhotel.se/en" target="_blank">Grand Hotel</a>. Even if you're not an honoree (better luck next year!), it's still worth a visit for the best smörgåsbord in town. Traditional dishes decorating the buffet table include herring, reindeer, shrimp, cheeses, knäckebröd (Swedish crisp bread), gravlax (salt-cured salmon flavored with dill and served with a sweet mustard sauce), and meatballs with gravy and lingonberry sauce.
If you just want to put on a heavy coat and drink a fancy vodka in a modern-day igloo, consider the fun, if touristy, <a href="https://hotelcstockholm.se/icebar-stockholm-by-icehotel/" target="_blank">Icebar</a>. The room, windows, bar, and even the glasses are literally made out of ice.
While modern and progressive, Stockholm reveres its traditions. Whether you're celebrating ingenuity at the Nobel sights, strolling through the cobbled Old Town, grooving to ABBA, or crawling through Europe's best-preserved warship, you'll be amazed by Stockholm's stunning past and its vibrant present.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/501/medium/f08c7663053ed1f055976f5231938bec/article-sweden-stockholm-view-from-city-hall.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The tower of Stockholm's City Hall offers a classic view of the historic quarter of Gamla Stan. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/020/235/medium/5e4582744b903f3606aeb6530b27f881/sweden-stockholm-skansen-dancing-RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>At the Skansen open-air museum, you'll find fiddlers, folk dancers, and guides in traditional garb. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/745/medium/49616156da74b8d3083bc844d27712ba/article-sweden-stockholm-gamla-stan-cobbled-streets.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>For a peek at medieval Stockholm, wander the cobbled streets of Gamla Stan, the city’s old town. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">1251</guid>
<title>Evolving Lisbon</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/evolving-lisbon</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-02-01</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Portugal's capital city of <a href="/europe/portugal/lisbon">Lisbon</a> feels to me like Europe's San Francisco — it has rattling trolleys, a famous suspension bridge, a heritage dominated by a horrific earthquake, and lots of fog. And like San Francisco, it's a charming mix of now and then.
Lisbon's glory days were in the 15th and 16th centuries, when Vasco da Gama and other explorers opened new trade routes to India and Asia, making Lisbon the queen of Europe. Later, the riches of colonial Brazil boosted Lisbon even higher — until an earthquake in 1755 leveled the city, leaving a smoldering pile of rubble. Rua Augusta, the triumphal gateway arch to the city, signals the city's rebirth, and affords a grand view down the main drag. Climbing to the top of the arch, you can see that the center of town was rebuilt in a strict grid plan with broad boulevards and inviting squares.
Downtown Lisbon fills a valley flanked by two hills along the banks of the Rio Tejo. Three characteristic neighborhoods line the downtown harborfront: the modern-feeling Baixa (lower town), the Alfama's jumble of medieval streets on the hill to the east; and the Bairro Alto (high town), on the hill to the west, whose old lanes brim with restaurants, bars, and nightclubs.
The city's trolleys provide a fun do-it-yourself orientation tour. Many of the cars are vintage models from the 1920s. Shaking and shivering through the old parts of town, they somehow safely weave within inches of parked cars, climb steep hills, and offer breezy views of the city (rubberneck out the window and you will die). They're perfect for a Rice-A-Roni-style joyride.
The essential Lisbon, however, is easily covered and best enjoyed on foot. The Alfama's tangled street plan, a cobbled playground of Old World color, is one of the few bits of Lisbon to survive the earthquake. Its main square, Largo de São Miquel, is the best place to observe this atmospheric quarter.
Bent Alfama houses comfort each other in their romantic shabbiness, and the air drips with laundry and the smell of clams. Favorite saints decorate doors to protect families (St. Peter, protector of fishermen, is big here). If you see carpets hanging out to dry, it means a laundry is nearby. Because few homes have their own, every neighborhood has a public laundry and bathroom. Until recently, in the early morning hours, the streets were busy with residents in pajamas, heading for public baths.
Today, young people are choosing to live elsewhere, lured by modern conveniences unavailable here. In just a couple of generations, the inhabitants have changed — from fishermen's families to immigrants to young bohemians.
Despite the change in demographics, the city's back streets still host halls for Lisbon's traditional folk music, fado — melancholy ballads of longing and loss, often sung by widows and other victims of fate. I like fado vadio, a kind of open-mic fado evening where amateurs line up at the door of neighborhood dives for their chance to warble.
On my must-do list in Lisbon is stopping at a bar to have pastel de bacalhau, a fried potato-and-cod croquette. Bacalhau (salted cod) is Portugal's national dish. Imported from Norway, it's never fresh, and Portuguese kids think it's a triangular fish because of the way it's sold. I think that Portugal must have the only national dish that's imported from far away — strange, and yet befitting a nation whose centuries-old economic foundation was the result of great explorers.
Another Lisbon tradition is ginjinha, its cherry brandy, sold by the shot. After a drink or two, I find myself doing laps up and down the pedestrian streets in a people-watching stupor. The sidewalks here are set in a mosaic of limestone and basalt. They're an icon of the city, but the cobbles are slippery and expensive to maintain. With the tough economy, the city government is talking about replacing them with modern pavement. Lisboners are saying "no way."
One welcome evolution is the kiosk café (quiosque in Portuguese), a standard feature of squares and viewpoints all over town. These old renovated newsstands are now mini-restaurants surrounded by tables and chairs, creating neighborhood hangouts and places for al fresco dining.
Though ever-changing, Lisbon's heritage survives. With a rich culture, stunning vistas, friendly people, and a salty setting on the edge of Europe, <a href="/europe/portugal">Portugal</a> remains a rewarding destination for travelers.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/331/medium/e9f708ee4dfb0137baf4d7e2394cdac2/article-portugal-lisbon-alfama.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Lisbon's hilly Alfama district is a jumble of whitewashed houses overlooking the yawning mouth of the Tejo River. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/015/750/medium/055b1b2028117417bb52efd655dc176b/07-31-2014_LisbonTrolleyArch_DB.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Trolleys provide a scenic tour of the city as well as practical transportation. (photo: Dominic Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Playful Padua</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/playful-padua</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-01-25</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[I'm in Padua (just half an hour from <a href="/europe/italy/venice">Venice</a>, but a world away), and I really like this town. Padua's museums and churches hold their own in Italy's artistic big league, its hotels are reasonably priced, and the city doesn't feel touristy.
Nicknamed "the Brain of Veneto," Padua ("Padova" in Italian) is home to a prestigious university (founded in 1222) that hosted Galileo, Copernicus, Dante, and Petrarch. Pilgrims know Padua as the home of the Basilica of St. Anthony, where the reverent assemble to touch his tomb and ogle his remarkably intact lower jaw and tongue. And lovers of early-Renaissance art come here to make a pilgrimage of their own: to gaze at the remarkable 14th-century frescoes by Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel.
When I come here, I like to ramble around Padua's old town center. It's a colonnaded, time-travel experience through some of Italy's most inviting squares, perfect for lingering over an aperitivo. But it's not old-time stodgy — this university town has 60,000 students and a wonderfully youthful vibe. No wonder Galileo called his 18 years on the faculty in Padua the best of his life.
All over town, young people — apparently without a lot of private space in their apartments — hang out and kiss and cuddle in public spaces. These students seem very comfortable literally under the medieval tomb of one of their city's historic fathers.
Since the students can graduate whenever they defend their thesis, I've never been here without little graduation parties erupting on the street all day long. Graduates are given a green laurel wreath. Then formal group photos are taken. It's a sweet, multi-generational scene with family love and pride busting out all over.
Then, grandma goes home and the craziness takes over. Sober clothing is replaced by raunchy wear as gangs of friends gather around the new grad in the street in front of the university, and the roast begins. A giant butcher-paper poster with a generally obscene caricature of the student — and a litany of "This Is Your Life" photos and stories — is presented to the new grad, who, while various embarrassing pranks being pulled, reads the funny statement out loud. The poster is then taped to the university wall for all to see (and allowed to stay there for 24 hours).
During the roast, the friends sing a catchy but crude local university anthem, reminding their newly esteemed friend to keep his or her feet on the ground. Whenever I hear this song (which starts like an Olympic Games fanfare and finishes like a German cartoon: oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah) and see all the good-natured fun, I just can't stop singing it.
It's probably a good idea to stop humming this profane ditty before seeking out Padua's two main sights — the <a href="https://www.santantonio.org/en/basilica" target="_blank">Basilica of St. Anthony</a> and the Scrovegni Chapel. Friar Anthony of Padua — patron saint of travelers, amputees, donkeys, pregnant women, barren women, flight attendants, and pig farmers — is buried in the basilica. Construction of this impressive Romanesque/Gothic church (with its Byzantine-style domes) started immediately after Anthony's death in 1231. As a mark of his universal appeal and importance in the medieval Church, he was sainted within a year of his death. Speedy. And for nearly 800 years, his remains and this glorious church have attracted pilgrims to Padua.
Gaze past the crowds and through the incense haze to Donatello's glorious crucifix rising from the altar, and realize that this is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in Christendom. In the Chapel of the Reliquaries you can see the basilica's the most prized relic — Anthony's tongue. When Anthony's remains were exhumed 32 years after his death, his body had decayed to dust, but his tongue was found miraculously unspoiled and red in color. How appropriate for the great preacher who, full of the Spirit, couldn't stop talking about God.
