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Where are Paul and Donna
Where are Paul and Donna

Where are Paul and Donna

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  • Where are Paul and DonnaEight Days to BarcelonaTraveler
    1

    Day 02 Afteroon in Vaduz

    November 24, 2025 in Liechtenstein ⋅ ☁️ 46 °F

    After our tree-fort adventure on rails, we arrived in Zurich just before 9:00 AM and hustled to catch the next train toward Sargans, Switzerland. From there, a 35-minute local bus carried us deeper into the mountains toward Vaduz, Liechtenstein. A kind woman on the bus tipped us off about the best stop for the shortest walk to our hotel — a blessing for two tired travelers dragging luggage across uphill cobblestones.

    We reached the Hotel Vaduzerhof after circling to the wrong side of the building to find the entrance. The hotel is fully self-service — check-in by touchscreen. Thankfully, even with a 3:00 PM check-in time, our room was ready at 1:00 PM. We dropped everything, took a breath, and stepped back out into this small, charming capital.

    A quick factoid about Liechtenstein & Vaduz

    Liechtenstein is one of the smallest countries in the world — a doubly-landlocked principality tucked between Switzerland and Austria, known for its alpine landscapes, strong economy, and the medieval Vaduz Castle overlooking the town. Vaduz itself is tiny; you can walk end-to-end in under an hour, yet it remains the nation’s political and cultural center. It’s a place where mountain quiet meets storybook charm.

    After wandering the streets, we discovered Adler Vaduz, a local restaurant first opened in 1908. We enjoyed a remarkable dinner of traditional cuisine. Walter, the owner, stopped by to share the history — his grandfather first opened the establishment, once a hotel with rooms upstairs. Over the years, those rooms became office space he now rents out, while he continues running the café/restaurant with pride. The charm is exactly what you’d expect in a fairy tale, and the food? Easily equal to a five-star, over-priced Manhattan restaurant — but delivered here with warmth, not swagger.

    As we said good-bye to our waitress, the sun was sliding behind the mountains. We walked past our hotel toward the small ice rink in the middle of town. Remember — Vaduz is the capital of Liechtenstein, yet still so small and gentle you could miss it if you blinked. A little booth by the rink was selling warm drinks. The sign said €4 for hot chocolate. For reasons unknown, it cost me €20 — I didn’t question it. We sat with our drinks and watched kids, families, and young couples circling the ice. A few of them hit the ice more than once. Gravity works the same in Liechtenstein.

    The hot chocolate arrived in gorgeous decorative ceramic mugs — bright red with Christmas designs. I noticed people walking away with the mugs, but we had no room in our luggage. Q-tip swabs are fighting for space at this point. So I returned our empty mugs to the sweet older woman running the booth — and she handed me €12 back.

    Ah! Mystery solved.
    €10 if you want to keep the mug.
    €4 if you return it.
    A charming and very effective business model.

    And this same gentle grandmotherly woman?
    She’s also running a full DJ sound system and light show for the rink. Lasers, colorful lights, music echoing through the plaza — it was delightful.

    But the day had been long. We had traveled from Vienna to Zurich through the night, made our transfers into this Christmas-card village, and our energy was gone. I took Donna’s hand as we walked over the cobblestones. All we had to do was look up the mountainside — the castle glowed above us in full evening majesty.

    The magic of the room key opened our door. Hot showers washed the journey away. And the pillows — absolutely heavenly. The kind you absolutely want to steal but won’t.

    Good night, Vaduz.
    See you in the morning.

    #Vaduz #Liechtenstein #AlpineVillage #ChristmasMarket #TravelEurope #PaulAndDonna #FindPenguins #NightJetToZurich #AdlerVaduz #TravelStory    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEight Days to BarcelonaTraveler
    22

    Day 02 World’s Best Haircut

    November 24, 2025 in Liechtenstein ⋅ ☁️ 46 °F

    Up until today, the best haircut Donna and I ever had was in Cádiz, Spain. A little beauty parlor down a cobblestone street… not much English spoken, just a warm memory we’ve carried for years. And yes, while we were on the Rinda, I took a little friendly heat for my developing “Cosmo Kramer–style” hairdo.

    After we checked into our hotel in Vaduz — three hours early, which felt like a gift — we decided to wander through this charming little capital. And right outside our hotel was a barbershop. I looked at Donna, raised an eyebrow, and asked if it was okay to get my “hairs” cut. She agreed. They only do men’s cuts, so Donna became the photographer and spectator.

    Photography credit goes entirely to her — she was having way too much fun.

    My barber, Adam, had everything under complete control: clippers, comb, scissors, the whole arsenal. At one point he asked if I wanted a shave.
    “Full service!” I replied.

    The steam came out. My face was wrapped in a turban. I even had my eyebrows threaded — a first for me. Then came the shaving cream, and Adam, with the precision of an artist, gave me one of the best razor shaves I’ve ever had.

    Donna enjoyed the show almost as much as I enjoyed the pampering.

    After the mini-facial, the shave, and the new styling, the final results were right there for the world to see. Donna took one look and said that while Cádiz had held the crown for years… it looks like I may have found a new barber here in Vaduz, Liechtenstein.

    Thumb through the photos to the last one — do you agree?

    #Liechtenstein #Vaduz #TravelDiaries #EightDaysToBarcelona #BestHaircutEver #BarberLife #TravelMoments #SimplyStreet #FindPenguins    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEight Days to BarcelonaTraveler
    1

    Day 01 Our TreeFort on the NightJet

    November 23, 2025 in Austria ⋅ 🌧 37 °F

    As the NightJet rounded the bend into the platform, a wave of accomplishment rolled over both of us. After the long wait in the Vienna station — moments of uneasiness here and there — we finally had our ride. We were tired, a bit frayed around the edges, and more than ready to settle in.

    To my fellow Viking River passengers: if you ever thought your cabins on the ship were too small (we didn’t), the First Class compartment on NightJet 466 is about the size of a walk-in closet in one of the Viking Suites. Cozy would be the polite word. Micro-compact is more accurate.

    Donna volunteered for the upper bunk; I secured the lower. It took about thirty minutes for us to get ourselves sorted — stowing our carry-ons under the bed, finding homes for our shoes, CPAP, clothes, water bottles, glasses, phones, and all the little things. It felt like being in my own treehouse in the woods, figuring out where every treasure should go. My CPAP plugged in nicely (thank you, European adapter). My morning clothes waited at the foot of the bed. My phone and glasses nestled in the little net cargo holder beside me. Perfect.

    And the blanket — I loved that blanket. Lightweight, but with a gentle weight that felt like someone whispering, go to sleep, you’re safe here. They place it folded in thirds; you just open it and rotate it 90 degrees for full length. A simple pleasure, but a good one.

    Donna, eye mask securely in place, finally said, “STOP,” as I narrated everything I saw outside the window. You cannot see much from the top bunk, and she wanted to sleep. I, however, was far too excited.

    It was like watching a movie through my cabin window — a nighttime panorama in slow motion. The lights of the city sliding past; the silhouettes of old buildings; the sudden rush of another train roaring by in the opposite direction. Then came the countryside: tall mountains reduced to shadow, a treeline etched in near-black ink, reflections shimmering from a quiet lake. Streetlights created dancing patterns across the land. A few homes glowed warmly in the darkness — I even saw smoke curling from a chimney.

    Hard to believe I was on a night train slicing through Austria toward Switzerland. For many, this might be a simple routine. For me, it felt like something out of a Clive Cussler or John Grisham novel. I was riding my own small version of the Orient Express.

    (And yes — Donna is now thinking we may redo our master bedroom at home… with bunk beds. Stay tuned.)

    Eventually, about an hour later, I fumbled in the dark for my CPAP headgear and eye pillow. I closed the window blind and let the rhythm of the rails guide me into sleep. We actually slept pretty well — except for each time the train stopped. Then we’d both wake up for a few seconds wondering: Where are we?
    Did we crash?
    Are we being boarded by pirates?
    Has Interpol finally caught up with us?
    Moments later, the train would start rolling again, and the music of the tracks would pull us right back into our dreams.

    Donna set a 6:45 AM alarm — fifteen minutes before breakfast. We readied ourselves as best we could in our tiny tree fort. Breakfast arrived at the cabin. It wasn’t Teo, Yuri, or the beautiful Rinda service we grew fond of — but it was exactly what we needed: simple, warm, and enough to start the day. We ate, dressed, tidied up our little space, and got ourselves organized.

