Smaller text Larger text

Destination: Discoveries

Posted on

10 European Discoveries for 2026

Looking for something a little different in your 2026 travels?

As Europe continues to struggle with “overtourism,” the best advice for avoiding crowds… is to visit places that don’t have them. That’s the spirit behind my European Discoveries (which I’ve been sharing each January, dating back to 2018). You could also call them “Alternatives” to some of Europe’s biggest-name destinations: towns, cities, and neighborhoods to help you discover a more authentic slice of Europe.

To be clear: These are not “trendy” or “hot” destinations for 2026. Quite the contrary! These are wonderful places that are (for now, at least) flying under most travelers’ radar. As more and more visitors are heading to the same predictable places, these 10 Discoveries (and so many more) are a reminder that there’s always more to experience in Europe.

 

Kinsale, Ireland

Ireland specializes in tidy towns. (In fact, they have a contest!) And perhaps the tidiest is colorful Kinsale, tucked on the southern coast, overshadowed by big, busy Cork.

Overlooking its charming harbor, Kinsale remains mellow and sweet. It’s just the right size: manageable and village-like, but with enough great restaurants, trendy boutiques, and Guinness-and-trad-music-fueled pubs to keep you plenty busy. Scattered around Kinsale are benches situated just so, perfectly positioned to savor the small-town charm.

Kinsale is so low-key and unassuming, it’s easy to miss its epic history: The Lusitania was famously torpedoed just offshore in 1915; the Titanic set sail from Cobh, just around the headland; and the town is still protected by a vast and imposing 17th-century fortress with ramparts and turrets you’re welcome to prowl. With so much history, thank goodness Kinsale also comes with a wonderful daily town walk (offered by tour guide Barry Moloney) to pull it all together.

Visitors often zip right past on their way to trendy (and touristy) Dingle. But that’s a shame; for small-town Irish charm, Kinsale is hard to beat.

Cádiz, Spain

Deeply lost in Cádiz’s claustrophobic lanes of towering townhouses, where neighbors stand on doorsteps to chat and joke, I kept having deja vu for Naples — with its similarly convivial warren of lived-in lanes.

Among Spaniards, Cádiz is known for having its own strong personality; for its impenetrable local accent; and for producing more than its share of comedians. Among travelers, it’s mostly known as a cruise port — a place to leave on excursions into Andalucía. The city is overshadowed by its historic rivals — Sevilla, Granada, Córdoba — and by the beaches of the Costa del Sol.

All of this makes Cádiz a particularly wonderful discovery: This city plays “second fiddle” to nobody; it’s simply its own wonderful place.

Originally founded by the Phoenicians, Cádiz is often billed as the oldest continuously inhabited city in Western Europe. Its historic quarters are layered with artifacts, from a recently uncovered Roman amphitheater, to its crumbling cathedral (built at a time when Cádiz was Spain’s primary trade port and tether to the New World), to Napoleonic cannons seized after a failed siege and used as curb protectors. Cádiz gives historians goosebumps.

It’s also purely enjoyable. Endless paseo-and-shopping streets — lined by genteel captains’ mansions — burrow through the historic center. Flamenco clubs and sherry pubs invite you in for a spell, as do lush parks and colorful seafront promenades. Long, languid beaches stretch for miles along the causeway that tethers Cádiz to the rest of Spain.

But where you really feel the heart and soul of Cádiz is its central fish market. Ringed by a variety of enticing food stalls, the main hall — like a temple to the sea — is filled with the day’s catch. On one table are the little shells that the Phoenicians used to create a distinctive red-purple dye, still associated with royalty. On another are oysters, just like the ones whose compressed shells created an “oyster stone” that much of the city is built of. And all around you bustle the Gaditanos — doing their shopping, socializing in their distinctive dialect, and enjoying their special city.

Ålesund, Norway

Imagine a Technicolor townscape, draped over countless islands, islets, and rocks, hemmed in by towering mountains, with the North Sea on the horizon. As you summit a stony hill that rockets up from the main shopping street, this city opens up like something out of a fantasy novel… a mirage of serene Norwegian beauty.

Ålesund (OH-leh-soont) is no mirage. The brick-and-stone city perches on the rugged west coast of Norway, just north of most tourists’ itineraries. Burned to the ground in 1904, Ålesund was rebuilt in eye-pleasing Art Nouveau — giving it a wonderful architectural cohesiveness, fitting for its idyllic setting.

A stroll around the harbor passes both grand turn-of-the-century warehouses (now fancy hotels and restaurants) and hardworking shiplap sheds, and around each bend, that eye-popping setting takes your breath away.

Beyond its own charms, Ålesund is the natural jumping-off-point for world-class scenic wonders. Within a couple of hours’ drive, you can conquer the famously twisty Trollstigen road or make your way to a rustic cabin on the tranquil shores of the grand and unspoiled Geirangerfjord.

Sitting in my Ålesund hotel room, overlooking the fjord, I kept hearing the Splash! [giggle] … Splash! [giggle]… Splash! [giggle] of people running from the sauna to leap direct into those icy-cold-in-August waters. Few places have a more harmonious melding of nature and urbanity.

Palace District, Budapest, Hungary

When you have the joy of visiting the same city again and again, over a long period of time, it’s rewarding to watch a neighborhood gradually blossom and come into its own. And before returning to Budapest in 2025, several of my Hungarian friends reminded me to check out the up-and-coming Palace District.

The streets surrounding the Hungarian National Museum are home to many aristocratic palaces — and, increasingly, creative restaurants, bars, and shops (including Tasting Table, a well-curated wine shop).

Going for a stroll, I found my way to the atmospheric, ivy-covered courtyard of the Chamber of Hungarian Architects, enlivened by an open-air tapas bar. A half-block father, I popped out into Szabó Ervin Square — with an oh-so-European bookseller kiosk, lively café tables, and a distinctly Parisian ambience.

Facing that square is the Palace District’s (and, perhaps, Budapest’s) most delightful discovery: The flatiron-style Ervin Szabó Library bustles with students and other locals; you’d never know that, for a modest entry fee, you can ride the elevator to the fourth floor to discover a stunning series of opulent Neo-Baroque rooms where students huddle over their laptops. (Shhhh!) Once the lavish apartments of a wealthy family, today the former ballroom, dining room, boudoir, and smoking lounge are retrofitted with long study tables. Massive chandeliers, gilded curlicues, and frilly old stoves retain a golden age elegance. Highlights are the glittering hall-of-mirrors ballroom, which could host parties for up to 500 guests; and the homey smoking lounge, with its wood paneling and double spiral staircases.

Hidden gems like this library abound in Budapest — a magnificent city that’s uniquely adept at melding the past and the present. And the Palace District is a prime example of an untouristy corner of a great city that rewards exploration.

Padua, Italy

Yes, Italy is crowded. But it also has a remarkably deep bench; it’s easy to find rewarding, relatively untrampled alternatives just as good as the biggies. And Padua (or Padova, as locals call it) is exhibit A.

Just a 15-minute express train ride from the throngs of Venice, Padua is famous for its historic university; for its rebellious spirit (as a crucible of what became the Risorgimento); for its artistic treasures (the lavishly Giotto-illustrated Scrovegni Chapel); for its religious importance (as the adopted hometown of St. Anthony, now honored by a massive basilica); and for its thriving food scene, including perhaps the grandest market hall in Italy.

While there’s plenty of rewarding sightseeing, perhaps Padua’s greatest draw is simply its take-your-time ambience: just-right piazzas packed with chattering students, whiling away their evenings at al fresco cafés, nursing budget drinks. In a town full of young locals eager to practice their English, it’s exceptionally easy to connect.

One evening, just as the sky was turning pink, I came to the main square — facing that grand market hall — and lined up at La Folperia, a ramshackle stand selling plates of chopped-up squid, octopus, and other sea creatures, all smothered in a delicious garlic-and-olive-oil sauce… plus some rustic bread for sopping up the juices. That, along with an aperitivo from the neighboring Bar dei Osei, bought me an unforgettable meal in a magnificent setting for budget prices.

Freiburg, Germany

Germany abounds with beautiful, interesting small cities, each with its own personality and claims to fame. My sentimental favorite is Freiburg, tucked in the Black Forest at the country’s southwest corner. I have a soft spot for Freiburg: One of the professors who taught me German came from here (so I probably have a slight Freiburger accent), and it was also the first place I ever set foot in Germany (on a side-trip from nearby Basel, Switzerland).

Returning recently after many years, I found Freiburg even more delightful than I’d remembered — and not just because of sentimentality. This pristine mid-sized university city abounds with half-timbered charm and an outstanding food and nightlife scene (including far more than its share of Michelin stars). It’s cuddled up cozily against forested hills, easily conquered on a gentle hike (or quick ride on an elevator or lift) to an outrageously scenic beer garden. The city spins around the massive, pointy, soaring tower of its centerpiece red-sandstone Münster (cathedral).

