How Riviera’s gastronomic Rhine cruise conquered my travel fear

My adventure took off in Edinburgh, as I flew out from my native Scotland to Switzerland’s Basel. Nerves were palatable for I’d never travelled abroad alone, nor cruised by myself. I also remained anxious about flying, not through a fear of disaster, but because my ears remain plagued by rampant barotrauma.

Not that such a condition was going to stop me indulging in Riviera’s gastronomy tour of the Rhine. This was too great an opportunity to pass up.

I dreamed of fresh produce when presented with shrink-wrapped misery (masquerading as sandwiches) at the airport; vibrant fruit, creamy brie and tender local produce were only a flight away. Thankfully, there was no inflight catering, meaning that I arrived in Basel, Switzerland with a healthy appetite.

As my bags were loaded onto the awaiting Riviera river cruise ship, I found myself only able to nod and smile at the first meeting with the crew, for the flight across had wreaked havoc with my inner ears. I was almost deaf, bar for the ringing that drowned out human voices. I could almost hear the frequency radiated by the Chef’s warm filo, pistachio and hazelnut cake, with honey and rosewater, as it was being prepared.

However, despite my lack of hearing, I immediately felt welcome aboard MS Geoffrey Chaucer. Taking in the lengthy yet elegant view down the ship’s corridors while liaising with reception, a kindly stewardess promptly offered to take my luggage to my cabin. I moved to take one of my cases, but it was clear I was to do nothing of the sort.

I filed in behind, looking up into glittering chandeliers as we proceeded to my accommodation. I was guided to an upper-floor cabin, which was both spacious and refined – akin to a modern Versailles on the water. This was to be my haven for the next week.

After an exhausting flight, my first desire was to slide open the cabin’s glass door and take some air from portside. The ship would not move until the following morning, but the gentle lap of water between the hull and the harbour provided a teaser of what was to come.

I confess to having a heart more at home at sea so, as we bobbed on the Rhine in elegant calm, I wondered how a river cruise would compare. Especially one so focused on gastronomic delights and fancy fare when I’m a Type 1 diabetic. This was a first for so many reasons.

Mountain-top dining

Our first excursion took us to Lucerne and the Stanserhorn. Lucerne’s beauty unfolded as we crossed the Reuss River via the iconic Kapellbrucke and marvelled at the intricate interior of the Jesuit Church.

Its ornate pink and white designs blended with gold leaf and red marble, evoking comparisons to Louis Le Vau’s Hall of Mirrors. From there, a journey by rail and cable car delivered us to the Stanserhorn’s summit, where we dined in the revolving Rondorama® restaurant.

Inaugurated in 2012, the world’s first two-deck cable car promised to whisk us up to the mountain peak in a matter of just a few minutes. The spectacular views didn’t require working ears to relish God’s painted backdrop.

Our introduction to the gastronomy theme began with Alpermagronen, a hearty Alpine dish of pasta, potatoes, cream, cheese and onions, served in a traditional Edelweiss pot. The comforting meal was complemented by panoramic views of the Swiss Alps, setting the tone for the scenic and culinary delights ahead. The sweet aroma of apples pupated across the atmosphere as waitresses bustled, ensuring no plate went unfilled.

Naturally, although beyond delicious, I did encounter an internal monologue to tread carefully with each meal’s carbohydrates. This would become an ongoing trend, but with careful balance and timely insulin, a rhythm was quickly discovered that ensured I wasn’t left to the mercy of a hypo.

After lunch, there was time to wander the mountain peak. The clean, crisp air made each breath feel rejuvenating. Leaning against the wooden railing and looking out over jagged ridges, I let the serenity of the place sink in, grateful for the balance of adventure and stillness this journey offered.

Descending via the Cabrio cable car added another thrill, with its open deck providing unobstructed views of the lush valleys below. I paused to take photos and etch the landscape into memory, knowing this stunning moment would stay with me, long after the pulpy tang of Alpermagronen dissolved.

The Black Forest

The following day saw us venturing into Germany’s Black Forest. A coach took us through fairytale landscapes, and soon we reached the lakeside town of Titisee. The chocolate-box streets were lined with spotless paving stones, dazzling flowers and charming shops selling cuckoo clocks and handcrafted wares.

While the local cafés beckoned with Black Forest Gateau, I opted to hunt for a souvenir that would compliment the famous German delicacy. A wooden board etched with Schwarzwald motifs caught my attention and was promptly purchased, to remind me of the region’s culinary heritage. It would bring calm when attempting native recipes at home, and perhaps absorb the swearing when it all went wrong.

Strolling past stalls piled high with fresh berries, I absorbed the vibrant atmosphere before glimpsing the shimmering Lake Titisee, where ferries and festivities reflected the area’s charm.

Returning to the coach, tales of Marie Antoinette’s journey through the region added to my delight, bringing historical flavour to the scenic ride. The guide shared an amusing anecdote about a village memorial honouring a stag rather than the dictator it had defied, a reminder of the region’s empathy and humour.

Mist rolled in as we wound through the craggy terrain, lending a mystical air to the towering firs. I could almost imagine characters from Grimm’s fairy tales stepping out of the woods, adding an enchanting quality to the experience. However, Hansel and Gretel were most likely back in Titisee, tucking into another helping of Baumkuchen.

Once back on Geoffrey Chaucer, my ear pain was beginning to etch upon the trip’s enjoyment. In perhaps the strangest request ever received by reception, I gingerly requested a small dose of olive oil. A friend had previously suggested a tiny drop of the soothing property would perhaps ease the pain, and Riviera’s receptionist agreed.

I slept that night with oil in my ears. Although originally sceptical of the results, the morning dawn brought a revelation. I could hear again, and just in time for a cultural feast.