    When the train coasted into Zurich, we gathered our things. As we stepped off, I couldn’t help but whisper a small thank-you to our makeshift hideaway.

    Good-bye, tree fort. You served us well.

    #NightJet #OvernightTrain #TrainTravel #ViennaToZurich #RidingTheRails #TravelEurope #FindPenguins #PaulAndDonna #NightTrainAdventure #VikingToZurich    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEight Days to BarcelonaTraveler

    Day 01 Patience Is a Virtue

    November 23, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ⛅ 32 °F

    Our 10½-Hour Wait for the NightJet

    We stepped off the Rinda at 11:00 AM, bags in hand, taking one last look at the ship that had carried us through the Danube. Via taxi, by 11:30, we were standing inside Wien Hauptbahnhof, beginning what would become a 10½-hour layover before our NightJet to Zürich. We didn’t choose the wait—sometimes travel simply hands you a day and says, “Figure it out.”

    And so we did.

    Fast-food warmth and early observations

    Our first stop was McDonald’s. It was crowded, loud, and warm—the kind of midday chaos only a giant train-station McDonald’s can produce. Donna and I shared a large Coke, continuing her ongoing scientific study of European Coke vs. American Coke. The conclusion remains the same: the U.S. still wins by a wide margin. I skipped the coffee and we just sat for a while, watching Vienna move around us. But eventually the noise became too much, and we drifted back into the station to continue our search for a quieter place to land.

    Down by the tracks — a different Vienna

    We ended up in the public seating area near tracks 3–12, right under the giant departure board and—unfortunately—right beside the metal recycling bins. From here, a different side of the day revealed itself.

    One by one, people approached the bins, pulling out recyclables for deposit money, carefully removing leftover food, or sorting through tossed-out pastries. It was quiet, steady, almost ritualistic. No begging. No confrontation. Just survival, happening quietly in the background as travelers like us waited for trains to carry us onward.

    Travel is always teaching. Today it taught us to look a little closer.

    Food court refugee life

    Eventually, the cold of the platform area pushed us to the food court. We bought Burger King nuggets and water—then kept them in full view on the table. Technically, you’re only allowed to sit there if you’re actively eating something from the vendors.

    A young man across from us had no food displayed, his head was on his backpack on the table and was approached by security and asked to move. Donna whispered that we probably got a pass because we’re older white Americans with food clearly visible. She wasn’t wrong. Travel exposes the unspoken rules of public spaces—who gets to rest and who doesn’t.

    So we stayed put, nursing our nuggets, charging our phones, watching the hours slowly pass. Ready to go get more if needed. We had a plan.

    A shouting voice and staying aware

    At one point, an unhinged woman came through the station shouting loudly in German, clearly distressed. Her voice echoed above the crowd. For a moment, I wondered if it was a distraction—pickpocket teams sometimes use noise as a tactic—but there was no coordinated movement. It was simply another moment in the long day of a major train station: humanity in all its forms, from tired tourists to people struggling in ways we’ll never fully understand.

    6:15 PM — low batteries, high tension

    By 6:15 PM, both our phones were in the red. After hours of navigating, photographing, and scrolling to fill time, seeing that last sliver of battery felt like betrayal. I pulled out the battery pack and we set up a little island of cables and adapters on the table. Watching our phones slowly revive felt like reviving ourselves.

    7:50 PM — the oasis appears

    Finally—finally—at 7:50 PM, we stepped into the ÖBB Lounge, and the day shifted instantly. First class travelers are allowed access to the lounge an hour before the train leaves. We tried to get in sooner and were rejected by a “by the book” security guard.

    Quiet. Warm. Clean.
    Soft grey seating.
    Low lighting.
    Complimentary drinks and snacks.
    A view over the bustling station below.

    It was the exhale we needed after a long, drifting day. For the first time since leaving the Rinda, we felt genuinely settled.

    9:20 PM — All aboard

    When our platform was announced, we gathered our bags and walked to the NightJet. At 9:20 PM, we stepped into our sleeper cabin—small, cozy, clean, and ours. After 10½ hours of wandering, waiting, observing, and staying just one step ahead of exhaustion, closing that cabin door felt like the day finally let go.

    We didn’t kill each other.
    We stayed warm.
    We stayed aware.
    And somewhere along the way, we learned a little more about the world and the people moving through it.

    Tonight, we fall asleep to the rhythm of the tracks, heading toward Zürich.
    Tomorrow, a new chapter begins.

    #Vienna #WienHbf #NightJet #Zurich #TravelJournal #EuropeByRail #LongLayover #TrainTravel #McDonaldsEurope #WaitingGame #TravelLife #AustriaToSwitzerland #FindPenguins #JourneyContinues    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 18 Disembarkation Day

    November 22, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 32 °F

    The pages of this chapter of the Adventures of Paul & Donna are coming to a close.

    We woke to a soft gray Vienna morning, the kind that feels like it’s whispering, “Slow down… today is different.” Outside our stateroom window, the city wore a thin dusting of snow — subtle, quiet, beautiful.

    Many travelers had to rise long before the sun. We heard suitcase wheels and hushed voices rolling through the hallway as early as 3:00 A.M. Flights to catch. Connections to make. New destinations calling. To everyone heading out into the world today, we wish you safe travels.

    Inside the Rinda, the ritual of departure was already forming: Suitcases lined the hallways like a final parade. The restaurant filled with guests savoring one last breakfast. Quiet goodbyes drifted across the tables.

    We said farewell to staff, fellow travelers, and — most importantly — the new friends who became part of our story these past 18 days. Honestly, some of us may never cross paths again. That’s okay. Because we’ll remember the smiles long after we’ve forgotten the names. And as Bob Hope once said so perfectly:

    “Thanks for the memories.”

    Last night we enjoyed a final dinner with our Rinda friends Barry & Melody, and Mark & Natalia — a reminder that river cruising creates these tiny floating communities where strangers quickly become familiar, and familiar faces become something like family. Harley-Davidson says, “It’s not about the destination — it’s about the ride.” I get it now more than ever.

    The other night we were handed our departure forms.

    Out of the room by 9:00 A.M.
    Off the ship by 11:30 A.M.

    There was a line to fill in:

    Departure time: _________

    So naturally, I wrote 11:31 A.M. One last attempt at being funny on my way out the door. Viking will hail us a cab to take us to the train station were we will wait for the “All Aboard!” Signal for our next chapter to start. And YES, I will be posting our adventures on FindPenguins, a new trip called “Eight Days to Barcelona.”

    While many travelers were racing off to airports, Donna and I are on a different timeline. Our next chapter doesn’t begin until 9:21 P.M. tonight, when we board the NightJet sleeper train from Vienna to Zurich — the start of our journey toward Liechtenstein. So we’re not in any rush to leave the Rinda. We’re lingering, absorbing these last quiet moments, letting the day unfold slowly.

    And as we stood in the lobby one last time, surrounded by luggage, goodbyes, hugs, and that soft mixture of sadness and excitement, I remembered a toast a friend taught me long ago.

    So with glasses raised…

    “May the best day of your past
    be the worst day of your future.
    Cheers.”

    Paul & Donna Gruhn
    East Windsor, Connecticut USA

    ⸻

    #DisembarkationDay #VikingRinda #ViennaSnow #RiverCruiseLife #PaulAndDonnaAdventures #FindPenguinsJourney #NewFriendsNewMemories #SafeTravels #NightJetToZurich #NextChapterBegins #AdventureContinues #ThanksForTheMemories    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 17 Donna & The Lippizan’s

    November 22, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 36 °F

    This one belongs to Donna.

    For this post, I’m stepping back and letting Donna share her experience in her own voice. Horses have been woven into Donna’s life since childhood, and today’s visit to the Spanish Riding School in Vienna was something she has carried on her bucket list for decades. We booked this excursion months ago — long before we ever boarded the plane in Hartford — because I knew this was Donna’s day.