On the opposite side of town is the glorious, renovated <a href="http://www.cappelladegliscrovegni.it/index.php/en/" target="_blank">Scrovegni Chapel</a>. It's wallpapered with Giotto's beautifully preserved cycle of nearly 40 frescoes depicting the lives of Jesus and Mary. Painted by Giotto and his assistants from 1303 to 1305 — and considered by many to be the first piece of "modern" art — this work makes it clear: Europe was breaking out of the Middle Ages.
A sign of the Renaissance to come, Giotto placed real people in real scenes, expressing real human emotions. These frescoes were radical for their 3-D nature, lively colors, light sources, emotion, and humanism. Because it's so fragile, you must make reservations in advance to see the chapel. It's wise to reserve at least several days in advance and easiest to do <a href="http://www.cappelladegliscrovegni.it/index.php/en/" target="_blank">online</a>.
From its student vibe to its early-Renaissance masterpieces, Padua is a great place to get chummy with the winds of the past — and connect with the pleasures of the moment.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/330/medium/59bde017d1f459150f0e3648dbbfdea9/article-italy-padua-basilica-of-st-anthony.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Padua's Basilica of St. Anthony is a fascinating mix of Romanesque and Gothic architecture. (photo: Suzanne Kotz)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/656/medium/d4fc415b248e3d27e77d06bdca129350/article-italy-padua-piazza-dei-signori-students.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Padua's 60,000 students give a youthful vibe to the Italian city's Renaissance squares. (photo: Dominic Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/703/medium/b0e5c32dafed9fbbd5b2f31bddb0e1c3/article-italy-padua-scrovegni-chapel.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The frescoes of Giotto's glorious Scrovegni Chapel were some of the first artworks to show a new, post-medieval mindset in Italy. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">104</guid>
<title>Communing with Nature in Austria’s Hallstatt</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/communing-with-nature-in-austrias-hallstatt</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-01-18</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[It's rare that a town's charm will get me out of bed early. The postcard-pretty, lake-cuddling town of <a href="/europe/austria/hallstatt">Hallstatt</a>, two hours south of <a href="/europe/austria/salzburg">Salzburg</a>, is one of those places. First thing in the morning, I head to the high end of town to look at the glassy waters of Lake Hallstatt. With the town's church spire mirrored in the tranquil water, a shuttle boat cuts through its reflection, like a knife putting a swirl in the icing on a big cake. For just a moment, it disturbs this oasis of peace.
Hallstatt is located in Austria's Salzkammergut lake district, a scenic wonder that has enthralled nature lovers for centuries. This is Sound of Music country — idyllic and majestic, but not rugged, a gentle land where lakes and mountains are shuffled together like a game of 52-card pick-up.
Before there was Rome, there was Hallstatt. One of Europe's oldest settlements, Hallstatt originated as a salt-mining center (its name means "place of salt"). If you were to dig under some of its buildings, you'd find Roman and pre-Roman Celtic pavement stones from the ancient and prehistoric salt depot. Archaeologists claim that people have been coming here for salt since 7,000 BC (over the millennia, salt has been precious because it preserved meat).
A funicular runs up the mountain to the town's salt mine, one of many throughout the region that offers tours. At the mine, visitors slip into overalls, meet their guide, and hike deep into the mountain to learn about the history of salt. A highlight of the visit is riding down long banisters, miner-style, from one floor to the next...praying for no splinters.
When I first discovered Hallstatt, this was a remote community at the far end of a long, dead-end lake. Though tourism has trampled some of its charm, vivid cultural traditions still survive. Traditional green felt hats distinguished by jaunty decorative feathers are big in Austria. On my first trip here, when I was just a teenybopper, my dad and I each bought a hat and had a friendly competition filling it with souvenir pins and fancy feathers. Forty years later, I happened to be in town during the annual feather-in-the-hat party. Local men — many with finely carved pipes and handlebar moustaches — strutted around in lederhosen and their finest Tyrolean-type hats, each with a proud feather sprouting from the rim.
For centuries, the town had no road access, so people came and went by boat. If you visit you'll still see the traditional wide, flat Fuhr boats, designed to carry heavy loads of salt in shallow water. On a recent visit, a local friend took me for a spin in his Fuhr. As he lunged rhythmically on the single oar, he said, "An hour on the lake is like a day of vacation." When I asked about the oar lock, which looked like a skinny dog-chew doughnut, he told me it was "made from the gut of a bull. Not of cow, but a bull."
Facing the lake is Pension Hallberg, with a display of debris from the bottom of Lake Hallstatt. The most fascinating treasure is a trove of Nazi paraphernalia, including piles of war medallions. As I tried to sort this out, their explanation made perfect sense: When it became clear that Germany would lose World War II, those who served the Third Reich wanted to chuck any medals they had won. Lakes were the perfect trash bin.
In this town, when someone is happy to see you, they may say, "Can I cook you a fish?" I still remember the morning fish-selling ritual: A teenage boy rhythmically grabbed trout from the fishermen's pen and killed them one by one with a stern whack to the noggin. Another guy carried them to the tiny fishery, where they were gutted by a guy who used to do the stern whacking. A cat waited outside the door, confident his breakfast would be a good one. Restaurateurs and home-makers alike lined up, waiting to buy fresh trout to feed hungry tourists or special friends.
<a href="https://www.brauhaus-lobisser.com/en/restaurant-en/" target="_blank">Restaurant Bräugasthof</a>, lakeside and under a grand chestnut tree, is just the place to try some of Lake Hallstatt's prized fish. Reinanke (whitefish) is caught wild out of Lake Hallstatt and served the same day. Saibling (lake trout) is cheaper and also tasty. While you dine, you can feed the swans, who patrol the lake like it's theirs, and stretch greedily for every bit of bread you toss.
When I think of my favorite small-town places in Europe, they are where nature and culture mix, where each balcony has a lovingly watered, one-of-a-kind flowerbox, and where swans know just the right time to paddle by for scraps from diners at lakeside tables. Places like Hallstatt.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/217/medium/42464cdcdb00bdea4fb7780813a82876/article-austria-hallstatt-lake-view.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Above Hallstatt, the steep hillsides of the Dachstein range rise right up over lake shores. </tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/280/medium/a1518c77bc1ad73fbc7462fa06e5a328/528b_SaltMine_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Visitors to Hallstatt's salt mine slide down two banisters. At the end, they find out their time and receive an automatic souvenir photo. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">1322</guid>
<title>History Lives On in Prague’s Castle Quarter</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/castle-scenes-and-ice-cream-dreams-in-prague</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-01-11</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Prague is one of Europe's best-preserved cities, having been spared from last century's bombs. Nowhere is this more evident than in the hilltop Castle Quarter, which looms above the city and dominates the skyline. Filled with high art and grand buildings from the past 1,200 years, this area is packed with history. Even today, you feel like clip-clopping through these streets in a fancy carriage.
Dominating the neighborhood is <a href="https://www.hrad.cz/en/prague-castle-for-visitors" target="_blank">Prague Castle</a>. Czech leaders have ruled from here for more than a thousand years. The castle is hailed as the biggest anywhere, with a 1,500-foot-long series of courtyards, churches, and palaces. If exhausting is a measure of big, I'll buy that claim. On one memorable visit to the castle, I felt as if I were in a pinball machine — rolling downhill, bouncing from sight to sight before funneling out the lower gate.
My first stop was <a href="https://www.hrad.cz/en/prague-castle-for-visitors/objects-for-visitors/st.-vitus-cathedral-10330" target="_blank">St. Vitus Cathedral</a>, the most important church in the <a href="/europe/czech-republic">Czech Republic</a> — and the most crowded part of the castle complex. The centerpiece of the cathedral is Alphonse Mucha's masterful 1931 Art Nouveau window depicting the saints Methodius and Cyril, widely considered the fathers of Slavic-style Christianity.
The cathedral is also home to the tombs of royal and religious VIPs, such as Ferdinand I, the first Habsburg emperor and St. John of Nepomuk, a national saint whose tomb boasts more than a ton of silver. Because of the church's proximity to the royals' home, the king had his own boxed pew in a private balcony — connected by an elevated corridor to his private apartment so that he could attend Mass in his jammies.
The historic heart of the church is the fancy Wenceslas Chapel. It contains the tomb of St. Wenceslas, patron saint of the Czech nation (and the "Good King" of Christmas carol fame), who united the Czech people back in the 10th century. A rare example of a well-educated and literate ruler, he lifted the culture, astutely allied the powerless Czechs with the Holy Roman Empire, and began to fortify Prague's castle as a center of Czech government. For centuries, Czech kings were crowned right in front of Wenceslas' red-draped coffin. The new king was handed a royal scepter, orb, and sword, and fitted with the jeweled St. Wenceslas crown. Wenceslas' story may be more legend than history, but he remains an icon of Czech unity whenever the nation has to rally.
After crossing the square, I visited the <a href="https://www.hrad.cz/en/prague-castle-for-visitors/objects-for-visitors/old-royal-palace-10332" target="_blank">Old Royal Palace</a>, seat of Bohemian princes since the 12th century. Back in the day, the palace's large hall was filled with market stalls, giving nobles a chance to shop without actually going into town. The space was even big enough for jousts, with a staircase that was designed to let a mounted soldier gallop in. Until the late 1990s, this is where parliament gathered to elect the president.
