Mnichovo Hradiště Chateau Diary

March 18, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

I had taken this train many times before, usually to Turnov, which was one stop further than today’s destination – Mnichovo Hradiště. The last time I had taken this route, the train had been furnished with new, comfortable seats, though the exterior had appeared dilapidated. This time, the seats were the usual ugly, red, vinyl kind divided into compartments that looked dirty. After riding the pleasant Viamont train to Bečov nad Teplou, I guess I had become a bit spoiled concerning train travel.

The trip took about an hour and 45 minutes, and it took another 15 minutes to walk through the pleasant town to get to the chateau. I remembered the chateau’s exterior from my visit here about 10 years ago, but it looked as if the walls had seen a few fresh coats of paint since my first time here. There were three parts to the tour – the Empire style theatre for about 50 or 60 spectators, the interior rooms with mostly 18^th century furnishings and the lapidarium where 25 statues were kept in the church and chapel of a former convent.

The guide and I started with the tour of the theatre. On the way there, we stopped in a hallway where I saw large portraits and Baroque bureaus. A huge painting traced the genealogy of the Waldstein family, the clan who had owned the chateau for generations. I picked out Vilém Slavata from Chlum and Košumberk in a long, red robe and big, red cap in one portrait. I had visited enough chateaus to know that this nobleman and writer had been thrown out a window of Prague Castle during one of Prague’s defenestrations. Thankfully, he had fallen on a heap of manure. Passing the Hunting Hallway, I glanced at black-and- white graphics of various animals and noticed a depiction of a deer with one antler. Then we came to a machine that made the sound of wind. By turning a lever, the round, wooden contraption with a white sheet over it moved to produce the sound.

Then we entered the Empire style theatre. I took a seat on a bench that resembled the original seating. While the theatre was first mentioned in archival documents during 1798, it was renovated and given an Empire style appearance in the early 1800s on the occasion of the Holy Alliance negotiations, when Austrian Emperor Franz I, Russian Tsar Nicholas I and Prussian Crown Prince Frederick William discussed how to handle the revolts taking place throughout their lands, during 1833. The first play performed here was Carlo Osvaldo Goldoni’s The Servant of Two Masters, performed in German and Czech by actors who came from Prague. Three theatre groups from Prague’s Theatre of the Estates gave performances here for three nights. In the second half of the 19^th century, the theatre fell into disrepair and was used as a furniture warehouse. It was not open for the public until 1999. The curtain was restored in 2001.

I was enthralled by the romantic landscape backdrop that was currently on display. It gave me a soothing, calm feeling. Some of the 11 plain, flat backdrops that the theatre possessed included a street view, a castle, a hall with columns and Prague Castle with the Lesser Quarter and Charles Bridge. The stage was 32 feet wide, 28 and a half feet deep and four feet high while the proscenium opening was 22 feet wide and 13 and three-fourths feet high. The theatre had one curtain and 54 wings, which were set at an angle to the stage instead of being placed parallel to it, as was the usual custom. The theatre did not use a mechanized wing system or wing trolley, either, but rather employed a groove system that utilizes upper and lower grooves to assure that the wings will stay upright. Also, the wings in this theatre were double-sided and therefore could be reversed easily. On the back wall behind the balcony a large genealogy painting of the Waldstein family, complete with cherubs, caught my attention. It celebrated the family’s pride of its heritage. The theatre is still on occasions used today.

The chateau had an intriguing history. It was built in the 17^th century, during Renaissance times. The owner Václav Budovce of Budov joined forces with other nobles in a revolt against the emperor and was executed on Old Town Square in Prague during June of 1621. In 1623 the chateau was confiscated and subsequently bought by Albrecht Eusebius of Waldstein. In 1675 Arnošt Josef of Waldstein purchased it and kept it until the middle of the 20^th century. The chateau was given a Baroque appearance in the early 1700s, although some rooms were given a Rococo makeover around 1750.

In a hallway full of portraits, I spotted the pointed beard of Albrecht of Waldstein, the one who had bought the chateau in 1623. A large painting explained the genealogy of Emanuel Arnošt of Waldstein. The guide said that when the researcher could not find all the ancestors of the Waldsteins, he made them up. The large, grey, puffy wig that Maximilian of Waldstein was wearing caught my attention, too. I also noticed that Count Vincenc had only one eye open. There was also a room to the side, roped off. Leaning over the rope, I glimpsed a tiny chapel with a Baroque altar of Saint John of Nepomuk and a Madonna with child. The altar was flanked by black Corinthian columns with golden tops.

Next came the Countess’ Antechamber. Someone had installed a 20^th century telephone and placed it on a Baroque bureau, a sight which vividly contrasted the two eras, so far apart in technology and time. A still life painting adorned one wall, and a laundry basket with an exquisite floral pattern and muted yellow background sat on the floor. The stunning green, blue and brown chandelier symbolized the four seasons. I noticed that grapes stood for fall.

The oldest painting in the chateau, showing an old lecherous man and a young woman whom I suppose was very naive, hung on a wall of the Countess’ Bedroom. I noticed how both figures had baby pink skin. Why a countess would want such a painting in her bedroom is beyond me. In the visitors’ book, a thick, red book on an ancient desk, I could read the names of nobility such as Schwarzenberg and Lobkowicz.

The Italian Salon enthralled me with its stunning mural spanning three walls. The painter had never visited the Italian town presented; rather, he had painted it from an etching. From the embankment of the town pictured, one could see Naples and Venice in the distance. Two men and a woman were talking in one section, nobles had gathered in another, and in yet another part two men manned the oars of a small boat.

