Go Trains: If you want to travel stress-free and in style across Europe the Danube Express is just the ticket, writes Michael Parsons
THE DANUBE isn’t blue. Bulgaria grows the world’s most precious roses. And, Dracula had halitosis. Doesn’t travel broaden the mind? And there is no more agreeable – or stress-free – way to see the world than by rail. Especially from the window of a private touring train.
The British-owned Danube Express has re-invented elegant rail travel and even trumped the Orient Express by providing passengers with the luxury of showers on board. The train, designed for 42 passengers, is based in Budapest and travels on selected routes through central and eastern Europe – from the Baltic to the Bosphorus.
The company tailor-makes holidays for independent travelers and also offers a range of escorted tours which combine a rail trip with hotel stays in chosen cities. I joined the “Transylvanian Return”, a tour which began in Istanbul, included sightseeing stops in Bulgaria and Romania and ended in Budapest.
Day one
TURKISH DELIGHT
Istanbul’s Sirkeci station looks like it hasn’t changed much since its grand opening 110 years ago. Built in a style known as European Orientalism, the sumptuous edifice provides a suitably atmospheric starting point for a great rail journey.
The surrounding streets teem with life, friendly cafes and gloriously kitsch shops selling products as diverse as pots of “Natural Viagra” (conveniently priced for tourists at €8) and fabulously-hued conical towers of dusted Turkish delight.
The megacity of 12 million people is home to some of the world’s greatest sights but not even the Blue Mosque nor the Topkapi Palace could quite compete with the alluring prospect of strangers on a train, preparing for dinner, as old Constantinople glides past. It was time to board.
Uniformed staff on the platform assisted guests onto the navy-blue-and-cream liveried Danube Express carriages. A “deluxe” air-conditioned sleeping compartment, the size of a compact bedroom in a Parisian hotel, was equipped with a surprisingly comfortable bed, seating area, excellent lighting, a mini-safe, ample storage including a wardrobe, a full-length mirror, a picture window and – the ultimate rail luxury – an en suite bathroom with shower and toilet.
The passengers were mainly British and American; the dress code informal. This was a holiday for people who enjoy the adventure of travel rather than faux-Edwardian dressing up. Aperitifs were served in the lounge car where a pianist tinkled out Sinatra.
Dinner – like all meals on board – had a central European flavour and a table d’hôte menu of mushroom soup, venison goulash and apple and sour cherry strudel was served at a single sitting. While passengers dined, staff discreetly made up beds in the sleeping cars.
At midnight, the train stopped in Kapikule for customs formalities before reaching the Bulgarian border. There was time for the few smokers on board (the non-smoking train) to hop off for a last puff on Turkish soil.
Day two
GUNS AND ROSES
As requested, at 7am, the sleeping car attendant knocked with a gentle wake-up call and coffee on a silver tray. The minarets of Turkey’s mosques had been replaced by the onion-shaped domes of Orthodox churches. Ah, mysterious Bulgaria. Land of poisoned-tipped umbrellas, Olympian weightlifters, and, improbably, Irish property investors. After breakfast, (cooked to order), the train arrived at Kazanlak for the morning’s guided excursion.
An informative guide explained that the town was once renowned for Kalashnikov machine-gun production but is more happily known as one of the world’s great centres of rose-oil production. From guns to roses.
In the nearby Valley of the Roses, flowers are harvested in late May/early June and distilled to yield a precious oil widely used by international manufacturers of cosmetics and perfume worldwide. A distinctly Soviet-looking Research Institute for Roses, Aromatic and Medicinal Plants housed a little museum devoted to the history of the industry but the gift shop – which could be a gold-mine – was reminiscent of Moscow’s GUM department store in the bad old days with dim lighting, grumpy staff and poorly-presented products.
The day’s unexpected highlight was a visit to a 5,000-year-old tumulus where the tomb of an ancient king of Thrace was unearthed. The discovery, with its fabulous gold hoard, created an international sensation. Budding archaeologists who dream of emulating Howard Carter should take heart. Bulgaria still has over 4,000 such burial mounds yet to be excavated.
After lunch back on board the train, it was time for an afternoon stop at the city of Veliko Turnovo – the mediaeval capital of Bulgaria – on the Yandra River. The city – a curious architectural mix of old and hideously concrete recent Communist – is gradually being “westernised”. Twenty minutes into a guided tour and a narcoleptic commentary about the intricacies of Bulgarian history inevitably resulted in a breakaway group seeking a caffeine fix.
Cyrillic street signage was challenging but the shaded tables outside “Coffee House Stratilat” looked appealing – despite being overlooked by a hulking statue of local-boy-made-good, one-time prime minister Stefan Stambolov. Some passengers had bought fistfuls of lev, the local currency, but the euro was also accepted. Honey-drenched chocolate cake provided just the right energy boost ahead of a visit to the “folkloric” village of Arbanassi with its wealthy merchant house examples of Bulgarian National Revival architecture. Desultory street traders attempted to flog “authentic” lace and embroidery which looked like it had just arrived from factory No 34 in Guangdong province.