This palace was also the site of the world's most famous political defenestration — a literal one. When two regional governors for the Catholic Habsburgs clamped down on religious freedom in 1618, angry Czech Protestant nobles poured into their office and threw the two governors out the window (fenestra, in Latin). The two survived, but the incident kicked off the devastating Thirty Years' War — and gave us a term for getting rid of bad politicians.
Finally reaching the bottom of the castle complex, I wandered into <a href="https://www.lobkowicz.cz/en" target="_blank">Lobkowicz Palace</a>, which displays the private collection of a prominent Czech noble family, including paintings, ceramics, and musical scores.
A highlight is the fabulous audioguide, narrated by members of the Lobkowicz family — including the prince of the palace himself, William Lobkowicz. Formerly a Boston real-estate broker, William returned here in 1990 to reclaim his family's properties and eventually restore them to their former state. The audioguide brings the place to life and lets you get to know the family — who lost all their possessions to the Nazis, got them back after World War II, and then lost them all again to the communists.
After turning in the audioguide, I gave the clerk my business card and told her to thank the prince. She asked me if I'd like to meet him. So William and his wife Sandra ended up taking me through the palace for a more intimate peek at things. We talked about post-Nazi restitution challenges and triumphs, and the fact that many nobles have gotten a bad rap since the French Revolution. As William put it, "We're just real people who own lots of big palaces." On reflection, I decided "noble" might now best describe the effort William and his family are making to preserve valuable pieces of the Czech cultural heritage.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/741/medium/78c3ca67b8c6f5ff0495e4dc3584b943/article-czech-republic-st-vitus-cathedral.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>St. Vitus Cathedral was started in 1344, then stalled by centuries of wars and plagues before finally being finished in 1929. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/037/138/medium/b49afd389a3bbedfa9ff41b5f43f2e5e/article-czech-republic-prague-castle.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Perched on a hill across the river from the Old Town, Prague Castle is surrounded by a church, cathedral, and several palaces built by nobles who competed with the Church for influence on the king. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">533</guid>
<title>Nature Rules in England’s Lake District</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/plunging-into-the-lake-district</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2024-01-04</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[For more than a century, North England's verdant, hilly <a href="/europe/england/lake-district">Lake District</a> has attracted nature lovers. The great poet Wordsworth lived, trekked, and was inspired here. Whether you're a serious hiker or someone who prefers to ponder panoramas from inside a pub, it's easy to enjoy the English outdoors in this green landscape of gentle ridges, serene lakes, rock fences, stone bridges, and fluffy sheep.
The district's southern lakes are handier to <a href="/europe/england/london">London</a> and more promoted, but I like to focus on the northern lakes — Ullswater, Buttermere, and Derwentwater — which are every bit as scenic, with nowhere near the crowds.
The town of Keswick, near Derwentwater Lake, is my favorite home base for the region. It was an important mining center through the Middle Ages, but slate, copper, and lead gave way to tree-hugging tourists in the 19th century.
One of the area's most photographed and popular lakes, Derwentwater, has four islands, good boat service, and plenty of trails. Cruises run around the lake and to trailheads — including the one to Catbells, a 1,480-foot hill above Derwentwater.
One summer, I finally struggled up and over Catbells — a walk I'd recommended for years (and felt guilty for having never actually hiked in its entirety). The weather almost kept me in. But I was glad I ventured out — I welcomed the wind "blowing the cobwebs out" (as my B&B host warned) atop the hill, the comedic baaing of sheep, and being "the stick figure on the ridge" for those observing from distant farms or boats on the lake...as others have been the stick figures for me.
The hike confirmed the soundness of the advice I'd long heard about Britain's weather: Don't wait for it to get better. Blustery winds and wet skies are part of the scene; consider them a blessing. The majority of "bad weather" comes with broken spells of brightness. As they say here, there's no bad weather…just inappropriate clothing. And if you're in a hiking area and your clothing is inappropriate, your B&B host can likely loan you a heavy coat (along with the best local map).
And, oh, the joy of a pub after a good hike. Studying the light on ruddy faces while sipping the local brew has always been part of the magic of travel in Britain. When your face is weather-stung and your legs ache happily with accomplishment, a pub's ambience sparkles even brighter.
When you're done hiking, Keswick is a delight for wandering. The town's centerpiece, Moot Hall (meaning "meeting hall"), was a 16th-century copper warehouse. Graphite was first discovered here centuries ago. A hunk of the stuff proved great for marking sheep in the 15th century. In 1832, the first crude Keswick pencil factory opened; today you can learn its history at the <a href="https://www.derwentart.com/en-gb/c/about/company/derwent-pencil-museum" target="_blank">Derwent Pencil Museum</a>.
If you visit, you'll discover that English holiday-makers take their dogs with them on vacation. The town square can look like the Westminster Dog Show, and the Dog and Gun pub, where "well-behaved dogs are welcomed," is always full of patient pups. If you are shy about connecting with people, pal up to an English pooch — you'll often find they're happy to introduce you to their owners.
About three miles east of Keswick, there's a mini-Stonehenge drenched in Lake District beauty: the <a href="https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/castlerigg-stone-circle/" target="_blank">Castlerigg Stone Circle</a>. For some reason, 70 percent of England's stone circles are here in the northern region of Cumbria. Castlerigg is one of the best and oldest in Britain, and an easy stop for drivers. The circle — 90 feet across and 5,000 years old — has 38 stones mysteriously laid out on a line between the two tallest peaks on the horizon. They served as a celestial calendar for ritual celebrations.
I like to imagine this setting when ancient people filled the clearing in spring to celebrate fertility, in late summer to commemorate the harvest, and in the winter to mark the winter solstice and the coming renewal of light. Festival dates were dictated by how the sun rose and set in relation to the stones. The more that modern academics study this circle, the more meaning they find in the placement of the stones. For maximum "goose pimples" — as they say in England — be here at sunset.
The Lake District is a land where humanity takes a few steps back and looks on as nature rules. The weather, like a dark army, storms overhead. Hiking along a ridge, buffeted by wind, and marveling at the commanding, 360-degree view makes me feel small, yet ready to take on the world.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/019/961/medium/ff8a0a62837152d253d9e4912f016c85/england-lake-district-catbells-hike.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>For more than a century, nature lovers have come to England's Lake District to hike its hills. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/317/medium/a883bd51dd093ce8a343aabfdd2a8e63/547_LakeDistrictBoat.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Boats in England's Lake District help sightseers enjoy the natural beauty. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Munich: Germany’s Biggest Village</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/munich-a-metropolis-with-smalltown-charm</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-12-28</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[For a while now, I've marveled at how <a href="/europe/germany/berlin">Berlin</a> has eclipsed Munich in urban energy. Bavaria's capital seems to be comfortable just being itself rather than trying to keep up with Berlin or Hamburg, its big sisters to the north. It's a city that celebrates its past while looking energetically into the future.
Despite its population of 1.5 million, <a href="/europe/germany/munich">Munich</a> (or "München," as it's called in German) feels small. This big-city elegance is possible because of its determination to be pedestrian- and bike-friendly, and because of a law that allows buildings taller than the cathedral's towers only in the city's outskirts. Even Oktoberfest, the world's biggest beer party, is not corporate run but city run — leaving it free, easygoing, and hell-bent on having fun rather than making money.
I like to start my visits in the often sunlit main square called Marienplatz ("Mary's Square"), which gives you a fine look at the glory of Munich. I love to take in the ornate facades of the gray, pointy Old Town Hall and the Neo-Gothic New Town Hall, with its beloved glockenspiel — only a century or so old — that re-creates a royal wedding from the 16th century. At outdoor cafés, people linger, sharing the square with the birds and the breeze.
The oldest church in town, St. Peter's, is a few steps from Marienplatz. Along with much of Munich, it was badly damaged in World War II. As part of the soul of the city (according to a popular song, "Munich is not Munich without St. Peter's"), the church was lovingly rebuilt — half with Augustiner beer money — and the altar and ceiling frescoes were marvelously restored.
After the war, people who lived in Germany's heavily bombed cities debated how they'd rebuild. Should they reconstruct the old towns, or bulldoze and start over from scratch? Frankfurt voted to go modern with a grid street plan (and is today nicknamed "Germany's Manhattan"), but the people of Munich rebuilt their old town center.
City leaders took care to preserve Munich's original street plan and re-create the medieval steeples, Neo-Gothic facades, and Neoclassical buildings. They blocked off the city center to cars, built the people-friendly U-Bahn (subway) system, and opened up Europe's first pedestrian-only zone (Kaufingerstrasse).
Just behind the rebuilt St. Peter's, you can experience small-town Munich at the Viktualienmarkt, long a favorite with locals for fresh produce and friendly service. While this most expensive real estate in town could have been overrun by fast-food places, Munich keeps the rent low so these old-time shops can carry on.
Browse your way through the stalls and pavilions as you make your way to the market's main landmark, the white-and-blue-striped maypole. Munich has been a market town since its earliest days as a stop on the salt-trade crossroads. By the 1400s, the market bustled, most likely beneath a traditional maypole, just like you can see today.
