Our bus rolled into Heidelberg at around ten in the morning. Fresh from a sumptuous breakfast at our Frankfurt hotel, we were energised, curious and ready for another round of European sightseeing. But something changed almost immediately.

As Heidelberg’s quiet lanes, old buildings and leafy surroundings welcomed us, it felt as if Germany had suddenly switched moods.

Frankfurt was about towers, banks, money and a life sprinting towards the future. Heidelberg was about books, a university, history and perhaps a little romance.

Our tour leader, Lady Martha, began narrating Heidelberg’s history and cultural importance as we approached the city. She also read out a long list of notable sportspersons and other achievers associated with the region. The list was so impressive that Heidelberg seemed to produce not only scholars, but sports champions as well. But for me, the city had a more personal attraction.

I had heard about Heidelberg for years from my friend, Prof Paras Nath Chaudhary, who worked with the South Asia Institute associated with Heidelberg University. I also had the privilege of meeting several German directors of the institute.

What struck me most was their genuine passion for Indian culture and history. So, this visit was not simply another item on a tourist itinerary. It felt like quietly ticking off an old dream. And now, that dream was unfolding before my eyes. For our travelling group, the change from Frankfurt to Heidelberg was quite dramatic.

Over the past few days, we had crossed three countries, photographed countless landmarks and even become familiar with the economics of European public toilets.

Yes, toilet charges had become part of our European financial education. Now, in Heidelberg, the balance sheet could be put aside for a while.

Heidelberg University, founded in 1386, has given the city an extraordinary intellectual legacy. For centuries, students, teachers, researchers, poets and curious visitors from around the world have walked these streets. The buildings are old. The lanes are old. The stones are very old. But student life remains wonderfully young.

In Heidelberg, people seem to carry books, bicycles and occasionally their hearts. Then came the Neckar. The river looked remarkably clean, calm and serene. Historic buildings lined both banks, while Heidelberg Castle rose majestically above the old town.

Red-stone buildings, ancient walls, the river flowing quietly below, the whole scene looked like something a European painter might have created after a particularly inspired breakfast.

Naturally, our cameras went into overdrive. One photograph. Then another. Then, inevitably: “Just one more!”

Heidelberg is one of those places where you don’t merely take photographs. You try to store the view somewhere beyond the camera.

Heidelberg Castle is not a perfectly preserved palace. Its ruins carry the scars of time, wars and weather. And perhaps that is precisely its charm. The castle is wounded, but not defeated.

Below it, the town has changed repeatedly. Generations have come and gone. Students have arrived, love stories have begun and ended, and the Neckar has simply continued flowing.

The castle remains. So does the view. Then there is the famous Old Bridge, linking the old city with the hills beyond the river. Standing there, even a hard-bitten travel writer is tempted to reach for the word ‘breathtaking’. But if every tourist destination is breathtaking, eventually the word itself needs medical attention. Sometimes the best response is simpler. Stand quietly. Look. And remember.

Heidelberg may be famous for its history, but it is not trapped in the past. Like many European cities, it is preparing for a warmer future. Streets, buildings, public spaces and green areas are being adapted to cope with rising temperatures and the challenges of climate change.

I found that contrast fascinating. On one side stands a university dating back to the 14th century. On the other are plans dealing with a 21st-century climate crisis.

The old stones seem to ask, “What happened here?” The climate planners are asking, “What happens next?” History and the future are standing almost side by side. Three cities. Three moods. Amsterdam gave us canals, bicycles and a relaxed rhythm.

Frankfurt gave us skyscrapers, finance and the unmistakable urgency of modern Germany. Heidelberg gave us history, scholarship, the Neckar—and a little seductive romance. And we tried to keep up with all three, armed with cameras and increasingly protesting legs.

By now, the most important question in sightseeing was no longer: “Which monument is next?” It was: “Where can we sit?” Our feet, by this stage, had acquired enough history to qualify for a museum. But that is the magic of travel.

We leave home expecting to see monuments. Instead, we return with stories. A guide’s voice. A funny remark on the bus. A meal shared with fellow travellers. An unexpected photograph. A little rain. A wrong turn. And a river view that no camera can quite reproduce.

There was another beautiful dimension to this morning. Today was Radhashtami, the birth anniversary of Radha, the beloved of Sri Krishna.

As our bus travelled through this beautiful European landscape, Geetamji added an unexpectedly spiritual touch to the journey. Her melodious voice filled the bus as she sang two beautiful bhajans. Soon, the rest of us joined in.

For a few moments, Heidelberg’s Neckar and the memory of Braj’s Radha seemed to meet somewhere inside our moving bus. “Radhey, Radhey” travelled through the group.

It was a lovely reminder that travel is not only about discovering new places. Sometimes, it is also about carrying it home with us and finding a little of it in distant lands.

We were now leaving Heidelberg and heading towards the Black Forest…