    Here are Donna’s words, exactly as she wrote them:

    **
    “Our cruise on the Danube River has come to an end, here in Vienna. Our last full day was spent with the Lippizzan horses at the Spanish Riding School. I was surprised that the school is pretty much in the center of the very busy city of Vienna. We started with the 70 minute performance. The riders showed off the training of their mounts, the young 4-6 year old horses with walk, trot, canter. The older, more experienced horses and riders performing the airs above the ground, Levade, Courbette, Capriole. My personal favorite was the rider showing the trust that he has with his mount by long reins, snuggled up to the hindquarters of his steed, moving through trot and canter with ease, walking behind his partner. Yes, walking though the horse is cantering. Performing Piaffe, Passage and Pirouettes effortlessly. The performance ended with the Quadrille, eight stallions with riders performing intricate maneuvers, weaving in and out and between each other. Fantastic.

    After the Lippizans performance, Paul Gruhn and I searched for a cafe for hot chocolate. It was hard to find a place that didn’t have a line out the door. After a zig and zag down a side street we found one.

    Later in the afternoon we went back to the SRS for a behind the scenes tour. The stallions in the outer courtyard were shy and busy eating their lunch. Inside the 1730s stables, we toured the tack room which smelled deliciously of leather. There was close to 80 saddles in the larger of the 2 tack rooms.

    The horses inside were also eating but we were able to see them through the wrought iron bars of their stalls. They were magnificent.

    This was a day that I will always remember.”

    **

    As her husband — a man who has watched Donna muck stalls, lift hay bales, brush down her horse Ryan, and carry a lifetime’s worth of love for animals — I can tell you: this day meant the world to her. Vienna may not know it, but it gave her a gift today. And getting to stand beside her while she experienced it? That was a gift to me, too.

    #Lipizzans #SpanishRidingSchool #Vienna #BucketListDay #DonnaAndPaul #HorseLovers #DanubeRiverCruise #VikingCruises #TravelMemories #SimplyStreetTravel #FindPenguinsJourney #UnforgettableDay #EquestrianDream    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 16 Grafitti in Vienna

    November 21, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 37 °F

    One of my friend’s son (name withheld to protect the not-so-innocent) would love living in Vienna. This young gentleman once got himself into a little creative mischief decorating a few Connecticut walls… and thankfully learned his lesson. But here in Vienna? Let’s just say his inner Banksy would be celebrated, not sentenced. Because in Vienna, graffiti isn’t only tolerated — in many places, it’s legal.

    I’ve attached just a few images of the creative expressions we saw tucked under bridges, splashed across concrete walls, and layered like geological strata of Vienna’s urban soul. Some messy, some brilliant, some questionable, all human.

    Graffiti here lives in a strange and fascinating space. Vienna actually has designated “Free Walls” — legal zones where anyone can pick up a can of paint and leave their mark. No permit, no permission slip. Just show up and create.

    These spaces were established to channel street art into areas where it could thrive safely and respectfully… and to give young artists a chance to experiment without ending up in handcuffs. And trust me, people use it. The walls change daily. Layer over layer over layer — a conversation in color.

    Is all of it “high art”? Of course not. But that’s the point. It’s raw expression, the public diary of a city that loves opera and spray paint, classical waltzes and rebellious scribbles. Vienna contains multitudes.

    And somewhere deep inside me, a quiet little voice whispered: “Paul… wouldn’t it be fun to add just one tiny mark?”

    In the back of my mind, I really do wish I had a couple of spray cans with me. Vienna has left an impression on Donna and me — in its architecture, its humanity, its surprises tucked under bridges. It would have been nice to leave a small visual “thank you,” nothing loud or intrusive… just a simple gesture of appreciation on a hidden wall where only the city itself might notice.

    But I behaved myself … This time.

    Still, walking through those tunnels of paint, color, and rebellious joy, I understood something:

    Here in Vienna, creativity is not confined to galleries — it grows wherever the walls allow it.

    #Vienna #StreetArt #GraffitiCulture #UrbanArt #ViennaVibes #CreativeTravel #DonnaAndPaul #FindPenguins #SimplyStreetPhotography #TravelJournal #ArtEverywhere #EuropeByFoot #VikingCruises #ColorfulJourneys    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 16 Schnellverbindungsplan

    November 21, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 37 °F

    Schnellverbindungsplan:
    A word I never imagined I’d need… and now I kind of love it. Roughly translated, it means “rapid connection map” — Vienna’s wonderfully efficient way of telling you, “Here’s how to get anywhere fast… if you can follow the spaghetti of lines without getting lost.”

    Donna and I signed up for the “harder” walking tour today — no bus, no panoramic window, no comfy seats. Just legs, layers, and a local guide named Peter who clearly spends weekends scaling the Alps for breakfast. He ushered our little flock through Vienna’s winter chill, and before long we were following him underground into the heartbeat of the city: the metro.

    Stoian Adrian — our Program Director and benevolent Mother Hen — handed each of us two metro tickets:

    One to get into the city. One to hopefully find our way home.

    There was a strong implication that using them correctly was entirely on us.

    But before you ride, there is a ritual. These tiny paper tickets must be validated — stamped by a small blue machine mounted to the wall. No beep, no turnstile, no alert. Just a quiet imprint of time and place. Miss this? You might get a firm Viennese lecture from authorities in crisp uniforms. We stamped carefully.

    Down we went.

    The U-Bahn swallowed us whole — escalators stretching like conveyor belts, stations wrapped in modern curves and tiles, cold air scented with aluminum, coffee, and the steady hum of everyday life. I tried to photograph not just the place but the people: commuters leaning into their phones, families bundled in winter coats, students zoning out with earbuds, the tired, the cheerful, the late-for-somethings. The real Vienna. The unpolished, unposed rhythm of a city moving through its Friday morning.

    Our first transfer felt like a scene from a spy movie — our group clustered behind Peter’s yellow knit hat like chicks chasing a runaway yolk. The signage glowed above us: U1 Oberlaa, arrows pointing us deeper into the city’s veins. Every platform we reached expanded into another world — curved ceilings, striped tiles, endless rails tapering into the dark.

    One station had construction walls striped like hazard tape — austerity and design somehow blending perfectly in that Viennese way. Another escalator plunged downward at a steepness that should require seatbelts. At one point I caught Adrian laughing as he rode beside us — clearly amused at the spectacle of his flock navigating subway life like wide-eyed newcomers to civilization.

    On the train itself the scene was cinematic. I snapped photos of passengers lost in their own universes: a woman reading, another adjusting her scarf, friends chatting, a child mesmerized by their reflection in the window. Vienna’s metro is clean, efficient, and surprisingly human. Every image became a little study in posture, gesture, and the private worlds we carry in public spaces.

    When we resurfaced and walked back across Mexikoplatz, a cold drizzle set in — but it didn’t matter. We had officially graduated from Metro School. We had stamped our tickets, followed the Schnellverbindungsplan, and lived to tell the tale.

    A good day — with good images to prove it.

    #ViennaMetro #Schnellverbindungsplan #VikingRiverCruise #TravelPhotography #StreetLifeEurope #DonnaAndPaulAdventures #LearningTheLines    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 16 Ghost Ship at 5:27AM

    November 21, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 34 °F

    Couldn’t sleep last night. I was out of bed at 5:00 AM, still shaking off a dream that had my heart racing. Yesterday we had the All Hands on Deck Disembarkation Meeting—the one every cruiser secretly dreads. Times, luggage tags, the do’s and don’ts… all the reminders that our time aboard the Rinda is coming to an end.

    So of course my dreaming mind took that and ran with it—maybe sprinted is a better word. In the dream, Donna and I left the Rinda and climbed into a taxi headed for the train station. Except the driver didn’t stop. He just kept driving… and driving… until we wound up somewhere in the countryside. He dropped us off in the middle of nowhere, and somehow we stumbled onto a group of people with a Viking-red umbrella but no English between them.

    We finally found another taxi—this one spoke English—but instead of taking us to the station, he brought us to his home. His wife prepared a lovely meal for us while Donna and I sat there quietly panicking about missing our train to Zurich. Eventually he drove us back and we made it just in time. That’s when I woke up—in full “we’re going to miss everything” mode.

    It was about 5:27 AM when I finally got up and wandered toward the lounge. The Rinda was a ghost ship. Even Ruth, who always beats me to the chairs by the window, was nowhere to be found. I snapped a few photos of the empty spaces.

    Through the glass toward the bow, I spotted an unexpected figure moving in the soft glow of the pre-dawn lights. It was Leah, preparing the pastries. I called out, “Good morning, you’re up early.”
    “Always,” she said with a smile.