My favorite Freiburg feature? It has to be those little gurgling canals called Bächle, which flank every street through the pedestrian-friendly town center. These open-air drainage ditches once carried unthinkable muck; now, like Freiburg, they’re simply pristine, tidy, and flowing with clarity, character, and charm.

Folegandros, Greece

When I set out to “discover” some new islands for our Rick Steves Greece guidebook, I had something very specific in mind: a small, out-of-the-way island, just “mainstream” enough to be easy and comfortable for visitors without being overrun by crowds, that might offer our readers an untrampled and idyllic Cycladic experience. This mythical place, I figured, probably did not exist.

In fact, it does exist. And it’s called Folegandros.

Although it’s right on the boat line between Santorini and Milos, teensy Folegandros gets overlooked. While truly “untouristy” Greek Islands are elusive, Folegandros hits the sweet spot: It’s popular not with cruise ships or fashion-forward partiers, but with British and Northern European visitors who want to settle in for a week or four, slow down, eat well, enjoy village ambience, and melt into the stony islandscape. In short, Folegandros attracts the “right kind” of visitors.

On my first stroll, I was instantly smitten with the main town’s stage-set historic core. Each little square had more character (and enticing restaurant tables) than the next: melting-marshmallow churches; bright-pink pops of bougainvillea; tidy blue trim around each window to match the striking clarity of the giant Greek sky; snoozing cats on rickety wicker chairs; and a “slow down and savor the ouzo” ambience.

There’s not much to “do” in Folegandros. In fact, that’s the point. Buses fan out to humble beaches; the rocky, desolate interior attracts a few hardy hikers; and most vacationers arrange their day entirely around their next breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner.

To burn some of those calories, a serpentine stone staircase twists up, up, up to the summit above town, where a giant white church hogs the best views. Hiking up late in the day (with, it seems, everyone else on Folegandros) rewards you with views over the entire tiny island… and a spectacular sunset.

Taking a moment to give my eyes a break from the deep-red sun — and to scribble a few notes in my little black book — I just couldn’t wait to share this discovery with our guidebook readers… and now, with you.

Liverpool, England

Liverpool, as a tourist destination, used to be all about the Beatles. And even if all you wanted from Liverpool was Fab Four lore… that would be enough.

However, over the 15 or so years since my last visit, Liverpool has really come into its own; returning recently, I saw how it’s been transformed from a diamond in the rough to a polished gem.

Once Britain’s main industrial port, Liverpool was walloped by the Blitz in World War II (when it was the base of British naval operations). John, Paul, George, and Ringo grew up in a hollowed-out shell of a city; only in the last generation or so has Liverpool been rejuvenated with a skyline that’s half industrial-red-brick, half sleek glass-and-steel.

For the sightseer, Liverpool has a wonderful art collection (locals brag, second only to London’s National Gallery); excellent history museums; and not one, but two gigantic cathedrals: one Anglican, the other Catholic, both architecturally arresting… and connected by a street called Hope.

Home to three different universities, Liverpool is noticeably youthful, with one of the UK’s most appealing food scenes and music clubs pumping tunes from live bands out into the street. Chatting with the witty, endearing Liverpudlians — even if it’s about nothing at all — is the undisputed highlight of any visit.

For Beatles fans like me, Liverpool is simply thrilling — with multiple museums, bus tours, music bars, and the opportunity to tour the childhood homes of John Lennon and Paul McCartney. But even if you don’t know Ringo Starr from Pete Best, Liverpool is a delight… arguably the UK’s best big-city destination outside of London.

Mikulov Wine Region, Czech Republic

So many travelers insist on going to the most touristy places in Europe, at the most touristy times, and then come home complaining about all the tourists. When I hear this, one word jumps to mind: Mikulov.

This small Moravian town — and the surrounding landscape of castles and vineyards — is the antidote to overtourism. If I had to come up with just one “poster child” for a wonderful European destination that’s shockingly undiscovered by American visitors, it might have to be Mikulov.

The town is huddled around the base of a mighty château; the panoramas late in the day are enchanting… almost Tuscan. In the cobbled streets, cozy enotecas and high-end yet affordable restaurants abound. While onion-domed churches predominate, the town also features a gorgeously restored 16th-century synagogue.

The landscape surrounding Mikulov is ruffled with limestone hills and striped with vineyards. A short drive — no more than 15 or 20 minutes on pleasant rural roads — takes you to a variety of fine towns and memorable sights.

Two châteaux vie for your attention: Valtice Castle, guarded by two giants, houses the Czech national wine salon — a seemingly infinite cellar where you can sample your choice of well over 100 vintages (handpicked and lovingly described by wine experts).

And Lednice Castle is simply a stunner, rebuilt in meticulous English Neo-Gothic style. Its jaw-dropping interior includes a lacy-delicate spiral staircase made out of a single oak tree with no nails. And beyond the château are sprawling gardens with a giant greenhouse, a minaret, and endless trails for walking and biking.

Beautiful… tasty… affordable… uncrowded… accessible… largely undiscovered. That’s Mikulov. The problem: Its existence robs you of the ability to go to yet another crowded “bucket list” town only to complain about the crowds.

Jutland, Denmark

What was the most purely enjoyable 36-hour stretch in my 100 days of travel last year? I never would have guessed it — but I think it was Denmark’s Jutland.

Jutland, three hours’ journey west of Copenhagen, is anchored by Denmark’s second city, Aarhus — a center of students, business, and industry with a cutting-edge food scene and outstanding sightseeing, including the remarkable ARoS Museum (where the architecture upstages the art) and one of the best open-air folk museums anywhere.

Heading out of town, I stopped off at the Moesgård Museum, which combines astonishing artifacts — including the Grauballe Man (found perfectly preserved in a bog 2,000 years after his death) — with beautiful storytelling and high-tech exhibits to create a powerful experience.

An hour down the road took me to Jelling, where I ogled Harald Bluetooth’s thousand-year-old rune stones (often called “Denmark’s birth certificate”). Then to Billund, the birthplace of Lego. While my afternoon enjoying thrill rides at the original Legoland amusement park was a hoot, even better was my visit the next morning to the Lego House: a state-of-the-art space with hands-on displays, endless Lego creations to scrutinize, and literally millions of bricks to build with.

But my day wasn’t over. From Billund, I hopped in my car for a glimpse of the sand dunes (and haunting Nazi-era bunkers) of Denmark’s west coast, winding up in the quaint medieval town of Ribe — oozing with medieval half-timbered charm. Ribe’s towering Romanesque cathedral happened to be hosting a community choir concert; slipping out a few minutes early, I joined the free, entertaining, and informative night watchman’s tour.

Heading back to my car (with the sun still low in the sky at 10 pm), I thought to myself: Was it really just yesterday morning that I left Aarhus?

How many of these Discoveries have you visited? (Or plan to visit in 2026?) And what Discoveries am I missing? Add your favorites in the Comments.

All 10 of these Discoveries are covered in the applicable Rick Steves guidebooks. And several of these stops — including Kinsale, Cádiz, Budapest, and Padua — appear on various Rick Steves tour itineraries.

You can also look back at my Discoveries from 2025, 2024, 2023,  2021, 2020, 2019, and 2018… all still great choices.

For more inspiration — and practical tips — for your 2026 travels, join me on Wednesday, January 14 for a free session of our virtual 2026 Travel Festival. In this “State of European Travel 2026” talk, I’ll be covering updates, insights, trends, and tips for this year’s travels. Designed to be the most useful hour possible for anyone heading to Europe this year, it’s free to attend — just sign up in advance.

If you’d like to travel along with me in 2026, be sure to follow me on Facebook and Instagram.

Finally, consider checking out my travel memoir, The Temporary European: Lessons and Confessions from a Professional Traveler.

Posted on

10 European Discoveries for 2025 — Balkans Edition

As the new year dawns, it’s time to plan new travels. Each year around this time, I share 10 “Discoveries” — lesser-known, underappreciated corners of Europe that might deserve a look as your travel dreaming turns to travel planning. And this year, my Discoveries come with a special focus: the Balkans.

Wait… the Balkans? Those Balkans? Absolutely, yes. A few months ago, I set out on an epic road trip from the Julian Alps to the shores of the Aegean, from sunny coastlines to frigid mountaintops, and from Lake Bled to Lake Ohrid… hopscotching through the Catholic, Muslim, and Eastern Orthodox worlds while linking up seven different capitals. This year’s Discoveries showcase 10 locations in 10 countries, combining new-to-me finds and classic favorites.

But the Balkan focus isn’t just because of my recent travels. If there’s a prevailing travel theme for 2025, it’s big prices and bigger crowds. In addition to its astonishing cultural diversity, its stunning landscapes, and its thriving cities, the Balkans’ great appeal is its undiscovered-ness. (In many places, I never saw another American.) And, while inflation is affecting every place to varying degrees, these destinations remain strikingly affordable.

There’s a good chance you’ve never heard of some of these places. But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth a visit. Join me on a spin through the Balkans… and discover something new.

