April 1, 2026 – Flying to Vienna

For weeks leading up to my trip, the news had been full of doom‑and‑gloom warnings about TSA workers quitting en masse and airport security lines stretching into eternity. Determined not to start my adventure with a meltdown in line, I booked a “Save My Spot” time for 11:45 a.m.

Naturally, when I arrived at SeaTac at 10 a.m., the place was practically serene. I checked my 40‑pound bag, breezed through security in about ten minutes, hopped on the tram, and found myself at the south terminal wondering what all the fuss had been about.

With time to spare, I grabbed lunch—if you can call a $24 club sandwich, chips, and iced tea “lunch” without wincing. The sandwich was so forgettable I only ate half. I could’ve wrapped it up for later, but honestly, why prolong the disappointment?

Once on the Delta flight, I settled into my aisle seat with my phone, blanket, and pillow. Nine hours to Amsterdam, then a two‑hour layover before Vienna. At Schiphol, I hunted down a latte macchiato—something that seems to mystify most American cafés—and savored every caffeinated sip. I hadn’t slept a wink on the plane, so the boost was necessary.

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April 2, 2026 – Welcome to Vienna

I landed in Vienna around 1:45 p.m., but by the time my suitcase finally appeared, it was closer to 2:30. I had planned to take the bus into the city, but exhaustion won. I summoned a Bolt taxi and let someone else do the navigating.

At the Marriott, I checked in, dropped my suitcase in my room, and headed to the makeshift bar—apparently the real bar and dining room were under renovation. I ordered schnitzel with potatoes, delicious but far too much for one jet‑lagged traveler.

Determined to stay awake until a reasonable hour, I lasted… until 6 p.m. Then I crashed for a glorious twelve hours.

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April 3, 2026 – Vienna Bike Tour

I woke refreshed and made my way to the breakfast buffet, which was nothing short of spectacular. Europeans really know how to do hotel breakfasts. I took videos because the spread was so impressive—rolls, cheeses, cured meats, vegetables, juices, pastries, and more. Since I’m not a big breakfast-food person, I loved being able to assemble my own little ham‑prosciutto‑cheese sandwich and pile on cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers. Coffee, of course, and a splash of multivitamin juice for good measure.

After a short rest back in my room, I headed downtown for my bike tour. Getting there was a breeze: a four‑minute walk to the U‑Bahn, nine stops, then an eight‑minute stroll.

I love short bike tours when I first arrive in a city—they’re perfect for getting the lay of the land and deciding what deserves a deeper dive later. I booked mine through Get Your Guide, my go‑to for these kinds of experiences.

I had signed up for an English‑speaking tour, but four Germans showed up, and the guide switched to German. He’d talk at length to them, then toss me a tiny English summary. I felt like the awkward exchange student who missed half the jokes. Still, the architecture and statues were beautiful, so I focused on taking photos instead of trying to decode the commentary.

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Things I Saw During the Bike Tour

• Karlskirche – A breathtaking Baroque church crowned with a massive green dome and flanked by two intricately carved columns. It looks like something lifted straight out of a grand opera set.
• Albertina Modern – Vienna’s sleek, contemporary art museum, its clean lines and modern façade standing in striking contrast to the ornate historic buildings around it (it had a wooden Micky Mouse outside).
• Maria Theresa Monument (Maria‑Theresien‑Platz) – A towering bronze tribute to Empress Maria Theresa, surrounded by fountains, manicured gardens, and two mirror‑image museums that make the whole square feel regal.
• Museum of Art History (Kunsthistorisches Museum) – A palace‑like museum with marble staircases, frescoed ceilings, and a façade so ornate it practically demands a photo.
• Natural History Museum – The twin to the Art History Museum, equally grand on the outside, with a massive dome and statues that make it look like a temple of knowledge.
• Neue Burg (Hofburg Palace) – A sweeping curved wing of the imperial palace complex, all arches, columns, and imperial swagger. It’s the kind of architecture that makes you imagine horse‑drawn carriages and royal processions.
• Schweizertor (Swiss Gate) – One of the oldest surviving parts of the Hofburg, with a red‑and‑white façade and a distinctly medieval feel.
• Michaelertor (St. Michael’s Gate) – The dramatic main entrance to the Hofburg Palace, opening into a grand courtyard framed by domes and statues. It’s one of those spots where you can feel Vienna’s imperial history pressing in from all sides.
• Vienna State Opera – Elegant, iconic, and buzzing with energy. Even from the outside, it radiates the sense that something magical is always happening inside.

After the tour, I stopped at a cafe and had a cappuccino and some sachertore. Sachertorte is a famous Austrian chocolate cake invented by Franz Sacher in 1832, consisting of a dense chocolate sponge cake, a thin layer of apricot jam, and a dark chocolate glaze, traditionally served with unsweetened whipped cream. I especially loved the contrast of the apricot jam with the chocolate!

