Travels with Debra: Paris to Nuremburg, Germany

River Cruise with 3 Nights Pre-cruise in Paris
July & August 2025
 
Flights on July 26 and 27 from Nashville to JFK and then on to CDG went fine. We caught an Uber to our hotel. As expected, we were much too early to expect our room to be ready. We walked to the Eiffel Tower, which wasn’t far from our hotel (the Renaissance Paris Nobel Tour Eiffel). As the room was still not ready when we returned, we settled ourselves onto comfortable sofas in the lobby. Before too long, someone approached to say the room was ready, and not to tell anyone in our group we were getting a larger-than-normal room.

True, it was much larger than the last time we stayed in Paris. And it had a bath tub! We knew the next day would be an early one for us, given the time change and lack of sleep on the plane, so we allowed ourselves a short nap. Norm set his watch for 5:30 pm Paris time. I napped too but jerked awake around 5 pm, convinced his alarm had failed. I was wrong, obviously.

We met with our tour group and tour guide, Milan, briefly around 6 pm, as we were part of a pre-river cruise extension in Paris. The group had a morning tour scheduled for the next day, but it conflicted with our prearranged motorcycle tour.
We’d signed up in advance for a wild ride where a motorcyclist would lead us on a brief tour of Paris highlights and then drop us at the House of Dior Museum. Our motorcycle guide texted to warn us his wife was expecting a baby any day now, and he might have to cancel. His baby did not come yet, so our tour went off on time.

Lots of fun! I started in the sidecar, with Norm riding behind the driver, and we switched halfway through. Our driver was careful, and we wore helmets. He pointed out Notre Dame, the Arc of Triumph (Arc de Triomphe), the Louvre, Musee d’Orsay, the Eiffel Tower, of course, and told some anecdotes we had not heard before. He had observed the fire at Notre Dame from close proximity. We knew the Eiffel Tower had been built for a world’s fair in the late 1800s, but I had forgotten it was originally intended to be demolished a few years later. Apparently, the architect who designed it kept finding ways to add features and extend its life up through the present.

The House of Dior was well done. I loved seeing the early fashion designs, reminiscent of styles I’ve seen my mom wear in old photos. There were rooms of all black gowns, or all white, some with illumination and changing wall and light patterns. I loved the miniature displays along the stairwells with lots of accessories, reminding me of the awe I once felt for Barbie fashions. Of course, the line continued well past the death of Christian Dior. We’d recently watched a miniseries about him and his sister, and everything here was consistent with the image portrayed of a humble man who simply had an eye for fashion (and perfumes), many based on flowers from his family garden.

I needed to go to the toilet before our time slot for the museum, and we tried several restaurants. We wanted to order only a coffee or ice cream and use their toilet, but everyone turned us away, saving the tables for the lunch crowd. Finally, I asked outright if I might simply use the toilet, and the hostess graciously agreed.

After leaving the House of Dior, we ate lunch at a Thai restaurant. The food was delicious, especially the steamed sea bass, but the bathroom floor felt unpleasantly sticky. We caught an Uber back to the hotel.

The tour guide told us about several restaurants nearby, and we asked the receptionist about an ATM machine, also nearby. We found a lovely patisserie, and I order quiche (mushroom, with a fluffy texture and a flaky crust). We sat outside, but inside we examined all of the tempting sweets and took a couple back to the hotel. Better even than they looked! We would make our way back here each day we were in Paris. Favorites included the flan, which I never knew could be so good, the strawberry tart, and the mango-passionfruit éclair. Well, everything really!

The following day, July 29, we were able to sleep in a bit, then ate breakfast at the hotel. No commitments until 2 pm, at which time we’d set up a guided tour of Impressionist paintings at the Musee d’Orsay. Our tour guide was very enthusiastic, and the place was super crowded, particularly the Van Gogh section, which he saved for last. He did a great job of leading us through and making a few points that would stick, at least for a time. He started with the Napoleon era and the rules artists were forced to follow, as well as the clever ways they found to get around them.