Gjirokastër, Albania

On my Balkan road trip, nothing tested my mettle behind the wheel like driving to my traditional guesthouse near the top of Gjirokastër — the most appealing of Albania’s many historic mountain towns, huddled on steep slopes below a protective citadel.

From the broad valley below, I twirled up through Gjirokastër’s labyrinthine old town, inhaling deeply as I squeezed up lanes barely as wide as my car. (I had booked a subcompact. They gave me an SUV.) Summiting town, I was greeted by cheerful Tatiana — my very own temporary Albanian auntie — who made me feel instantly at home in her cozy, traditional, spotless B&B.

Like so much of Albania (and the Balkans), the historic core of Gjirokastër feels Turkish: cobbled streets, stony slate-roofed homes, soaring minarets, and a thriving bazaar. From the main intersection, with lanes spiraling off in every direction, you have exactly two choices: uphill or downhill.

Conquering Gjirokastër’s castle — racking up a day’s worth of steps in a 20-minute vertical climb — I looked down over the city’s rooftops, lined up against a jagged, cloud-catching ridge of peaks across the way.

Later that night, I found the perfect traditional eatery, which had just one tiny table on a miniature porch cantilevered over the bazaar’s busy main drag. Digging into an affordable feast of rice balls, meatballs in yogurt, and an intensely sweet, honey-soaked orange cake, I observed the touristic hubbub just below me. Gjirokastër is gradually becoming known, thanks to its cultural heritage, stunning setting, and proximity to Albania’s increasingly famous Adriatic beaches.

And yet, the place still has an uncorrupted, authentic soul. After dinner, in a needless rush, I hustled past a humble bar with tables facing the bazaar’s main intersection. The bar’s owner slowed me with a generous smile as he all but insisted I take a seat. After charging me less than a buck for an open-your-own-bottle beer, he joined some friends at the next table and savored that priceless twilight view right along with me. It seemed he was less concerned about making money than he was ensuring that this serene view wouldn’t go to waste.

Prishtinë, Kosovo

“I’ll meet you at the Newborn Monument.”

So pinged a text from my local guide, Mentor, as I drove through swiftly developing outskirts toward the center of Europe’s newest capital city. At the monument consisting of the word NEWBORN, Mentor eagerly greeted me, ready to show off his burgeoning hometown.

Prishtinë embraces its newness. Repeatedly, I heard the brag that Kosovo — Europe’s youngest country (independent since 2008, and still not universally recognized) — also has one of its youngest populations, with about two-thirds of its citizens under 30 years old.

As I explored Prishtinë, I immediately appreciated its appealing urbanity, optimism, and sense of forward momentum. The main drag, recently closed to cars, is a delightful pedestrian mall lined with plywood food sheds and picnic tables. Even its “old” buildings — such as the wonderfully weird, wildly eye-catching National Library, opened in 1982 — feel fresh and innovative: a Brutalist masterpiece with bulbous domes, all wrapped in metallic netting.

At the same time, I also sensed a deep devotion to the past. The ethnic Albanians who make up more than 90 percent of Kosovo’s population are, it’s believed, descended from among the earliest known peoples to reside in Europe: the Illyrians, bewilderingly ancient even to the ancients. And Prishtinë, despite its apparent “newness,” has a very old soul.

As if to demonstrate this, Mentor led me away from the thriving downtown and up to the very top of the main drag (passing the shiny office-tower parliament) to reach the old Ottoman quarter. Passing a duo of soaring minarets — each one marking a lavishly decorated mosque full of locals taking part in evening prayer — we carried on through old Prishtinë’s meandering bazaar streets to a fabulously well-preserved old Turkish house. Mentor lovingly explained each centuries-old item, as if tenderly flipping through the yellowed pages of a precious chronicle.

This parallel devotion to both old and new struck me throughout Kosovo, where visitors divide their attention between the slick new development of a fledgling country, and evocatively antique Orthodox monasteries and Ottoman-era towns (like Prizren). It’s one of the reasons Kosovo, and Prishtinë in particular, got under my skin… much to my (pleasant) surprise.

Logarska Dolina and the Northern Valleys, Slovenia

Curling along a ridgetop road at what felt like the attic of the Alps — immersed in 360 degrees of spectacular green hills, yawning valleys, and cut-glass peaks, just a few minutes’ drive from Austria — I pulled up the gravel driveway of a simple farmhouse. Inside the screened-in porch, I met a family of three from Canada: mom, dad, and teenage daughter, all digging into plates of hearty food.

The farmer who owned the place appeared and agreed to bring me a plate, too. As we all chowed down on oversized, pork-filled dumplings, my lunchmates explained that their guidebook had directed them up into these rugged mountains, at the remote northern fringe of one of Europe’s most underrated countries… where they were having the time of their lives. The experience left both my belly and my soul full — making me happy that my work is having an impact on at least a few vacations.

Just down the road, a local tip detoured me up a side valley to another tourist farm, this one specializing in artisanal goat’s-milk ice cream infused with local Slovenian ingredients: anise and honey, tarragon, dried pears, fresh-curd strudel. As a gelato aficionado, I had very high hopes. They were exceeded. (Another discovery for that guidebook!)

After a long day of heavenly views and earthy flavors, I made my way back to yet another rustic farmhouse, where I was spending the night. The Lenar clan (Urša and her parents) set me up with a woody room where I could step out onto a silent balcony to bask in sweeping views across the valley. Each morning, I savored the traditional folk-art decor of the breakfast room, along with farm-fresh eggs, home-baked pastries, and Urša’s gentle, thoughtful lessons about this region’s distinct farming and forestry methods.

Logarska Dolina specializes in spectacular scenery, in rustic lives that revolve around traditions, and in a refreshing lack of fellow tourists (other than in-the-know Slovenes…and a few wayward Canadians). As Slovenia’s more famous mountain resorts — Lake Bled, Lake Bohinj, the Soča Valley — are becoming, to varying degrees, more crowded, Logarska Dolina is a reminder that even a small country is never exhausted of its beckoning hideaways.

Belgrade, Serbia

Creeping closer and closer in rush-hour gridlock, I observed how the Serbian capital fills its long ridge with gray, uninspiring concrete. Traffic here is as heavy as it is unforgiving. Lush parks, genteel boulevards, and ornate facades are in short supply. The sidewalks are narrow and shabby and forever dribbled by air-conditioning units grafted onto ramshackle apartment blocks that stretch high into the sky, blotting out the sun.

Finally reaching my lodgings, dropping off my bag, and heading out to explore, I joined the people-parade on the main walking street, Knez Mihalova. And suddenly I remembered: Once you’re immersed in the urban jungle of Belgrade, the city abounds with charming details, intriguing detours, and an exuberant humanity. On this balmy evening, the entire city was out promenading… slowly making their way toward Kalemegdan Park, which fills a point surrounding Belgrade Fortress overlooking the confluence of the Danube and the Sava.

Sightseers find plenty to do here. Sveti Sava, one of the largest Orthodox churches in Christendom, is gobsmackingly stunning inside — shimmering with gilded icons and glittering chandeliers. Just up the street is the former home of inventor Nikola Tesla, now a museum. The Yugo-nostalgic can pay their respects at Marshal Tito’s grave and tour the fascinating, adjacent museum of Yugoslavia. Or simply prowl the cobbles of the traditional quarter, Skadarlija, buzzing with dueling Balkan folk troupes and interchangeable menus of delicious “Serbian national cuisine.”

Departing Belgrade, observing its blight shrink behind me, I thought about how few places provide a starker contrast between that first, distant impression… and the slow, satisfying revelation of experiencing it from within.

Istrian Interior, Croatia

Many years ago, when we were first brainstorming the itinerary for our Rick Steves Best of the Adriatic tour, we knew we needed a couple of nights in Istria — the wedge-shaped peninsula dangling from the northwest corner of Croatia, next to Italy. Initially I figured that stop must be in Rovinj, arguably Croatia’s prettiest coastal town. But then someone suggested that, instead, we should sleep deep in the Istrian interior. Why not settle into an atmospheric hill town with bucolic views and world-class restaurants, still just a short drive from Istria’s coastal delights?

It was one of those Eureka! moments that, instantly, just made sense. And it still does.

While Croatia is, deservedly, famous for its coastline, I always find myself looking forward to my time in the Istrian interior. There’s nothing like hitting the road for a giddy loop through this stunning, user-friendly region, with its cypress-lined country lanes, stony hill towns capping vineyard-draped hills, trendy boutique wineries and other foodie finds, and dark oak forests embedded with precious truffles. It feels like joyriding through a schlocky painting of Tuscany — but real!

And then, of course, there’s the food: Istria is one of Europe’s most abundant producers of truffles. These pungent tubers are grated like parmesan over noodles or steak. And you’ll also find them in cheese, salami, olive oil, tapenade, pâté, frittata, soufflé, and even ice cream.

Settling into one of my favorite Croatian eateries, in the hill town of Motovun, I perused the menu and made my selection. But then, the owner appeared tableside and turned the page. “Ah, but did you see the white truffle menu? We have some of the first white truffles of the season.”

Well, in that case… don’t mind if I do!