As was standard in any village, the decorations that line each side of the pole tell you which merchants are doing business in the market. Munich's maypole gives prominence to a horse-drawn wagon bringing in beer barrels. And you can't have a kegger without coopers — on the maypole are four cute guys dancing: the merry barrelmakers.
Besides salt, Munich gained a reputation for beer. By the 15th century, more than 30 breweries pumped out the golden liquid, brewed by monks, who were licensed to sell it. They stored their beer in cellars under courtyards kept cool by the shade of bushy chestnut trees — a tradition Munich's breweries still stick to.
Today, the Viktualienmarkt's centerpiece seems to be its beer garden. Its picnic tables are filled with hungry and thirsty locals, all in the shade of those traditional chestnut trees.
Wherever you walk, you'll see the twin onion domes of the Frauenkirche, the city's iconic cathedral. Some say Crusaders, inspired by the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem, brought home the idea. And these domes are thought to be the inspiration for the characteristic domed church spires marking villages throughout Bavaria. Although much of the Frauenkirche was destroyed during World War II, the towers survived, and the rest has been gloriously restored. If you visit, look for a plaque over the last pew on the left that recalls the life story of Joseph Ratzinger. He occupied the archbishop's seat in this very church from 1977 until 1982, when he moved into the Vatican, and ultimately became Pope Benedict XVI.
Walking through Munich, it's easy to understand why it is consistently voted one of Germany's most livable cities — safe, clean, cultured, a university town, built on a human scale, and close to the beauties of nature. Though it's the capital of Bavaria and a major metropolis, Munich's low-key atmosphere has led Germans to dub it "Millionendorf" — the "village of a million people."
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/031/412/medium/68ede37d1f8a8b046c975f6cd18ebbce/article-germany-munich-new-town-hall.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The Neo-Gothic New Town Hall on Marienplatz, Munich's central square, features its famous glockenspiel showing two events from the city's history. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/031/408/medium/a8a9311cefb0ab3f430e161c7f1a2dcc/article-germany-munich-street-flowers.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>People-friendly Munich has been a pioneer in pedestrianizing its post-war cityscape. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<guid isPermaLink="false">1409</guid>
<title>There’s No Place Like Rome for the Holidays</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/theres-no-place-like-rome-for-the-holidays</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-12-21</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[I find the holiday season in <a href="/europe/italy/rome">Rome</a> a joy: crisp air, stylish big-city Italians cupping hot cappuccinos in corner cafés, and hurried shoppers bundled up with panache, thoughtfully pausing at grand manger scenes. The season here stretches for over a month — not to maximize shopping days, but to fit in the season's many holy days.
As home to Vatican City, the headquarters of the Roman Catholic Church, Rome is rich with Christmas's most sacred traditions. Manger scenes, called presepi, originated just a little north of Rome in Assisi some 800 years ago, when St. Francis taught the story of Jesus's birth with props. For a bit of manger history, visit the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore. There you can see five wooden planks, said to be from the original Christmas manger.
Creative crèches are on display all over town, ranging from old and traditional to avant-garde. Dip into any church in town from early December through Epiphany (January 6) to see one, or visit Piazza del Popolo's annual exhibition, with 100 presepi made by artists and schoolchildren. Artistic quality varies, but each is unique.
One of the most important relics in Rome is at the Church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli. The Santo Bambino, a statue of the holy child, is clothed in rich fabrics and covered with jewels. He's believed to have miraculous healing powers, and it's said that the Bambino's lips turn red if a prayer is about to be answered and pale if there is no hope. Children especially love the Bambino, writing him letters and reciting poems to him on Christmas Day. The Bambino figure is usually kept in a glass case in a chapel, but at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve, he's presented to the church's eager and expectant congregation.
The Vatican's Nativity scene has always been the premier decoration on St. Peter's Square. But Pope John Paul II, who grew up in Poland and became the first non-Italian pope in a very long time, missed having a Christmas tree. So, in 1982, he added a lighted evergreen to the celebrations, standing tall near the central obelisk. Each year on Christmas Eve, the pope celebrates midnight Mass at St. Peter's Basilica. (Though the church holds 15,000 people, you must <a href="https://www.vatican.va/various/prefettura/index_en.html" target="_blank">book far in advance</a> to attend the Mass.)
For many Roman families, Epiphany, not Christmas, is the big gift-giving day, when kids open presents delivered by the broom-riding witch, La Befana. My Roman friend Francesca is adamant that Italy's beloved Befana is "100 percent Roman," and holds a special place in her city's popular imagination. On the eve of Epiphany, the Befana flies over the rooftops of Rome on her broom and brings gifts to the good children or coal for the bad ones — although, these days the "coal" is a crunchy black confection sold at street-corner carts. According to Francesca, the children of Rome leave La Befana a snack of some soft ricotta cheese since she has hardly any teeth.
Some Roman parents threaten naughty kids with, "Lo dico alla Befana!" (I'll tell the Befana!), or the ever-popular, "Viene la Befana e ti porta via!" (The Befana will come and take you away!), which is very bad news indeed, because Befana has an ogre of a husband who devours children. According to legend, the three Wise Men stopped to ask Befana for directions to Bethlehem and the Christ child, but she was too busy to help. As time passed, Befana kept thinking about the strange visitors and their quest. With a sack filled with bread, she set out to find baby Jesus, too. Whenever she saw a baby boy, she gave him a piece of bread, hoping he might be the Christ child. Befana still wanders through Italy each Christmas season looking for the baby and leaving goodies for the children. Her name means "gift-bringer."
Lively Piazza Navona hosts a holiday market — known locally as the "Befana Market" — that bustles with street performers and vendors from early December until Epiphany. Here you can shop for decorations, toys, and other gift items. Or pop into one of the city's many fine bakeries for their Christmas confections. These vary, but you'll find one constant — fruitcakes. In Italy, fruit-"cake" is disguised as bread (pane). There's big bread (panettone), golden bread (pandoro), strong bread (panforte), and sweet bread (pandolce). Panforte is a dense mixture of honey, candied fruit, nuts, and spices — and it's rugged enough to toss around at parties and still consume later.
Whether spiritual or secular, at this time of year in Rome people are wishing their families, friends — and even strangers — the same thing: Merry Christmas, or as they say in Italy, Buon Natale!
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/016/646/medium/bfcf8e85bb1f330cd975e26c6576c855/12-11-2014_StPetersSqXmas_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The tree lighting in front of St. Peter's Basilica takes place in mid-December, but the life-size Nativity scene isn't unveiled until Christmas Eve. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/016/645/medium/13a7a0d408bb9f127601856a4e499c92/12-11-2014_NavonaXmas_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Families enjoy Piazza Navona's Christmas market. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Tangier: Marveling at Morocco’s Cultural Kaleidoscope</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/tms/cultural-voyeurism-in-tangier</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-12-14</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[I can't think of any big city in Europe where you wake up literally at "cock crow." In Tangier, Morocco — right across the Strait of Gibraltar from Spain — the roosters, even more than the minaret's call to prayer, make sure the city wakes up early. I spent one birthday in Tangier, and started my special day with the roosters.
I arrived in Tangier after a quick ferry ride from Tarifa, on the southern coast of Spain. Though it's just a 35-minute boat ride away, Tangier feels a world apart from Europe. Like almost every city in Morocco, Tangier is split into a new town and an old town (medina). The old town, encircled by a medieval wall, has colorful markets; twisty, hilly streets; and the Kasbah, with its palace and mosque. The Grand Socco, a big, noisy square, is the link between the old and new parts of town. The city is light on museums and attractions, but it doesn't need them; Tangier's sights are living in the streets.
To celebrate my birthday, I spent a couple of hours alone, just floating through the back alleys. Wandering through the market, just off the Grand Socco, I came across a collage of vivid images. A butcher was making a colorful curtain of entrails, creating mellow stripes of all textures. Camera-shy Berber tribeswomen were in town selling goat cheese wrapped in palm leaves.
A man lumbered through the crowd pushing a ramshackle cart laden with a huge side of beef. He made a honking sound, and at first I thought he was just being funny. But it wasn't the comical beep-beep I'd make if I were behind a wheelbarrow. Small-time shipping was his livelihood, and his vocal chords were the only horn he had.
Around the corner, the click-click-click of a mosaic maker drew me into another tiny shop, where a man sat all day chiseling intentionally imperfect mosaic chips to fit a pattern for a commissioned work. As only Allah is perfect, the imperfection is considered beautiful.
In Tangier, many people can't afford private ovens, phones, or running water, so there are communal options: phone desks, baths, and bakeries where locals drop off their ready-to-cook dough. During my wanderings, I followed a colorfully scarved woman into a community bakery. She was carrying her platter of doughy loaves under a towel. The baker, artfully wielding a broom-handled wooden spatula, received her loaves, hardly missing a beat as he pushed and pulled the neighborhood's baked goods — fish, stews, bread, cookies, and pods of sunflower seeds — into and out of his oven.
After meeting up with my TV crew, we caught a taxi up to the Kasbah. Hearing a tap-tap-tap directly behind me, I turned around to see the back window filled with the toothy grin of a little boy. He had leapt onto the cab for the ride, legs and arms spread across its back side with nothing to grip. Realizing that the cab was about to make a sudden stop, his smile disappeared and he slunk back, hopping off the cab safely.
