Soul Sisters: Traveling the Sister Cities of Fort Worth

Between Budapest and Bandung, Fort Worth's nine Sister Cities are rife with culture, character, and connection with Cowtown.

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You’ve probably heard of Budapest and maybe Nîmes and Trier. But what about Guiyang and Bandung? Have you ever been to Mbabane?  Scattered across the planet, Fort Worth’s nine Sister Cities are filled with people who speak different languages, gaze on different landscapes, and practice different religions. We eat foods they’ve never tasted, and they play games we haven’t seen. But our similarities transcend these differences. We share a spirit of hope, a cross-cultural desire for peace and understanding — and we’re more alike than you might think. Ready to meet the family?

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Nimes Arena aerial view, France

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Nimes Arena aerial view, France

Nimes Arena aerial panoramic view. Nimes is a city in the Occitanie region of southern France

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Nimes, France.

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Nimes, France.

Nimes, France. Ancient aqueduct of Pont du Gard.

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Nimes city center, France

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Nimes city center, France

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Les jardins de la Fontaine, Nîmes, Gard, France

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Les jardins de la Fontaine, Nîmes, Gard, France

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Nîmes, Gard, Occitanie, France.

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Nîmes, Gard, Occitanie, France.

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Arènes de Nîmes

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Arènes de Nîmes

Nîmes, France

Violets bloom in window boxes as the sweet aroma of cherries, melons, and apricots floats up from the market. Welcome to Southern France, a sun-splashed fairy tale where medieval castles rub shoulders with olive groves and endless vineyards. Just a stone’s throw from the Mediterranean coast, the tree-shaded boulevards of Nîmes stretch past tiny cafes and towering Roman ruins. Red poppies, pink peonies, and purple wisteria go wild in the easy climate.

Nîmes’ mellow weather made it a choice destination for veterans of Julius Caesar’s army, who settled there to cultivate farmland and families once their fighting days were done. What remains of their civilization comprises some of the best-preserved Roman ruins anywhere, including Italy. Marble temples and stone fortifications dot the city. Its 2,000-year-old amphitheater is in such good condition that it hosts music concerts and bullfighting festivals even today. Bull meat is a delicacy in Nîmes and shows up in the classic dish gardiane de taureau, a hearty stew simmered for hours with onions, garlic, and red wine. While it wouldn’t be mistaken for Texas chili, it would no doubt find some fans in Fort Worth.

Waves of invasions and plagues buffeted the city in the post-Roman world. But Nîmes regained its footing at the dawn of the modern era, thanks to its quickly growing textile industry. Shepherds in nearby mountains had developed a new kind of woven material that was tough enough to wear while working in rugged environments. Factories in town produced the fabric by the ton, adding a vivid blue dye from India and shipping it around the globe. Soon the French material would be transformed into an American icon: blue jeans, a staple of Western wear and an integral part of the Fort Worth wardrobe. So, the next time you slip on a pair of Levi’s or that Texas tuxedo, remember where your denim came from: de Nîmes.

Reggio Emilia, Italy

Do you like Parmesan cheese on your pizza? You can thank Reggio Emilia. It’s nestled in a fruitful river valley that boasts the richest gastronomy in the entire country — and that’s saying a lot in Italy. Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese is just the beginning. Prosciutto di Parma and balsamic vinegar from Modena are coveted by the planet’s finest chefs, and we’ve all had a plate of spaghetti Bolognese. Cappelletti pasta, Lambrusco wine … the list goes on. You’ve just entered foodie heaven.

Lush pastures and fields envelop Reggio Emilia, a stone city located at the “lower knee” of the boot-shaped nation. Pigs munch on chestnuts, and dairy cows dine on shag carpets of grass. Like most farming regions, the people who live here are practical and down-to-earth. And like Fort Worth, Reggio Emilia is one of the friendliest places around. Proud yet welcoming, the Reggiani have a reputation for being genuinely friendly and sincere — and for really loving their city. Sound familiar?

Life’s a little slower in Reggio Emilia than in better-known Venice, Milan, and Florence (which are all about two hours away). And that’s just the way the locals like it: quaint, quiet, and off the beaten path. While they might not be as fashion-obsessed as big-city Italians, there’s no shortage of style in Reggio Emilia’s green valley. It’s home to Ferrari, Lamborghini, Ducati, and Maserati — plus four racetracks where the motor companies can show off their sweet machines. NASCAR fans would find plenty to love, and they better bring their cowboy boots: The region has a vibrant subculture of country-western music and dancing.