Sibiu, Transylvania, Romania

On the night of my first visit to Sibiu, several years ago, the town was throwing its first-ever Oktoberfest party. The main square was alive with festivities: carnival rides, little booths slinging traditional food, and a gigantic beer tent, rollicking with happy Romanians hoisting frothy mugs while swaying in time to the imported German oompah band.

Cultural cross-pollination is a hallmark of the Balkans, and essential to truly understanding the region. But it’s not always easy. Just trying to explain the various cultures that have called Romania home — Roman legionnaires, Germanic (“Saxon”) traders, two different factions of Hungarians, and, oh yes, the Romanians — can glaze over the eyes even of the most curious history student.

That’s why I appreciate places like Sibiu, which embodies those complexities in an easy-to-appreciate package. It’s one of many historically Germanic towns in Transylvania, Romania’s thickly forested heartland. Those rolling foothills and cut-glass Carpathian peaks on the horizon are easy to mistake for the Alps.

After communism, like so many other Romanian communities, Sibiu was in a shambles. But it was rebuilt and brightly polished, thanks largely to a visionary mayor, Klaus Iohannis — the first ethnically German mayor anywhere in Romania since World War II. (The city’s transformation and prosperity vaulted Iohannis to national prominence; he was elected president in 2014, and still holds that office.)

Today, among Romanian towns, Sibiu feels classy, stable, and sure of itself. Exploring Sibiu’s cobbles — wandering between its three grand, interlocking squares, enlivened by stately municipal buildings, café tables, and giant, looming churches, then wandering down its main pedestrian drag to a tranquil park that marks the former moat — I kept catching myself thinking I was in Germany. And in a country that’s still struggling to get back on its feet, emulating one that’s already affluent, well-established, and tidy is a shrewd start.

Lake Ohrid, North Macedonia

For my stay at Lake Ohrid, I “splurged” (by Balkan standards) on an apartment with a deck overlooking the lake. Each time I slid open that giant glass door, subconsciously expecting to catch a whiff of the sea, I was surprised instead to smell the unmistakable dank of freshwater.

Nearly a thousand feet deep, and among the world’s oldest lakes, Ohrid feels primordial… elemental. Looking out over the sea-like deep, you notice how this vast, moody, dramatic lake is big enough to create its own weather system. From miles away, you can see brief, intense squalls ripping across the water’s surface toward you, alternating with shimmering sunbeams, bright blue skies, and cotton-candy clouds.

Ohrid floods a gorge between wooded mountains along the border between North Macedonia and Albania. The lake, and the historic town of the same name, are a popular resort for visitors from around the Balkans. Holiday-makers promenade along the wide path that runs along its shore, venturing out onto crumbling piers to be immersed in lakefront splendor. Or they hike just around the bluff above town to reach the iconic, Byzantine-style Orthodox church of St. Jovan Kaneo, clinging to its own little niche just over the water. From here, a steep and winding path leads up to a partially ruined fortress, along its crenellated wall, then to yet more beautiful Byzantine-style churches and twisting lanes that, eventually, meander back down to the lakefront.

All of those churches are also a reminder that Ohrid is not just for vacationers; it’s one of those places that feels infused with an almost mystical aura, which has attracted settlers and visitors for eons. Following the shoreline highway, you can pull over to explore the rebuilt stilt houses suspended over the Bay of Bones, or to visit yet another historic church, honoring one of the Byzantine missionaries (St. Naum) who converted the Slavs and created the Cyrillic alphabet.

Yes, “primordial” is a strange way to describe a destination. But that’s the word that kept coming to mind on the shores of this bewilderingly old, mysterious, and tranquil lake.

Veliko Tarnovo and Shipka Pass, Bulgaria

There’s an atmospheric lane in the heart of Veliko Tarnovo that’s lined with smiling craftspeople, eager to show off their traditional art. Silversmith Todor creates intricate filigree jewelry. Nina and her son create pottery with patterns dating back centuries. Miglena operates an old-fashioned loom. Rumi carves wooden items. And Rashko painstakingly paints icons. Folk art, still being executed with pride and precision by modern people, is a hallmark of the Balkans. And this “Craftspeople’s Street” is one of the most user-friendly places to experience it.

Artisanal handicrafts aside, Veliko Tarnovo — appropriately meaning “Great City of Land and Water” — is among the most dramatically situated settlements anywhere. The city’s homes cling to the steep slopes of a gorge carved by the meandering Yantra River. At one particularly scenic riverbend, a gigantic sword thrusts up into the sky, boldly proclaiming a centuries-old dynasty that still fills locals with pride. And the cliff-topping fortress, Tsarevets, rewards hikers with sweeping views over the city… and the opportunity for kids-at-heart to nock imaginary arrows while defending the substantial bastions.

Connecting Veliko Tarnovo to the rest of the country is perhaps Bulgaria’s most entertaining drive, over the Shipka Pass. Along here, you’ll pass through Tryavna, a touristy village that abounds with traditional Bulgarian National Revival-style homes; a lavish Orthodox church celebrating the 1877 battle that forced the Ottomans out of this region; and a rotting-from-the-inside-out communist conference hall that looks like a UFO crash-landed on a mountainside, called Buzludzha.

If Bulgaria is one of Europe’s most pleasantly surprising destinations, then Veliko Tarnovo is one of its very best surprises — and a highlight of perhaps our most underrated tour, the Best of Bulgaria.

Podgorica, Montenegro

“You are probably wondering why you came to Podgorica, widely regarded as the ugliest capital city in Europe.”

These were the first words my guide, Rajan, said when we met. I admired his candor about his hometown; it was refreshing, if a little startling. And it opened my mind to what he said next.

It’s true: Travelers who come to Podgorica (pronounced POD-goh-reet-suh) are not here for beauty. After World War II, the city — then called “Titograd,” after the Yugoslav leader — was built essentially from scratch around the modest footprint of an old Ottoman town at the meeting point of rivers, near the base of a towering mountain range. Titograd was a showcase of Brutalism, the heavy-handed, concrete-happy, form-follows-function style that prevailed in Yugoslavia’s postwar boom.

Brutalism is about as pretty as it sounds…and it hasn’t aged well. The night before I met Rajan, at the end of a 10-hour journey from Belgrade, my train pulled into the Podgorica station just after sunset. The walk to my hotel took me through a neighborhood of towering, bare-concrete apartment blocks, on crumbling sidewalks, past seas of bare dirt and green weeds that crowded out sparse tufts of parched-yellow grass. As a first impression, it was, in a word, brutal.

And yet, as Rajan showed me around by the light of day, I found myself entertaining a thought experiment: What if Podgorica’s burly Brutalism and stark “Ex-Yugo” aesthetic is not a bug…but a feature?

While lacking the graceful arches, stately pillars, and fanciful flourishes that tourists associate with Europe, Brutalism is the essence of functionality. Those Yugoslav nation-builders, like today’s urban planners, faced a desperate shortage of affordable housing. In fact, these days Brutalism is in vogue among young architecture students. Seeing Rajan’s city through his eyes, I found myself appreciating the tidy, grid-planned streets; the broad boulevards with wide, tree-lined sidewalks that encourage strolling; and the strategic juxtaposition of important buildings: parliament, president’s office, ministries, embassies, municipal offices, all efficiently lined up in tidy rows.

Psychologists talk about “radical acceptance.” Rajan, quite radically, accepts that his city is no Prague or Paris. But what it is, is beautiful in its own way. By the end of our time together, we were brainstorming a “Titograd Time Warp Tour” — to really lean into what’s special about Podgorica.

As travelers, we often make snap judgments based on an unflattering first impression…especially in places with a hard history, like the Balkans. Podgorica taught me to keep an open mind and appreciate each place on its own terms.

Talk about radical.

Anywhere, Bosnia-Herzegovina

There’s no doubt that Bosnia-Herzegovina is a “must” on any Balkan list. But where in Bosnia, exactly?

I have already featured the wonderful capital, Sarajevo, on a past Discoveries list. Should I mention Mostar, the convenient-if-touristy “Bosnia with training wheels” city that’s close to Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast? Jajce, the historic town scenically built literally upon a waterfall, where Yugoslavia was born during World War II? Srebrenica, with its wrenching memorial to innocent lives lost in the Yugoslav Wars? Perhaps some remote but charming smaller towns or cities, or amazing foodie finds, or the Bosnian people themselves — some of the kindest, most interesting, most welcoming anywhere?

On the other hand…why choose? If you’re thinking of going to Bosnia, anywhere in Bosnia, you can’t go wrong. In many ways, Bosnia is the quintessence of the Balkans: a ruggedly mountainous, verdant landscape carved by rivers and mountain streams; an epic history, with more than its share of highs and (especially) lows; deeply flavorful comfort food at bargain prices; a complex mix of Muslims, Catholics, and Orthodox, which has left each townscape a jumble of minarets, steeples, and domes; and remarkably affordable prices — making this arguably Europe’s single best destination in terms of cost-to-quality ratio.