The Kasbah sits atop old Tangier. On Place de la Kasbah is the Dar el-Makhzen, a former sultan's palace that now houses a history museum. The Kasbah is also the scene of a vivid gauntlet of amusements waiting to ambush parading tour groups: snake charmers, flamboyant water vendors, and squawky dance troupes.
The view of the ocean from here is not to be missed. The artist Henri Matisse traveled here in 1912–13, and the culture, patterns, and colors that he encountered showed up routinely in his art.
The vast majority of tourists in Tangier are day-trippers (from resorts in southern Spain). But I like to spend the night, experiencing the communal nature of a riad — a guesthouse typically found in the old town, with rooms surrounding a courtyard atrium. If you're here in the evening, make sure to be out and about in the medina after dark, when in the cool of the evening, the atmospheric lanes, squares, and people conspire to become even more alluring.
Tangier offers non-stop action and cultural voyeurism to the max. There's so much to see here that it makes the Star Wars cantina scene look bland. Recent upgrades around town have brought an affluent and modern side without abandoning its roots. Many visitors are impressed by the warmth of the Moroccan people. I particularly like how they touch their right hand to their heart after shaking hands or saying thank you — a kind gesture meant to emphasize sincerity.
Walking through the labyrinthine medina, dodging grabby salesmen, teasing craftsmen, and half-bald dogs, I think to myself, "How could anyone be in southern Spain — so close — and not hop over to experience this wonderland?"
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/036/071/medium/8a291399a5cc91fd0a9ca12a897e0dca/article-morocco-tangier-market.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Tangier's souk (market) boasts piles of fruits, veggies, and olives, countless varieties of bread, and non-perishables, like clothing and electronics. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/003/942/medium/7d217788724ab8e9cb86f9f8e211ce8a/hr_he_tangier-market.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Enjoy the exotic sights, smells, and sounds inside Tangier's medina. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Switzerland’s Urban Charms</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/switzerlands-urban-charms</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-12-07</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Swiss cities remind me of the guy in high school who's great at sports, has perfect hair and the best girlfriend, and whom all the teachers love. He's just too perfect. Sometimes you just want to see him trip or get a pimple. Switzerland's cities can seem too perfect, too. For me — and most travelers — the mountains provide more real travel thrills per mile, minute, and dollar. But don't neglect the pristine urban offerings in Zürich, Luzern, and Lausanne. With interesting art, colorful old towns, and serene waterfront settings, these cities are worthy stops as you head for the hills.
<a href="/europe/switzerland/zuerich">Zürich</a>, located in the north, is the biggest city in <a href="/europe/switzerland">Switzerland</a> — and a major transportation hub. Even though you won't find a hint of Heidi or the Swiss Miss, Zürich makes for an enjoyable quick visit.
Like most Swiss cities, Zürich embraces its resident body of water in a fun-loving way. The lakefront is a springboard for romantic walks, bike rides, and cruises. A great way to glide across town is to catch the river boat, which functions like a city bus, and just enjoy the view. Its old town is lively night and day with cafés, galleries, and a colorful cobbled ambience. Touted as Europe's most "fountainous" city, Zürich has more than a thousand fun and fresh fountains, spouting water that's as good as the bottled stuff — a blessing in a country where restaurants charge for a glass of tap water.
The city's art treasure is a set of Chagall stained-glass windows, located in the <a href="https://www.fraumuenster.ch/" target="_blank">Fraumünster church</a>. Done in Chagall's inimitable painting style — deep colors, simple figures, and shard-like Cubism — the five towering windows depict Bible scenes.
An hour south of Zürich, <a href="/europe/switzerland/luzern">Luzern</a> sprawls along the edge of a lake at and the foot of looming Mt. Pilatus. At its core is a charming old town paved with cobblestones, dotted with fountains, and still partially ringed by tall protective walls.
Luzern's Chapel Bridge — one of its two picture-perfect wooden bridges — was built at an angle to connect the town's medieval fortifications. Today it serves strollers rather than soldiers. More than 100 colorful paintings — many of them originals dating from the 17th century — hang under the bridge's rafters, showing scenes from Luzern and its history. Swans cluster near the bridge. Locals say they arrived in the 17th century as a gift from Louis XIV in appreciation for the protection his Swiss Guards gave him.
For fans of Picasso, Luzern's <a href="http://www.rosengart.ch/en/welcome" target="_blank">Rosengart Collection</a> is a must, with several dozen black-and-white candid photographs of the artist. You'll see Picasso in the bathtub, getting a haircut, playing dress-up, and horsing around with his kids. I've seen a pile of Picassos, but never have I gotten as personal with him as I did here.
If you're flying into (or out of) Geneva's airport, a good first (or last) stop is Lausanne, perched elegantly above <a href="/europe/switzerland/lake-geneva-french-switzerland">Lake Geneva</a> (known in French as Lac Léman).
Lausanne has two tourist zones: the idyllic waterfront area of Ouchy (pronounced "oo-shee") and the tangled and historic old town, directly uphill from the lake. Locals nicknamed their town "the San Francisco of Switzerland" for all its hills. There's no way to see it without lots of climbing.
On the Ouchy lakefront is the top-notch <a href="https://www.olympic.org/museum" target="_blank">Olympic Museum</a> (Lausanne has been home to the International Olympic Committee since 1915). The museum celebrates the colorful history of the games, with a century's worth of ceremonial torches and a look at how medals have changed over the years. This place is a thrill for Olympics buffs — and plenty of fun for those of us who just watch every two years. Surveying gear from each sport (such as Carl Lewis' track shoes and Sonja Henie's ice skates), you can follow the evolution of state-of-the-art equipment.
One of Europe's most thought-provoking art galleries is Lausanne's <a href="https://www.artbrut.ch/en_GB" target="_blank">Collection de l'Art Brut</a>, presenting works produced by people "free from artistic culture and free from fashion tendencies" — many of whom were labeled (and even locked up) by society as criminally insane. Thumbnail biographies of these outsiders give insight into their unbridled creativity.
In 1945, the artist Jean Dubuffet began collecting art he called "brut" — created by self-taught, highly original individuals who weren't afraid to ignore rules. In the 1970s, he donated his huge collection to Lausanne, and it has now expanded to 70,000 works by hundreds of artists: loners, mavericks, people on the fringe, prisoners, and mental ward patients. Touring the idiosyncratic collection, you can't help pondering the fine line that separates sanity and insanity when it comes to creative output.
Whether presenting unusual modern art or serving up traditional Old World charm, Swiss cities get it right. Most people come to savor the mountains. But there's far more to this country than pristing alpine meadows. No trip to Switzerland is really complete without also sampling its urban treats.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/024/182/medium/32af88d004af13f79c88fc06aa0423f1/switzerland-luzern-chapel-bridge-123109-az.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Luzern's Reuss River is spanned by the wooden Chapel Bridge, with its iconic stone water tower. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/747/medium/32f3216b41104a99dc639bceeb9a6a46/article-switzerland-lake-geneva-lausanne-olympic-museum.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>At Lausanne's Olympic Park and Museum, you can see an Olympic flame, high-tech exhibits, athletic monuments, and gorgeous lake views. (photo: Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Lean In to Pisa </title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/pisa-italy</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-11-30</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[An easy day trip from <a href="/europe/italy/florence">Florence</a>, and famous solely as the home to a tipsy tower, most of <a href="/europe/italy/pisa">Pisa</a> is ignored by its hordes of visitors. But if you have time for more than a touristy quickie, stick around to savor Pisa's rich architectural heritage and fun college-town energy.
Understandably, every first-time visitor heads straight to the <a href="https://www.opapisa.it/en/square-of-miracles/tower/" target="_blank">Leaning Tower of Pisa</a>, one of the most iconic structures in the world. It stands — sort of — near the town's other biggies, Pisa's <a href="https://www.opapisa.it/en/square-of-miracles/cathedral/" target="_blank">cathedral</a> and <a href="https://www.opapisa.it/en/square-of-miracles/baptistery/" target="_blank">baptistery</a>. This creamy white threesome floats regally over a piazza largely covered in a lush lawn. Each time I stand there, I like to pretend I'm arriving in Pisa as a sailor in the 11th century, when the sea came to just outside the surrounding walls and Pisa's cathedral was the biggest church in the world. To see this ensemble of gleaming white marble spread out before you is impressive no matter when and how you get here. Even choked with street-market stands probably then and certainly now, the square still lives up to its name: the Field of Miracles.
Soon after construction of the bell tower began in 1173, someone said, "Is it just me, or does that look crooked?" The builders carried on anyway, using every trick imaginable to stop the slant. But the top of the 200-foot tower nevertheless wound up tilted off its base by 15 feet. In 1990, the tower was deemed dangerous, and the city sealed it up and spent the next decade straightening it by about six inches. All that work turned the clock back a few centuries, and the tower now leans about as much as it did when Galileo reputedly conducted his gravity experiments from the tower 400 years ago.
Climbing to the top of the tower is an unforgettable experience, offering great views…and vertigo. Since only 50 people can ascend every 15 minutes, you reserve a time slot when you buy your ticket (it's smart to book ahead <a href="https://www.opapisa.it/en/tickets/buy/" target="_blank">online</a>). If you show up in Pisa without a reservation, go straight to the ticket office on arrival, as spots aren't likely to be available within the next few hours — especially in summer. (If you'll be seeing both the town and the Field of Miracles, plan on a six-hour stop. If you're just blitzing the Field of Miracles and have already booked a tower-climb time, your visit will still take at least three hours.)
