In May 2025, I joined Grand Circle’s M/V River Harmony for a 14-day river cruise from Vienna to Amsterdam—a journey filled with castles, canals, cathedrals, and charming old towns that seemed lifted straight from storybooks. Along the way, we stopped at some unforgettable ports in the heart of Bavaria.
Three towns in particular—Regensburg, Kelheim, and Bamberg—stood out for their beauty, walkability, and immersive history. Each one offered something special: quiet parks, quirky museums, commanding hilltop views, and beer in just the right setting. Here’s how I experienced each of them, step by step.
On May 18, 2025, I disembarked the M/V River Harmony in Bamberg just after 9:00 AM, stepping into a city that immediately felt as though it had been plucked from the pages of a medieval manuscript.
M/V River Harmony docked in Bamburg
Mist still clung lightly to the rooftops, and a quiet hush hung in the narrow streets, broken only by the occasional bicycle bell or church chime in the distance. Bamberg isn’t merely picturesque—it’s transporting. Every street corner, every timbered building, seems to carry the weight of centuries.
Built on seven hills and divided by the Regnitz River, Bamberg has often been called the Franconian Rome, and while it may lack the scale of its Italian counterpart, it more than matches it in soul. The city miraculously escaped the bombings of World War II, making it one of the few German towns where the Old Town remains intact and authentic. It’s no wonder it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1993.
High above Bamberg’s winding alleys and baroque rooftops rises Altenberg Castle aka Bamberg Cathedral (Dom St. Peter und St. Georg), one of Bamberg's prominent sights. Its four spires thrust upward with quiet confidence, guiding visitors like a compass needle. The original cathedral dates back to 1002, commissioned by Emperor HeinrichII—later canonized as Saint Henry. He and his wife, Kunigunde, are buried inside, their tomb an exquisite marble masterpiece carved by Tilman Riemenschneider.
Altenberg (Bamberg) Castle sitting atop the hill 
Altenberg (Bamberg) Castle
The castle was partially destroyed by Swedish troops during the Thirty Years’ War in the 17th century, and for a time, it was little more than a ruin. Its revival in the 19th century came thanks to one of Germany’s most beloved literary figures—E.T.A. Hoffmann whom I will talk about later in this article. Though he didn’t live in the castle, he found inspiration in its dramatic silhouette.
Just down the hill from Bamberg Castle one will find Bamberg’s most photographed sight—the Altes Rathaus, or Old Town Hall. No matter how many pictures I’d seen before, nothing prepared me for the real thing. Straddling the river like it was daring gravity to disagree, this building sits perched on a tiny artificial island, connected by arched stone bridges to either bank. Legend says the bishop wouldn’t grant land to the town’s people, so they created their own—building it right in the middle of the river. The exterior frescoes are vivid and whimsical, giving the impression that the building itself is part of a Shakespearean Theater set. It felt surreal, like walking into a living fairy tale.
The ornate archway serves both as a passage and a centerpiece—it's hard to decide whether to walk through it or just stand and stare.
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| Upper Bridge Gate to City Hall |
I let the day unfold slowly after that. There’s no better way to see Bamberg than to surrender to its rhythm—no maps, no plans, just the joy of discovery. I strolled through the tangled lanes of Klein-Venedig (“Little Venice”), a row of old fishermen’s houses lining the banks with flower boxes tumbling over the windowsills and swans gliding below.
While wandering through the quieter backstreets of Bamberg, I stumbled upon a curious statue—slightly surreal, almost cartoonish, yet undeniably magnetic. It depicted a man in a long coat and tall hat, cradling a cat on his shoulder, the other arm clutched around a book. Beneath him, etched in stone, the name: E.T.A. Hoffmann.
E.T.A. Hoffmann
This eccentric figure was not just any passerby from history. Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann was a Romantic-era writer, composer, and artist, best remembered for his fantastical tales that often blurred the line between reality and the uncanny. You may know him, even if unknowingly—his short story The Nutcracker and the Mouse King inspired Tchaikovsky’s beloved ballet. Another of his works, The Sandman, became a cornerstone of Gothic literature.