The Study, which later became known as the Music Salon, featured a piano with the white and black keys reversed. I had never seen a piano with this unique trait. The Baroque white tile fireplace was decorated with two sea monsters that were supposed to be dolphins, as they slivered through the water with their heads pointed down. Small portraits also adorned the Music Salon. One showed Habsburg Empress Maria Theresa dressed in black, mourning the death of her husband.

The small picture gallery was roped off, which disappointed me. I wanted to study each painting in minute detail, but only was afforded a side view of the three walls totally covered in art. I noticed a woman reading while holding a skull and other paintings boasting hunting themes.

Next came the Hunting Salon. The three walls were covered in a mural painted in shades of dark green and featuring a forest, dogs and hunters. I noticed that a backgammon game consisted of pieces with faces carved on them. The ceiling fresco was devoted to Diana, goddess of the hunt. She held an arrow; one of her plump breasts was bare. The room also boasted a secret door.

The biggest room in the chateau was the Dancing Salon or Reception Salon, Rococo in style. A mirror sat flat on a round table that looked like a three-tier table for cakes wheeled around in luxurious restaurants. Porcelain figures decorated the three tiers while murals decorated two walls. I spotted this very chateau in the background of one part of the mural. Men clad in red with dogs were seen in a forest as a woman stood in the doorway, something having caught her sudden attention.

The Ladies Salon featured murals on four walls. They showed a countess posing in different professions. She was portrayed as a dancer, a flower-seller, a hunter, a fisherwoman and a traveler, among others. In the depiction of the countess as a flower-seller, I took note of the English park in the background and the flowers that decorated her hat. I was enamored by the backs of the chairs on which landscapes had been painted. The floral cushions were exquisite as well.

The most beautiful room in the chateau, in my opinion, was the Delft Dining Room that is immersed in blue-and-white Delft Faience porcelain from the 17^th to 19^th century, all original and handmade. I noticed some geometrically shaped vases and admired the wooden compartment ceiling, too. The Waldstein gold with blue coat-of-arms decorated the center of the Renaissance ceiling. I noticed some plates on a wall featuring windmills while a tray depicted a park with a fountain and statue.

The Oriental Salon was full of Japanese and Chinese porcelain. I admired the orange and blue swirls of one Chinese plate hanging on a wall. The table and chairs were made of bamboo. Four vases represented the four seasons. A Japanese painted partition also adorned the room.

The table in the Meissen Dining Room was set for breakfast with its blue-and-white porcelain taking center stage. Yet what astounded me about Meissen craftsmanship were the chandeliers. Hailing from the beginning of the 19^th century, this particular chandelier featured floral decoration colored green, pink, yellow and orange.

Although the library was composed of three rooms, a gate with bars prevented visitors from entering. This was the library where Giacomo Casanova had served as librarian during the 18^th century, the guide reminded our group. His letters and manuscripts made up a significant part of the chateau archives, as did material from the Thirty Years’ War. I wished I could see more of the 22,000 volumes inside the gate as the shelves were decked with fiction as well as specialized literature, such as legal and historical works. Many books focused on alchemy, too. They were written in a variety of languages, including German, Latin, Czech, Italian and Hebrew. Two big globes stood in the foreground while a smaller globe and telescope could be seen in the background of the closest room.

Walking through a hallway before descending the stairs, I spotted a large portrait of an armor-clad Albrecht of Waldstein on a gray, spotted horse. Then it was time to visit the lapidarium.

The church and chapel of the former Capuchin convent appeared to be plain, nondescript. The exterior was even dilapidated. What was inside, though, proved absolutely stunning and breathtaking. As we first entered the Church of the Three Kings that joined the Chapel of Saint Anne, I saw about six small statues in a dark, small space. This will be disappointing, I remember thinking to myself. Then we turned the corner, and the room came alive with 25 statues of Baroque, Rococo and Empire style twisting and turning, dynamic and vibrant, most made of sandstone.

Home to these statues since 1966, the lapidarium featured monuments that had been deteriorating in the outdoors. Our group stood in front of the headstone of Alburtus de Waldstein, the name engraved prominently on one wall in what looked like marble. Then I walked through the room, my head spinning from all the dynamic and expressive movement flowing from the statues. I inspected the altar of the Saint Anne Chapel and noticed that Saint Anne had a child on her lap as they were reading, cherubs fluttering above. Next to them a figure seemed to be holding a painting.

Then I took in the statues. In a sandstone work hailing from the third quarter of the 18^th century, the Virgin Mary had her hands clasped to her breast. A Saint John of Nepomuk portrayal by Josef Jelínek the Elder, dating from the second quarter of the 18^th century and made of polychrome wood, featured that saint as a sort of visionary, peering into the distance, determined and confident. I noticed the dynamic folds in his white drapery. It looked as if they were fluttering in the wind. Another statue, named the Angel with the Attribute of Christ’s Suffering, had been erected in the early 1720s out of sandstone. I was stunned by the angel’s huge wings as the angel seemed to be moving toward the viewer, about to trample him or her. I also noticed the angel’s crushed nose and wished the statues were in better condition. If I was a millionaire, I would donate money to preserving Czech chateaus and castles, so that fascinating statues such as these could be restored.