Bandung, Indonesia

Green hills encircle Bandung with infinite rows of leafy plants destined for Fort Worth’s favorite beverage: iced tea. Black tea plantations flourish here on tropical Java, the largest island out of 17,000 in the Indonesian archipelago. Like its next-door neighbor Bali, Java is speckled with active volcanoes and hot springs — an irresistible siren’s call for adventurer travelers. Bandung itself is located on top of an extinct volcano high above sea level, which has blessed the landscape with fertile soils and the best climate in the country: a pleasant 74 degrees Fahrenheit year-round.

Urban dwellers in nearby Jakarta escape to balmy Bandung on the weekends, as did the Dutch plantation owners who founded it. The Europeans designed the city to be a Paris-inspired resort town, complete with designer boutiques, fine restaurants, and art deco luxury hotels. Today, Indonesians have taken hold of this cultural legacy and transformed Bandung into a thriving creative hub with its own unique fashions and food. 

Art galleries and booksellers proliferate. Punk teens peruse indie record stores. Shoppers browse a giant collection of factory outlets and clothing stores, especially on Jeans Street — the island’s go-to destination for Nîmes’ native fabric. Denim vendors set themselves apart amidst a glut of competitors with huge storefront statues, which gives the road a bizarro Hollywood vibe. Nothing makes you want to buy a pair of jeans like a two-story Rambo aiming a rocket launcher at your face.

Street markets nearby sell hot martabak, a tasty fried pancake stuffed with egg, onions, and meat. Ripe strawberries and round honeydews fill the morning markets. And Bandung’s off-the-charts coffee culture delivers deliriously good cups of java, not a surprise here on the island of Java. Locals take their kopi black and sweet, or perhaps with some lemongrass or ginger. But the most popular drink here is the same as in Fort Worth: es teh, served with copious amounts of sugar and as often as possible.

Toluca, Mexico

Drive south from Fort Worth for 20 hours, and you’ll reach Toluca, our closest sister. Situated 30 miles west of Mexico City, the lively urban hub has a centuries-old center that’s lined with pretty arched walkways. Boutiques and cafes fill these graceful arcades, and fountains splash in nearby plazas. Sunshine spills through the colossal stained-glass murals at the Cosmovitral Botanical Garden, illuminating the flower-filled wonderland with cosmic colors.

World-class museums beckon in Toluca, just as they do in Fort Worth. The two cities also share the same size population, the same propensity for severe hailstorms, and the same spicy crumbles in our breakfast tacos: chorizo. Smoked and cured meats put Toluca on the map during the colonial era, and today it’s the chorizo capital of the country. Mexicans put their own spin on the Spanish chorizo, swapping out the expensive paprika from Budapest for hotter homegrown chiles. Chains of the red pork sausages hang in every market in Toluca next to emerald-green ones: chorizo verde. Made with tomatillos, charred green chiles, and cilantro, it’s the local specialty.

Chorizo makers find a ready supply of fresh pork from the surrounding farmland, along with beef and poultry. Like Bandung, the land here is especially fertile because of its volcanic soils. Snow-dolloped peaks dominate the city’s southern skyline; the Nevado de Toluca volcano is just 15 miles away. Sleeping for thousands of years now, it’s a hiker’s playground with wide-stretched views and two silky-blue lakes in its crater. Pre-Hispanic offerings found in the volcano testify to its sacred status for indigenous peoples. Standing on the cusp of the mile-wide caldera, you feel the same sense of awe that inspired the natives so long ago. 

The volcano appeals to other species, too. Monarch butterflies spend every winter on its slopes after their 3,000-mile migration from North America, which passes right through Fort Worth in the fall. Every monarch that flutters through your yard is on an epic voyage south to our Sister City, Toluca. If only they could bring back some chorizo.

Budapest, Hungary

Hot springs bubble up across the riverside city of Budapest, which sits on the world’s largest reserve of thermal waters. Humans have soaked in these natural Jacuzzis since ancient times, but it was the Romans who brought Budapest into being as a fortified military base. Its location on the Danube River was perfect for protecting the empire’s northern border, just like the fledgling army outpost of Fort Worth guarded America’s western frontier 2,000 years later.

