A Civilised Start… In Theory
After two days of early rises and gallivanting along the river, Day Three began with what we grandly labelled “a later start”. I was up at 07:20, feeling rather pleased with myself for not having been jolted awake by the promise of pastries or a rogue ship announcement. Meanwhile, Michele enjoyed a far more luxurious lie-in until 08:00, which in cruise-world might as well be lunchtime.
By 08:50 we’d made our way to the upstairs lounge where we met the usual suspects: Warren (aka Diaper Guy—don’t ask), and Dawn, who had somehow managed to look wide-eyed and fresh despite the ship’s heating system doing its best impression of a tropical greenhouse. We opted for what we thought would be a gentle, quiet, almost meditative breakfast. Something simple. Something calm.
Well. That illusion lasted about as long as an umbrella in a hurricane.
A party of elderly Americans—lovely people, I’m sure—descended upon the lounge like a flock of socially unaware seagulls. They plonked themselves at a six-seater table, then promptly annexed two seats from ours. Dawn valiantly attempted diplomatic negotiations but ultimately conceded defeat, rescuing chairs from another table in a tactical retreat. As reinforcements for the American party arrived, they expanded outwards with the grace of a spilled puddle. Personal space? Never heard of her.
Gliding into Grey Skies
Fortunately, the Danube (#Ad) has a magical way of restoring one’s serenity. As we sailed on, Hungary (#Ad) drifted quietly by on our right, Slovakia (#Ad) on our left, and a soft grey haze settled over everything like a polite whisper. It was peaceful, contemplative, and just moody enough to feel like we were starring in a classy European travel documentary.
At around 10:00, we approached the Gab?íkovo Dam locks—also known by its more intimidating Slovak name, Sústava vodných diel Gab?íkovo – Nagymaros. Michele elected to remain in the warm cocoon of the ship while the rest of us bundled up and ventured to the top deck to witness the engineering spectacle firsthand. Watching the ship manoeuvre through the locks is the sort of thing you don’t think you’ll find fascinating… until suddenly you’re transfixed, making comments like “Look at that clearance!” and “That’s precision, that is!” as though you’re auditioning for a nautical version of Top Gear.
A genuine marvel of engineering, and a surprisingly thrilling one at that.
Lunch Like Civilised Riverfolk
Back inside, we opted for a simple lunch in the bar area—soup and sandwiches—before arriving in Bratislava (#Ad) at 13:30. A light lunch was wise, because as we soon discovered, a walking tour awaited, and walking tours require both physical stamina and emotional fortitude.
Bratislava: Searching for David 2.0
Now, here’s the thing: once you’ve had a guide like David in Budapest, the bar is set dangerously high. As we joined the post-lunch Bratislava walking tour, we quickly realised no one was quite hitting David-level brilliance. We found ourselves flitting between guides like confused radio operators, switching headset channels faster than Michele switches off TalkSport when Alan Brazil’s (#Ad) voice enters the atmosphere.
Bratislava (#Ad), while charming in its own way, didn’t quite match Budapest’s (#Ad) grandeur—but we persevered, trudging through the cobbles and the cold. And speaking of cold: something deeply strange has happened to our marriage dynamics. Michele, usually the chilly one, is now throwing off heat like a human radiator courtesy of menopause, while I’ve somehow become the one shivering like a Jack Russell in a gale. If anyone reading this fancies sending thermal layers, please do. I’ll pay postage.
A Warming Interlude
Halfway through the tour, the universe took pity on us. We detoured into Bratislava Flagship, where mulled wine and snacks awaited like a warm hug. The spiced wine thawed us nicely, and after a collective unspoken agreement—silently communicated through looks, shrugs, and perhaps a bit of telepathy—the four of us ditched the tour entirely.
Instead, we wandered freely through Bratislava’s Christmas markets, which were twinkling, fragrant and utterly enchanting. There’s something freeing about exploring at your own pace, especially when that pace includes pauses for food samples, wine, and an ill-advised but delightful purchase of Christmas decorations we absolutely do not need.
Back on Board: The Gentle Art of Pre-Dinner Drinking
Once aboard the Emerald Dawn again, the girls disappeared to get changed for tea—sorry, dinner—while Warren and I demonstrated the far simpler male approach to pre-meal preparation: grab a beer and sit down.
The evening meal, a six-course extravaganza, was nothing short of superb. Dishes arrived with artistic flair, flavours were rich and clever, and the red wine flowed generously. Warren and I made sure not a drop went unappreciated.
An Evening with Afroditi
Post-dinner, we drifted upstairs to the lounge where a five-piece all-female string and wind ensemble called Afroditi were performing. They played a mixture of classical and modern pieces, each reimagined with such style that even songs I didn’t recognise sounded like favourites I’d known for years.
Michele and Dawn gracefully retired at 22:15, leaving Warren and me to uphold the sacred tradition of “just one more drink” before tomorrow’s early start. Breakfast is at 07:30, and we’re booked onto the 08:30 coach tour for our next destination: Vienna (#Ad). If you hear moaning in tomorrow’s entry, assume it’s either a hangover or commentary on the early morning.
And so, in the words of The Two Ronnies (and perhaps also the Two Wine-Fuelled Brits), it’s good night from Warren… and it’s good night from me.