    I stepped outside for a moment. It’s cold in Vienna this morning—the kind of cold that quietly suggests snow might be on its way. The river feels slower today. Or maybe I’m the one slowing down, trying to hold a little tighter to these final days.

    It’s Friday. Two more days here in Vienna and on the Rinda. Then on Sunday they will politely, gracefully, and without hesitation… ask us to leave. I’ve been scouting for hiding places—maybe under the cushions tucked beneath the stairs leading to the top deck. I don’t think anyone would notice for at least a few hours.

    This is the last cruise of the season. I know the crew is ready to head home, see their families, rest, recharge. Some will move on to other ships. Others will disappear into their well-deserved vacations. And the Rinda? She’ll be settled into her Vienna winter port, tucked in and waiting for the thaw. I imagine the mechanics and staff brushing her down, tuning her up, making sure she’s ready for future travelers come March when she’ll glide up and down the Danube again.

    So I’ll savor these last dawns—the creaking hull, the hum of the river, and the kindness of the crew—my little reminders that wonder doesn’t end when the cruise does.    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 16 Meet Christian & Daniel

    November 21, 2025 in Austria ⋅ ☁️ 34 °F

    Once again, the Viking staff turns our cruising experience into a memorable patchwork quilt — warm squares of kindness, skill, and small moments that stay with us long after the ship moves on.

    Meet Christian:
    A young man who has been with Viking for four seasons now. Newly married — just three months. He studied tourism in high school, loves traveling, and when he’s off-duty you’ll find him gaming, with Valorant being his favorite digital battleground. And most important of all: he already knows exactly what I want to drink. It’s the little gestures that make life on board feel like home.

    Meet Daniel:
    Daniel is the Maître d’ on the Rinda — the quiet conductor of the dining room. His mission is simple: everyone must be happy beyond expectations. And he has a superpower for seeing the smallest detail a staff member might miss. Married since 2013, father of a 10-year-old, and when he’s home he enjoys fishing. I asked if he had any stories. He smiled and said, “Many.”

    Donna has her dietary concerns — she loves ice cream, cheese, and crème brûlée, but they don’t love her back. Each evening Daniel brings her the menu for the next day’s lunch and dinner. Together they walk through what she can have, what adjustments can be made, and what the kitchen can prepare with milk substitutes. I’ve noticed Daniel doing this for several passengers, each one essentially getting their own personal dietary coach. The level of care is remarkable.

    A couple of days ago I spoke with Daniel and later with Sasha, the Head Chef, and asked if they could invent a lactose-free crème brûlée. They said they’d work on it. Last night Teo told Donna there was no special dessert available. (I knew what was coming.) She politely chose sorbet. A few minutes later Teo arrived with a custom crème brûlée made just for her by the pastry chef. The excitement at the table was over the top — Sasha came out smiling, Teo was laughing, a couple of dishes clattered somewhere behind us — all in pure, joyful celebration. They even made a couple of extra bowls for the next evenings.

    I’ve also included photos of other Viking crew members — I apologize for not having their stories as well. There are far more good hearts on this ship than words I have space for.

    And as this day settles into memory, I’m reminded once again that it’s not just the places we see, but the people who guide us through them. Christian, Daniel, and so many others on the Rinda have woven their kindness into our journey. One day we will forget the exact dates and times — but we won’t forget how we were treated, how we were welcomed, and how often they made us smile. This ship is filled with good souls, and we’re grateful to travel alongside them.

    #VikingRinda #VikingStaff #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #Hospitality #CruiseLife #KindnessOnTheRiver    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 15 A Rainy Visit in Bratislava

    November 20, 2025 in Slovakia ⋅ ☁️ 39 °F

    After lunch we ventured out into the cold, slightly rainy city of Bratislava. Our local guide led the way, QuietVox receivers snug in our ears as we followed her through the winding streets of Old Town. The city was beautifully dotted with bright red Viking umbrellas drifting through the squares and alleys — and I had to laugh. We looked surprisingly fashionable, perfectly matching the red Bratislava trolley cars rolling past us.

    Our first major stop was St. Martin’s Cathedral. Inside, the darkness carried that deep, mystical stillness that only ancient churches seem to hold — the feeling that centuries of whispered prayers are still suspended in the air. For nearly 300 years, this was the coronation church of the Kingdom of Hungary. Between 1563 and 1830, eleven kings and eight queens were crowned beneath its vaulted ceiling, including the remarkable Empress Maria Theresa. Standing there, in that soft light, felt like touching a thread of history.

    Protected from the elements inside the cathedral was a small version of Čumil, the city’s beloved “Man at Work.” His full-size counterpart usually lounges halfway out of a manhole cover in Old Town, chin resting on his folded arms as if he’s taking a break from his shift. Some say he represents the everyday worker; others insist he’s just a bit of mischievous humor. Either way, he’s become an icon of Bratislava.

    Not far from the cathedral, our guide paused in front of the former home of Adolf Frankl, the Slovak-Jewish painter who survived Auschwitz and turned his trauma into haunting, unforgettable artwork. One of the themes that becomes painfully clear as we travel throughout Europe is the long, tragic history of persecution against the Jewish people. Standing before Frankl’s home — a simple building with an extraordinary story — was another reminder of the danger of persecuting people for their DNA, their beliefs, or simply for being like us.

    As Maya Angelou wrote so beautifully: “We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.”

    Once we were released for free time — like grade school kids rushing out of class — Donna and I slipped into a local café. We climbed the narrow staircase and found a small table by a second-floor window overlooking the street. From our cozy perch, we watched umbrellas drift past, listened to bursts of laughter from the square below, and enjoyed a quiet moment just being together.

    As evening crept in, we wandered slowly back toward the river. That’s when we found him — the full-size Čumil himself, popping up from his manhole cover in the middle of the street. For a split second, I wondered if he actually needed help. But instead of pulling him out, we did what every traveler does: we snapped a photo and left him exactly where he was.

    Installed in 1997, Čumil was part of Bratislava’s effort to bring humor, color, and joy back into public spaces after decades of communist rule. His “job,” according to the city, is simply to watch the world go by — and to make people smile.

    As we crossed toward the river, a warm trolley rattled past carrying locals home for the evening. It struck me how ordinary this moment was for them — and how extraordinary it felt for us. We spent just a few hours in a place we never even knew existed until today, yet it welcomed us with history, humor, and the quiet charm of everyday life.

    With the sky turning blue-gray and the lights dancing on wet cobblestones, Donna and I made our way back aboard the Rinda — our floating home on the Danube.

    #Bratislava #OldTownBratislava #Slovakia #DanubeJourney #VikingRinda #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #Cumil #StMartinsCathedral #QuietMoments #CruiseLife #FindPenguinsJourney #EuropeanChristmas #WanderWithDonna    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 15 Passing Vodné Dielo Gabčíkovo

    November 20, 2025 in Slovakia ⋅ 🌧 41 °F

    This morning, after breakfast, on our way toward Slovakia, we passed through another massive lock system — Vodné Dielo Gabčíkovo, one of the quiet giants of the Danube. Built between the 1970s and the 1990s, this engineering project transformed a historically unpredictable stretch of the river into a stable, navigable waterway. Before this system existed, the Danube here could be shallow one season, dangerously fast the next. Today it not only prevents flooding, but also generates hydroelectric power and keeps this international shipping route reliably open.

    Ships like the Rinda owe a lot to this place.

    A few fellow Rinda travelers were already on the top deck when I came up — bundled in jackets, coffees in hand, all of us braving the cold morning air. Inside the huge concrete chamber, the ship began to rise, slowly lifting us above the shoreline like an elevator made of river water.

    Two things really stood out to me.

    First: the traffic lights.
    Something about seeing a bright red light stopping a ship our size always makes me smile. Red means wait — even on the Danube. And so we did. Once the water level inside matched the outside and the massive gates dropped low enough to clear the draft of the Rinda, the light shifted to green, giving us permission to continue.

    Second: our captain.
    There was Captain Jurij Tolkacev, stationed at the side wheelhouse, eyes constantly moving, scanning bow to stern. These locks are tight — sometimes narrow enough that you could almost touch the walls as we pass. His focus was absolute. With tiny taps of the thrusters, he gently nudged the ship, keeping us perfectly parallel to the concrete edge. Inch by inch, we slipped through without a scrape.