Best of all, especially outside of Sarajevo and Mostar, Bosnia has an unmistakable “undiscovered” quality. I’ve been traveling here for two decades; in that time, those showcase cities have become firmly planted on the tourist trail — but those tourists come mainly from the Muslim world, attracted by the promise of an accessible taste of Europe that’s also culturally familiar. (Sharing Bosnia with these fellow travelers is, in itself, a fascinating experience for a non-Muslim visitor from America.) And yet, if you get beyond Sarajevo and Mostar, you’ll likely discover you’re just about the only tourist, from anywhere.

Croatia and Slovenia are certainly the most accessible (and well-known) slice of the Balkans for first-time visitors. But If I had to nominate just one place to get a taste of this region — accessibly, affordably, unforgettably — it would have to be Bosnia-Herzegovina… anywhere.

I realize that some of these Balkan Discoveries might be a hard sell for someone seeking a more, shall we say, “conventional” itinerary. I had great trips in 2024, as well, to Venice, Amsterdam, Germany’s heartland, and the Greek Islands — all still marvelous choices. But as crowds and prices rise to unsustainable peaks in those mainline destinations, off-the-beaten-path alternatives seem more appealing than ever. And you won’t find much that’s more “off the beaten path” than the Balkans.

The Balkans are a big place. What tourists there are, are concentrated in a few very small areas. Whether it’s a remote alpine valley, a giant moody lake, a thriving-if-ramshackle capital city, a historic town that’s improbably built upon an unforgiving landscape, or a Discovery all your own, this region warrants exploration.

Be sure to share your own Discoveries in the Comments.

You can also look back at my Discoveries from 2024, 2023, 2021, 2020, 2019, and 2018… all still great choices.

If you’d like to hear more about my recent “Balkan Odyssey” — and more stories and photos from all of the above places, and more — join me on February 17 on Monday Night Travel (at 6 pm Pacific, or 9 pm Eastern). It’s entirely free — just sign up ahead, when the class is officially announced in a few weeks.

If you’d like to travel along with me in 2025, be sure to follow me on Facebook and Instagram.

And consider checking out my travel memoir, The Temporary European: Lessons and Confessions from a Professional Traveler.

Posted on

10 European Discoveries for 2024

Looking for something a little different in 2024?

Each year around this time, I brainstorm a list of my favorite European Discoveries. And after another very busy year of traveling to update guidebooks and make TV shows — in Ireland, Norway, Iceland, Hungary, and Poland — as usual, the places that stand out most vividly are not the big, marquee sights; they’re the lesser-known places, with fewer crowds and a more authentic vibe. (You could say they have a high charm-to-tourists ratio.)

As always, I’m not suggesting these are any “better” than the biggies. If you’re tight on time, I won’t blame you for visiting Kraków rather than Warsaw, or Dingle rather than Derry. Rather, when planning your 2024 travels, think of these as intriguing palate-cleansers.

Think about it: When you look back on past trips, aren’t many of your fondest memories of places where you least expected them? Feel free to share your own Discoveries in the Comments.

Lausanne and Lake Geneva, Switzerland

If a big part of Switzerland’s appeal is its cultural and linguistic diversity, then Lausanne is one of its most rewarding cities. This genteel-feeling city speaks, and feels, French…but with a Swiss accent.

From the vineyard-draped shores of Lake Geneva, the city climbs vertically up the slopes; elevators, a funicular-like métro, and steeply uphill hikes are required simply to traverse a few blocks. Updating our guidebook, I went looking for a hotel just up the block…and quickly learned that it was “up” indeed. It felt like climbing a mountain.

But Lausanne is worth the effort. Visitors enjoy Swiss-French fusion meals in classy brasseries; a historic old quarter oozing with endearing medieval details; a hazy waterfront promenade leading to an excellent Olympics museum; and one of Europe’s most compelling, thought-provoking museums: the Collection de l’Art Brut, which showcases poignant works created by artists marginalized by society, often dismissed or even institutionalized as “insane.”

Lausanne is also a prime jumping-off-point for Lake Geneva sightseeing. A quick train ride or ridiculously scenic boat ride (preferably on a historic paddleboat steamer) takes you to Château de Chillon, a stony fortress jabbing out into the lake.

You can also hike or bike through lakefront vineyards; stop off in Montreux for its stylish waterfront; or take a scenic side-trip (on the “Chocolate Train”) up to the lovely cheesemaking village of Gruyères and a Swiss chocolate factory.

Lausanne and Lake Geneva is one of those places that might not “make the cut” on a tight itinerary. But if you go…you’ll want to give it plenty of time.

Derry, Northern Ireland

On my six-week odyssey to update our Ireland guidebook — scouring the island from tip to toe — something about Derry grabbed me. It has a hard-fought history, both old and recent. Its stout city walls — now enjoyable for a stroll — hint at centuries-ago sieges. And the emotionally charged murals of the Bogside neighborhood testify to the city’s pivotal role in the Troubles, Northern Ireland’s sectarian strife that grabbed headlines from the 1960s through the 1990s.

But I also found Derry unexpectedly delightful, history aside. The sitcom Derry Girls — which tells the story of local teenagers and their parents during the final years of the Troubles — has become a global hit on Netflix. Locals embrace the show, which captures the world-weary wit that the people of Derry have learned to apply to the highs and lows of life. And, as an outside observer, it seemed to me that Derry Girls is also helping this plucky city turn the page from a hard history to a brighter future: In a sign of the times, the new Derry Girls mural — rather than the important but tragedy-tinged murals of the Bogside — has become the city’s most-photographed.

I sensed a new day in Derry. On a sunny summer afternoon, the Peace Bridge linking the Nationalist and Unionist sides of the river was jammed with people. Across that bridge, the former British military barracks is being converted into a new entertainment and commercial complex, with a big hotel and fine gastro-brewpub, and a state-of-the-art city museum slated to open in a few years.

Not to mention, Derry is a prime home base for side-tripping (in less than an hour) to the Antrim Coast, with Old Bushmills Distillery, Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, and the breathtaking Giant’s Causeway. As Derry Girl Michelle put it: “Foreigners f—kin’ love the Giant’s Causeway!”

Warsaw, Poland

The sprawling Polish capital often gets overlooked by travelers. Kraków is more historic and accessible. Gdańsk is more beautiful. (Shhh…don’t tell Krakow!) And Toruń is more charming.

But ever so slowly, over 20 years of visits, I’ve watched Warsaw transform from a gloomy, battle-battered, postcommunist eyesore into a place that’s fascinating, engaging, and — yes, really! — actually fun.

When we filmed new public television episodes in Poland this summer, the crew was impressed by today’s Warsaw. It has state-of-the-art museums covering everything from Jewish heritage to Marie Curie, and from Polish history to hands-on science exhibits for kids. It’s a capital of culture and music: We filmed two entirely different Chopin concerts, one in a sprawling park and the other in a cozy drawing room, and couldn’t decide which we liked better. It has an outstanding food scene, including one of the best meals our crew says they’ve ever filmed (at Bibenda). It has a thrilling variety of architecture from every era: rebuilt medieval townhomes; imposing communist concrete; graceful Baroque churches; slick, sleek skyscrapers. And it has a history as epic as anyplace in Europe.

Most of all, Warsaw is simply enjoyable. On a balmy Friday night, we did a loop through the city’s up-and-coming entertainment districts. We began at a “post-industrial” entertainment complex (which are all the rage across Poland) — a former brick power plant now refurbished with trendy eateries, bars, and shops.

Outside along their inviting riverfront park, Varsovians from every walk of life were having the time of their lives: promenading along the Vistula; filling giant cocktail-party barges; splashing in playful fountains; relaxing and socializing on park benches. And we enjoyed the heck out of Warsaw, right along with them.

Porto, Portugal

Portugal’s second city is actually several cities in one — and all of them are delightful.

Down along the banks of the Douro River, under the soaring girders of oversized bridges, the colorfully seedy Ribeira district faces a row of port-wine lodges.

From there, stair-like lanes twist steeply up to the modern city center, a mix of drab urban streets and pockets of architectural refinement: Pretty churches with spiraling stone towers, clad in finely handpainted blue tiles. The Lello & Irmão Bookstore, with its twisting wood-grain fantasyland of literature. The soaring Clérigos tower, reaching up to heaven between rattling trolleys. São Bento Train Station, with more of those gorgeous blue tiles. The Palácio da Bolsa, a former stock exchange palace that maxes out on neo-historical styles. And, yes, even one of the finest McDonalds on the planet.

And maybe the most impressive bit of engineering you’ll find in Porto is its famous sandwich, the francesinha: pork cutlets, sliced sausages, and Swiss cheese wedged between two slices of dense bread, then grilled and smothered with more melted cheese, a fried egg, and spicy sauce. This delicious gut-bomb (you won’t need to eat for a week) is just one example of Porto’s outstanding food scene, ranging from memorable splurges to rustic market stalls.

While it may lack the cachet and grandeur of Lisbon, Porto is every bit as enjoyable…and maybe more so.