I was wiped out so I took the U‑Bahn back to the hotel for a nap.

That evening, I returned to Old Town for dinner and ordered Viennese goulash. I mistakenly ordered a large and could only finish half. The waiter kindly charged me for a small, saying that’s all I ate. Bless that man.

I wandered through a few shops for souvenirs before heading back to the hotel.

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April 4, 2026 – Last Day in Vienna

After a leisurely breakfast, I set out for my tour of Schönbrunn Palace. I thought I had my route perfectly planned, but after transferring to the U2, I somehow went the wrong direction. With time running out, I called a Bolt taxi and made it to the palace just in time to meet my Get Your Guide group.

Schönbrunn, the former summer residence of the Habsburgs, was lovely—but honestly, it felt similar to other European palaces I’ve visited. My foot was throbbing from a blister, so instead of exploring the gardens, I hopped on the little shuttle “train” that circles the grounds.

Later, my son informed me that I should’ve gone to the Belvedere instead—home to a huge Gustav Klimt collection. My favorite artist. With gold leaf. I’m still kicking myself.

After the tour, I took the U2 back toward the Hofburg area to take more photos and wander. While strolling, a group of about 50 cyclists escorted by police rode by. They do this on Fridays in April and call it The Future Bike Ride. From their website: “We have had enough of polarization and of bickering about others. We are showcasing ideas and solutions that come from the many dedicated people in this city—people who are working with great energy, ingenuity, and joy to advocate for a better life in the city. Bring your bikes, and let’s ride through the streets of Vienna together for a bright future—and show our politicians what matters to us! The Future Bike Ride is organized by Radeln For Future and Parents For Future, in collaboration with numerous supporting organizations and initiatives.”

I was supposed to meet the bike tour organizer at 7 p.m., so I returned to my room to rest. Around 6, I went down to reception to buy a drink—and there he was. His notes said 6 p.m.; my packet said 7. Good thing I came early. He reviewed the route with me, then took me to the garage to see the e‑bike.

My heart sank. It was a heavy step‑through model, easily twice the weight of my bike at home, with a saddle that looked like a medieval torture device. The battery was already down a bar, but he assured me it would be fine. I wasn’t convinced.

Afterward, I treated myself to dinner at the hotel restaurant: charred romaine with grilled chicken. Simple, delicious, and exactly what I needed.

I turned in early—my cycling adventure would begin the next day.

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April 5 – The solo bike ride starts

After a solid night’s sleep, I woke with a knot of apprehension sitting squarely in my stomach. I’d ridden these distances back home plenty of times, but this was different—my first solo ride in a foreign country. My biggest worry? Whether my e bike battery would survive the day. I was already down one bar, and no amount of pep talking myself could change that. Hunger eventually nudged its way past the anxiety, so I headed to breakfast and made sure to fuel up for the long stretch ahead.

I checked out of the hotel, left my luggage for transfer, collected the bike, and rolled out onto the planned route. The morning was chilly, but I had layers I could peel off as the sun warmed things up.
Leaving Vienna and following the Danube should have been peaceful—picturesque river, quiet paths—but the wind had other plans. It blasted straight at me, forcing me to crank the pedal assist to max just to keep moving. And wow, this bike was heavy. Today’s goal: ride from Vienna to Bratislava, Slovakia.
About ten miles in, the battery dropped another bar. Shit. Why hadn’t I topped it off overnight? With thirty miles still ahead, I dialed the assist down and alternated between the middle settings. Between the wind and the weight of the bike, it felt like pedaling through wet cement.

Most of the route followed bike trails—like the EuroVelo 6—with occasional stretches through small towns. I loved how seamlessly the paths connected, guiding me east through quiet countryside. As I rode, my mind drifted between cursing the stubborn e bike and thinking about my dad, who passed away in March at 89. I cried a little here and there, but never fully broke down. The rhythm of pedaling has a way of holding you together.

Cafés dotted the trail, but with shoulder season and the Easter holiday, everything was closed. Not a single open restroom in sight, so I rationed my water more than I should have. At one point, I stopped to watch a male pheasant strut proudly along a field while a hiker crouched to photograph him. A tiny, unexpected moment of beauty.

As I approached Bratislava, the skyline shifted—the UFO Bridge came into view, along with the massive castle perched above the river. I was nearly done and more than ready to be off the bike. When I rolled up to the Hotel Devin around 12:30 p.m., my battery was hanging on by a thread—one lonely bar left.
I checked in, locked the bike in the garage, and immediately noticed how the hotel’s architecture echoed Slovakia’s Eastern Bloc past. Something about the style made it easy to imagine what life looked like here after WWII.