    With his steady gaze and the calm concentration on his face, you knew he was fully in control.

    And it made me wonder:

    What does Captain Jurij do when he’s not at the wheel of the Rinda?

    The man must be a pretty good gamer — he’s steering a 443-foot ship with a joystick that looks like it came straight out of an old Xbox. Ship technology has come a long way since the giant wooden wheels of pirate ships… the same ships I’m convinced he once commanded somewhere out on the Eastern Seas.

    The gates finally opened, the green light appeared, and we glided out of the chamber — smooth, steady, precise.

    With the Danube stretching out ahead of us, we continued along the river toward our next stop: Slovakia.

    #VodneDieloGabcikovo #DanubeLocks #SlovakiaBound #VikingRinda #RiverCruiseLife #DanubeJourney #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #CruisingWithDonna #EngineeringMarvels #LockSystem #FindPenguinsJourney #CaptainJurij #RiverStories #MorningOnTheDanube    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler
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    Day 15 Slovakia, Here We Come

    November 20, 2025 in Slovakia ⋅ ☁️ 39 °F

    I woke up early this morning and laid my things out on our table. For a moment I felt like Paul the Conqueror reclaiming my territory on the good ship Rinda. All we needed were a few sturdy walls, a tower, and of course… a moat.

    I ventured up to the top deck. It was silent, peaceful, and cold — that kind of quiet that feels like the world is holding its breath. A fisherman and his young son stood along the shoreline and gave me a wave. Funny how a simple wave can unlock an entire memory vault. I was suddenly back on those early mornings fishing with my dad… and then years later with our daughter, teaching her how to cast while the sun woke up the world around us.

    The crew let me slip into the “Crew Only” area so I could capture a few photographs of the sun rising over the Danube. They didn’t have to, but that’s the Rinda way — always a kindness tucked into the day. The morning light was soft and silver, the river as calm as a deep breath.

    I chatted with a few of the crew — everyone on board has a story, and if you take the time to listen, you’ll hear some fascinating journeys. I had a bit of administrative work to take care of: Emil and Thomas at Guest Services, as always, were incredibly accommodating. When we arrive in Vienna, we’ll need a couple of taxis for our excursions and then a ride to the main train station to begin the next leg of this three-month adventure. They made it all seem easy.

    I peeked in on Donna — she was peacefully enjoying her sleep — then had a quick chat with Romona before heading to the coffee station. Two cappuccinos later, I was settled into my usual spot, catching up on my FindPenguins posts while the morning slowly unfolded around the ship.

    Slovakia, here we come.

    #Slovakia #DanubeRiver #VikingCruises #MorningOnTheRiver #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #LifeOnTheRinda #EasternEuropeAdventure    Read more

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    Day 14 Goodbye Budapest

    November 19, 2025 in Slovakia ⋅ ☁️ 37 °F

    Up on the top deck, as the night had settled in, there was a chill in the air. We were all bundled up in our jackets, hats, and gloves. The Viking staff served us their special hot drink — a magic potion to keep us warm inside — a mixture of Tokaji (a Hungarian sweet wine), brandy, honey, cloves, and orange peel. This potion works. I had two just to be sure.

    The lines were released, the thrusters quietly pushed us away from the Viking Vali still moored to the shore, and the Viking Vilhjalm took that moment to glide past us on the port side. I think they wanted to challenge us to a race up the Danube. Captain Juri Tolkacev knew better. This was not the night for speed or bravado. If it were, The Rinda would win easily. But this moment called for awe and reflection.

    The Hungarian Parliament Building rose before us — an architectural masterpiece glowing against the dark sky. We didn’t go inside, but those who did told us it felt like a cathedral. A place built not just for governance but to inspire reverence.

    A little history for context:
    Completed in 1904, the Hungarian Parliament Building was designed to celebrate the nation’s independence and growing identity. It sits proudly along the Danube as a symbol of democracy and national unity. Nearly 40 million bricks and thousands of decorative elements went into its construction, blending Gothic Revival grandeur with Renaissance symmetry. Inside are sacred national treasures, including the Crown of St. Stephen — a reminder that this building isn’t just political; it’s historical, spiritual, and deeply woven into Hungary’s cultural soul.

    As we made our way past Margaret Island and slipped under the last bridge, the glow of the Parliament slowly dissolved into the distance. A quiet hush came over the deck. The memory of this night — the lights, the river, the sense of time stretching far beyond our own stories — is etched into our souls forever.

    Budapest… we didn’t have enough time to explore all of you. But you have given us plenty of reasons to return.

    #Budapest #DanubeRiver #VikingCruises #TravelJournal #EveningSail #HungarianParliament #RiverLife #SimplyStreetTravel    Read more

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    Day 14 Exploring Budapest at our pace

    November 19, 2025 in Hungary ⋅ ⛅ 43 °F

    Donna and I decided to stay aboard the Rinda this morning and enjoy a slower start to the day. After lunch we headed out on our own, no group, no schedule—just the two of us wandering Budapest the way we like best.

    We hopped on the trolley and rode four stops down, then walked up toward the Belvárosi Market Hall in the Ferencváros district. This neighborhood goes back to the late 1800s, when it was the bustling trade-and-warehouse quarter of the city. You can still feel that history in the old brick buildings, iron balconies, and cafés tucked into corners that look unchanged for generations.

    Inside the market, the scene hit us all at once—a visual overload of color, smells, and energy. Downstairs, food vendors filled every inch with fresh vegetables, meats, spices, and ready-to-eat Hungarian dishes. I found myself staring at the mountain of produce thinking, How do they go through all this food?

    Upstairs was Trinket Over-Load—embroidered linens, carved wood, leather bags, magnets, toys, paprika in every shape and size. If the lower floor was daily life, the upper floor was pure souvenir carnival.

    We eventually tracked down a Chimney Cake shop, something we’ve wanted to try since arriving. Two ladies inside were having way too much fun making them—laughing, rolling dough, roasting the spirals over open heat. Their joy alone was the price of admission.

    For 1,000 forint, we sat down with a traditional cinnamon chimney cake. Honestly? It was more fun watching them prepare it than eating it. Cooked dough wrapped in sugar and cinnamon… simple, warm, but the show was the real treat.

    Across the way, Donna spotted a jewelry shop. I immediately concentrated all my telepathic powers to keep her from entering the Chamber of Guaranteed Wallet Drain. Miraculously—it worked. She came back and said there was nothing in the window she liked. Little did she know this was one of the rare times my powers actually held strong.

    Hand in hand, we made our way toward the Christmas Market. The air carried a mix of cinnamon, smoke, and mulled wine. One booth stopped me cold—a woman sitting at a loom weaving a scarf right there in front of us. The pieces hanging behind her looked like they belonged in a museum. There’s something grounding about watching someone create with such patience and pride.

    We wandered a bit more, I took a few photos, and eventually we strolled back to the Rinda—content, quiet, happy.

    It was a peaceful, calming time. Just the two of us exploring. No bus ride. No QuietVox. Just walking with my girlfriend through the streets of Budapest, Hungary.

    #Budapest #HungaryTravel #VikingRinda #DanubeJourney #MarketHall #Ferencvaros #TravelJournal #SimplyStreetTravel #TravelWithDonna #ChristmasMarket #ChimneyCake #CityWandering #FindPenguinsJourney #CruiseLife #ColorsOfBudapest    Read more

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    Day 13 Swept into the Szechenyi Circle

    November 18, 2025 in Hungary ⋅ ☀️ 45 °F

    Today we ventured out on our own to Széchenyi, the famous thermal bath house in Budapest. Donna wasn’t too keen on the idea of “just sitting in a hot tub,” but she humored me for this one. We called an Uber, and about fifteen minutes later we pulled up to this enormous yellow palace of a place.

    Széchenyi is one of the largest thermal baths in Europe. Built in 1913 and fed by natural hot springs beneath Budapest, it’s been a place for locals and travelers to unwind for more than a century.

    Inside, we were greeted by a woman who walked us through the options — and somehow she and Donna instantly bonded over the Savannah Bananas. I still don’t understand how baseball entered the conversation, but they were laughing like old friends.

    We chose the private package, which included fruit cups, cocktails, tea, access to the private arboretum, and a six o’clock couples massage. It also came with a private cabin — a small changing room with a wristband key entry, a locker, and a safe so we could secure our valuables. Everything felt simple, clean, and exactly what two travelers needed.