Our guide focused on a couple of paintings by Manet with a prostitute, one with a cat and a black woman, the other with two fully clothed men. The “line” was the guide’s first point. The second, as I recall, related to color, with lots of blues and contrasting reds or oranges and yellows in the works of Monet. We were reminded of our visit several years ago to the gardens at Giverny, where Monet lived and painted.

We ended up, of course, in the Van Gogh room, after a brief study of Renoir and discussion of shapes. When I look at the swarms of people competing for a mere peek at Van Gogh’s work, I’m always reminded of the stories about his poverty, his lack of success during his lifetime, his worry over being a burden to his brother, and his possible suicide. A few years ago, we visited the very modest burial place of him and his brother in Auvers-sur-Oise. We also saw the source material for several of his paintings there, including the church, which is currently housed at the Musee d-Orsay.

Later this evening, we caught a bus with our tour group to visit Montmartre. We’ve been there a couple of times before, but we got some new commentary about the history of the area. Also, we went inside the church, with its lovely Coeur and large Jesus with outspread welcoming arms. We ate in Montmartre at two restaurants, a lovely salad with fruit and Crepe Suzettes at the first, and ice cream at the second (chocolate and salted caramel). Then we drove to watch the Eiffel Tower light up after dark.

We checked out on Wednesday, July 30, and spent all day getting to the AmaWaterways riverboat. Everything in the original itinerary had changed for the first part of the river cruise due to a damaged lock.

Our cabin was really tiny, smaller than any I remember from past cruises. We always book the cheapest level, so we’re accustomed to the cabin being fairly small. But I’d packed heavily, and it took some creative management to figure out where to stack everything, especially in the triangular bathroom. I managed, though, and was pretty tired when I finished. Norm thought the suitcases would fit under the bed, but something blocked us from pushing them in.

We located the desk of the tour manager, Milan, whom we met during our pre-cruise stay in Paris. When I mentioned the size of the cabin, he offered a 50% discount to upgrade to the next level. The worst thing about our level was the number of stairs involved and lack of elevator service on the bottom floor. We were too tired to unpack and repack but said we’d consider it for the following night. The cabin he showed us had a balcony as well as sliding French doors, which might be nice for cruising if the weather permits.

On Thursday, July 31, after talking it over, we decided to take Milan’s offer though not until late in the day. Due to the broken lock, an all-day excursion was mandatory for all passengers, since none were allowed onboard while the ship relocated. After breakfast on the ship, we were bussed to Berncastel, Germany, where we had to choose among a regular, gentle, or active tour to (and inside) the castle. We decided to go gentle due to my knee issues, thinking to avoid stairs. Some folks were far slower and more disabled than us, but we did not mind the slower pace. Picturesque little town.

We were given cash for lunch, since everyone had expected all meals to be provided on the boat. Norm and I (and several others) bought inexpensive bratwurst on buns from a stand and carried them to a bench to eat. Later, to rest our feet and use their toilets, we moved over to some outdoor seating for a restaurant serving waffles, ice cream, coffee, and apple strudel. The menu was mainly in German, so I wasn’t exactly sure what I was ordering. Turned out to be apple strudel with a strong coffee (which Norm drank). Tasty strudel.

Returning to the ship, we rushed to tell Milan our decision to switch cabins. First, I hurried to the toilet, and then we waited for him at his desk upstairs. He suggested we pack up first and then return to tell him we were ready. We did so, but he’d vanished. The guy at the other desk next to his had been advised, and he called someone to help us move.

The young man was great, and he transferred all of our clothes on hangers as well as our luggage. Milan was giving a speech in the lounge about upcoming events, so we joined him there. Dinner followed, and we sat with a nice couple, lovely, energetic lady named Anita and an eighty-year-old British man with early to mid-stage Alzheimer’s. We followed the Chef’s recommendations and were not disappointed.