After a short rest, I set out to explore the spots I’d pinned on Google Maps—mostly statues and fountains scattered around the old town. Families were out celebrating the holiday, kids running around parks, and gelato lines stretching down the block. I skipped the gelato and grabbed a slice of pizza and a Coke instead. The whole area had a relaxed, festive vibe, and I loved seeing so many people outside enjoying the day. It wasn’t until much later that I realized I’d forgotten to visit the famous “Blue Church.” No photo for me this time.

After hours of walking, I returned to the hotel for my half board dinner: vegetable soup, roasted pork belly with a rich sauce, boiled potatoes, and a chocolate mousse like dessert. Simple, hearty, and exactly what I needed.

I fell asleep early, exhausted but proud of myself for making it through the day. And before drifting off, I made absolutely sure to plug in that e bike battery.

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April 6 – Bratislava to Györ

I rode from Bratislava to Győr, and honestly, I hated leaving Bratislava. I really wished I had given myself another day there because I liked it so much. But the trail was close to my hotel, so off I went.

The ride itself was dotted with little moments worth stopping for—selfies, photos of churches and murals, and a charming little rest stop that I kept calling a park. Really, it was just a picnic table, a bench, and a cute tree with a shed in the background, but it had its own kind of charm.

Eventually, I reached the border between Slovakia and Hungary. I took a picture of an old building that looked like it once housed passport control back before EU open borders made crossings so simple.

By the time I arrived in Győr, I was tired and dealing with a fair amount of battery anxiety. The ride was longer than the day before, and the wind kept me from using much e‑bike assistance. Győr itself felt small, and while I walked around and took a few photos, nothing really stood out to me.

Checking into the hotel came with a surprise: no elevator. They stored my bike in a separate building about a block away, and someone kindly helped me get my bag up to the second floor.

Dinner that night was next door, in a restaurant that had a definite Cold War, bunker‑style vibe—very Eastern Bloc nostalgia. It was a three‑course meal. The first course was a salad with chicken, and the charred lettuce was unexpectedly delicious. The goulash that followed had a macaroni‑and‑cheese‑like element in the middle, which was odd but tasty. Dessert was… interesting. It had bread, whipped cream, and a mix of textures I couldn’t quite categorize. Not great, not terrible—just memorable.

After dinner, I dropped my things off in my room and wandered around town a bit more, but as I said, there wasn’t much happening. Still, it was another day of the journey, full of its own quirks and stories.

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April 7 – Györ to Esztergom

The next morning started in the hotel’s little restaurant, which honestly felt more like a dim cave than a breakfast room. Options were sparse, so I grabbed a simple meat-on-a-roll situation, packed up, collected my bike from the off‑site storage building, and headed out toward Esztergom.

The first stretch took me through rural backroads before I finally connected with the EuroVelo trail. Once I was on it, the ride opened up into one of those quietly magical days where history sits right beside you. The trail passed Roman ruins—actual remnants of ancient structures just scattered along the landscape. I didn’t hike into the sites, but even from the path you could see the stones that had outlived empires. That whole section of the EuroVelo is part of a UNESCO World Heritage corridor, and it felt like it. You can sense the age in the air.

And because I love signs, I stopped to photograph several of them—UNESCO markers, Roman history plaques, even the quirky local ones. At one point I came across a watchtower with a shaded bench beside it. I stretched out on the bench—not sleeping, just resting—thinking about the adventure so far, thinking about my dad, letting the quiet settle in. This was one of my longest riding days, close to a metric century, and I didn’t want to rush any of it.

The trail shifted between river views and forested stretches, each with its own rhythm. I stopped once for a citrusy soda‑style lemonade, but kept moving. Eventually, I rolled into Esztergom and checked into a hotel that felt a bit fancy—family‑oriented, with pools and hot tubs I couldn’t use because I hadn’t packed a swimsuit. Still, the room was lovely and the view was even better.

After dropping my bags, I headed out for what turned into a long walk. I followed a canal or stream with an embankment, and that’s when I saw them: high above the town, the castle and the basilica. Naturally, I decided to climb up. It was steep, but I’m in shape now, so up I went.

The castle had an odd, abstract statue that looked vaguely Roman, and inside the courtyard there were bells lying on the ground—maybe being cleaned, maybe just part of the display. Between the castle and the basilica, I found a perfect viewpoint over the river and asked someone to take my picture.

The basilica itself was partially under construction, so I avoided photographing the scaffolding, but there were still plenty of statues and stone details to admire. I did get one beautiful shot through an archway framing the front of the basilica. By the time I looped back down, I’d walked about four miles, give or take.

Before returning to the hotel, I stopped at a small café for jam‑filled cookies and a cappuccino. I sat there in the warm air, just enjoying the moment. On the way back, I passed a sweet little playground with a statue of children playing on a raised plank of wood—one of those unexpectedly charming touches.

