Czech it out

Prague was one of our most anticipated destinations from the first inkling of this trip, and throughout our Central/Eastern Europe travels it was a standard question among fellow travelers: "Have you been to Prague yet? We loved Prague!" Our guidebook also sprinkles references to Prague throughout, and in fact does so in relation to some of our favorite spots from this trip: "If Krakow is the 'next Prague,' then Ljubljana is the next 'next Prague.'"

Our anticipation was only heightened by the fact that it was deemed our last Eastern Europe destination well in advance (Brian intelligently got tickets from Prague to France wayyyy ahead of time, since August is ultra-peak season for Europe), and because our good friend Len was meeting us there for a whirlwind jaunt.

We had time for one other Czech destination, and Brno was on our list, but we only vaguely knew why -- someone some time back had recommended it, someone we trusted, someone I'm sure we love -- but darned if we could remember who it was or what had been said about Brno. So, after soliciting suggestions from fellow travelers, some web-sleuthing, and some analysis of train schedules, we crossed Brno off the list and made our way to Olomouc (pronounced Olomootz) in Moravia, southeast of Prague. Olomouc has been called "the antidote to trendy, crowded Prague" and the country's (if not Central Europe's) most underrated city.


Like some of the other smallish towns we'd visited, such as Eger, Hungary, Olomouc had a local feel rather than a touristy atmosphere, but it also had sights which were well out of proportion to the town's size, such as the Czech Republic's other astronomical clock (after the one in Prague). The clock originally dates from the 15th century, but was reconstructed basically every century since then, and entirely so after WWII -- and therefore under the Communist regime, so it now features Social Realist-style figures (blacksmiths, peasants, clerks) parading around in circles for 5 minutes, and a golden rooster crowing at the end. OK, I'll admit the look of the clock is actually far grander than its show.



The town hall, which holds the clock, was gorgeous at dusk (first Olomouc pic above), there are several beautiful town squares, a wonderful Plague column (aka Holy Trinity column), said to be the largest anywhere, and lots of fountains.

You can walk from one side of town to the other in about 15 minutes, but to get to and from the train station, there is a super-easy, cheap tram.

The highlight of the town for Brian was a gorgeous, modern fitness center (quelle surprise! suppos). I really wanted my highlight to be the famous Olomouc stinky cheese, which supposedly gets its stink from being aged under hunks of rotting meat -- the Czech Republic even had get special permission from the European Union to be allowed to continue this less-than-hygenic-sounding way of production. Alas, as much as a cheese-lover that I am, I couldn't quite bring myself to like it.





On our way to Prague, we made a slight detour to the Sedlec Ossuary, a chapel with approximately 50,000 human skeletons artistically arranged to form decorations and furnishings, most notably the chandelier, which supposedly has at least one of each human bone. It's not as creepy as it sounds...but that might not be saying much.























And so, on to Prague, where we met up with our friend Len and enjoyed 2 days of fab sightseeing, a rather tepid "Mozart's finest arias" concert (I didn't think you could do opera without stringed instruments, but I guess I was wrong...), lots of good food (and beer and coffee), and lots of laughter.




Prague's sights do justify its reputation as a fabulous European destination, and we craned our necks at the superb architecture as we wandered the streets around the Charles Bridge, Old Town Square, Prague Castle, St. Vitus Cathedral, and Wenceslas Square. The Jewish quarter of Prague is truly evocative, even after Budapest, Krakow and Warsaw. The astronomical clock was gorgeous, and entertaining with a skeleton (Death) ringing the bell, the apostles parading, and figures representing vanity, greed, and hedonism observing.











The crazy building on the right is "Dancing House," designed by Frank Gehry, also known as "Fred & Ginger" (that's Fred on the right with tousled hair, and Ginger's wispy dress on the left).













We tried absinthe, the old-fashioned ritualistic way: small glass of bright-green absinthe under the spout of a table-top fountain, with silver absinthe spoons holding sugar cubes perched on top of the glass. The ice water droplets dissolve the sugar cube as it drips into the absinthe, which then turns cloudy the way ouzo or Pernod does. Hallucinations start about eight minutes later...just kidding!...it's now believed that absinthe is no more psychoactive than other alcohol and ill behavior associated with it was only alcoholism in disguise.





For my final Central/Eastern European image, I liked this mural of bulldozers forever chasing soviet tanks around a mobius strip. It's probably too much to hope that a region with such a fractured history will see permanent peace...but let's share that hope anyway.