Hoffmann lived in Bamberg from 1808 to 1813 and worked at the local theater and in various civic roles. Though his professional path here was rocky—his time at the theater ended in disappointment—his creative output flourished. Bamberg became the backdrop for many of his eerie, imaginative stories, which often featured haunted automata, doppelgängers, and unhinged geniuses. It's said the crooked alleys, creaking taverns, and looming spires of the town itself influenced his tales of wonder and madness.
Today, Hoffmann’s former residence at Schillerplatz 26 is home to the E.T.A. Hoffmann Haus, a small but fascinating museum filled with personal artifacts, manuscript facsimiles, and a recreation of his writing room. Even if you don’t go inside, the statue alone tells a story—equal parts playful and shadowy, much like Hoffmann himself.
In a town already filled with atmosphere, Hoffmann’s presence adds a certain ghostly charm. Standing before his likeness, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would have written had he walked these streets today. Something strange, no doubt—something perfect for a place like Bamberg.
Next I ran across the iconic sign for Schlenkerla, Bamberg’s most famous brewery tavern and the home of the legendary Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier—a traditional smoked beer that has become synonymous with the city.
The tavern, located on Dominikanerstraße 6, is housed in a charming half-timbered building dating back centuries. The sign includes the year 1405, referencing the earliest records of brewing at this site. Stepping through this entrance feels like crossing into a living museum of Franconian brewing tradition.
Inside, the atmosphere is dark wood, candlelight, and centuries-old stone, where locals and visitors alike sit shoulder-to-shoulder at long wooden tables. Many of the barrels are tapped directly in the bar from wooden kegs, the beer unfiltered and brimming with smoky character thanks to malt dried over open beechwood fires.
And then there was the smell. That unmistakable, intriguing aroma of Rauchbier, Bamberg’s legendary smoked beer. It drifts through the Old Town like a siren song. Brewed over open beechwood fires by historic breweries such as Schlenkerla and Spezial, it’s as much a part of Bamberg’s identity as its cathedral. I finally gave in to curiosity and ducked into one of the timber-framed taverns—low-lit, candle-warm, with communal tables and a sense that nothing had changed here in centuries.
I ordered the classic Märzen Rauchbier, served in a hefty glass mug. It was unlike any beer I’d ever tasted—like a campfire in a glass, but smoother, richer, and almost buttery in its finish. I half expected not to like it, but instead, I found myself sipping slowly, savoring it like a fine wine. It would pair perfectly with a hearty Franconian fare—smoked sausage, tangy sauerkraut, and dense rye bread with caraway.
If you didn’t stop here on your visit, it’s a must for next time—not just for the beer, but for the immersive step into Bamberg’s brewing heritage.
Bamberg is the kind of place that doesn’t need to dazzle with grand spectacles. Its beauty is quieter, more personal. It’s in the worn stone steps leading up the cathedral, the moss-covered walls that line the canals, the elderly couple sipping coffee in the square, speaking in the soft dialect of Upper Franconia. I wasn’t just seeing the town—I was feeling it.
As the afternoon sun turned the rooftops gold, I paused on one of the arched bridges and took a moment to simply breathe. Bamberg had given me something rare—a day that felt truly outside of time. No rush, no pressure, just the joy of being present in a place that has managed to keep its heart beating through centuries of change.
Some of the beautiful buildings within the city.
Finally, just a couple photo of the local streets.
By 12:45 PM, I was back aboard the ship, and we set sail again at 1:00 PM. I left Bamberg with a camera full of crooked rooftops, river reflections, and the kind of soft wonder that only comes from walking slowly through a city that hasn’t forgotten how to breathe.
These three Bavarian towns—each with their own personality—added incredible depth to my river cruise. Regensburg was lively and layered with stories; Kelheim was quietly soulful; and Bamberg, almost dreamlike in its beauty. What I loved most was that each one invited me to slow down, savor the details, and walk—simply walk—through centuries of European history.
River cruising gives you access to towns that would be difficult to reach on your own, and these port days reminded me just how rewarding that kind of travel can be.
#River Cruise 2025#Bamberg#smoke beer
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