The Lion and Putto, by master Ignatius Francis Platzer, was made of sandstone and hailed from the 1750s or 1760s. Putto, clutching a shield, was riding on an enormous lion. Perhaps the best known statue in the collection was Matthias Bernard Braun’s Perseus, a sandstone work from the early 1730s. Perseus appeared calm, not at all tormented, and I took note of his fluttering drapery and twisting body. Then I walked over to Saint John of Nepomuk with Two Angels by Karle Josef Hiernle, a sandstone piece from 1727. John of Nepomuk was flanked by two angels. One angel lightly touched the sleeve of John of Nepomuk’s garment. An angel held a finger to his lips, while the other pointed toward Heaven. Cupid heads decorated the bottom of the sculpture. John of Nepomuk ‘s head was leaning to the right, his hands were clasped and his eyes closed as if he were meditating.

After thoroughly enjoying my inspection of the statues, I went to lunch, where I ate my favorite chicken with peaches and cheese. Soon afterwards, I took a bus from the main square directly to Prague. Once again, I was fascinated by everything that I had seen in the chateau, and I needed time to process all the information and all the beauty that had surrounded me.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Kačina Chateau Diary

March 13, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

My friend and I went to the chateau by car, driving a little over an hour to the sprawling white-columned, two-floor chateau of Kačina, sporting an elegant tympanum on its main façade. I would visit again, in 2020, also by car.

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The huge chateau – the biggest 19^th century Empire style chateau in the Czech lands – boasts not only representative rooms in 19^th century Empire, Biedermeier and Classicist styles but also a 19^th century library, theatre and pharmacy plus an agricultural museum. An unfinished chapel is on the vast grounds as well. The chateau was built from 1802 to 1822.

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The balanced Empire style hails from the early 19^th century when symbols and decorations were influenced by ancient Greece and Rome. Biedermeier style, from 1815-1845, refers to furniture that is simple yet elegant with very little decoration. During this period ebony, cherry, ash and oak woods were often used. The Classicist trend can be defined as symmetrical, proportional and geometrical, taking its name from the style utilized in Classical antiquity and that of ancient Rome. Architecture of this style is very well-organized with columns, pilasters, lintels, hemispheric domes and niches.

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I was lucky that I had a guide who was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable about the place. When I came back in 2020, I had another terrific guide. In fact, I had always had the best guides at this chateau: they were enthusiastic and animated, not merely uttering words they had memorized from a text. Their zeal was contagious. They were exactly the kind of guides I wished I had had on every tour I had taken. The details of each room just spewed spontaneously from this tour guide’s mouth. She even took me to parts of the chateau that were usually off-limits to tourists.

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First, we hit the representative rooms. The ground floor consisted of the spaces used for social occasions and guest rooms while the first floor, which cannot be visited, had been made into a family residence.

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The first room we walked into took my breath away. This hallway with a roundel or circular window that is 16 meters high was so light and airy yet elegant that it reminded me a bit of the Pantheon in Rome. I remembered sitting across from the Pantheon at a restaurant for my fortieth birthday dinner, an experience I shared with my parents. That was one of my most treasured travel-related memories. We continued into a hallway with some hunting trophies and black-and-white British lithographs sporting hunting and horse-jumping themes.

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The first three rooms, formerly guest rooms, gave background information about the chateau and explained the history of the Chotek family, who had chosen this chateau as their summer residence during the 19^th century. Models of chateaus adorned each room, such as the blood red model of Veltrusy, destroyed by the 2002 floods, the chateau where the Choteks had once had their family residence. In a portrait Jan Rudolf Chotek, the founder of Kačina, looked as if he was harboring a secret he would never reveal.

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First, you need some background about the Chotek family. Veltrusy Chateau was their family residence from 1716 to the 20^th century. Jan Karel served the emperor as an armorer, and his youngest son Rudolf worked as the highest chancellor in the Czech lands. Because he did not have a son, his nephew Jan Rudolf took over in the 18^th century. Jan Rudolf was a man of many achievements. He built the magnificent park in Veltrusy and Kačina chateau in the 19^th century. He was responsible for the construction of many embankments and parks throughout the Czech lands.

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His youngest son Karel spent 17 years as the highest Czech burgrave and built the highway between Karlovy Vary and Mariánské Lážne. He even learned Czech from legendary historian František Palacký. He also established a residence at Velké Březno chateau, built from 1842-1854, in northern Bohemia – a charming building that looks like a hunting lodge or villa. I fondly recalled my trip to Velké Březno, where I had looked out the window at the park, suddenly feeling free of stress as if I had been cleansed of my worries. Ferdinand Maria Chotek, the fourth son of Jan Rudolf, was the Olomouc archbishop for four years. Žofie Chotková married František Ferdinand d’ Este, both of whom were assassinated in 1914.

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The last male Chotek was Karel, who along with his wife Lívie became German citizens after World War II and emigrated to Germany. During the war the chateau was sold to the Germans, and the HitlerJugend resided there. The chateau was nationalized after the war according to the Beneš decrees, which gave property owned by Germans during the war to the state. In 1950 the chateau belonged to the Ministry of Agriculture, and it became an agricultural museum. Now the chateau looks as it did when Jan Rudolf lived here. The coat-of-arms for the Chotek family shows a half wheel, a gold bear in a blue field and a black imperial eagle on gold.

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The ladies’ wing was first, then the men’s wing. The Ladies’ Study boasted pink and grey decor with white ornamentation. Family portraits adorned the walls as did pictures of three summerhouses that once graced the park, founded as far back as 1789 and now composed of 20 hectares with 61 kinds of trees and 20 kinds of bushes. An oil painting depicted knights readying for a tournament on Chotek property. I gazed at a square, gold clock in a gold frame, positioned high on a wall. I was drawn to the geometric symmetry of the square design.