A day in France

As you may have guessed, I’m a big admirer of French history and culture. A venture across Frenchified soil had simmered my excitement since discovering Riviera’s itinerary.

Strasbourg welcomed us with its rich culinary and architectural aura. A guided walking tour took us through narrow streets lined with timbered houses and along the canals of La Petite France, a neighbourhood in Strasbourg's Old Town. At the Musée Historique, our guide suggested almond-raisin cake, offering both a treat and tales of local history.

As I passed between the vendors and browsing clientele, I could hear German dialogue while I observed French street and shop names nearby. It proved a beguiling mix for me, having learned German at school while currently wrestling with the basics of French as an adult learner.

The tour’s highlight was Flammekueche, a wood-fired flatbread adorned with crème fraiche and toppings, which revived me after a long walk and kept my diabetic number within the safe zone. The flavours were simple yet satisfying, blending perfectly with the region’s French elegance and rustic German charm.

Almost presenting a paradox of European society, the area felt peppered with classic British vehicles, most notably a plethora of Jaguar saloons. Previous locations had showcased a love affair with Land Rovers, most notably in Titisee, but as we moved with the Rhine, an affliction for S-types and the odd XJ-S made itself apparent. However, works of automotive art quickly fell into the shadow of a gothic icon.

Strasbourg Cathedral commanded attention with its intricate and outré spires, reminding me of the sternly intricate cloisters of Lincoln Cathedral back home. I craned my neck to take in its towering beauty, marvelling at the details in its façade and metalwork.

Inside, the blend of light and shadow added to a sense of timeless glory. As we wandered back through winding streets, our guide treated us to samples of local cheese, completing the culinary exploration with creamy, tangy flavours. I paused frequently to admire shop windows displaying fine wines, spices, and preserves, wishing I had more room in my suitcase.

Back to Germany

In Germany’s Rudesheim, famed for Riesling wines, I diverged from the crowds to explore quieter paths. Under leafy canopies reminiscent of Victorian parks, I stumbled upon the remains of the Hindenburg Bridge, a poignant relic of wartime history.

Hindenburg’s broken stone and twisted iron spoke of resilience and loss, a stark contrast to the bustling taverns I later encountered along the Drosselgasse. Folk music poured from hidden speakers, and locals sang to the beat, their joy somewhat infectious. The bandwagon stereotype that proclaims Germany as a clinical land of melancholy bitterness was nowhere to be found.

Though tempted to linger, I returned to the ship, savouring the mix of past and present that defined the town. The thought of enjoying a Riesling by the riverside caused a promise to myself: to return and explore further.

Our voyage continued through the Rhine Gorge, revealing castle-crowned cliffs and vineyards. The river winked in the morning light as we passed the legendary Lorelei Rock, where myth claims a siren once lured sailors to their doom.

Docking in Koblenz, I embarked on a solo exploration of cobbled squares, medieval structures, and sunlit courtyards. The Florinskirche - St Florin's Church - provided a peaceful sanctuary, while the Schangelbrunnen fountain offered lighthearted amusement as it playfully spat water at unsuspecting tourists. Enchanted by the city’s romantic charm, I promised myself a return visit, perhaps with a Guinness in hand from one of its cosy pubs.

Cologne marked our final destination, where its twin-spired cathedral dominated the skyline. Before exploring the landmark, I indulged my sweet tooth at the Lindt Chocolate Museum. The tour revealed the bean-to-packet process and offered tastings from a chocolate fountain, proving that Cologne’s reputation as a cultural and culinary hub was well-deserved.

Displays of vintage chocolate vending machines and ornate packaging designs highlighted the artistry behind the confectionery we so often take for granted, while a recreated chocolate shop transported visitors to an earlier era of indulgence.

Pressed for time, I sprinted to the Cathedral – a location I’d pledged to witness, come hell or high water. Though time prevented full exploration, the towering structure left a lasting impression, and I vowed to learn more about its history. Brass door knockers shaped like mythical creatures hinted at stories waiting to be uncovered, and the sheer scale of the building instilled a burning awe.

Gastronomy with Riviera

As the MS Geoffrey Chaucer prepared to depart, I reflected on the journey’s rich heritage of flavours and sights. From Alpine dishes atop Swiss peaks to the sweet indulgence of German chocolates, the cruise had seamlessly blended gastronomy and radiant culture.

Each meal, whether shared with new friends or enjoyed in solitude, carried the essence of the places we visited. The reverence for local ingredients and traditions shone through, transforming each forkful into decadent reels of storytelling.

When not eating on land, Riviera’s specialist chefs ensured that each meal aboard MS Geoffrey Chaucer felt like a gastronomic love affair with the Rhine heartland. Riviera took my health very seriously when it boiled down to carbohydrates and blood sugars, without causing a fuss or drawing attention.

On occasion, rich desserts could have caused a serious spike in glucose levels, yet servers were more than happy to switch heavy puddings for fresh fruit. Not that I didn’t get to try some of the finer sweet courses – they are highly recommended.

I arrived uncertain about solo travel as an anxious diabetic, but left with both newfound confidence, and an appreciation for the culinary and cultural treasures the Rhine had to offer.

The ship itself had become a sanctuary, filled with laughter, clinking glasses and shared moments with fellow guests over incredible food. As MS Geoffrey Chaucer slipped from view through my coach window, en route to the airport for a return flight to Edinburgh, I’d transitioned from apprehensive tourist to someone eager for another adventure on the water.

I felt notably reluctant to leave ship and crew behind, proving that while some require a sixth sense for cooking with passion, you don’t always require your second to enjoy the finer things with Riviera. I’ll be back, likely in search of a replacement chopping board, without fear of my diabetes. Vive la Riviera révolution!