Karlstejn and Kutna Hora

With the wedding, celebration, brunch, and birthday dinner in our past, it was time for a couple of day trips outside the city. The first was to Karlstejn, which boasts a 14th century castle. The train ride over and walk through the village to the castle were beautiful. The castle itself is nice, and you can admire it for free from the outside; you can even walk on some of the castle walls. Years ago, J. apparently drunkenly urinated from one. His brother, this time, opted to “pay the 10 korona [for the official WC], like a citizen.” They never went on the guided tour, so they didn't know about the very sanitary medieval outhouse hanging from the castle walls. I opted for the guided tour of the castle (there’s no other way to see the inside; saves them the money of hiring guards, if it’s just one person taking everyone from room to room). It was fine, but you certainly would get your day trip’s worth without it. Our tour guide told us about Charles IV, of the Luxembourg Dynasty, who gained his substantial amount of land by marriage—four marriages, actually—rather than conquest.

The following day’s trip was to Kutna Hora. Nina took a carload—Jameson’s parents, aunt, and family friend—and the rest of us met Jameson at the main train station. As with Karlstejn, we bought a group ticket (which is literally a single ticket with the number of passengers printed on it), which offers a significant discount. The meeting was chaotic—people kept popping into Burger King for another coffee, or outside for a cigarette break—and J. was noticeably harried by the challenge of herding the dozen of us (not including him). By the time we got to the platform, just in time for the train, he didn’t get a chance to organize us to storm the coupés as soon as we came on board. Those were actually air conditioned; the rest of the train was not, and it was a hot, hour-long ride.

Not too far from the train station was the Bone Church, or ossuary. If you’re wondering what that means, see the pictures below. Be less creeped out by the knowledge that the bones were already bones; they were the bones of plague dead and war dead, bleached for the purposes of decorating the church.

That day was a scorcher, and there wasn’t a lot of shade to be had in the streets of Kutna Hora. I didn’t realize that most of the city—the old city, which is a UNESCO site—was a ways from the train station and ossuary. When I asked Nina, the day before, what was in Kutna Hora besides the church, she mentioned a cathedral and “the best garlic soup ever.” We were to go out for soup after the church. The train crowd got to the church first, and headed for soup by foot; just as we were leaving, the car crowd arrived, and would meet us at the soup place after exploring the church.

Did I mention that it was scavenger hunt wedding week? Neither Nina nor Jameson remembered exactly where they’d found this soup. Jameson initially took us the wrong, scorching way, back toward the train station. We were all already hungry and exhausted by the time we turned around and headed toward the old city in search of this soup. We walked for miles. I dubbed it the death march for garlic soup.

A.: This seriously better be the best garlic soup ever. Emily: It better be covered in goldleaf, or something. A.: Perhaps it will be infused with the poop of some exotic animal. David: It better be gluten-free. A.: And vegan. Maria: Or at least vegetarian. A.: I suppose I’ll settle for vegetarian. Onward. On we marched, in search of garlic soup. We finally got to the old city, where we circled every street, in search of this garlic soup. I lost enough weight just on that march that, afterward, my waist was no longer sufficient to hold up the pants that fit me just fine that morning. Eventually—don’t ask me how, I was in zombie mode at that point, just walking and walking without realizing what was happening—we found a nice garden restaurant. Here's a nice picture of the view from the tables, with J.'s brother enjoying the surroundings and libations. We did not find the garlic soup, but at that point, all any of us wanted to do was sit down and eat, in that order. After (a very late) lunch, those of us who cared enough went on the the cathedral, which we could see from just outside the restaurant. The view became more beautiful as we approached, and from there, we could enjoy views of the valley and vineyard below. Inside the cathedral was pretty cool, too. Just as we were leaving the cathedral, J.'s brother, Matthew, came up from the restaurant to see it. After he went in, Nina and co. opted to rejoin the rest of the crowd back at the restaurant, and asked if I would wait for Matthew and let him know where everyone had gone. Not a problem. My legs, feet hurt so much at this point that I was happy to sit in place. But nearly twenty minutes later, Matthew had not emerged. I popped back into the cathedral, didn't see him. He must have left a different way and not seen me there. I started to head back to the restaurant when I realized I had no idea how to get there. I'd followed Nina without really paying attention, and now I didn't know which of these cobblestone streets to take. They all looked the same, but the one I thought I should take, didn't look at all familiar. How was this happening? How, the day before my flight back, was I still getting lost? Matthew had the single ticket. I suppose if I didn't find them, I could take out more cash and get another one. But would I find the train station on my own? Probably. But I wanted to say goodbye to Nina. They wouldn't leave without me, right? Or would they? If they'd gone back up to find me at this point, they would have come up a different path and missed me altogether. F*. So there I was, again, walking down a cobblestoned street and focusing all my mental energy into staunching the meltdown that I could feel coming on, when I heard running behind me. Matthew caught up with me--he'd been walking around in the valley below. He didn't know I was waiting for him, but saw me walking when he came back up, and was able to catch up. Which is great, because as he directed us to the restaurant, I realized I just would not have found it on my own. Meltdown averted, for the umpteenth time that in a week. Reunited, we said goodbye to the group leaving in the car--including Nina--and heading back toward the train station. And so we successfully scavenger hunted ourselves through an amazing week.