    Once we changed into our robes, we headed straight outside.

    The Outdoor Pools

    The main outdoor pool is massive, steaming in the cold air, surrounded by that iconic yellow Neo-Baroque architecture. One pool had concentric circles — a kind of human roundabout. Everyone was walking in a giant loop, and once we stepped in, we were instantly swept into the current. You can’t help but smile and laugh as you spin around with strangers from all over the world.

    Indoor Pools

    After the outdoor whirlpool fun, we ventured inside. Warm, echoing rooms with stone columns, high ceilings, and mineral-rich water that felt like something out of ancient Rome. For a moment, it really did feel like we were living in the time of Caesar.

    And what struck me most was the lack of judgment. I’m a large man and could easily lose forty or fifty pounds. But none of that mattered. Every body type was represented. Nobody was performing. Nobody was trying to look perfect. We were all just humans soaking, relaxing, and enjoying the moment.

    Fruit, Cocktails & Quiet

    Eventually we made our way into the private arboretum — quiet, warm, peaceful. We sat with our fruit, cocktails, and tea, letting the afternoon drift a little slower. A soft pause before the next part of the day.

    The Massage

    After our drinks we made our way to the massage meeting location. A staff member led us down hallways that felt like a cross between a church and a palace — high ceilings, ornate details, the kind of place you usually only see in movies.

    We waited in a luxurious hallway until our masseuses arrived and greeted us warmly.
    Then we drifted away for 45 minutes of heaven.

    Traveling is wonderful — but it’s also hard work. We needed this moment.

    More Explorations

    After our massages we still had time to explore the steam rooms, the cold plunge, the salt inhalation room, and more indoor pools. This place is huge — so huge that I actually got lost. Donna later told me she saw me walk past the same set of glass doors three different times before I finally went through them.

    Returning Home to the Rinda

    We finally closed the place down a little before 8:00 PM. Our Uber ride back was a story in itself — but we made it to the Rinda just as people were finishing dinner.

    We assumed the kitchen was closed. Teo and Yuri greeted us warmly, and we asked if they had anything simple — maybe soup and bread. Daniel, the maître d’, noticed us and gave us a look that said, “Don’t worry.”

    A few minutes later, out came a full main course.

    This is why people cruise on Viking.

    We had a lovely day at the spa, and when we returned to our Rinda home, our Viking family wrapped us back in comfort. The next morning we stayed on board — blogging, relaxing, letting yesterday’s warmth settle into our bones. After lunch, we’ll wander the market. We’ve got time today — just be back by 9:30 PM.    Read more

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    Day 13 Panoramic Budapest

    November 18, 2025 in Hungary ⋅ ☀️ 41 °F

    So! The word “Panoramic” is a Viking code word.

    Translation: Bus ride - A comfortable, camera-ready, keep-your-eyes-open bus ride.

    This morning we looped through Budapest while our guide delivered a steady stream of history, legends, architecture, politics, and personal stories. And truly… sometimes these talks are absolutely engaging — you learn things you never knew you wanted to know. Other times, I listen with one ear while the other ear drifts into the city passing by my window.

    Because once I sit on that bus, something switches on inside me. I slip into what I call “Out the Bus Window” mode.

    There’s a magic to it — the world rushing by, reflections sliding across the glass, colors stretching and bending as the city moves around you. You never know what you’re going to catch: a couple crossing the street, a woman holding flowers, a tram rattling past, an unexpected piece of street art, or a building façade glowing in the right patch of sunlight for one perfect second.

    Budapest is generous to photographers — even when seen at 30 miles per hour through a streaky window.

    The city unfolded before us like a moving gallery:

    • grand boulevards lined with ornate architecture

    • painted facades and rooftops softened by age

    • the randomness of city life — people hurrying, lingering, laughing

    • flashes of color, texture, and shadow

    • statues rising out of nowhere

    •and that unmistakable Budapest charm that feels both historic and completely alive

    One moment the light is warm and golden.
    Two blocks later, clouds shift and the whole city turns cool and moody. It’s like watching a painter change moods mid-brushstroke.

    I found myself thinking — maybe there is a publishable book in all of this one day.
    Out the Bus Window: A Traveler’s Glimpses of the World - Who knows.

    For now, enjoy this small collection of still moments captured from a moving seat. Budapest gave me more than I expected today — color, motion, life, and little surprises that only exist for a heartbeat before disappearing around the next corner.

    Sometimes the best views aren’t the ones you stop for.

    They’re the ones that rush right past — and somehow you still manage to catch them. I forget the country I was in. I saw a woman in a hair salon - I was holding my camera - we made eye contact - I took the picture as she closed the door. Most of the times an old man might smile at me - or - the kids are the best waving and smiling wanting to be captured in the moment.

    I hope you enjoy this brief bus ride with me.

    #Budapest #Hungary #OutTheBusWindow #PanoramicTour #VikingRinda #TravelJournal #StreetScenes #SimplyStreet #TravelPhotography #EasternEuropeanRiverCruise #LearningToSee #StoryInEveryStep #CityLife #MotionBlurMagic #ThroughTheGlass    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler
    11

    Day 12 Quiet Streets and Good Company

    November 17, 2025 in Hungary ⋅ ⛅ 61 °F

    This morning the Rinda was securely docked on the Danube River in Hungary. I still shake my head in disbelief that Donna and I are actually traveling on the Danube — a river I read about in grade school, never imagining I’d be drifting along it one day.

    We headed into Pec’s District, Hungary, for the included tour. Honestly, for the most part we’ve really enjoyed these included excursions. The guides are local, friendly, and deeply knowledgeable. And they don’t sugarcoat anything — culture, politics, past turmoil, recent turmoil… we’ve heard real stories from real people whose countries have lived through more than most of us can imagine.

    In Pécs, our guide took us on a brief walk around the city — I’ll save those photos for another post — and then gave us a meeting point with an hour of free time.

    Perfect.

    We love using that time to find a café tucked away from the crowds, the kind of place that feels like a locals’ hangout. You know… far from those damn tourists!

    I think we took a left, then a right, and found Café Frei — quiet, simple, nondescript. We peeked in. Success! No one with a QuietVox dangling around their neck.

    The young man and woman behind the counter were warm and welcoming. I ordered a cappuccino; Donna had tea. We shared a slice of rich chocolate cake that felt like it had been waiting just for us.

    Then it happened…

    You guessed it. Familiar faces from the Rinda found our hideaway. Faces we now happily call our friends — our Rinda family. Barry and Melody slid into the table next to us. It was perfect. We’ve really enjoyed our meals, conversations, and quiet moments with them throughout this journey.

    And out the window?

    No surprise at all — there were Adrian and Robbie, chatting with a local woman who was out walking her tiny dog. Moments like this make the world feel small, warm, and beautifully connected.    Read more

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    Day 12 Pecs: Stone, Time, Perspective

    November 17, 2025 in Hungary ⋅ ☁️ 54 °F

    Today we spent time in Pécs, Hungary — a city layered with Roman ruins, Ottoman history, and the kind of architecture that makes you tilt your head back and whisper “wow” under your breath.

    We visited the Cathedral of St. Peter & St. Paul, and the moment I stepped inside I felt swallowed by color, pattern, stone, and history. Every surface — the walls, the ceiling, the carved columns — seems to hum with stories. I kept photographing the details: the gold trim, the star-covered arches, the painted saints, the geometry of it all. It’s overwhelming in the best way.

    This whole area sits atop some of the most important early Christian burial sites in Europe — 4th-century Roman graves, tombs, and frescoed chambers preserved under glass. Walking through those ruins, looking at the old stone walls shaped by hands long gone, you can almost feel the weight of time pressing upward through the earth. People lived, worshipped, grieved, and buried their loved ones here 1,600 years ago… and the echoes still remain.

    Outside, we came across another kind of human expression — the “love locks.” Entire metal structures filled with thousands of padlocks clipped on by couples over the years. Most of them are rusty now… weathered, faded, forgotten by the people who once locked them here with a promise. A few are bright and new. A strange, beautiful, messy monument to human connection. I found them oddly moving — just piles and piles of stories left behind.

    But inside the cathedral, something small caught my attention.