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Next was the Pink Salon. The original chandelier was second Rococo in style, gilded with gold and dominated by Czech crystal. An Empire style small black table with gold legs and a circular table with the same decoration got my attention. Pink and white porcelain dominated a circular table in the middle of the room. Corinthian columns were painted on the walls.

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The Ladies’ Bedroom included some magnificent intarsia furniture. A picture with cupids was carved into a wooden bedframe. I immediately took to the Empire style black-and-purple closets for accessories in the Ladies Changing Room. A light pink chair and couch complemented a Venetian mirror decorated with black and pink. The purple, pink and black colors went together superbly, I mused.

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The Small Dining Room, still used for concerts, included an Empire style table and a Biedermeier side table plus a gold chandelier. The Dance Hall was 22 meters long, 12 meters wide and 16 meters high with fantastic roundels. A crystal chandelier captivated me. The brown parquets on the floor sported circular and diamond shapes. For a moment we stood on the terrace and took in the vastness of the park land around us.

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The Men’s Salon had a Baroque pool table, but it was the Renaissance brown tiled stove that entranced me. The unique feature of the room was the oak leaf motif. I recalled that oak was often utilized in the Biedermeier style. Wooden circles with oak leaf motifs decorated the ceiling and the tops of the walls. Frames were also covered in wooden oak leaf ornamentation. The couch and chairs were Second Rococo in style. I noticed that the armchairs where the Choteks sat when playing cards were very low. I wondered what sort of conversations had taken place there while the Choteks had played cards. What had they talked about? What were their interests and worries? What events had brought them joy? Vienna porcelain and Czech glass also lit up the room.

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The white stove in the Music Room had white décor and hailed from the Second Rococo period. I also noticed a Baroque bureau and two big portraits of Jan Rudolf Chotek and his youngest son Karel, both wearing prestigious golden medals around their necks. Jan Rudolf was holding a plan of Kačina in one hand while Prague dominated the background of Karel’s portrait.

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The furniture in the Men’s Study or Smoking Room was captivating as well. The green couch and chairs were Empire style as was the chandelier. The desk hailed from the Biedermeier period. I notice a small statue of Empress Elizabeth, fondly called Sissy, on a desk top. I thought about how she had loathed the strict regimen of royal life and how she danced to the beat of her own drum. She had become a symbol of individual identity during her 44-year reign as the longest reigning Austrian empress. She had been so independent, traveling around the world. And she had had to deal with so many tragedies. A large portrait of her husband, Austro-Hungarian Emperor Frantisek Josef I, also hung here – in the painting he was a young man with many medals on his uniform. The young man in that painting would become the most respected and most beloved member of the Habsburg dynasty, ruling the Austrian Empire and then Austro-Hungarian Empire for 68 years, the third longest reign in the history of Europe.

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On another wall was a huge brown map of the Chotek property as of 1734. The guide pointed out that the fields were numbered. There was also a secret door to the south colonnade, but we went downstairs instead to see the former bathroom, which was a large hole in the dilapidated floor. The person taking the bath used to sit on a chair in the tub while servants poured water over him or her.

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We trekked upstairs again, this time to the Men’s Bedroom. The prayer stool was made with intarsia, wooden with wood decoration. Paintings with religious themes also adorned the room. Plants made the room come alive. In the Men’s Changing Room there were small paintings of Italian towns on the walls. The chandelier hailed from the Empire period. The Hunting Salon was dominated by a polar bear rug. I noticed the animal’s sharp teeth. A white tiled stove boasted white ornamentation with two female figures on its sides. Oriental chairs also made up the space. The furniture was Baroque and pseudo-Baroque and included a Baroque bureau.

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The Big Dining Room featured a folding table that usually sat 24 guests during the Chotek’s days. The table was decorated with a green clover motif. Each chair had the coat-of-arms of the Chotek family with a crown on top. The rich wooden décor on the wooden sideboard got my attention. Ceramics and the Chotek coat-of-arms were displayed on the superb piece of wooden furniture. A Second Rococo mirror had a lavish gold frame with the coat-of-arms prominent at the top. The high walls were decorated with gilded wood, and an exquisite crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. There was also a secret door.

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Next came the library, my favorite part of the tour. Roundels or circular windows with painted cupolas and stylized squares allowed light to stream into the three sections, onto the colored shapes on the floor. The library from the turn of the 19^th century reminded me of a structure out of antiquity. The fake grey marble columns gave the place a dignified air. Tall bookcases were crammed with books, some of which looked like they had golden spines. A gallery above held magazines and newspapers. The Chotek coat-of-arms was present on all 40,000 volumes, the guide said. Mostly written in German, the books also included publications in French, Spanish, Italian and old Czech. Some of the volumes were older than 1500 – the oldest was a book of Russian psalms hailing from 1480.

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Among the most significant in the space was the 18-volume complete set of the French Description of Egypt from 1809-1818, which consisted of encyclopedias that documented everything French military leader and political leader Napoléon Bonaparte had seen in Egypt, from plants to pyramids. There were only two other complete sets in the world: one was in the Louvre and the other in the King’s Library in England. These books were printed specifically for European rulers.

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The editions in the breathtaking space also included 398 handwritten manuscripts, 38 handwritten maps and 250 catalogues. Among the books, I saw downstairs in the first part were S. Dionysii Opera, a fat two-volume set and collections of Lumír magazine, established in 1851 and written by Czech patriots such as Karel Havlíček Borovksý, who is considered the founder of Czech journalism, satire and literary criticism. Tall medical books stood nearby.