When we returned to our new cabin, I realized my teal sweater (merino-mink from New Zealand, with paua buttons) was missing. We searched everywhere, including the lounge, the restaurant, the shelves, the suitcases, etc. We asked at reception. Finally, we located Milan, and he let us back into our original cabin on the basement level. No luck.

“All I can do is call the bus driver tomorrow,” he said, “but it’s a long way off by now and will be expensive to ship.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do call him please. It’s a two-hundred-dollar sweater from New Zealand.”

After dinner, we went to the lounge for a few minutes to listen to music—several songs from movies like Fiddler on the Roof, Doctor Zhivago, and Pink Panther. Norm was tired, though, and we didn’t stay long. 

On Friday, August 1, we looked again for my sweater, and then for Milan. “I called,” he said, “but they did not find it on the bus. Would you like me to make an announcement?”

“Yes, Please.”

“I’ll do it tonight.”

We’d cruised to Cochem, where we toured the Reichsburg Castle. The castle had a lot of stairs, but they weren’t overly steep and I did fine. Th rooms were small for the most part, largely due to the difficulty of heating large rooms. Nice, though. The castle had been restored, but some sections were original and restoration was done well. Impressive from the outside, atop a hill, but the gentle walking group was transported up the hill in a tram.

I went for a brief swim in the heated pool on the sundeck in the afternoon. As promised, Milan announced my sweater at dinner, along with an announcement about a Neil Diamond tribute singer starting shortly in the lounge. We returned to our cabin a few minutes later to find my sweater nearly folded and lying on the bed.
My throat started aching before bedtime. The Neil Diamond tribute singer, however, was great, and we enjoyed the songs with his German accent.

“Sing Porcupine Pie!” my husband kept shouting, but he did not. He sang most of our favorites, though, including “I Am, I Said,” “Cherry, Cherry,” “Cracklin’ Rose,” “Kentucky Woman,” “Song Sung Blue,” and “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers Anymore” (this was my suggestion).

“Of course, Barbra Streisand isn’t here,” he apologized.

Some women kept shouting for “Sweet Caroline.” We thought he’d save it for last, but he didn’t. They left immediately after the song. We stayed quite a while longer, and he was still singing when we left.

Very sore throat and stuffy nose on August 2. We passed on the excursion this day to Rudesheim, which we’d seen on a previous cruise, where we’d taken the gondola ride. I worked on editing a few pages and looking for comparables for my various books. My stomach was upset, and I looked forward to a better night’s rest, happy to have my sweater back.

Our excursion on Sunday, August 3, was to Wertheim, where we visited a pretzel bakery. The baker was pretty funny, speaking broken English translated by our tour guide. He coughed throughout his presentation, sounding worse than I felt at this point. He demonstrated rolling out the dough, naming the ingredients (surprisingly including lye) as he went, which he referred to by their percentages. Then he shaped the dough into knots, twists, etc.

I had very little appetite until dinner, which was French cuisine and delicious, especially the liver pate and rack of lamb. Also Crepe Suzettes. We sat with an interesting couple. The man, also named Michael, as was Anita’s husband, is a coastal civil engineer. He specializes in predicting coastal disaster, and has written a Wiley textbook; his wife’s a retired dean of nursing. He speaks with a lovely British accent with a hint of Indian, where he grew up until age fifteen. Impressed by our stories about Clay’s career in directing, he looked him up on his phone and approached me the following day.

“Is this your son?” he asked. He pointed to a listing for Chef's Table.

“It is.”

“Wow, very impressive.”

Norm didn’t feel great the morning of August 4, and I was still unwell. He decided before I awoke to forego the excursions to Wurzburg, as well as the six-hour trip to a fairytale castle town we’d visited previously. It was cold and rainy, and I agreed with his decision. We rushed into the dining room just before breakfast closed, and I ate a generous portion of yogurt, as well as a bit of ham and cheese and a yummy pastry. Probably too much. They make a nice decaf cappuccino, though we haven’t been able to replicate it ourselves using the machine.

