First thing this morning it looked as though we wouldn't be using the sun deck today. Rain pock-marked the already swollen river and the measure on the quay indicated the level had gone up about half a metre overnight. The sky was grey and rather forbidding. But by the time we'd finished our lavish breakfast (joined by more Americans who introduced us to the concept of the 'rehydration break', aka the chance to sample German beers, though not during breakfast itself, I hasten to add) it had cleared up. So we were able to set off on our first guided trip, kitted out with little radio receivers, earpieces dutifully in place, without too much concern over waterproofs. There was plenty of evidence of previous years' high water marks, including as recently as June 2013, with renovations still in operation, so we certainly couldn't complain about the odd shower.
Ingrid kept up a fluent commentary as she steered us around Passau's streets and main landmarks, aided by her red paddle bearing our group code 4C. The narrow cobbled alleyways soon filled up with a plethora of tourist groups and we couldn't help wondering about the locals' reaction. Ingrid wasn't a local herself but hailed originally from Sweden. She had a passion for the local architecture and we realised that overblown Baroque was set to become quite a theme. By contrast there was some pretty, bright Rococo work at the Bishop's Residence, where Mozart once played as a child prodigy, and this style also featured on the pulpit - ornate gold leaf over linden wood - in St Stephen's Cathedral. But the overall impression of the onion-domed building perched at the top of the town is counter-reformation Baroque ostentation - and quite a feat to have rebuilt it after a devastating fire in the 17th century in the space of 20 years.
The Cathedral's real claim to fame, though, is its massive organ, or rather five organs around the building which are mechanically linked and can be played simultaneously from the same console. Looking at the stunning array of pipes nestling among the arches and frescoes was one thing, but it had to be heard to be believed. Luckily a midday concert was included at the end of the tour, presented by resident organist Brigitte Fruth. For half an hour she brought the packed space to life, filling it with unbelievable subtleties. We were treated to the usual suspects, Pachelbel and Bach, along with a couple of more modern composers, but my favourite piece was Fruth's own arrangement of Melchior Franck's 'Intrada und Galliarda' which capitalised on this particular instrument's characteristics, picking out a recurring melody in different dynamics and style according to the resonance of the variously located blocks of sound and culminating in an irresistible concerted effort.
Ingrid kept up a fluent commentary as she steered us around Passau's streets and main landmarks, aided by her red paddle bearing our group code 4C. The narrow cobbled alleyways soon filled up with a plethora of tourist groups and we couldn't help wondering about the locals' reaction. Ingrid wasn't a local herself but hailed originally from Sweden. She had a passion for the local architecture and we realised that overblown Baroque was set to become quite a theme. By contrast there was some pretty, bright Rococo work at the Bishop's Residence, where Mozart once played as a child prodigy, and this style also featured on the pulpit - ornate gold leaf over linden wood - in St Stephen's Cathedral. But the overall impression of the onion-domed building perched at the top of the town is counter-reformation Baroque ostentation - and quite a feat to have rebuilt it after a devastating fire in the 17th century in the space of 20 years.
The Cathedral's real claim to fame, though, is its massive organ, or rather five organs around the building which are mechanically linked and can be played simultaneously from the same console. Looking at the stunning array of pipes nestling among the arches and frescoes was one thing, but it had to be heard to be believed. Luckily a midday concert was included at the end of the tour, presented by resident organist Brigitte Fruth. For half an hour she brought the packed space to life, filling it with unbelievable subtleties. We were treated to the usual suspects, Pachelbel and Bach, along with a couple of more modern composers, but my favourite piece was Fruth's own arrangement of Melchior Franck's 'Intrada und Galliarda' which capitalised on this particular instrument's characteristics, picking out a recurring melody in different dynamics and style according to the resonance of the variously located blocks of sound and culminating in an irresistible concerted effort.
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