With its ornate facade glittering in the sun, Pisa's huge and richly decorated cathedral is artistically more important than the tower. The highlight of its interior, Giovanni Pisano's exquisitely carved pulpit, is almost overwhelmingly dense with figures depicting the story of Jesus' life. Next to the cathedral, the baptistery features acoustics so remarkable that echoes last long enough to let you sing three-part harmony — solo.
For most visitors, the Pisan thrill ends here. But when I'm in Pisa, I take time to escape the tourist crowds with a stroll through town.
Pisa straddles the Arno River, just six miles from the coast — when the wind blows right, you can smell the sea air. Centuries ago, Pisa was a major trading power, rivaling Venice and Genoa for control of the seas. Long lines of elegant mansions line the riverfront at the heart of town, reminiscent of Venice's Grand Canal.
After its port silted up, Pisa was left high and dry, and eventually entered a period of steady decline…leaving its grand landmarks as reminders of its past glory.
For many, the lack of tourists outside the Field of Miracles is both a surprise and a relief. Nearly half of Pisa's 100,000 residents are students, keeping the city lively — especially at night. Pisa's university, one of Europe's oldest, was where Galileo studied the solar system and Andrea Bocelli attended law school before embarking on his musical career. Young Pisans strut in their fashionable stuff along Corso Italia, Pisa's main drag, where the kids are out making the scene. Some are also making out like thieves — be on guard for young pickpockets, often dressed as tourists.
A church on Corso Italia sports some 16th-century graffiti. Odds are you'll probably spot some modern graffiti nearby. Students have been pushing their causes here — or simply defacing things — for five centuries. Near the train station, a mural covering the wall of a church vibrates with life. Painted in 1989 by American graffiti artist Keith Haring, this colorful assembly of figures celebrates diversity, chaos, and the liveliness of our world.
Considering Pisa's historic importance and the ambience created by its rich architectural heritage and vibrant student population, the city deserves at least a half day. While Pisa is rewarding even on a shorter visit, lingering here and exploring the medieval city center helps you round out your Tuscan experience.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/778/medium/b288e89c954d398b95691ee775d95086/article-italy-tuscay-pisa-field-of-miracles-duomo-tower.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>For more than seven centuries, visitors have come to marvel at Pisa's cathedral. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/218/medium/d1c7e54f2c3b02dc1de8eac7692d40a8/446b_PisaFromTower_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Climb the Leaning Tower's 294 steps for a breathtaking view of Pisa's cathedral and beyond. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Peacefully Progressive Oslo</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/sightseeing-progressive-oslo</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-11-23</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[On one of my many return visits to <a href="/europe/norway/oslo">Oslo</a> I was struck by how peaceful the city felt. It seemed a world away from the commotion and angst that comes with the 24-hour news here in the US.
I couldn't help but take notes: Parents park their baby carriages on the sidewalk as they abandon their infants for a few moments to step into a store to do some shopping. You can hear birds in the city center, which is nearly traffic-free. And when you do see a car, it's usually electric (the best-selling car in Norway is the Tesla). A "congestion fee" keeps most cars from the center of town. And where traffic used to clog the harborfront, a tunnel takes cars under the city rather than through it.
Matching memories I have from my childhood visits, down at the harbor I noticed a weather-beaten sailor standing at the stern of his boat. He was hoping to sell before sunset the last of the shrimp he'd caught before sunrise. Across the pedestrian boulevard, the old yellow train station is now the <a href="https://www.nobelprize.org/about/nobel-peace-center/" target="_blank">Nobel Peace Center,</a> which explains the vision of a man who dedicated the wealth he earned inventing dynamite to celebrate peacemakers. Nearby, the brick <a href="https://www.oslo.kommune.no/oslo-city-hall/" target="_blank">City Hall</a> — where the prize is awarded — is decorated by statues glorifying noble workers as it towers high above the harbor action.
In the light mist that's common to mornings here, the city's sturdy harborfront boardwalk glistens as if happy to be the city's dance floor. On this visit I stood at the edge of the scene and marveled at about a hundred Norwegians swing-dancing to the tunes of a disc jockey under an umbrella in what seemed like a microcosm of a content society. It was mostly American-style two-step to the recorded oldies — familiar tunes with unfamiliar Norwegian lyrics.
Every time I come to <a href="/europe/norway">Norway</a>, I'm fascinated by its experiment in big government. My friends here enjoy telling me why they don't mind their high taxes. For example, everyone loves November. It's "half tax month," when the government wants people to have some extra money for the upcoming holidays.
Coming out of the pandemic, the Nordic countries experienced a baby boom, even while birth rates fell in many other countries. Strong social safety nets in the Nordics, coupled with tax incentives for new babies, are likely key reasons. In Norway, parental leave is very generous. Families get up to 12 months' leave at 80 percent pay. While the mom and dad can split the leave as they like, men are required to take at least a month of paid paternity leave when their baby arrives.
With each visit I also notice much less smoke. I remember a time decades ago when tobacco smoke was a real problem for American travelers in Europe. Then Italy and Ireland went smoke free...and so did Scandinavia. Today, much of Europe is as smoke-free as the US. In Norway's bars, restaurants, cafés, and trains, it's clean air for all.
I visited one of Oslo's infamous old "brown cafés" — so named for the smoke-stained interiors. Of course, no one's smoked inside here for ages now. These days, Norwegian restaurants and bars are routinely equipped with blankets so those who still smoke can do so outside — even in the cold season. To consume nicotine indoors, locals use snuff — snus in Norwegian. Men will notice that in urinals here, little used-up packs of chewing tobacco pile up where cigarette butts once did.
When the sun's out, Oslo's parks are packed — filled with the joy of families barbecuing on a disposable, charcoal-heaped aluminum pan called an engangsgrill (one-time grill). American visitors will also notice a lot of nudity — primarily topless women and naked kids. Parents let their kids play naked in city parks and fountains, and it's really no big deal.
Scandinavia has a casual approach to nudity, and I'm not talking just mixed saunas (which are common throughout Europe). Many Americans are amazed at what runs on prime-time TV. My friend told me that Norway has mixed PE classes with boys and girls showering together from the first grade on. In Norwegian hospitals, she told me, women who need an X-ray are casually sent from the doctor's office down the hall, past the waiting public, to the X-ray room after they've stripped to the waist. "No one notices and no one cares," she said. Scandinavians are quick to point out the irony that while much of America goes into a tizzy over a teacher who shows students a photo of Michelangelo's naked David, it is America that statistically has the biggest problem with sex-related crimes.
Travel makes it clear there are more ways than one to live your life. That's one reason why I keep on travelin'.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/018/378/medium/9e5028d26291d2d600219491ae2b3e9f/norway-oslo-frogner-park.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Vigeland statues delight the many Oslovians who love relaxing in Frogner Park on a sunny day. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/018/377/medium/b4ba8138dc3e26fe2d2f5bcd882db0cf/norway-oslo-city-hall.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Oslo's City Hall is almost a temple to democracy and peaceful coexistence. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Ireland’s Entertaining Ring of Kerry</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/ring-around-the-ring-of-kerry</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-11-16</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[One of Ireland's most popular destinations is the Iveragh Peninsula — known to shamrock lovers everywhere as the "<a href="/europe/ireland/ring-of-kerry">Ring of Kerry</a>." The Ring, lassoed by a winding coastal road through a mountainous, lake-splattered region, is undeniably scenic. Visitors since Victorian times have been drawn to this evocative chunk of the Emerald Isle, where mysterious ancient ring forts stand sentinel on mossy hillsides.
It seems like every tour bus in Ireland makes the ritual loop around the Ring, using the bustling and famous tourist town of Killarney as a springboard. I skip Killarney, whose main attraction is its transit connections for those without cars. (Don't confuse this overcommercialized town with the scenic and worthwhile Killarney National Park, nearby.) Instead, rent a car and use as your home base the tidy town of Kenmare (it's actually won Ireland's "Tidy Town" award).
While in <a href="/europe/ireland/kenmare-ring-of-kerry">Kenmare</a>, druids seek out the town's ancient stone circle, one of 100 little Stonehenges that dot southwest Ireland. Fitness buffs enjoy horseback riding, boating, hiking, and golfing.
Before or after the day you tackle the Ring, consider exploring three worthwhile sights near Kenmare. The first is a stately home called <a href="https://www.muckross-house.ie/" target="_blank">Muckross House</a>, perhaps Ireland's best Victorian mansion. Queen Victoria really did sleep here for three nights in 1861 — on the ground floor because she had a fear of house fires. Adjacent to Muckross House is a fascinating open-air farmhouse museum that covers Irish farm life from the 1920s to the 1950s. Talk with the docents who remember the year 1955, when electricity came to rural dwellings. Farmers would pull on Wellington boots for safety, then cautiously turn on the switch that powered the one bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Between Muckross House and Kenmare is a scenic mountainous chunk of Killarney National Park (great views at Moll's Gap) and the <a href="https://www.kissanesheepfarm.com/" target="_blank">Kissane Sheep Farm</a>, a real working farm that offers demonstrations of sheep shearing and expert sheepherding. You'll be wowed by the intelligence of the family dogs.
