Going slowly down the Danube

Donau, Duna, Dunaj - the River Danube runs through as many changes of name as it does countries on its slow drift through central Europe.

At Passau, on a blustery day, the Donauprinzessin (Danube Princess) was at its mooring. Napoleon wrote of Passau that "in all of Germany I never saw a town more beautiful", and the tumble of baroque and neo-classical houses proved him right. The Danube Princess herself, while hardly a thing of beauty, was easy enough on the eye, a gleaming white floating hotel with 200 passengers. We prepared to navigate the Danube in suitably leisurely style. River cruises, like rivers themselves, move slowly.

Passau slipped behind us at sunset, and the night was spent cruising into Austria, where we woke to the deep green valleys of the Wachau wine region. One of the best things about river cruising is that it takes you to smaller places you might otherwise overlook.

Durnstein was one such place; a town of just over 1,000 people, dating back to the 15th century, with a gorgeous baroque monastery standing like a sentinel over a bend in the river.

We strolled down Durnstein's cobbled streets to the castle where Richard the Lionheart, returning from the Crusades, was held to ransom in 1192. And as the ship glided away from shore, lunch was served in the airy dining room.

My fellow passengers were a mixture of German-speakers and Anglophones. Americans are great fun on cruises. On my table, sisters Grace and Eula from California, and Jim and Sally from Oregon, chattered away as if we'd all known each other for years.

As we demolished the first of several lengthy meals, Jim remarked that cruising "was the best value going". I could see his point - but I also felt that the Princess, like all cruise ships, took this to excess. Five courses might be fine for dinner, but for lunch too?

Accordingly, I took to walking whenever I could, to work off the food. Budapest offered plenty of opportunities. Pest, the part of the city north of the "Duna", is flat, modern and buzzy. Buda is quieter, hillier and ideal for hiking. Down on the river, half-a-dozen ornate bridges sparkled like necklaces in the sunshine.

Oddly enough, the best view from the Danube Princess was often to be had at eye level. As we cruised past the Danube Bend, where the river turns back on itself and heads south, the castles and churches looked better from down below than close up.

From the river, too, you get a real sense of how towns and cities developed: not through the whims of town planners but organically, from the water. Both approaches were in evidence at Bratislava, where the grim housing estates of the communist era were confined to the "Dunaj's" south bank, leaving the old Habsburg town largely untouched to the north.

Since the break-up of Czechoslovakia in 1993, Slovak Bratislava has played resolute second fiddle to Czech Prague. Not for much longer. Bratislava's old city is like a toy town of superb baroque and neoclassical architecture, its cobbled lanes leading out to squares lined with cafes and restaurants.

Bratislavan women, it must be said, are among the most beautiful in Europe, and seem to compete vigorously with each other in an ongoing tight-trousers competition.

Nearby Vienna, teeming with grandiose buildings, is on an altogether grander scale. Jim and Sally and the sisters headed off in excitement to the opera; but for me it was the little details that appealed: a swirling Kaisermelange coffee at the old central Kaffeeh?us; a stroll around the Prater park, with Harry Lime's Ferris wheel cranking slowly overhead. That night, a string quartet came on board, one of many excellent local acts employed by the Princess as after-dinner entertainment.

The cruise finished at the Austrian town of Melk, its Benedictine abbey up on a ridge visible from miles away. Melk was swathed in backwater peace. I explored the abbey, then sat under a willow, watching the river - now the Donau once again - drift slowly by.

The last word went to Jim and Sally, standing beside me. "Man, what a view," said Jim. "I'll tell ya - ya can't beat that with a club."