I snapped a photo of the hotel from across the canal‑moat‑stream‑whatever‑it‑was, then headed up to my room for the night. Esztergom was lovely, and I found myself wishing I had another full day there. I know I barely scratched the surface.

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April 8 – Esztergom to Budapest

Leaving Esztergom turned out to be more complicated than I expected. I had trouble finding the right way out of town, circling around more than once as I tried to reconnect with the EuroVelo trail. The signs weren’t always clear, and it was frustrating knowing I had such a long ride ahead of me. But eventually, I found the correct path and settled into the rhythm of the day, but in the back of my mind I knew I just added 11 miles to my already long route and the battery anxiety kicked in again.

Once I was out of the city, the ride opened up into a mix of peaceful stretches and confusing sections. Some parts were beautiful—quiet river views, small towns, long tree‑lined paths—while others were industrial or just plain hard to navigate. I stopped several times to check the map, hoping I was still on the right track. It was hot, it was long, and it was one of those days where you just keep pedaling and trust that you’ll get where you’re going. At one point, I took a ferry across the river before realizing it was the wrong one. I ate some lunch and wasted over two hours getting back to the other side of the river.

And then the real problem hit: my bike battery wasn’t going to make it. Between the hills, the heat, and the distance, I realized I wasn’t going to get to Budapest safely on the bike. I pulled over, frustrated and tired, and finally called the tour company. They were incredibly understanding and told me to leave the bike at a nearby cafe so they could retrieve it later.

So that’s what I did. I walked the bike over, locked it up, and suddenly found myself standing there with my helmet in my hand and no wheels under me. It felt strange—like the trip had shifted under my feet. But honestly, it was the right call.

I ordered a taxi and rode the rest of the way into Budapest by car. Watching the miles pass through the window instead of under my pedals felt surreal, but also like a relief. By the time the taxi dropped me at my hotel, I was grateful to be there in one piece. I wasn’t grateful for the cost – a whopping $98!! To make things worse, it was the wrong hotel…correct chain, but wrong location. I had to pay for another taxi, dammit!

After checking in, I showered, changed, and headed out for dinner. I found a tapas place not far from the hotel and treated myself to a relaxed meal—small plates, good flavors, and exactly what I needed after the stress of the day. It felt grounding to sit there with real food, no rush, no bike battery to worry about. Just me, my fork, and the knowledge that I had made it to Budapest.

I went back to the hotel afterward and got a good night’s sleep, because the bike tour of Budapest was scheduled for the following day.

April 9 – Free day in Budapest

I ate a great breakfast complete with fresh carrot & ginger juice, then headed out to catch a bus to my meet-up location., I joined a guided tour—and the very first stop was one of the most emotional places I’ve ever visited: the Shoes on the Danube Bank. The guide explained how people—mostly Jews—were ordered to remove their shoes, stand with their backs to the river, and were shot so their bodies would fall into the water. I could only stay long enough to take a few photos. It was overwhelming and heartbreaking, and I still can’t fully grasp how people could treat others with such cruelty.

From there, we continued through the city. We passed a basilica—didn’t go inside, but took photos from the outside—and then stopped by the opera house, where we were able to step into one section of the building. After that, we headed to Citizens Park, where crews were setting up for a big concert tied to the upcoming presidential elections. The guide mentioned that the angel statue normally perched on top of one of the monuments was missing; it had been there all winter, so he suspected it had been removed for restoration.

Next, we visited a castle—its name escaped me—but it was designed in the same architectural style as Dracula’s Castle in Romania. We wandered the grounds, took photos, and enjoyed the atmosphere. It was a lovely tour overall.

Afterward, not far from where we had picked up and dropped off the bikes, I grabbed lunch: sausage and French fries. I thought I was ordering one sausage, but they brought out five long, slender ones. There was no way I could finish them all. I managed three sausages and half the fries, then had the rest packed up. Those leftovers became dinner later that night.

Back at the hotel, I rested for a bit before heading out again—this time on my own. I used public transportation and walked to several places I had marked on my map, mostly statues and monuments. One of the most powerful stops was the Holocaust Memorial Center. They had actual relics from victims—suitcases, photographs, papers—preserved so they wouldn’t deteriorate. Each item was paired with information about the person it belonged to: their name, their work, their family, how they died. It was deeply personal and incredibly hard to take in. I couldn’t stay long because the emotions were too heavy.

Instead of taking a bus back, I walked the entire way to my hotel. My feet were sore, but I wasn’t ready to go to my room yet. I stopped at the hotel bar and ordered two Cosmos—unusual for me, since I don’t drink much, but I wanted to unwind and make sure I’d sleep well. After finishing my drinks, I finally headed up to my room for a good night’s rest.

The next day, I’d be flying to Spain to spend five days with my son and his family.