Fjordside Villages of Iceland and Norway

One of my personal travel themes in 2023 was dropping in on a wide variety of tiny towns on giant fjords, all over both Iceland and Norway.

Looping around Iceland’s Ring Road — the 800-mile ultimate road trip that circles the perimeter of the island — three favorite villages stand out:  Húsavík, with its colorful harbor and whale-watching boats; Siglufjörður, an important herring fishery a century ago, which loves to tell the story of the “Herring Girls” in its exceptional museum; and Seyðisfjörður, with a hip, funky, and artistic vibe in a remote and dramatic setting — about as far as you get from Reykjavík while still being in Iceland.

A few weeks later, in Norway, I settled in to a couple more fjordside hamlets. Balestrand, conveniently located along the express boat route between Bergen and Flåm, commands a grand view over the mighty Sognefjord. Its harborfront grand hotel (with its elaborate smorgasbord dinner) and charming Ciderhuset cidery (offering tours, tastings, and pairings with delicious Turkish-accented fare) provided two of my favorite meals of the year. Deeper in the fjord is my favorite fjordside village of all: Tidy, tranquil Solvorn, a cozy burg with historic landmark hotel (Norway’s oldest), multicolored wooden boat sheds lining the shore, and a ferry that putters across the fjord once an hour to one of Norway’s finest stave churches.

Iceland and Norway are both best for their natural wonders. And, frankly, many settlements (especially in Iceland) are more functional than charming. But these five towns tempt the just-passing-through traveler to downshift…settle in…and enjoy.

Siracusa and Noto, Sicily

A year ago, the second season of HBO’s The White Lotus put Sicily on many travelers’ wish lists. After doing  a guidebook-research road trip around the country a few years back, I really enjoyed seeing many of those places pop up on the show.

The White Lotus was set in the mega-touristy, off-puttingly upscale tourist town of Taormina. Personally, despite its grand location facing Mount Etna, Taormina left me cold. The place that really sticks out is a couple hours’ drive south: Siracusa, the modern city at the site of ancient Syracuse.

Siracusa feels less “discovered” than many Sicilian towns. I could do endless laps around its old town, the islet of Ortigia, which evokes both the ancient days of Archimedes and the lavish blossoming of Baroque. Ortigia has some of the finest squares and prettiest churches in Sicily. And if you need more substantial sightseeing, you can tour the archaeological museums and ancient sites farther inland. Or just take a dip at the rocky beach.

And while you’re in the area, make time for a day-trip to Noto, tucked in the countryside less than an hour’s drive to the southwest. Among Sicilians, Noto is known for two things: its lavish Baroque architecture and its top-quality gelato shops. If I’m being honest, I’m not sure which I enjoyed more.

Antwerp, Belgium

On Belgian itineraries, Antwerp gets overlooked. Maybe that’s understandable. Bruges is cute, cobbled, and canaled. Brussels is the bustling capital, with the very grand-indeed Grand Place. Ghent mixes charm with urbanity, and boasts an exquisite Van Eyck altarpiece.

Antwerp — lonely Antwerp! — plays fourth fiddle. But those who visit Belgium’s second-biggest city find it to be engaging and rewarding, if lovably gritty.

On arrival, you find yourself standing in one of Europe’s most impressive train stations — a temple to travel that rivals any in Europe.

From there, a grand city spreads out before you. Famous for its funky design heritage and its Art Nouveau architecture, as well as for its diamond industry, Antwerp itself is something of a diamond in the rough. But increasingly, it’s being polished to a high shine. On my last visit, I stepped into the stunning Handelsbeurs — the former stock exchange, with Neo-Gothic flourishes, that evokes the city’s glory days as a trading power.

On Antwerp’s picturesque main market square — as pleasant as any in the Low Countries — I found plenty of good eateries. But, on a mission to update our Belgium guidebook, I scouted even better ones tucked into characteristic neighborhoods all over the city, especially in t’Zuid, a quick tram ride to the south. There I found, among other great places, Elsie’s — a great opportunity to sample Ethiopian and Etrurian cuisine in this multiethnic city.

Antwerp is that kind of city: One that rewards exploration and curiosity. It makes you work a bit to unearth those gems…but it’s worth the effort.

Dublin’s Stoneybatter Neighborhood, Ireland

I’m always on the lookout for fun and funky neighborhoods in great European cities. And while updating our guidebook in Dublin this summer, several leads led me to Stoneybatter.

This low-key neighborhood is effectively one street at the edge of the city center (a longish walk or quick bus, tram, or taxi ride from downtown). Stoneybatter’s main drag is lined with narrow storefronts, colorful cottages, indie bookstores and boutiques, lively street art, more than its share of stay-awhile cafés, a variety of global food eateries, and some fine dining options.

I ate very well at Grano, an Italian-owned trattoria with a short but tempting menu of authentic choices — the kind of place where, I imagine, each and every dish would be delicious. But walking to and from dinner, I kept wishing I had more time to eat at a half-dozen other places.

Part of Stoneybatter’s charm is its tucked-away-ness. It’s a short walk from the big, slick Smithfield Square, with its giant distillery, industrial-strength youth hostel, and lineup of predictable chain eateries. From there, you can walk just a few minutes northwest, passing The Cobblestone — Dublin’s most respected pub for live traditional music. Stoneybatter, just around the corner feels quirky, locally owned, and fun to explore. It’s the kind of place where I could happily imagine settling in for a week or two at a cozy Airbnb, sampling a different trendy brunch spot each morning.

Slovenia

If you know me at all, you can be sure Slovenia will wind up on any “Best of” list I write. This year, I mulled over which part of Slovenia merits a “Discoveries” mention for 2024:

The beautiful, charming, user-friendly capital, Ljubljana, with its stay-a-while ambience and outstanding food scene?

Dreamy Lake Bled, with its castle-capped cliff and church-crowned island? Or maybe head higher into the mountains — to the stunning Julian Alps, with some of the most breathtaking cut-glass peaks in Europe?

Perhaps head to the seaside, specifically the charming port town of Piran, with its sleek, marbled square, atmospheric back lanes, delectable seafood restaurants, and all of the charm of small Croatian coastal towns, but tidier and friendlier?

Or maybe we should do a little spelunking? When choosing between some of the most spectacular karstic caves on the planet, should we opt for the hauntingly grand caverns of the Škocjan Caves, or the more accessible formations of nearby Postojna?

Or does heading off the beaten path appeal? Should we explore the outstanding wineries of Goriška Brda, sharing a border with Italy’s famous Friuli wine region, or the arid limestone beauty of the Vípava Valley?

Heading to Europe at Mardi Gras time? Might I suggest paying a visit to Ptuj, with its unforgettable Kurentovanje costumed-beasts processions?

Or — hey, wait a minute! — why not…all of it?

Wherever You’ve Been Dreaming of Going

One of the lasting lessons of the pandemic is a new awareness that we can’t take anything for granted. Time may be shorter than you think. That’s why a popular theme has been “revenge travel” — finally getting to those items you’ve always dreamed of.

Maybe you’ve wished you could hike the Tour de Mont Blanc, around Europe’s tallest mountain. That was on Rick’s list — and it was one of his first trips back after COVID.

In my case, I can think of several boxes I’ve ticked recently. This past June, I realized a lifelong dream of being in Dublin to celebrate Bloomsday — a celebration of James Joyce’s Ulysses. On the date that Joyce’s masterpiece novel is set, his hometown’s streets are full of lit nerds wearing straw boater hats and Edwardian costumes, reading passages from Ulysses, and greeting each other with, “Heigho! Happy Bloomsday!” Totally worth it.

Other items on my lifelong wish list I’ve recently ticked: Exploring some new parts of Italy, from the fascinating, multicultural, coastal city of Trieste; to the culinary heartland of Emilia-Romagna; to the wine and food mecca of Piedmont.

Or ascending Lovćen, a mountaintop mausoleum overlooking virtually the entire country of Montenegro, and hiking up countless steps to a dramatic monument carved by the great sculptor Ivan Meštrović.

Some of these may seem a little obscure…because they are! I’m certainly not advising you to visit Dublin on Bloomsday, or to sample every stuffed pasta in Modena or Parma, or to huff up to the summit of Lovćen. I doubt you’d enjoy those as much as I would. (Well, maybe the pasta.) But I’m sure you have something on your personal wish list that you’d enjoy just as much I loved those experiences.

So…get to it! You have about 365 days to make it happen in 2024.

Be sure to share your own Discoveries in the Comments!

You can also look back at my Discoveries from 2023, 2021, 2020, 2019, and 2018…all still great choices.

If you’d like to follow along with me on my 2024 travels, be sure to follow me on Facebook and on Instagram.

And consider checking out my travel memoir, The Temporary European: Lessons and Confessions from a Professional Traveler.

Posted on

10 European Discoveries for 2023

In 2022, as travel resumed, I made it back to lots of famous places: London, Rome, Amsterdam, Dubrovnik. The Matterhorn, the Scottish Highlands, the hill towns of Tuscany. But, as usual, many of my favorite experiences came in lesser-known corners of Europe — underappreciated places that exceed expectations when it comes to creating beautiful memories.