    While sitting quietly in one of the side chapels, letting the space settle around me, I looked down… and there was my sneaker resting on the footrest hidden beneath all the grand architecture. A dusty, well-worn traveler’s shoe in a cathedral that has seen centuries of footsteps before mine.

    For just a moment it stopped me.

    How many people have sat exactly here — pilgrims, tourists, locals, monks — placing their feet on that same worn beam, each carrying their own story, worries, hopes, losses? How many paused here to think about where they were in their life?

    And here I am, just another person drifting through. Small. Temporary. Wondering about my own path while surrounded by a building that has stood for over a thousand years, sitting on top of ruins that are even older.

    We are so small.

    This universe is so impossibly large.
    And somehow, these quiet moments remind me that both truths can exist side by side.

    #Pecs #Hungary #StPeterAndStPaulCathedral #EarlyChristianTombs #RomanRuins #UNESCOWorldHeritage #LoveLocks #TravelJournal #VikingRinda #SimplyStreet #LearningToSee #TravelWithDonna #StoryInEveryStep #QuietMoments #HumanHistory    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 11 Exploring Ilok a Quiet Town

    November 16, 2025 in Croatia ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    We only had a short time in Ilok — a gentle walk from the Rinda into town. It was Sunday, everything was closed, and many of the shops stood abandoned and worn. As you flip through these images, I tried to capture the quietness of the village streets. These charming river towns often blur together — everyone ends up with three or four or ten shots of “Main Street Ilok.”

    But the images that mattered to me were found off to the side. A broken window. A building softened and saddened by the elements. An empty ice-cream shop. A closed cinema with a “For Sale” sign, waiting for someone to care again. As I wandered, I caught myself daydreaming: could I come back here someday and help revive this little village? Renovate the cinema, open a cozy café, set up a small Bed & Breakfast. And yes — an art gallery, of course. A bright little space where Viking guests could wander in and discover my paintings and photography. And naturally, I’d ship everything home for them so nothing would need to be squeezed into a suitcase.

    Somewhere along the way, Donna and I completely missed the pillbox tucked beside a home near the entrance of the village. Fellow passenger “Tall Terry” told us to go back and take a look — so we did. And standing in front of that concrete bunker, something shifted. On this trip, we’ve visited so many museums, hearing story after story of war, loss, and endurance. Eastern Europe has been pushed, pulled, conquered, and reclaimed more times than seems fair.

    People here have too often been pawns on a giant chess board, while those in power chase the same ruthless goal — to control more squares, more borders, more land on the Monopoly board.

    But this pillbox wasn’t behind glass. It wasn’t a curated exhibit with explanatory panels. It was real. It was lived. It meant fear… and for some, death. This wasn’t a statue or a memorial — this was somebody’s reality. And it still sits there, half-hidden beside an ordinary home, silently reminding anyone who cares enough to stop.

    Up on the hill behind town stands Ilok’s castle — a beautiful and complicated landmark with centuries of history stacked beneath its stones. The original medieval fortress here dates back to the 1400s, built by Nikola Iločki, a powerful Croatian noble who was once even crowned King of Bosnia. Later, after wars and shifting empires, the Habsburg Emperor Leopold I granted the castle to the Italian Odescalchi family in 1697 as thanks for their help against the Ottomans. They reshaped it into a Baroque-Classicist residence, and beneath it developed wine cellars that still anchor Ilok’s winemaking tradition today.

    That’s the thing about Ilok — everything here sits on layers. Ancient history. Ottoman invasions. Habsburg barons. Wars of the 20th century. And now a quiet town trying to find its footing.

    Walking its streets, looking into abandoned storefronts, photographing the edges instead of the postcard views — it changed the way I saw this place. There’s beauty here. Not polished. Not staged. But honest. Real.

    And somehow… that feels worth remembering.

    #Ilok #Croatia #DanubeRiver #EasternEuropeanRiverCruise #VikingRinda #TravelJournal #SimplyStreet #PhotographyJourney #HiddenEurope #IlokCastle #OdescalchiCastle #TravelWithDonna #LearningToSee #StoryInEveryStep #HistoricIlok    Read more

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    Day 11 A Sketch Accross Borders

    November 16, 2025 in Croatia ⋅ ⛅ 50 °F

    Most mornings I slip out of the room while Donna sleeps in. A cappuccino, a croissant, and my tiny sketch pad — that’s my little ritual. By the time I reached the lounge, a couple of early risers had already claimed their “morning wombs.” I settled into mine.

    We were in Ilok, Croatia.

    Across from me sat a stout gentleman with official-looking paperwork neatly spread out in front of him. We exchanged a polite “good morning.” His presence felt steady, focused — the kind of quiet confidence that comes from years of doing an important job. I had a suspicion he was part of the border police who would soon be reviewing and stamping our passports before we left Croatia.

    A few sips into my cappuccino, I pulled out my sketch pad. I tried to be subtle — looking around him but also looking at him.
    Short hair. Heavy workman pants — almost green-jeans. A sweater with reinforced shoulders, almost military but not quite. He studied his documents with a seriousness that left an impression.

    I drew lightly, quickly, just capturing what I saw.

    A while later he gathered his things. We nodded our “good days.” Donna appeared to take me to breakfast. As I stood, I tore the sketch out and left it on the table beside his notebooks and satchel. I knew he’d be back.

    After breakfast, Donna headed to our room, and I returned to the lounge. My quiet friend had returned — now joined by two comrades.

    As soon as I sat down he looked up, genuinely moved.

    “Thank you for the drawing,” he said. “In ten years on the job, nobody has ever done such a thing for me.”

    He asked for my room number.

    “307.”

    “I will give you a gift to your room,” he said.

    I smiled. “Thank you.”

    Our day moved on. Donna and I explored the small village of Ilok, then the Rinda continued toward Vukovar. My quiet friend most likely returned to his duties.

    After our bus excursion and dinner, we walked back to our room — and there it was: a small package resting on our bed.

    Donna was puzzled; she had no idea what happened that morning. I didn’t know exactly what was inside either, but I knew the heart behind it — a simple, sincere thank-you.

    Inside were two small jewelry boxes addressed to both of us — pins of the iconic water tower destroyed during the war, a symbol of Croatian resilience. And tucked beside them were two small sketchbooks: pocket-sized, bright white, smooth paper — even nicer than the little book I brought with me.

    I couldn’t help but smile.

    We brightened each other’s day, two strangers sharing a small moment of kindness across a sketchpad and a border table. Maybe that drawing is now pinned to a bulletin board near his desk. And my new sketchbook? It’s already in my pocket — waiting to capture the next moment in time.

    #Ilok #Croatia #VikingRinda #TravelStories #DanubeRiver #MorningRituals #SketchbookChronicles #HumanConnection #UnexpectedKindness #SimplyStreetTravel    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 10 Novi Sad The Weight of History

    November 15, 2025 in Serbia ⋅ ☁️ 57 °F

    Walking back to the ship this afternoon, Donna and I decided to step into the Museum of Contemporary Art Vojvodina. At the entrance, a kind gentleman greeted us and explained the layout — a Chinese exhibition on the lower level and two exhibits upstairs. There are no permanent collections here. The space felt stark, almost bare. When I hear “contemporary art,” I expect bold statements, big gestures, something that pushes at least a little. But what we encountered was quieter… and, in its own way, heavier.

    Upstairs, one of the displays was titled “Invisible Fronts – World War I and Vojvodina.”
    It explored the often-overlooked role this region played during the First World War. Positioned at the crossroads of empires, Vojvodina became a landscape of shifting borders, divided loyalties, and quiet acts of resistance. While the major battles raged elsewhere, the people here endured political pressure, conscription, cultural suppression, and the silent hardships of life behind the front lines — the kind of war that doesn’t make headlines but shapes generations.

    Many of the countries and cities we’ve visited on this journey document the atrocities of war, but this exhibit held us in place. The gas mask. The sculpture of a young child being carried. A suffering dog. Horses rearing in panic. A German SS uniform. Even in a museum setting, these reminders of fear, oppression, and human vulnerability shake something deep.

    I graduated high school in 1974. The draft had been cancelled; I didn’t have to go to Vietnam. To those who served, to those who went to war — thank you. I can only imagine the memories you still carry, the images that follow you long after you’ve come home. The horrors we see in a museum are only shadows of what you witnessed in real time.