Ready for Ireland's favorite road trip? Touring the Ring of Kerry takes a long but satisfying day by car from Kenmare. Smart travelers get an early start (by 8:30), working their way clockwise to escape the tour-bus procession heading counterclockwise.
The laid-back town of Sneem (yup, funny name) is worth a stop. The square on the east side of town is called South Square and the one on the west is called North Square. When it comes to giving directions, the Irish march to their own beat.
Stop at Staigue Fort, an imposing sight rising out of a desolate high valley. The circular drystone walls were built sometime between 500 BC and AD 300 without the aid of mortar or cement. About 80 feet across, with walls 12 feet thick at the base and up to 25 feet high, this brutish structure would have taken a hundred men six months to complete. It's thought that during times of tribal war, locals used the fort as a refuge, bringing their valuable cattle inside to protect them from rustlers.
The <a href="https://heritageireland.ie/places-to-visit/derrynane-house/" target="_blank">Derrynane House</a>, just beyond the Staigue Fort, was the home of Daniel O'Connell, Ireland's most influential pre-independence politician. His tireless nonviolent agitation gained equality for Catholics in the early 1800s. Watch its 20-minute audiovisual presentation on O'Connell, along with some of his belongings, including pistols from a duel and a black glove — which the remorseful O'Connell always wore on his pistol hand when he went to Mass. He was forced into the duel, killed the man who challenged him, and regretted it for the rest of his life.
Approaching Portmagee, you'll see the striking silhouette of the spikey, desolate, and tiny island of Skellig Michael. Visit the <a href="https://skelligexperience.com/" target="_blank">Skellig Experience Centre</a>, which tells the story of the island — the Holy Grail of Irish monastic island settlements. During the so-called "Dark Ages," its monks helped preserve literacy and sacred texts. Hardy hikers can take a boat to the island and hike 600 vertical feet up to the monastic ruins.
But to complete the Ring in one day, finish up with stops at two more ring forts: Cahergal and Leacanabuaile. Because this region had copper mines, it has a wealth of prehistoric sights. Copper melted with tin yielded bronze, and with that, the Bronze Age (2000 to 500 BC), which brought sturdier weapons and tools. The many ring forts and stone circles here reflect the lively trade and affluence created by copper.
If the sun breaks through at sunset as I did the last time I pulled back into Kenmare, the lush green landscape seems to glow in the low light. While the ancient sights are fascinating and the history is educational, perhaps the best reason to come here is the eternal beauty of the Irish landscape.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/035/862/medium/75caa804b829d826889e88058eefcdfd/article-ireland-ring-of-kerry-countryside.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>At every turn in the road, the Iveragh Peninsula shows off Ireland's famed 40 shades of green. (photo: Pat O'Connor)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/229/medium/e5524fc9496d30469f2298bf527f85c1/503b_RingFort_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>The 2,000-year-old walls of Ireland's Leacanabuaile Ring Fort have withstood the test of time — without the aid of mortar or cement. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/016/987/medium/8991a62b07e020c2fc3c66cf2d56cf94/ireland-ring-of-kerry-coast.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>A drive along the Ring of Kerry presents classic views of the Irish countryside. (photo: Pat O'Connor)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Saints and Sustenance in Santiago de Compostela</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/santiago-de-compostela</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-11-09</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[Whenever I'm in <a href="/europe/spain/santiago-de-compostela">Santiago de Compostela</a>, in the northwest corner of <a href="/europe/spain">Spain</a>, I have a three-part agenda: See pilgrims reach their goal in front of the cathedral, explore the market, and buy some barnacles in its seafood section — then have them cooked for me, on the spot, in a café.
I make a point to be on the town square facing the towering Cathedral of St. James at around 11 in the morning. That's when scores of well-worn pilgrims begin gathering for the daily Pilgrim's Mass, a triumphant celebration marking their completion of the Camino de Santiago (the Way of St. James) — a 500-mile hike from the French border.
Since the Middle Ages, humble hikers have walked these miles to pay homage to the remains of St. James in his namesake city. Their traditional gear included a cloak; a pointy, floppy hat; a walking stick; and a gourd (for drinking from wells). The way is marked with yellow arrows or scallop shells (a symbol of the saint) at every intersection. Doing the entire route from the border to Santiago takes about four to six weeks. I've never met a pilgrim who didn't think the trek was a life-changing experience and well worth the sweat.
At journey's end, hikers complete their pilgrimage by stepping on the metal scallop shell embedded in the pavement at the foot of the cathedral. I just love watching how different pilgrims handle the jubilation.
To stand in front of the cathedral's stately facade is the hiker's dream. Routinely, pilgrims ask me to take their photo and email it to them. Then they say, "I've got to go meet with St. James," and as has been the routine for centuries, they head into the cathedral.
Santiago is a city built of its local granite. Most people picture Spain as a hot, arid land, but the Atlantic northwest of Spain enjoys far more precipitation than the interior (Spain's northwest corner is home to a temperate rainforest, an hour north of Santiago). Rain off the Atlantic has colored Santiago's granite green with moss.
Two blocks away from the cathedral, Santiago's public market is thriving, oblivious to the personal triumphs going on at St. James' tomb. There's something basic about wandering through a farmers market early in the morning anywhere in the world: Salt-of-the-earth people pull food out of the ground, cart it into the city, and sell what they've harvested to people who don't have gardens.
Dried-apple grandmothers line up like a babushka cancan. Each sits on a stool so small it disappears under her work dress. At the women's feet are brown woven baskets filled as if they were cornucopias — still-dirty eggs in one; in the next, greens clearly pulled this morning, soil clinging to their roots. One woman hopes to earn a few extra euros with homebrews — golden bottles with ramshackle corks — one labeled licor café (coffee liquor), the other, orujo casero (homemade grappa).
I see rickety card tables filled with yellow cheeses shaped like giant Hershey's Kisses…or, to locals, breasts. This local cheese is called tetilla to revenge a prudish priest who, seven centuries ago, told a sculptor at the cathedral to redo a statue that he considered too buxom. Ever since, the townsfolk have made their cheese exactly in the shape the priest didn't want seen carved in stone. You can't go anywhere in Santiago without seeing its creamy, mild tetilla.
Stepping farther into the market, I notice spicy red chorizo — sausage in chains framing merchants' faces. Chickens, plucked and looking as rubbery as can be, fill glass cases. Fisherwomen in rubber aprons and matching gloves sort through folded money.
There's a commotion at the best stalls. Short ladies with dusty, blue-plaid roller carts jostle for the best deals. A selection of pigs' ears mixed with hooves going nowhere fills a shoebox. Neat rows of ears, translucent in the low rays of the morning sun, look as if someone had systematically and neatly flattened a basket of conch shells.
From one vendor I buy percebes (barnacles) at a third the price I'd pay in a bar. I get a little less than a half pound and hustle my bag over to the market café. There, Ramón and Julia boil them for a small fee. Feeling quite like a local — sipping my beer so early in the morning — I eagerly wait for my barnacles to cook.
Then comes the climax of my morning: Julia brings my barnacles, stacked steaming on a stainless-steel plate, as well as bread and another beer. I'm set. Twist, rip, bite. It's the bounty of the sea condensed into every little morsel…edible jubilation in Santiago.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/198/medium/ea468e0147bc680e3cad6d9366f91bbc/436a_Pilgrims_RS.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Happy hikers celebrate the end of their 500-mile pilgrimage in front of the Cathedral of St. James in Santiago, Spain. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/035/807/medium/db182c5dd5f49dd8352dee85b7d4973c/article-spain-santiago-de-compostela-percebes.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Freshly cooked barnacles are a specialty of northwestern Spain (and Portugal). (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Bubbly, Historic Reims: The Toast of France’s Champagne Country</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/reims-a-bubbly-day-trip-from-paris</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-11-02</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[With a Gothic cathedral that dates back more than 800 years, venerable Champagne cellars, playful Art Deco style, and vibrant pedestrian zone, Reims is intoxicating. And thanks to France's slick high-speed train network, it's just 45 minutes from Paris — making it an easy day trip.
<a href="/europe/france/reims-verdun">Reims</a> (pronounced like "rance") has a turbulent history: This is where French kings were crowned, where Champagne first bubbled, where WWI devastation met miraculous reconstruction, and where the Germans officially surrendered in 1945, bringing World War II to a close in Europe. The town's sights give you an informative, entertaining peek at the entire story.
Start at <a href="https://www.cathedrale-reims.com/" target="_blank">Reims Cathedral</a> — a glorious example of Gothic architecture and one of Europe's greatest churches. Built under the direction of four different architects, the church was started in about 1211 and mostly finished just 60 years later. Thanks to this quick turnaround, it's remarkable for its unity and harmony. As a royal coronation site, it is to <a href="/europe/france">France</a> what Westminster Abbey is to <a href="/europe/england">England</a>.
For a memorable experience, join the crowd in front of the cathedral for a free, 25-minute sound-and-light show on most summer evenings. I've struggled with the idea that some of Europe's wonderful Gothic church facades were boldly painted in the 13th and 14th centuries. In Reims, the sound-and-light show did a good job of helping me envision how they might have looked to a medieval peasant. Sit directly in front of the cathedral or settle more comfortably into a seat at a café with a clear view past the trees.
