Suitcases & Coffee | Senior Travel Tips for Europe

One of the joys of Christmas market cruises is tasting your way through every port. Each market has its own character: glühwein that warms your hands, pastries that leave sugar on your scarf, and sausages sizzling in the cold air. Add Mom into the mix, and food quickly became less about culinary exploration and more about survival tactics with a side of comedy.

Glühwein was non-negotiable. Mom insisted on sampling it in every city, often declaring her review after a single sip. Vienna’s was “too sweet,” Nuremberg’s “just right,” Cologne's “best mug.” By the second market stall of the trip, I realized our unofficial mission was less about sightseeing and more about finding “the perfect mug.” And yes, each mug also came home with us.

The sausages were another adventure. Regensburg's Historische Wurstkuchl was a highlight, their sausages with that sharp mustard could win over anyone, even Mom (who, normally "hates" mustard). Nuremberg’s tiny bratwursts were devoured three at a time.  I was quickly becoming a sausage connoisseur, while Mom was becoming an expert at locating Italian restaurants in every town along the river.

Then there was Strasbourg, where I made the mistake of thinking we could enjoy a “nice” French dinner. From the moment we sat down, I knew we were in trouble. Instead of hanging her puffer coat on the provided rack, Mom spread it out across the booth like it needed its own seat reservation. She sighed at the menu, complained there was “nothing normal” on it, and asked the waiter (loudly) if they had Diet Coke with extra ice. The bread basket arrived, and she immediately asked for something to dip it in. I think the waiter’s eye twitch said it all.

The grand finale came as we were leaving. Her oversized purse swung wide and promptly knocked over someone’s drink. To her credit, she muttered “sorry” and kept moving, while I stood frozen, apologizing in three different languages. That was the night I officially retired from fine dining with Mom in Europe.

From then on, I stuck to the basics: cozy cafés, Christmas market stalls, and anywhere that would give her a plate of Italian. She was happy, I was less stressed, and the world was spared more airborne purses.

Of course, there were moments of pure delight too. Sharing strudel in a tiny café in Vienna, sipping Glühwein while people-watching in Prague, or buying chimney cakes warm from the oven and tearing off pieces as we wandered the streets of Budapest. Those little food pauses became our best memories, even if they came with a side of commentary about ice availability or the “proper” size of a soda glass.

Travel teaches flexibility, but traveling with Mom taught me a very specific lesson: a successful meal is less about Michelin stars and more about whether the bread comes with butter.

💡 Tip from Mom’s Purse

Get your ships Dock Location Card as you leave for each port, a taxi can drop you off near the ships dock when Mom needs her nap.