The Danube Isn’t Blue
(and the Black Sea Isn’t Black)
by The Rev. Dr. John R. Nagle ~ Photos by John and Lanie Nagle
September 2010
Despite what Johann Strauss II wrote, the Danube is not blue. Nor is the Black Sea black. And the truth about those misconceptions is just for starters on the river cruise that begins in Budapest and winds through Hungary, Serbia, Bulgaria and Romania. Any preconceived notions you had are likely tossed out the window. For instance, although Hungary, Bulgaria and Romania were former Soviet-bloc countries, their economies seem increasingly capitalistic today. And although Serbia was engulfed in civil war just a decade ago, things have calmed down today. And although you may think of all those nations as heavily industrialized, there’s plenty of fertile farmland to go around. And laid-back people. Welcoming folks, too. It’s a good thing river boats travel slowly. It gives a person time to sort out the difference between what was and what is, between what I thought was, and what never was.
By the time the Danube River gets to Budapest, it’s already wound through hundreds of European miles. Heading south and east, the Danube has left Germany and Austria behind in favor of the eastern countries: the less-visited countries with different alphabets, different faith communities, different ways of viewing life. Different from Western Europe, and different from each other.
Our river trip began in the city of Budapest. Two cities, actually—Buda and Pest. One hilly, the other flat. Both cosmopolitan. Both with hot-water marble-walled baths frequented by locals and tourists alike. Both with riverside restaurants serving a dozen different kinds of goulash, all made with spicy Hungarian paprika. Restaurants where evening dessert becomes a spectacle of spotlights and strings of lights brightening the night. All seven bridges that cross the river, of course. The commanding parliament building on the hill. The magnificent St. Stephen’s cathedral. Four-star hotels overlooking pedestrian-friendly plazas with lots of nightlife. All of it glistening in the dark, and on the river. The cold war? Left behind. The revolution of 1956? Only the older people remember. The ubiquitous yellow trolleys? They’re the best and cheapest way to see it all—until you board your ship. Sleek, multi-decked 150-passenger river boats that glide silently past each other, and past the barges that carry the load of commercial traffic on this European lifeline.
Onboard, it doesn’t take long to unpack your belongings; the riverboat cabins are small, but who would spend much of the day or night inside? There’s a lounge and a hair salon, a small business center, library and fitness room, and a restaurant staffed by an extra-friendly and highly-capable staff who know good food and how to present it. But that’s inside. As your ship leaves the dock, outside and topside, standing on the sky deck allows you to see the city recede, and the countryside materialize with fields, forests and villages. And contentment, apparently. Until you reach Serbia, that is. If Budapest is all joy and light, Belgrade is darker, more reflective. That’s not surprising since the signs of the 1990’s civil-warfare are still so obvious. A lot of bombed-out buildings here. Lots of bullet holes there. A reminder of Tito in several places. Communist-era concrete apartment buildings that seem to stand out more in Belgrade than in Budapest. Reminders of a turbulent history that was a variety of Balkan states that became Yugoslavia that became a loose confederation from which individual members gradually retreated, leaving the Serbians alone. Not smiling as much, or as often, but probably more now than in the recent past. Oh, there’s enough for the tourist to see in Serbia; some of the churches and monasteries are magnificent. But the lights aren’t as bright.
If the city seems a bit drab, the countryside is breathtaking. Not too far from Belgrade lie the Iron Gates of the Danube—that stretch of the river that is squeezed between high and rugged cliffs. If I thought of Eastern Europe as urban and busy, here the scenery is spectacular and somewhat isolated. It’s not a long stretch of waterway, but you don’t want to miss it. Where the river previously ran through plains, here unexpectedly it runs through gorges—and the captain of the boat must know the way. Must know the way of the channel, and know the way through several locks. Not as many locks as are on the now far-away upper Danube, but enough to change the level of water as the Danube moves to the Black Sea. Romania on the north side; Serbia on the south side. And Bulgaria just ahead. Will it be what I expected?
It’s not. Did I expect darkness? It was light. Did I expect industry? There was farmland. Did I expect small garden plots manned by villagers with implements? The fields are huge. Really huge, farmed with ranks of tractors and combines. Now, the interior of Bulgaria may be more like what I expected than what I saw; I didn’t travel through the whole country. The downside of a river cruise is that, by definition, you travel where the river goes. But a couple of day-time trips took us to see more small towns beautiful with more monasteries and more embroidery. But a connection with the European community is only in its early stages. Once the country’s economy perks up, once its currency is stabilized, the sooner full EU membership will come. But even though Bulgaria is in Europe, even Eastern Europe, it seems so far from Budapest. So so far from London and Paris. But not far from Romania. Even sharing the watery border.
But again, it’s not what I expected. They say that the north side of the river is Romanian Transylvania, though I didn’t see any vampires. But then, Transylvania is translated as “across the forests.” Why haven’t I picked up on the fact that names mean something? The Huns settled Hungary. The Romans settled Romania. Not at first, perhaps. But the ruins are still there. And the memories. Maybe that’s what is significant about this part of Europe—that there are memories unlike those in Western Europe which seem more distant. These eastern-bloc countries have more recent interaction with dictators. When you’re in Bucharest, Romania, you simply have to see the Parliament Building. After the Pentagon, it’s the largest building in the world. And all of it was dedicated to the despot who planned it as a memorial to himself, a gigantic shrine, an office and a dwelling place that he never enjoyed—because Romanian troops put him and his wife in front of a firing squad. It seemed like justice to people who witnessed 30% of their annual economy used for the building of the masterpiece. And it is beautiful: rich and excessive beyond description. Richness and excess in what was then a poor country. Now pride in a people’s palace that once belonged to a hated despot. A city that has dozens of parks, green space that covers over any darkness from the past. Again, nothing is as I thought it would be.
And the Black Sea? At the end of the river, it’s a big body of water with some sandy beaches, not much different from any other lake, it would seem, except on a much much bigger scale. But here, nothing is ever what it seems. Or what you thought it was. Not a black sea, nor a blue river. But don’t take my word for it. Go and see for yourself. Take your history book and your memories and your biases and your expectations and your suppositions and test them out against the people and the lands—and the river that is this part of Eastern Europe.
The Rev. Dr. John R. Nagle is the retired senior pastor of Christ the King Lutheran Church, Cary, NC, and a frequent traveler.