Later, as the train rolled on, the Bulgarian countryside appeared curiously deserted. A legacy of the disastrous farm collectivisation of the 1960s, perhaps? After a dinner of succulent roast goose, the waiter cheekily pre-empted a response by asking: “Was it delicious?” Well, yes, it was. A nightcap of Zwack apricot brandy, combined with the train’s rocking motion, helped to cure lingering first night insomnia. At midnight, a Romanian border guard knocked on the doors of sleeping compartments to check passports. Another frontier crossed.
Day three
ROMANIAN ROMANCE
If it’s Tuesday, it must be Transylvania. It was heart-warming to discover that the late, crazed, former dictator Ceausescu hadn’t quite succeeded in entirely destroying Romania.
Brasov has a lovely central square, Piata Sfatului, surrounded by red-roofed mediaeval houses and unexpectedly impressive baroque buildings. The city is close to the Carpathian Mountains and the international ski resort at Poiana but tourists make a beeline for Castelul Bran – popularly known as Dracula’s castle.
The vampire myth is largely the invention of Dublin-born novelist Bram Stoker who based the character on Dracul, a local tyrant who suffered from bad breath and earned the nickname Vlad the Impaler for inflicting unspeakable cruelties on his enemies.
Although the tour guide wearily, but gamely, indulged tourists’ fascination with the blood-sucking creature, the castle is quite unlike the spooky, sinister creation of Hollywood’s imagination.
In fact, Bran Castle is more a Transylvanian Balmoral and was a favourite summer retreat for the old Romanian royal family during the early 20th century. The only caped vamp on display was Queen Marie gazing from sepia-tinted photographs.
Outside the castle gates, though, a lively and rather shambolic street market has evolved selling a motley selection of tacky Dracula merchandise. Despite the inexplicable worldwide popularity of the vampire legend and the pernicious influence of America’s ghastly Halloween festival, the Romanian authorities, to their credit, have not approved plans for a theme park. Yet.
An afternoon excursion to Sighisoara revealed a Brothers Grimm fairy-tale town with a 14th century clock tower that could have been home to Rapunzel. But there was no escape from the dreaded fangs. A marble plaque outside a cafe recorded Vlad Dracul’s residency from 1431 to 1435.
The perfect antidote was to follow in the footsteps of Prince Charles (who’s quite a Transylvania enthusiast) and adjourn to Casa cu Cerb, a restaurant decorated with his photograph and a stag’s antlers, where charming staff served walnut cake and coffee.
Back aboard the train, there was a final chance to observe the Romanian countryside which was reminiscent of John Hinde images of a lost, rural Ireland. Haystacks dotted the landscape; horses and carts plodded along traffic-free roads; and women and children hoed fields with not a tractor in sight. As the light faded, the train headed towards yet another border.
Day four
HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY
After a journey of some 1,200 miles, the Danube Express turned morning commuters’ heads as it arrived into Budapest’s Nyugati station. The train’s courteous, friendly and efficient staff had arranged a farewell champagne reception in the old imperial waiting room where once Franz-Joseph and his Empress Sissi awaited the royal train as they gadded about their Austro-Hungarian empire. It was a fittingly elegant way to disembark. But once the heavy, gilded doors closed on that lost world it was back to reality with a jolt.
On the bustling streets of central Budapest, there are few reminders that this was a Soviet bloc city just 20 years ago. The Hungarian capital, on the not-so-blue Danube, has regained much of its former glory and offers a wealth of cultural and architectural attractions. A perfect place from which to plan the day’s itinerary – or simply watch the world go by – is the terrace of Cafe Gerbeaud, one of the world’s greatest confectioners. A slice of the house specialty, a Valrhona chocolate “torta” served with whipped cream and apricot sauce, washed down by pungent espresso, is one of Europe’s most distinctive culinary experiences.
But if you’re tired of sightseeing, can’t listen to another word of a guide’s commentary, have seen one mediaeval citadel too many or are just suffering from a dose of over-Balkanisation – you may succumb to a “Kerrygold moment” and seek refuge in one of Budapest’s Irish bars. The Longford, which according to its non-Irish staff has “Serbian proprietors”, displayed a menu touting dishes such as “fried totters with fried onions and smashed potatoes” and a “mixed grill” called, appropriately, the “Longford Fatál”. It was time to go home.
Danube Express
Danube Express offers a range of rail trips and fully escorted holidays on routes through Poland, Hungary, Slovakia, Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey.
A four-day Transylvanian journey on the Danube Express between Istanbul and Budapest (via Bulgaria and Romania) costs £2,790 (about €3,262) per person based on two sharing a deluxe twin en suite compartment or in a “classic” single compartment and includes three nights on the Danube Express full board with complimentary wine, beer and soft drinks, and all scheduled sightseeing.
Departures are on May 7th, June 11th and September 24th, 2011.
The trip also operates in the opposite direction from Budapest to Istanbul with departures on May 1st, May 15th, June 5th, August 28th and September 18th, 2011.
In addition, the Transylvanian trip is available as a nine-day fully escorted holiday from £3,690 (about €4,315) per person including BA flights from/to the UK, two nights in Istanbul and three nights in Budapest, half board in four-star hotels with full sightseeing programme and free time.
danube-express.com
Michael Parsons travelled as a guest of Danube Express