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The second part of the library was a study with small statues of Czech rulers and one of Michelangelo. Among the 19^th century statues, I spotted the mythical Libuše who prophesized the founding of Prague; Jiří of Poděbrady, a Czech king who ruled from 1458 to 1471; Emperor and Czech king Charles IV, who reigned from 1346 to 1378 and was responsible for founding Charles University, the New Town in Prague and the Charles Bridge; and Holy Roman Emperor and Czech king Rudolf II, who was in charge from 1576 to 1611 and is known for his love of alchemy and cultural pursuits.

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Then the guide showed me the object that enthralled me the most during my visit. It was a globe put together in eight layers. There were top and bottom layers and then six layers representing the continents. On one side was a picture of a continent, and on the other side there was information about it. I spotted a polar bear on one picture. It seemed to me to be an excellent visual teaching aide for young students.

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The third part was dominated by a huge vase with ornate décor. I could see Romulus and Remus with a wolf in relief on the exquisite object. Then the guide showed me an Empire style card catalogue, with a card for each book. The golden writing on the cards had been scribed in flowing, fancy script.

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Then we went up a narrow staircase to the gallery, a part that was usually off-limits to tourists. I spotted editions of the newspaper Prager Zeitung and sheets containing information about new publications in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Illustrated magazines were also kept here.

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The guide even led me through the back study rooms. Paintings adorned the walls, and I spotted a grey tiled stove with white ornamentation. Each painting hung in one space had been executed with a different technique. A display case illustrated the technology of painting and materials for painters, such as paraffin. In another display case I saw handmade paper and an ancient book made from handmade paper.

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Yet another space featured brightly colored, dynamic scenes of Divoká Šárka Park in Prague, one painting for each month, though the set here was not complete. I was entranced by the green hills of the park I loved so much, where I felt so at home, one which reminded me a bit of Vermont. I was glad I lived so close to that park. It made me feel relaxed and worry-free.

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Soon we came to the 19^th century pharmacy. One exhibit showed how to dry herbs, another displayed various baskets. A machine for mixing syrup was on display, too. I saw a press for making fresh herbs and a press for making tablets as well. The jars behind the counter and old scale came in various colors. A large book about herbs dated from 1920. Ceramic jugs also decorated the room.

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The theatre, on the opposite side of the chateau, hailed from 1851. It had never been open to the public. It was used only by the Choteks and their good friends. The Chotek family wrote the plays themselves in German and acted them out. Jan Rudolf’s 15 plays on then current themes are now in Prague’s National Museum. The group had even prepared plays by William Shakespeare, tailoring them to their own needs. How I would have loved to have seen those plays!

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The stage was made of wood, but it was not original. The walls were made of imitation marble on the lower section while stylized painting adorned the upper half. A compartment seated four people in the middle of the back wall. The two balconies boasted gold and black decoration. There was an orchestra pit, and there were pulleys above the stage. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling that had been partially damaged by water during the 1960s. Some set designs had been saved. The gallery now contained wooden benches, but it had consisted of comfortable chairs back in the Chotek days. There were bleachers for standing room at the top level. On the relatively new ceiling I spotted the two bears holding a coat-of-arms.

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Last but not least we visited the unfinished chapel, which was occasionally decorated with flowers and candles and used for weddings. What had been initially planned to be a crypt was only a hole because it was never completed. In the 1950s the floor had been cemented. Before that, it was made of earth. The cross-shaped structure was composed of rock with brick so it could be dry. I imagined how breathtaking the chapel would have looked if it had been finished in a simple and elegant Empire style, for instance.

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Then it was time to say goodbye to one of the best guides I had ever met. I thanked her profusely and my friend and I went to nearby Kutná Hora, where a sumptuous chicken lunch awaited me. We walked briefly through the picturesque town, up the hill to Saint Barbara’s Cathedral and along the bridge flanked by statues. All too soon, though, it was time to head back to Prague.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

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Anti-nuclear Bunker Diary

February 19, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

A Communist banner with the hammer and sickle symbol

The tall, thirtiesh man clad in a 1980s-era uniform of a Czechoslovak army officer approached me at the reception desk of the Hotel Jalta on Wenceslas Square. He introduced himself and said he would be my guide through the Museum of the Cold War. This was my first visit to the five-star boutique hotel, but I knew it had catered to Western tourists long before the Velvet Revolution of 1989. I had often passed by the 1950s style building so strongly influenced by Soviet architecture, taking for granted that it was part of the cityscape of Prague.

I have to admit that seeing the guide in a Communist era uniform made my stomach lurch as it brought to mind the rigid authority and terrors of the totalitarian regime that had lasted for some 40 years in former Czechoslovakia.

I followed the fair-haired, smiling man down the stairs until we were about 20 meters below the hotel, in spaces that were once part of an anti-nuclear bunker.

When we reached the museum, the guide described the bunker’s design. Currently, there were only several small rooms with displays, but the bunker itself, completed in 1958, consisted of three floors. It was made specifically to protect about 150 high-ranking Communist officials for as long as two months, if nuclear war was declared.

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The guide talked about the history of the Hotel Jalta. It was constructed from 1954 to 1958 on the site of a building that was bombed by the Allied Forces in 1945. The spaces belonged to the Ministry of Defense until 1997. Now the hotel owns the bunker. The museum was relatively new; it had opened in November of 2013.

Nuclear war never broke out, but the Communists did set up a listening post on the premises. The Secret Police listened to conversations of hotel guests and employees. They had planted bugs in the rooms.