As a refresher: My annual “Discoveries” list is one traveler’s arbitrary rundown of places I’ve been to recently (mainly in 2022) that may not already appear on many itineraries. These are just ten of the hundreds of such places, all over Europe — meant not as any sort of definitive “best of” list, but simply to inspire you to go beyond the Londons, Parises, and Romes when planning your 2023 travels. In fact, I’d love it if you shared your own favorite finds in the comments.

And if you’d like to see previous years’ lists, here are the Discoveries for 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021 — all still great choices. (I skipped the Discoveries in 2022…not wanting to jinx what, a year ago, felt like a tenuous time to travel.)

Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina

Imagine a bustling city in a stunning setting — tucked in the deep valley of a gurgling river, surrounded by green hills. It has a dynamic history as a crossroads of civilizations, where you can visit a Catholic church, an Eastern Orthodox church, a mosque, and a synagogue, all within a couple of blocks. One part of town feels like a Turkish bazaar, with riverstone cobbles underfoot, the sound of tapping coppersmith hammers, the smell of sweet hookah smoke, and the haze of grilling meat hanging heavy in the air. And then, just a few steps away, you enter a tidy Habsburg street plan with proud turn-of-the-century architecture, parks, and boulevards.

This city also has a delicious culinary tradition of delectably seasoned meats, decadently spreadable cheeses, and crispy savory pastries cooked under a metal baking lid covered with hot coals…not to mention unfiltered coffee and honey-soaked treats (think baklava). Oh, and the locals are incredibly welcoming, easygoing, and quick to befriend visitors, and they have fascinating life stories to share.

Now imagine that this place has next to no American tourists.

This is not a fantasy; it’s Sarajevo. With each return visit, I simply can’t fathom why so few travelers have discovered what may well be the most underrated capital city in Europe.

Returning this fall, I discovered a new hole-in-the-wall shop on the main drag that specializes in just one perfect dish: First, they pull a puffy lepinje flatbread pocket straight out of the oven. Then they slather it with the soft cheese kajmak, which begins to melt and fill in all the little grooves. You can pay a bit extra to stuff it with flavorful smoked beef…a delicious mobile feast. Walking down the street, munching one of my favorite meals of the trip (if not the year), it occurred to me that, on top of everything else, Sarajevo might be one of the best “street foodie” destinations in Europe.

Sarajevo has a new fancy hotel downtown, and it recently opened a cable car that trundles visitors to the mountaintop high above town for sweeping views. Those are nice upgrades, but they’re just gilding the lily of what’s already one of travel’s great cities. Someday Sarajevo will start to get the attention it deserves. But in the meantime, it’s cheap, uncrowded, and endlessly rewarding.

Richmond, London, England

During the dark days of the pandemic, like a lot of people, I took solace in binge-watching TV. One of the shows I found most uplifting was Ted Lasso, the story of an insistently upbeat American football coach transplanted to the UK to manage a soccer squad. Richmond may not be a real team, but it absolutely is a real place — a sleepy bedroom community just outside London. And on a sunny weekend in February, I went to Richmond on a lark, just to see if I recognized anything from the show. Sure enough, I found myself standing on that adorable, perfectly British square, with a pair of red telephone boxes; a classic half-timbered pub with sturdy picnic tables out front; narrow, shop-lined alleys leading every which way; and facing an expansive green packed with people out for a stroll. During the pandemic, when I closed my eyes and dreamt of being back in Britain…this was the place I imagined.

It was a small thrill to find the door to “Ted’s apartment,” and to step into his local pub. But if I’m being honest, I quickly forgot all about that fictional world…and enjoyed exploring the real one. One of my all-time favorite moments of 2022 was simply sitting on a bench at Richmond Green, watching dogs chase tennis balls.

For me, Richmond illustrates two things: First, Britain has hundreds of charming little communities that are worth poking around for an hour or two. This one just happens to star on a TV show. And second, I just love it when I go someplace for some random reason — in this case, because I saw it onscreen — and wind up loving it for its own sake. So on your next trip, make a point to find “your” Richmond… whether or not it’s actually Richmond.

Upper Engadine and Nearby Scenic Rail Lines, Switzerland

To be clear: I’m not saying that the Upper Engadine is somehow better than, say, the Berner Oberland, or Zermatt and the Matterhorn. But this remote, rugged corner of Graubünden, in the southeast corner of Switzerland, was perhaps the biggest (and nicest) surprise of my late-summer guidebook research trip. The most famous place here is the glitzy, soulless, skippable resort of St. Moritz. Instead, stay in nearby Pontresina and have a grand ol’ time riding lifts to lofty panoramic perches (Piz Nair, Muottas Muragl, Alp Languard) and exploring stony traditional villages (like Samedan).

The Upper Engadine’s other claim to fame is its position at the intersection of two world-famous scenic rail journeys, the Glacier Express and the Bernina Express. I did both of those trips, too. And if I’m being honest, eight-plus hours — even a super-scenic train — is a lot. Here’s a pro tip: Based in Pontresina, you could do only the very best bits of both journeys, a couple of hours in each direction, then come right back home. This efficient approach lets you conquer two of the most astonishing high-alpine rail lines in the world, each a feat of late-19th-century engineering: the Bernina Pass (to the south, toward Italy) or the Albula Pass (north, toward Chur). With stone bridges that soar hundreds of feet above yawning valleys, ingenious circular viaducts that loop 360 degrees to dispense with the need for cogwheels, and peek-a-boo views of snowcapped, 14,000-foot peaks and receding glaciers, Pontresina gives you easy access to what may be the most stunning train trips in Europe, mile per mile.

As a bonus, for those on a tight budget, most Upper Engadine accommodations provide a sightseeing card that covers all local transport — including those thrilling (but pricey) mountain lifts. This basically doubles the value of what you pay for your lodgings (but make sure they include it before you book). Maybe this is yet another reason why most of my fellow hikers were active Swiss retirees rather than the Insta-glam jet set.

The Jordaan, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

In the middle of an intense, seven-week trip of tour guiding and guidebook research, I had a three-day weekend to relax and recover. The place I chose was Amsterdam — and specifically, the Jordaan, a residential neighborhood of tidy grid-planned blocks, traditional skinny houses, funky shops, and local restaurants. I found the perfect apartment, in the attic of a family home — with crooked, creaking funhouse floors and dramatically angled rafters. To reach my room, I had to climb two staircases so steep they were practically ladders. And when I opened the window and saw a pair of bikes brrrring-brrrring-ing past on the idyllic street scene below, I knew I’d found the perfect getaway.

One morning, I woke up to discover an utterly delightful weekend street market (two of them, actually) sprawling through the lanes and squares near my apartment. Another time I rode a tram to Vondelpark and rented a bike to pedal with the Amsterdammers in a lush, green oasis. On several occasions, I window-shopped the delightful nearby restaurant streets (with the even-more-delightful names Eerste Anjeliersdwarsstraat and Tweede Anjeliersdwarsstraat) and took my pick from the incredible variety of places to eat.

One thing I did not do, a single time, on this visit to Amsterdam? Complain about the touristy crowds. Because the Jordaan let me avoid them entirely.

Trieste, Italy

The Italian port city of Trieste has an identity crisis like no place else. Today it’s part of Italy — but just barely, connected by an umbilical cord of land just wide enough for a railroad and a highway. It’s almost entirely surrounded by Slovenia, whose parched karstic cliffs rise up like a stone curtain just behind the city. Complicating matters, most of today’s Trieste was built not by Italians or Slovenes, but by Austrians and Hungarians, who transformed this humble settlement into their primary trade port and shipbuilding center…with grandiose buildings that would feel more at home on Vienna’s Ringstrasse or Budapest’s Andrássy út, rather than a few steps from Adriatic embankments. This is the kind of place where you need a conspiracy-type diagram, with red yarn crisscrossing thumbtacked photos and maps, just to figure out who controlled it, and who lived here, and when, and why.

And yet, all of that complexity melts away when you actually set foot here. Trieste is hard to characterize, but the main thing is that it’s simply lovely: a grand, imperial-feeling city with a sunny seafront embankment, shot through with faded elegance (from fin-de-siècle coffee houses to aristocratic villas), and with more than its share of fascinating history. Choosing between Austrian pork cutlets, Italian pastas, and Slovenian jota (turnip stew) and potica nut-roll cakes on the same menu, you know you’re at a nexus of history. As someone with a passion for Habsburg history, for Slovenia, and for Italy, I knew I’d find Trieste interesting. But I wasn’t prepared to enjoy it as much as I did.

Side-note: I’m not entirely sure whether I went to Trieste because I read Jan Morris’ riveting Trieste and the Meaning of Nowhere, or if I read her book because I was going to Trieste — but either way, it reminded me how “bringing along” a great author or historian with you, on any trip, immeasurably deepens your appreciation of a place. And Trieste is a twofer, since James Joyce lived here while writing most of Ulysses (as documented in a lovable local museum). This is fitting, when you consider how a cacophony of languages and cultures fills the streets of Trieste — just like in the pages of that masterpiece.