Budapest and Fort Worth both began life as a camp for soldiers — but now they’re home to a very different type of resident: the bulbous, ear-wiggling hippopotamus. Both cities’ zoos feature hippos as a major attraction, and in Budapest the animals enjoy a special treat: a heated swimming pool. Fed by one of the city’s 123 thermal springs, the hippo hot tub is an in-demand hangout all winter long. 

Both cities also delight families with a children’s train. But in Budapest, the kids don’t just ride the train — they run it. The Children’s Railway was launched after World War II as a Soviet-inspired training ground for young communists. Although the U.S.S.R. is long gone, the retro locomotive still travels through the city’s hilly green woodlands. Kids between the ages of 10 to 14 perform all the duties (except driving), dispatching trains and even changing the switches. Tiny workers in blue uniforms sell tickets and salute the shiny red cars as they roll out of the station. This rail gang might be the only remnant of Soviet-style socialism that could be described as “cute.”

Soviets, Hapsburgs, Ottomans, Mongolians, Huns, Romans, Celts — each has left its mark on Budapest. So has a small red pepper from Mexico. Chile peppers arrived from the New World in the 16th century, and locals blended them into a new invention: paprika. Now a national Hungarian symbol, the scarlet-colored spice shows up regularly in Fort Worth as a go-to ingredient in dry rubs for Texas barbecue.

Nagaoka, Japan

Pink cherry blossoms drift down from the sky in Nagaoka every spring. Tulips bloom in rainbow colors. Summertime brings blue rose ice cream and cable car rides with the kids. Sake breweries and watermelon fields abound. This coastal city is just 90 minutes from Tokyo on the bullet train, but it’s worlds away from where it was when the Sister Cities program began.

President Eisenhower launched the Sister Cities initiative in the 1950s to promote peace between different cultures. Born 100 miles north of Fort Worth in Denison, Texas, he served as the Supreme Allied Commander in Europe during World War II — and he wanted to ensure such carnage never happened again.

Back on Dec. 7, 1941, Eisenhower was shaken awake from a nap with horrible news: Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor. The strike had been masterminded by Admiral Yamamoto, a native son of Nagaoka. As America plunged into a devastating war, military manufacturing swung into high gear. A massive aircraft production plant opened in Fort Worth and started churning out bombers, employing one in five residents. One-third of the workers were women.

Beginning at 10:30 p.m. on Aug. 1, 1945, American bombers obliterated 80% of Yamamoto’s hometown, including its national chemical lab. While the Allies had dropped leaflets warning residents about the pending air raids, almost 1,500 people were killed. 

Recovery took decades, but the city is no longer known for its rubble — it’s famous for its fireworks. At the annual Nagaoka Festival, pyrotechnics paint enormous waterfalls, volcanos, and chrysanthemums in the sky above the Shinano River. The blazing display stretches for more than a mile. Folk dancers parade to the riverbank, where hundreds of glowing lanterns float on the tranquil water. The festival was established in 1946 as a prayer for peace and healing for the battered city. It starts every year on Aug. 1 precisely at 10:30 p.m.

Eisenhower and Yamamoto might never have imagined that their countries, such ferocious enemies, would become the closest of allies in just a matter of decades. The animosity between them seemed too great to overcome, the differences too vast. But the relationship between Fort Worth and Nagaoka is proof that even when divisions seem insurmountable, peace can prevail. No matter what we eat or drink or wear, no matter what we believe, our Sister Cities remind us that we are all one human family. 

Mbabane, Eswatini

First came the cattle. Then the railroad arrived, followed by investments and a growth spurt. Fort Worth and Mbabane (em-buh-BAA-ney) share a similar coming-up story. But only one is surrounded by rhinos, lions, and elephants. Hippos aren’t in a zoo here — they’re wallowing in the watering holes and walking down the side of the road. Zebras and giraffes pop out of the bush like magical creatures, your childhood dreams come to life.  

If the nation of Eswatini doesn’t ring a bell, you’re not alone. The king changed its name from Swaziland (a colonial term) in 2018. Not many rulers can up and rename their country whenever they feel like it, but King Mswati III can — he’s one of the only absolute monarchs left in the world. His landlocked kingdom in southern Africa is smaller than New Jersey, but big in cultural capital. It’s renowned across the continent for its spectacular traditional festivals, living rituals that have hardly changed in the past two centuries (if you don’t count all the mobile phones).