    As Americans, we have been sheltered from so much of the devastation European countries endured on their own soil. The closest we have come is Pearl Harbor and 9/11 — tragedies, yes, but brief moments compared to decades of suffering here.

    The other upstairs display moved me even more:
    “Victory Belongs to Women: Women of Vojvodina in the Struggle Against Fascism.”

    This exhibit honors the bravery of the women who resisted occupation, carried intelligence across borders, sheltered fighters, and in many cases took up arms themselves. Figures like Lepa Radić, executed at just 17 for refusing to betray her comrades, and countless others whose names echo through this region’s history, stood as symbols of courage far beyond their years. It’s a reminder that war is not only fought by armies; it is shaped by the quiet, determined strength of women who refused to let their homeland fall without a fight.

    At dinner, I asked Donna what she thought. She said these women were successful because women are often not seen. They could move quietly, unnoticed, dismissed — and use that invisibility to save lives.
    Who decided men were in charge anyway?
    Oh, right. A man.

    As we left the museum, we were both silent.
    Not the heavy silence of sorrow, but the reflective kind — the kind that settles into your bones and asks you to notice how fortunate you are, how fragile peace can be, and how much courage exists in ordinary people. We walked back toward the ship without many words, letting the weight of history sit with us for a while.

    #NoviSad #MuseumOfContemporaryArt #InvisibleFronts #VictoryBelongsToWomen #EasternEuropeCruise #VikingRinda #TravelReflection #WarHistory #ArtAndMemory #SimplyStreetTravel    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler
    3

    Day 10 Was this a set up?

    November 15, 2025 in Serbia ⋅ ☁️ 59 °F

    Early on this trip Donna informed me she didn’t bring any earrings.

    “She forgot?” Hmmm.

    All women with pierced ears know the rule — if you don’t keep something in there, those holes can close up. So after lunch aboard the Rinda we wandered back into Novi Sad, following Donna’s memory of an H&M. Maybe they’d have something inexpensive. But gentlemen… as you know, zinc won’t do. The earrings need to be pure stainless steel or better. H&M didn’t have anything close.

    So the search continued.

    Tucked quietly into the corner of a side street was a small jewelry shop — “Bata” You had to be buzzed in. Inside, a sweet older woman and her daughter ran the place. It felt like we had stepped into a secret hideaway where only the locals with long-standing trust were welcomed.

    Donna told them what she was looking for.
    A small case appeared from behind the counter, which was behind the other counter. Layers of security. But our eyes landed on the same pair at the same time: a stunning blue set of earrings with a tricky little latch.

    With a bit of help, Donna got them in.
    And wow… they looked amazing.

    Then came the magic question: “How much are they?” Followed by the American traveler’s follow-up question: “And how much is that in U.S. dollars?”

    The shopkeeper did not quote a number.
    She placed the earrings on a scale.

    My stomach tightened.

    No price tag. No label. Just a weight.
    This can’t be good!

    Donna gave me that gracious look — the one that says, “These might be more than we planned to spend,” but also the one that says, “I love them.”

    She tried on a couple of other pairs that were less money, but they didn’t have the radiance my wife deserves. So we thanked the ladies, stepped out of the little jewelry nook, and kept browsing.

    We did find another store… but nothing compared to those blue earrings at Bata.

    Leaving the second shop a bit deflated, I turned to Donna. “Did you really like the blue ones?” She did.

    Honestly… so did I.

    “Let’s go back and get them.”

    They looked beautiful on her. And now she has a memory from Novi Sad — a story from our Eastern Europe River Cruise she can smile about every time she puts them on, as well as, be reminded just how wonderful a husband I am (or at least can be on good days.)

    For me, it was one of those moments I didn’t want to regret. You know how it goes:
    “Oh, I wish I’d bought you those blue earrings in Novi Sad.”

    And guys, let’s be honest:

    Happy wife, happy life.

    Gentlemen, again I ask … was this a setup?

    #NoviSad #RiverCruiseDiaries #VikingRinda #TravelStories #BlueEarrings #TravelMemories #EasternEuropeCruise #SimplyStreetTravel #HappyWifeHappyLife    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 10 In Trg Slobode, Novi Sad

    November 15, 2025 in Serbia ⋅ ⛅ 57 °F

    This afternoon Donna and I wandered into Trg Slobode, the main square of Novi Sad — a space that feels both grand and intimate at the same time. The cathedral rises like a sentinel, its tall spire reaching into a sky brushed with soft autumn light. People drift through the square with an ease that only comes from living in a place shaped by history, faith, and the quiet rhythm of everyday life.

    On a simple wooden bench, I saw a holy man sitting in stillness — hands folded, robe resting gently, a cross catching the light. There was a young man with him who spoke English, so I asked if I could make a few photographs. He nodded with a calm, gentle smile that needed no translation.

    Looking through the lens, something shifted for me. Not in a heavy, dramatic way — but in a human way.

    Serbia carries a deep spiritual thread woven through its people, its stones, its squares, its stories. You feel it in the churches, yes… but also in the faces, the gestures, the way strangers sit quietly in public spaces without the need to fill the air with noise.

    And whether a person believes, questions, doubts, or simply wonders — moments like this transcend all of that. There is something universal about a human being at rest, folded hands, the weight of a lifetime carried with grace. Something about presence. Something about quiet.

    I’m not Serbian. I’m not Orthodox. But sitting there, camera in hand, I couldn’t help but feel the peace radiating from him. A peace you can borrow for a moment, even as a traveler passing through.

    For those who believe, these images may stir the familiar comfort of faith.

    For those who don’t, maybe they invite a pause — a breath — an inner reflection about what grounds you, what steadies you, what brings you closer to your best self.

    For me, it was a reminder that even far from home, the world has a way of holding us — gently, unexpectedly — right in the middle of a bustling square.

    #NoviSad #TrgSlobode #Serbia #StreetPhotography #SpiritualMoments #TravelReflections #VikingRinda #EasternEuropeCruise #SimplyStreetTravel #HumanConnection    Read more

  • Where are Paul and DonnaEastern European River CruiseTraveler

    Day 10 We really like Novi Sad

    November 15, 2025 in Serbia ⋅ ☀️ 57 °F

    Before today, Donna and I didn’t even know Novi Sad existed. By late afternoon… we were already talking about how much we’d like to come back.

    This little city on the Danube surprised us — not in a loud, showy way — but in that quiet, steady way a place reveals itself when you walk its streets with curiosity.

    Novi Sad is clean, warm, lived-in, and clearly loved by the people who call it home. And on a Saturday, the families were out — kids bundled up, parents strolling slowly, vendors grilling chestnuts, the whole city breathing in a soft, easy rhythm.

    We wandered the market first — crates overflowing with bright red radishes, crisp greens, plump tomatoes, squash sliced open like orange lanterns. Everything felt fresh, vibrant, alive. My color lens was thrilled. Then my black-and-white lens stepped in and picked up the human side: textures, hands, faces, stories.

    The alleys here… some are worn, a bit rough around the edges, peeling paint, graffiti, old doors patched and repatched. But I’ve learned those are the places where the best photographs live. An elderly woman with a cane walked through one of those narrow passages — the kind of moment you don’t stage, the kind you’re grateful to witness.

    Then the charm:

    A cat sunning itself outside a flower shop.

    A man roasting chestnuts on a portable grill, completely in his element. A toddler in a stroller wide-eyed at the world around him.

    A woman leaning out her window, watching all of us pass by as if guarding her corner of the square.

    We stood on the banks of the Danube, looking at the Rinda resting quietly against the shore, the white bridge arching perfectly across the water. The reflection was glass-smooth — a full mirror image. One of those moments where the universe aligns just right.

    A little history for context: Novi Sad is Serbia’s second-largest city, often called the “Serbian Athens” because of its long tradition of art, literature, and culture. It has been shaped — and reshaped — by empires, wars, and reinvention. And yet what you feel walking its streets is simple kindness, openness, and the gentle heartbeat of everyday life.

    Donna and I came here with no expectations. We left with full hearts and beautiful memories.

    Novi Sad — we really like you. And we won’t forget you.

    #NoviSad #Serbia #EasternEuropeCruise #VikingRinda #TravelJournal #StreetPhotography #MarketLife #HiddenGems #DanubeRiver #SimplyStreetTravel #LearningToSee    Read more

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