The guide explained that steel slabs were constructed to protect people from radiation. The concrete walls were two meters thick. Upon entering the first space, I faced a red socialist banner with a picture of former Czechoslovak President Antonín Zápotocký, who had influenced the design of the hotel.

I cringed. Zápotocký had helped establish the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia back in 1921. He was the country’s Prime Minister from 1948 to 1953, taking over the position after the Communist Coup in February, 1948. That was when Klement Gottwald became the first Communist president. Zápotocký took up the presidential post after Gottwald’s death in 1953 and served in that capacity until 1957. The leader of the country during the harsh 1950s, Zápotocký really played second fiddle to hardliner Antonín Novotný, who was the First Secretary.

Zápotocký had a chilling past. He had spent time in the Sachsenhausen concentration camp during World War II. When he was released in 1945, the Dutch accused him of war crimes, claiming that he helped execute their citizens during World War II.

On the wall to my right, I scanned a poster featuring various Communist propaganda writings about Czechoslovakia. I think I would have gone crazy if I had had to listen constantly to all that socialist advertising with all those empty phrases. On another wall there were copies of posters from totalitarian days. Of course, they all celebrated and glorified socialism, announcing “Socialism for a better life” and similar slogans. One poster advertised the 15^th anniversary of the Pioneers’ youth organization that had an emphatically Soviet slant. I wondered how children had felt about being sent to Pioneers’ camps. Did they accept the socialist preachings as part of their lifestyle and tradition, or were they disgusted with this athletic mouthpiece for the Communist regime?

One of the two tunnels

The guide then showed me an entrance to a tunnel that leads to some place on Wenceslas Square, but no one knows exactly where. Another tunnel was connected to an adjacent building. I felt claustrophobic enough in the bunker itself. There was no way I could have ever crawled through one of those tunnels, even if my life had depended on it.

After passing through a small medical examining room, we came to a section dominated by a mannequin dressed in the uniform of a Communist border control guard finding smuggled jewelry in a suitcase he has opened. I realized that, as a child, I had thought of people living behind the Iron Curtain as mannequins, as people without souls, unable to feel joy or pain. I had been a big fan of the TV sitcom Get Smart that featured a bumbling American secret agent battling wits with the KGB. Back then, when I was about eight years old, my world had been black-and-white. The Americans were the good people. Russians and other nationalities living in totalitarian countries were the bad people. As a child I had viewed the lands behind the Iron Curtain as eternally covered in a thick mist that was impossible to see through.

It did not occur to me back then that people in Communist countries experienced the same feelings that all people do – they fell in love, sobbed hysterically, smiled brightly, laughed heartily. Back then I did not realize that some Czechoslovak citizens had joined the Communist Party out of fear. What if they wanted to send their children to university? What if they were blackmailed? As a kid, I had yet to learn that there were a lot of gray areas. Still, I now know that a lot of Czechs and Slovaks had not joined the Party despite the consequences. Those were some of my heroes.

A figure of a border guard finding smuggled jewelry

The guide put a 1950s-era machine gun in my hands. It felt heavy and awkward. I could not imagine shooting anyone, ever. I could not even imagine owning a gun. I recalled the first and only time I had gripped a real pistol. I had been studying theatre in Vermont, and my classmate Steve and I were practicing a scene from a play by American playwright Sam Shepard. Steve had brought his gun to the classroom so I could use it as a prop. It felt so heavy, and my hands got clammy when I held it.

A small bust and a portrait of first Communist Czechoslovak President Klement Gottwald decorated the room. In the portrait Gottwald looked like a loving father and husband, smoking a pipe, seemingly such a gentle, kind man proud of his family. But anyone who has studied Czechoslovak history knows that Gottwald was far from kind. He orchestrated the Communist coup of 1948 that made the last democracy in Eastern Europe into a totalitarian country. After the war Czechoslovaks wanted solid ties with the Russians, who had liberated them. However, the Communist members of government became ruthless in their control of the police and security forces. The nonCommunist ministers resigned, certain that the democratic President Edvard Beneš would be able to create a new government that would exclude the Communist Party.

A medical room

Their strategy failed. Instead, Communists reacted violently. Since the Army was controlled by a Communist General, there was no way to stop the brutal attacks unleashed by the Communists, who even beat students advocating democracy in a protest in the Lesser Quarter’s Nerudova Street. Then Prime Minister Gottwald threatened President Beneš that he would engineer a general strike and nonCommunists would be punished if Beneš did not sign the Communists’ proposal for a new government. Beneš succumbed to Gottwald’s pressure.

Under Gottwald’s presidency, Soviet Union Prime Minister Joseph Stalin called the shots, and Czechoslovakia carried out the largest show trials in Eastern Europe. From 1949 to 1954, Communists and nonCommunists were tortured and executed for crimes they did not commit. Military leaders, Jews, Catholics, democrats –they all became victims in this horrific display of injustice. Over 180 people were executed in these trials that were scripted and rehearsed. One victim of this terror was democratic politician and resistance leader Milada Horáková, executed in 1950 for allegedly planning to overthrow the regime. The international community was irate over her execution.

Yet the trials were not restricted to those supporting democracy. High-ranking Communist officials were purged, too. Communist official Rudolf Slánský was made a scapegoat, accused of high treason and espionage and labeled a Titoist, someone who supported the Marshal Josip Broz Tito-led Yugoslav government, which did not adhere to the dictates of the Soviet Union. Slánský was tried with 13 others and sentenced to death in 1952. His ashes were scattered at a construction site near Prague.