Most famous is the king’s controversial courting ritual, the Umhlanga. Also called the Reed Dance or the Dance of 100,000 Virgins, it’s one of the largest events in all of Africa. Tens of thousands of unmarried women and girls converge on Mbabane to present themselves at the royal kraal (the Afrikaans word for corral). They dance in brightly colored sashes and short skirts, beaded necklaces, and feather headpieces. Rattles made of cocoons shake on their ankles as they stomp, sing, chant, and create a kaleidoscopic cacophony. Drumbeats and whistle squeals pierce the air. Warriors adorned with cow tails stand guard. With bush knives in hand, the bare-breasted maidens parade before the king, who customarily chooses a new wife from the throng.

But King Mswati III hasn’t indulged in this royal privilege since 2013; perhaps the 53-year-old monarch already has his hands full with 15 wives and 35 children. But that’s a far cry from his father’s brood, which included more than 600 offspring from 125 wives over the course of his eight-decade reign.

Trier, Germany

A mighty stone gate hulks over the heart of Trier: the Porta Nigra, an ominous Roman relic darkened by the patina of 2,000 years. It’s a stark contrast to the undeniable lebensfreude (zest for life) in Germany’s oldest city, a lightness of being that filters through the flowers and fruit stands in the marketplace. Locals clink glasses of crisp Riesling wine between bites of tender roasted pork. Half-timber buildings ooze medieval charm and water dances in Renaissance fountains. A youthful energy hums alongside the Moselle River as it ambles through the ancient town.

Like Nîmes in France, Trier is the grandest treasure trove of Roman ruins in its country. The glamorous metropolis served as the empire’s northern capital for 400 years and was second only to Rome. Military manufacturing fueled its economy; the city provided Roman troops with ballistae (missile launchers) made in large factories — the Lockheed Martins of their day. 

Trier’s sophisticated citizens soaked in elaborate public baths that covered an area larger than four football fields. Gladiators brawled with tigers in a gigantic amphitheater. You can walk through the baths, the arena, and the Porta Nigra gate today — and you can feel the Romans’ incredible influence radiating through history. 

But one relic evokes an even greater impact: Trier’s 10-story basilica. The church is the largest Roman building outside Rome, but its size pales in comparison to its story — a story that changed the world. It was commissioned by the Roman emperor Constantine, who became “the Great” in Trier. He ended the persecution of Christians, converted to the faith, and established Christianity as the official religion of the empire. And he did it all right here in Trier, one of the wellsprings of Christianity. The basilica stands testament to a movement that continues to shape people’s lives in Fort Worth and far beyond, a light that still burns long after the Roman Empire has crumbled into the darkness of memory.

With 5 million inhabitants, Guiyang is more populous than every American city except New York — but it’s just the 30th largest in China. Like Fort Worth, it’s known for being unpretentious and more affordable than its fancy-pants neighbors like Hong Kong. Thick forests of fir trees, pine, and bamboo surround the metropolis, a scenic summer destination for many Chinese. Pagodas perch on the city’s hilltops, and wild monkeys frolic in its parks. Home to 18 different ethnic groups, the region is a hotspot for festivals that celebrate everything from buffalo fighting to dragon boats.

Guiyang is also notorious for its numbingly spicy, strongly flavored cuisine. Adventurous eaters will find new dishes to try every day of the week. Start with Guiyang’s celebrated Changwang noodles: spicy egg noodles with pig intestines and coagulated pig’s blood. Most locals eat it for breakfast every morning.

Not your cup of tea? The Fort Worth palate might prefer bean hotpot, another Guiyang specialty that’s available in high-class restaurants and holes-in-the wall alike. It’s a full-bodied broth made with pinto beans, bacon, and onions that you cook right at the table, adding a variety of vegetables and seasonings as you so desire.

After supper, young people head to Drinking Street to play cards and sip small glasses of Moutai, a fermented sorghum spirit. Older folks meet in parks for a little outdoor recreation. They spin tops with whips and play mahjong, a game that’s 3,000 years old. If your top-whipping skills aren’t up to par, you can join in another popular Guiyang pastime: square dancing. 

Guiyang, China