There was no missing it.

Throughout the Wachau Valley, apricots were everywhere.

On the hillsides.
Along the bike paths.
In markets.
In cafés.
In little roadside stands and small-town shops.

It wasn’t just that they were present.

It was that they seemed… central.

Part of the identity of the place.

I later learned that apricots in this region—the Wachau—are actually protected.

Recognized.

Valued in a way you don’t typically associate with fruit.

But to be honest, I didn’t need to learn any of that to feel their importance.

I could see it.

Everywhere.

And I was completely taken by them.

I’ve always had a thing for apricots.

Not entirely sure why.

Maybe it’s the color.

That soft, almost golden orange.

Maybe it’s the texture.

That slightly fuzzy skin.

Maybe it’s the size.

Smaller than an apple.
More contained than a peach.

Just right.

Or maybe it’s the taste.

Sweet, but not overly so.

A little bit of tartness.

Juicy—but not in a way that overwhelms.

Whatever it is…

I’ve always loved them.

So when we arrived, by bike, in the small town of Dürnstein…

I knew exactly what I was going to do.

I went straight to a small shop.

And ordered an apricot ice cream cone.

Yes.

Apricot.

I had never had one before.

And honestly, I didn’t know what to expect.

But it was…

Fantastic.

Refreshing.

Smooth.

And unmistakably apricot.

I finished it…

Looked around for a moment…

And then went right back up to the counter.

This time:

Apricot strudel.

Also delicious.

At that point, I felt like I was just getting started.

So we made another stop.

Another small shop.

And this time, I went a different direction.

A heart-shaped apricot soap.

And…

Apricot hand cream.

At some level, it had become a bit of a mission.

But more than that, it was just fun.

Everywhere I turned, apricots.

Every form imaginable.

And I found myself completely embracing it.

Which got me thinking.

What is it about apricots?

Am I alone in this?

Because globally, they’re not dominant.

Other fruits are produced in far larger quantities.

More available. More visible.

And yet…

Here, in this stretch of Austria along the Danube…

They’re everything.

Shaping the landscape.

The food.

Even the experience itself.

And then I learned something else.

The apricots I was enjoying…

Aren’t really meant to travel.

Too delicate.

Too easily bruised.

Too tied to this place.

You can take home the soap.

The hand cream.

Maybe a jar of jam.

But not the apricot itself.

Not the way you experience it here.

And the more I thought about it…

The more that made sense.

You don’t import this experience.

You come to it.

And maybe that’s what made it so enjoyable.

I wasn’t thinking about production numbers.

Or nutritional value—although, as it turns out, they’re pretty good for you.

I was just enjoying it.

Some things you try to understand.

Others, you simply enjoy.

For me, that day in the Wachau Valley…

was about enjoying apricots.