Glasgow, Scotland

Every time I go back to Glasgow, I like it even better. And this summer, I had plenty of time to think about why…when I got stuck there for several extra days after contracting COVID. But actually, I can think of few better places to just sit around and recover.

I owe this — and my general good feelings about the city — to the Glaswegians. They’re kind and generally good-natured, but also wicked-smart and fiendishly funny. They have a penchant for knocking important city leaders down a peg by crowning their statues with orange traffic cones. The city has some of the most beautiful, most wildly creative, most satirically incisive street art I’ve seen anywhere.

As an indication of how endearingly salt-of-the-earth Glasgow is, its single best museum (in a city with lots of great ones) may just be the old tenement house whose resident moved out in 1975 after not having changed a thing in five decades — and they’ve left it perfectly preserved to this day, a fascinating time warp of midcentury, middle-class lifestyles.

Sure, the city center lacks the Old World romance of Edinburgh. (It reminds me of Cincinnati or Indianapolis, with fewer high-rises, more interesting architecture, and an infinitely more entertaining accent.) But I’m drawn to the West End, the posh yet hip residential district that’s a short bus, subway, or taxi ride away. Surrounding the U. of Glasgow campus are green parklands, lively traditional music pubs, and cozy streets lined with endlessly browsable restaurants and shops. On this visit, stepping off the subway, I bumped into a fascinating mural celebrating the many different people who call this corner of Scotland home. Mesmerized, I couldn’t pull myself away for about 15 minutes.

The next time I wind up getting stuck in Europe…I hope it’s in a place as nice, and as engaging, as Glasgow.

Pelješac Wine Country, Dalmatian Coast, Croatia

The Pelješac (PELL-yeh-shawts) Peninsula is a long, skinny spit of land poking out into the Adriatic Sea just north of Dubrovnik, on Croatia’s Dalmatian Coast. It’s always been an off-the-beaten-path destination for wine lovers who’ve done their homework. But in 2022, Pelješac came closer to the mainstream overnight, when they finally opened a brand-new bridge that routes most traffic right along its base.

In October, I spent a fun and fascinating day with a local wine expert (Sasha Lušić, who runs the D’Vino Wine Bar in Dubrovnik) to get my guidebook coverage up to snuff for the coming onslaught of visitors. We visited Ston to ogle its beefy fortifications and vast salt pans; we pulled over along a sleepy bay to slurp fresh oysters, pulled straight from the Adriatic, and washed down with a local sparkling white wine; and, best of all, we dropped in on a half-dozen different wineries, lovingly handpicked by Sasha.

I was especially charmed by Anto Grgurević, who holds advanced degrees in viniculture. Anto is determined to combine academic research with hands-on sweat equity to advance the art of Croatian winemaking. He has reintroduced some classic traditional vines — once used extensively here, but long since forgotten — even as he experiments with doing old things in new ways. (He’s the first in the region to make an amber wine, using a naturally occurring “albino” grape.)

After our tasting, Anto said “Follow me,” hopped in his car, and drove us deep into the peninsula’s interior to his family’s vineyard. Donning a comically large sombrero to shield himself from the glaring sun (good for the grapes, less so for the eyes), he walked us through the vines, pointing out the different types of grapes here and there, each matched perfectly to the precise microclimate of that patch of land.

Looking out over the hillsides where his ancestors toiled, Anto grew philosophical. “I’ve only got about 25 vintages in my life,” he said. “That really only gives me a few years to experiment and figure out how to make the best possible wine. Then I’ll spend the rest of my life cranking it out.”

Then he said, with a wink: “The best vines, you plant for your kids and your grandkids.”

Oh, and the wines? The wines are sensational.

Toruń, Poland

This gorgeous, red-brick town — cute as a fairy tale, and famous for its gingerbread and for native son Nicholas Copernicus — has always been a personal favorite. But I’ve always suspected my affinity for Toruń was somehow idiosyncratic, because I almost never see (non-Polish) travelers here.

Then, this May, I headed up a team of Polish guides to lead the first-ever departure of our new Rick Steves Best of Poland tour…and I’ll be darned if every single person in our group didn’t utterly fall in love with Toruń, too. The next morning, as we were pulling out from our one-night stay, there was practically a mutiny on the bus to call off the rest of our itinerary and just stick around Toruń.

Toruń has no world-class sights. There aren’t many, if any, museums or churches worth entering. But I’ve rarely been to a place that’s more delightfully strollable. It has cozy red-brick buildings, grand interlocking squares, broad traffic-free promenades, stately churches with prickly spires…and the whole city smells like gingerbread.

After our hands-on gingerbread-making demonstration, we oriented our group for their free evening. Our best advice: “Just walk down this street until you run out of pretty things to look at. Then come back.” A couple of hours later, I followed my own advice and went for a twilight stroll. Reaching the far end of the Old Town, I heard a raucous echo through an otherwise empty square…and followed that noise to an outdoor restaurant where about half of our tour group was having their favorite meal of the trip.

And that’s the kind of place Toruń is: Not much to see. Not much to do. But a wonderful place to simply be.

Modena and Emilia-Romagna, Italy

Italian food is, of course, delicious. But what if I told you there was a place in Italy that Italians — from the scalps of the Alps to the toe of the “boot” — unanimously agree has the best food anywhere?

Back in 2021, I spent much of the year putting together an ambitious project: a brand-new, full-color, region-by-region handbook to Italian cuisine called Rick Steves Italy for Food Lovers (which just hit bookshelves everywhere). One of the hazards of that project was that our co-author, renowned Italian food expert Fred Plotkin, makes foodies like me desperately want to visit every corner of Italy.

In particular, I got caught up in Fred’s enthusiasm for the region of Emilia-Romagna. This is where you find some of the most quintessentially delicious Italian foods: luxurious pastas, especially filled ones; some of Italy’s top salumi, from mortadella to prosciutto di Parma; and, of course aceto balsamico tradizionale and Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese — don’t you dare call them “balsamic vinegar” or “parmesan.”

After months of salivating at my desk, I just had to see this place for myself. So when my wife and I finally returned to Europe in the fall of 2021, we included a couple of days in Emilia-Romagna. We had world-class meals in Bologna, Parma, and Ferrara, and we spent two nights in Modena. The food was, if possible, even better than promised. The tortellini in brodo at that sidewalk café in Parma immediately shot to the top of our “best pastas ever” list, even as it redefined what pasta could be.

But we also adored the livable cities, which combined a certain elegance with a user-friendly unfussiness. And Modena in particular got under our skin, as the perfect home base. There are no important sights in town; to be honest, I never set foot in a museum or church. But we never tired of exploring its streets and squares.

And, of course, Modena also provided many memorable meals. One Sunday evening, I kept striking out when my first through fifth choices for dinner were closed. My “last resort” — a desperation play — wound up providing me with one of my best meals of the trip.

That’s Modena…and Emilia-Romanga. It’s no wonder that Tuscans, Romans, Lombards, and Sicilians all love to eat here.

Stopping to Listen to the Church Bells…Anywhere

Looking back on 2022, this was a year when I simply enjoyed being back in Europe — anywhere, doing anything, often doing nothing at all. During those two long years stuck at home, I had plenty of time to reflect on what I love best about travel — especially as I was assembling my travel memoir, The Temporary European. In that book, I explain the conclusion I reached: The best experiences in Europe are, so often, not the big sights and famous attractions. Rather, they are those precious moments in between that stick with you long after you’ve returned home.

I present this in terms of “stopping to listen to the church bells” — no matter how busy you are. But it can take many other forms. Maybe it’s sitting on a park bench on Richmond Green, watching people and their dogs enjoy a sunny day. Chatting with a Croatian vintner about his ancestral responsibility and his contemporary passion. Doing a little “street grazing” in Sarajevo. Getting lost in the heavenly gingerbread allure of Toruń. Browsing an Amsterdam street market.

Where are you going in 2023? It doesn’t matter. Go where you like. But when you get there, don’t spend your time racing from place to place, adhering to an ambitious itinerary. Make a point to stop — literally stand still — and, even if for just a moment, take it all in. Notice the little details of everyday life you’ve always missed. Eavesdrop on conversations…and if you have something to add, interject. Imagine what it might be like to actually live in that place. And if you hear the church bells chime…listen.

Where are you headed in 2023? Any favorite discoveries from 2022 you’d like to share?

If you enjoyed this list, and would like to browse some others, check out my Discoveries for 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021.

Most of my travels in 2022 were to update our Rick Steves guidebooks. Many of those new, fully-updated-post-COVID editions (including Italy, London, Scotland, and many more) are now available at our Rick Steves Travel Store; the rest are coming soon in 2023.

If you enjoy these stories, check out my travel memoir, The Temporary European: Lessons and Confessions of a Professional Traveler. You can find it at your favorite local bookstore, online at the Rick Steves Travel Store, or as an e-book (such as the Kindle edition).