They have a sip ‘n sail hour prior to dinner each evening with a complimentary specialty drink and mock cocktail. Sunday night they both looked pink and overly sweet. Michael, the engineer, was sipping a margarita.

“Did you have to pay for that?” I asked.

“Nope. During sip ‘n sail, all the drinks are free.”

“Nice. Wish I’d known that sooner.”

I ordered one for myself and one for Norm, and they were much better. One day I’d had a mock mojito, which was also good. Same day as the whiskey sour, I believe, which Norm liked. Another day we both tried the cosmopolitan, but I did not drink much of mine. No migraines so far, thankfully, but I’ve been dealing with a scratchy throat, stuffy and drippy nose (I’m always amazed how both things seem to happen simultaneously), and upset stomach. Just hope to be better before Norway. Started on low-dose steroids today, along with decongestants, antihistamines, antibiotics, and zinc cold tablets. Little wonder my stomach complains!

A professor lectured this afternoon in the lounge on the history of Bavaria. He started with an overview of Bavaria today, and then went back about two hundred years. Bavaria is known for its landscapes, mountains, lifestyle, and beer, with over two hundred breweries, Bamberg boasting the most. Munich has the highest average wage, at around 55,000 Euros per year. I enjoyed the history discussion, but it was a brief overview; so, anyone interested in details would probably find better discussions elsewhere than I could provide from my abbreviated notes.

On our last day aboard the riverboat, we joined a gentle excursion to Bamberg. The pace of the gentle walkers was almost too slow for us. I asked the tour guide where we might go during leisure time, and she suggested the hike to the cathedral, which was open, and the rose garden, reminiscent of Parnell, New Zealand, for me. The view was lovely from up there too. We shopped for a few inexpensive Christmas souvenirs and tried the smoky local beer. I had a Coke Zero, which I don’t care for, being so accustomed to Diet Coke (Diet Coke is hard to find in Europe these days, as most people seem to prefer Coke Zero).

For dinner, we had the Chef’s special tasting menu on the fourth floor, which was delicious. Unfortunately, the man seated next to Norm was coughing almost constantly, making it difficult for me to relax and enjoy the food for fear of catching a new germ shortly before our trip to Norway. Immediately after dessert, I suggested we retire to our room.

We cruised overnight to Nuremburg. On our last morning on the riverboat, we checked out of our room and hung out in the lounge for a couple of hours. Then we took an Uber to our hotel in Nuremburg, where we were scheduled to spend two nights.

Across from the hotel (Franconia City in Nuremburg Old Towne), we ate at the oldest sausage house in all of Germany. We shared a plate of sausages with barrel kraut and potato salad. Nice! Then we walked around the Old Towne, taking in the sights and joined a tour to the torture chambers from the Middle Ages beneath the City Hall. The tour guide was well prepared and had a dry wit.

Gelato for dinner! Norm’s not feeling well, and I’m hoping it’s not a new bug from the Texan at dinner last night. Very sunny weather and warm this afternoon, but predicted to drop to 49 degrees Fahrenheit tonight.

On Thursday, August 7, we ate breakfast in a really cute nook at the hotel. Nice fruit and yogurt, cereal, pastries, meats, and cheese, boiled egg (they offered to scramble eggs too), juices and coffee.

After breakfast and a shower, we headed to the city center, where we took a little train around town (Stadtrundfahrt), listening to headphones in English pointing out the sights and providing interesting bits of history. Very hot sunny day. I bought some cheese-eggplant spread, paprika spread, and bread from a street vendor, and we ate on a bench. Then we made our way, with some difficulty, to a toy museum. Pretty interesting—trains, old dolls, lots of dishes and dollhouses, some dating back to early to mid-1800s.

I had a migraine on the last night, my first on this trip, and we’re still battling colds as we look forward to our upcoming adventure in Norway. Coming soon!