Back to the exhibits. A display on one wall described the responsibilities of the Czechoslovak border guards. The pictures showing dead bodies sprawled near the electric fence that delineated the border of the country deeply affected me. Those brave people had been mere meters from freedom when they were gunned down. I marveled at how much courage it took to try to escape. I wondered if I would have had that much courage. Probably not. These people were heroes. They died for freedom. The freedom to have your own opinions and make them heard. The freedom to be whoever you wanted to be, to live the life you chose rather than one that was chosen for you. These are only a few of the things I had taken for granted until I moved to Prague in 1991.

Art on the Berlin Wall

The pictures also brought back memories of my visit to the Berlin Wall in 1991, when I was fresh out of college. I recalled how being so physically close to the Wall made me realize that it was much more than a physical barrier between two drastically different worlds. I thought about people who had risked their lives trying to get over that Wall. I recalled the November 9, 1989 TV footage of Germans scrambling over it when East Germans were granted the right to visit West Germany. Still, until I came face-to-face with the Wall, those TV images remained mere images. When I saw the Wall for myself, those images became real. I could see the people climbing higher and higher to the very top, reveling in the ecstasy of experiencing freedom for the first time. The art gallery on one section of the wall transformed it into a vibrant and dynamic celebration of color that made poignant statements about society and the value of freedom.

Still engrossed with the pictures of the fallen near the electric fences, I also pondered over stories Czech acquaintances had told me. One waiter at a restaurant I had frequented told me how he and his brother had planned to escape. However, when he showed up at the agreed meeting place, his brother was not there, so he went home. Later, he found out that his brother had escaped a day earlier without telling him.

The Berlin Wall, 1991

Another acquaintance was punished for his brother’s defection to America. The authorities confiscated his spacious flat in Vinohrady and gave him an efficiency apartment in a district far from the center. He became so desperate to escape that he tried to hijack a plane to take him to the West. Because there were always Secret Police agents on flights, he was quickly apprehended and imprisoned.

The next room was decorated with various uniforms of the border guards from the 1980s. There was an old tape recorder, a megaphone, a shield and a helmet – I wondered if these very items had been used when the police beat demonstrators on National Avenue during the 1989 Velvet Revolution. A portrait of President Gustáv Husák was prominently place in the room. Husák had been president during the rigid Normalization era that had followed the Soviet invasion. The tanks rolling into Czechoslovakia’s capital on August 21, 1968 had put an abrupt halt to the Prague Spring that had brought liberal reforms to the country. For two decades Husák controlled the country with an iron fist, fiercely loyal to the Soviet Union. After the invasion Husák had felt no mercy for the reformers. As First Secretary of the Party in 1969, he also purged Communists who had supported a more liberal stance during the Prague Spring.

A Communist official reading a Communist paper

Husák became President of Czechoslovakia in 1975. During the 1970s and 1980s, dissidents were even more oppressed, often arrested and imprisoned. He also punished people who did not believe in adhering to the principles of Communism by forbidding them to get a higher education or not allowing them to travel abroad, for instance. Many people lost their jobs. The Communist Party kept track of the activities of all citizens, following them and persuading citizens to denounce each other. Czech and Slovak culture suffered horribly during Husák’s tenure.

Coincidentally, Husák had served time himself. He was imprisoned during World War II for promoting Communism, which was illegal at that time. Then in 1950, when the high-ranking Communists and others were purged, he was ordered to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Later, in 1963, Husák had been allowed to join the Communist Party again. He resigned November 24, 1989 when the Presidium of the Communist Party left their posts, defeated by democracy. Husák was expelled from the Communist Party in 1990 and died in 1991.

A telex from the 1980s

But I was not only thinking about the crimes of the Czechoslovak government during the dismal 1970s and 1980s. The old-fashioned tape recorder brought back memories of an entirely different nature. It reminded me of my own tape recorder, the one I used as a teenager to do interviews with members of the Washington Capitals, when I dreamed of becoming a journalist. What a different world I had lived in during the 1980s! And I had taken it as a given that my writing would not be censored.

While the hotel was never used as an anti-nuclear bunker, the Secret Police did take over the rooms during four decades, the guide reminded me. A large switchboard showed how they had set up a listening post to eavesdrop on hotel guests’ and employees’ conversations. During the 1970s, the Secret Police also had eavesdropped on conversations in West Germany’s embassy, then situated in the same building. A display case showed brushes for shoes and clothes and other items where the bugs in the hotel rooms had been placed.

An old telephone

The guide played a taped English conversation between a Czech resident of Prague and an Austrian who was in Prague to enjoy the city without his wife. The Austrian asked the Czech advice about where to find a prostitute, and the Czech told him he would have to pay in Western currency. I remembered the days of the early and mid-1990s, when Czechs had always wanted dollars rather than crowns. I had to pay my rent in dollars for several years. Since then the dollar had taken a turn for the worst, and the exchange rate was no longer 40 crowns to one dollar but rather around 19 crowns per dollar.

I thought about how paranoid I would have been if I could not speak openly in my own house. A former dissident whose house had been bugged once told me that the authorities had been able to listen in on his conversations, but they could never take away what he believed in his heart.

I was musing about that when the tour ended, and the guide led me back upstairs to the lobby. I walked onto the large square, relishing the beautiful feeling of freedom. I would go home to an apartment that was not bugged and would write an article that would not be censored. And for that I am forever thankful.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Gas masks

Regensburg Diary

January 23, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

A view of the town from the Stone Bridge

My boss at a languageschool where I had taught had praised Regensburg back in 1997. Ever since then, I had wanted to visit the historic town, but the trip kept being postponed. Then I went on a one-day excursion with arsviva to Bamberg, Germany and got my first taste of the wonders of Bavaria. (I only have faint memories of my visit to Munich when I was nine years old.) I was so enthralled with Bamberg that I just had to explore other towns in Bavaria. So, during October of 2013, the next time I had a few days off work, I took the train to Regensburg.