When wonderstruck by Gothic cathedrals, I often contemplate the lives of the people who built these huge buildings back in the 13th century. Construction on a scale like this required a community effort: It was all hands on deck. Most townsfolk who participated donated their money or their labor knowing that they would likely never see it completed — such was their pride, faith, and dedication. Master masons supervised, while the average Jean-Claude did much of the sweaty work. Labor was something that even the poorest medieval peasant could donate generously.
In addition to spiritual nourishment, Reims offers a more earthly delight — Champagne. Though many wine-growing regions in France produce sparkling wines, only the bubbly beverage from this region can be called Champagne. While the ancient Romans planted the first grapes here, Champagne was not "invented" until the late 17th century, and then it was by virtue of necessity — the local climate and soil did not produce competitive still wines.
According to the story, in about 1700, after much fiddling with double fermentation, it was in nearby Hautvillers that Dom Pérignon stumbled onto the bubbly treat. On that happy day, he ran through the abbey, shouting, "Brothers, come quickly…I'm drinking stars!" Today the result is commonly regarded as the finest sparkling wine in the world.
Reims offers many opportunities to visit its world-famous Champagne cellars. All charge entry fees, most have a several daily English tours, and most require a reservation (only Taittinger allows drop-in visits). Which should you visit? <a href="https://champagnemartel.com/accueil#session4" target="_blank">Martel</a> offers the most personal and best-value tour. <a href="https://www.taittinger.com/en" target="_blank">Taittinger</a> and <a href="https://www.mumm.com/en-ww/#/" target="_blank">Mumm</a> have the most impressive cellars (Mumm is also close to the city center, and offers one of the best cellar tours). <a href="https://www.veuveclicquot.com/en-us" target="_blank">Veuve Clicquot</a> is popular with Americans and fills up weeks in advance. (<a href="https://www.champagnedecazanove.com/uk/home/index.php" target="_blank">Cazanove</a> is closest to the train station and the cheapest, but you get what you pay for.) Wherever you go, bring a sweater, even in summer, as the cellars (caves) are cool and clammy.
If you find yourself strolling across town to a Champagne cave, keep an eye open for biscuits roses — light, rose-colored egg-and-sugar cookies that have been made here since 1756. They're the locals' favorite munchie to accompany a glass of Champagne — you're supposed to dunk them, but I like them dry (many places that sell these treats offer free samples).
Allies surely celebrated with Champagne on May 7, 1945, after Germans signed the document of surrender for all German forces. WWII buffs enjoy visiting the <a href="https://musees-reims.fr/reims-museums/" target="_blank">Museum of the Surrender</a> (Musée de la Reddition), the place where it happened. The news was announced the next day, turning May 8 into Victory in Europe (V-E) Day. The museum has an extensive collection of artifacts, but the most thrilling sight is the war room, where Eisenhower managed Allied operations — and where the European part of the war ultimately ended.
Though World War II left the city unscathed, World War I had devastated Reims. It was the biggest city on France's Western Front, and it was hammered — around 65 percent of Reims was destroyed by shelling. Parts of the city center were entirely rebuilt in the 1920s. That's why the town is now dotted with the stylized features — geometric reliefs, motifs in ironwork, rounded corners, and simple concrete elegance — of Art Deco. If it looks eclectic, that's because the mayor at the time said to build any way you like — just build.
With all this history packed into a vibrant cityscape, Reims feels both historic and youthful at the same time. Each visit here reminds me of how much fun it is to enjoy modern French culture in a sizeable city that isn't <a href="/europe/france/paris">Paris</a>.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/035/542/medium/54517bffbbc4b27fd62b87c5b8e8a386/article-france-reims-cathedral.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Flying buttresses support Reims' massive cathedral, a glorious example of Gothic architecture. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/014/024/medium/ba6792364dd0128c3a0599011e3c34cd/713_ChampagneCellar.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Tunnels with old-time winemaking and bottling equipment are featured on the Mumm Champagne cellar tour. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/014/023/medium/c29f690d8ef549c921514f8335ac7951/713_ReimsCathedral.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>A light show on the facade of Reims' cathedral shows how it might have looked when it was painted in the 13th century. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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<title>Sauerkraut — and Yodlers to Boot — in Italy’s Alpine Village of Kastelruth</title>
<link>https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/sauerkraut-in-italys-alps</link>
<author>rick@ricksteves.com (Rick Steves)</author>
<pubDate>2023-10-26</pubDate>
<description>
<![CDATA[The German-speaking Italian town of Castelrotto — called "Kastelruth" by its German-speaking residents — lies tucked away in the Dolomites, the Alps of northeastern Italy. It's my favorite hideaway in "South Tirol," a region of Italy that gives visitors a strong dash of Germanic culture.
Kastelruth is the ideal home base for exploring the Dolomites — Italy's ski country in winter, and hiking wonderland in summer. Though this town was built for farmers, not vacationers, it has good bus connections, fine and friendly hotels, and more village character than any town around.
With its traffic-free center, a thousand years of history, an oversized and hyperactive bell tower, and traditionally clad locals, it seems of another world.
During a trip through <a href="/europe/italy">Italy</a>, I enjoy a break from pizza and pasta. Wurst and sauerkraut are Tirolean clichés — more adventurous eaters seek out Speck, a raw, prosciutto-style ham smoked for five months, then thinly sliced and served as an antipasto or in sandwiches. Large dumplings — with bits of Speck, liver, spinach, or cheese — are often served in sauce, or with butter and cheese. (Never cut a dumpling with a knife. My friends here tell me, "It'll destroy the chef.") For dessert, strudel is everywhere, filled with the region's renowned apples.
Tiny Kastelruth puts its central square to good use, with a busy farmers market on summer Fridays and a clothing and craft market on most Thursdays. If you're on the square on a weekday afternoon, you may see local moms gathering their preschoolers, chatting, then heading en masse down the street to the playground. And before and after Sunday Mass, the square is crowded with villagers and farmers in their traditional clothing.
At 250 feet high, Kastelruth's bell tower — the tallest in the region — dominates the town. When you feel the pride locals have in their tower, a symbol of their town, you'll better understand why Italy is called "the land of a thousand bell towers."
The bells of Kastelruth are a big part of the town experience, ringing on the hour from 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. While sleepy tourists wonder why they clang so early in the morning, locals — who grew up with the chimes — find them comforting.
The bells mark the hours, summon people to Mass, announce festivals, and warn when storms threaten. In the days when people used to believe that thunder was the devil approaching, the bells called everyone to pray. (Townspeople once thought the sound of the bells cleared the clouds.)
Another symbol of Kastelruth is its carved witches — folk figures that date back to when this area was the Salem of this corner of Europe. Women considered somehow threatening — including many midwives, healers, and redheads — were sometimes tried and burned as witches.
These days, the region is most famous for its contribution to the world of oompah music. The folk-singing group <a href="https://www.kastelrutherspatzen.de/" target="_blank">Kastelruther Spatzen</a> — the ABBA of the Alps — is a gang of local boys who put Kastelruth on the map in the 1980s. They have a huge following here and throughout the German-speaking world.
The group's feel-good folk-pop style — an alpine version of German Schlager music — is popular with the kind of conservative, working-class German speakers who like to vacation in South Tirol. In mid-October, the town is packed for Kastelruther Spatzenfest — when the band puts on a hometown concert.
One street over from the main square is the Kastelruther Spatzen shop, which includes a folksy little museum slathered with gifts, awards, and gold records.
To save a little money, I enjoy a picnic on the balcony of my room. The menu tonight: rough, bakery-fresh Austrian-style bread, salami, carrots, a tub of yogurt, and Apfelsaft (apple juice). I notice that everything's in two languages here — my yogurt is both frutti di bosco and Waldfruchte…that's "berries of the forest." The fact that my feast cost less than €10 makes it taste even better.
With a happy soundtrack of German-speaking Italian children playing just out of sight, I watch a slow show as darkness settles on the Dolomites. Gradually the rugged limestone peaks that surround me become monotone, then gone.
<table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/032/775/medium/ee64c269ba86af516e3a108aa7289ce7/article-italy-dolomites-castelrotto-panorama.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>In Kastelruth, the church bells rouse sleepers at 6 a.m. — to the comfort of locals and to the consternation of tourists. (photo: Cameron Hewitt)</tr></td></trbody></table><table><trbody><tr><td><img src='https://d3dqioy2sca31t.cloudfront.net/Projects/cms/production/000/000/583/medium/c87b87b9ab1ee9664a3fad8234e05501/675_AlpeDiSiusi.jpg' width='255'></td></tr><tr><td>Nearby lies the Seiser Alm, a.k.a. Alpe di Siusi — the largest alpine meadow in Europe, and a dream for hikers of any age and skill level. (photo: Rick Steves)</tr></td></trbody></table>Rick Steves (<a href='https://www.ricksteves.com'>www.ricksteves.com</a>) writes
European travel guidebooks and hosts travel shows on public television and
public radio. Email him at <a href='mailto:rick@ricksteves.com'>rick@ricksteves.com</a> and follow his
<a href='https://www.facebook.com/ricksteves'>blog on Facebook</a>.]]>
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