The direct train only took a little over four hours to get to the only preserved medieval town in Germany. On the train I acquainted myself with the history of this architectural gem. A UNESCO World Heritage site since 2000, Regensburg did not experience much destruction during World War II, enabling it to keep its medieval character. A Roman military camp was located there as far back as 179 AD, and the Romans would greatly influence the town for 300 years. During the Middle Ages, emperors, dukes and kings had frequented the town. After it became a part of the Carolingian Empire, Charlemagne visited Regensburg three times. Regensburg acquired the status of a Free Imperial City in 1245 and also was a bustling trade center. The town lost its independence and became part of the Duchy of Bavaria in 1486, but soon the tables turned again, and Regensburg regained its independence.

The facade of an architecturally intriguing building in Regensburg

When the Turks overtook Constantinople, this Bavarian city was no longer a gateway to the East, triggering financial hardships. As a result, according to the unwritten law that blamed minorities for economic difficulties, the Jews were expelled in 1519. During 1542 Regensburg became a Protestant town. The town became a household name once again when the Imperial Diet political gatherings took place there for 150 years, from 1663 to 1806, when the assembly of estates held conferences at the Old Town Hall. Electors and princes were among those present for the meetings.

During Napoleon’s reign the town found itself in dire straits. The Imperial Diet was cancelled in 1806, and Regensburg was stripped of its independence once again. In 1810 it became a part of the Kingdom of Bavaria. From 1945 to 1949, the town was the site of the largest displaced persons’ camp in Germany, with mostly Ukrainians in residence. And to think that throughout all those centuries, throughout all those trials and tribulations, Regensburg never lost its medieval flavor!

The Hotel Kaiserhof across from the cathedral

My hotel, the pistachio-colored Hotel Kaiserhof, was situated across from St. Peter’s Cathedral, a Gothic wonder. The clean, no-frills, comfortable room sported a double bed, even though I was paying for a single room. I had stayed in other singles the size of a closet in various hotels throughout Europe. It was refreshing to find myself in a room that was spacious enough, though not large.

After unpacking the necessities, I headed straight for the St. Peter’s Cathedral. The first cathedral in the town had hailed from the end of the eighth or ninth century, but it fell victim to a fire in 1273. Then this cathedral was erected in a Gothic style inspired by France. However, there were interruptions, and the cathedral was not completed until 1872, some 600 years later. The west façade boasts two towers while the cathedral has a triple-choir design. The nave is short and has five bays. I had read that the architectural design of the cathedral had influenced Peter Parler’s plans for Prague’s St. Vitus Cathedral, my favorite cathedral in the world.

St. Peter’s Cathedral

The medieval sculptural decoration on the façade, which dated from around 1400, was breathtaking. On the train I had learned that this sculptural adornment ranked among the most impressive artistry of the Middle Ages. I gazed up at the main portal with its stunning tympanum and the 22 reliefs focusing on the Virgin Mary’s life.

On the south portal I was awed by a scene showing St. Peter being scooped out of prison by an angel. I could hardly believe that the relief hailed from 1320. The tympanum of the south façade boasted plentiful rich sculptural ornamentation as well. Reliefs decorated the buttress fronts, too. I spotted St. Peter in a boat, a rendition that I knew appeared on the current coats-of-arms for the cathedral chapter.

However, it made my stomach churn when I saw a sculptural figure of Jews suckling from a pig. I recalled reading that Jews had been expelled from the town in the 16^th century. The anti-Semitic artwork reminded me of the anti-Semitic and racist portraits of a Jew, an Arab and a black man stricken with diseases in the library of the Hrádek u Nechanic Chateau in Bohemia. I also recalled eating in a pizzeria in downtown Prague a few years ago, when a waiter told me that Neo-Nazis were marching through the Jewish Town. I also thought of the prejudice against Roma in Czech society today. So many centuries later and religious and racial tolerance were still serious concerns.

The rich ornamentation on the facade of the cathedral

Upon entering the cathedral, I was instantly transported back to the Middle Ages. It was dark and gloomy except for the light that the stained glass windows let in, giving the cathedral an airy quality. Made from 1300 to 1370, the windows had a mystical aura. I felt as if the light cleansed me spiritually, as if it cleansed my soul. I was so entranced. I could not believe I was looking at original Gothic stained glass. I had read that one window portrayed scenes from Christ’s childhood while another showed scenes from the lives of St. Peter and St. Paul. Pictures of saints decorated the windows, too. Some of the stained glass came from the original cathedral that had burned down. That part was in Romanesque style, dating from 1230.

The vibrant colors inside the cathedral

Then I took notice of sculptural figures of St. George and St. Martin on horseback. They were remarkable works of art hailing from the 14^th century. I also saw something I had never seen before – creepy creatures with human heads in niches near the main entrance. Called the Devil and his Grandmother, the figures supposedly kept away any evil spirits that might try to wander inside. Bishops’ tombs also made up the interior. A stone sculpture of a Madonna and Child above one altar was created in 1320. A huge colored wooden crucifix dated from the 16^th century. The main altar was silver and was made glorious by busts of St. Mary and St. Joseph as well as Saints Peter and Paul.

On one section there was a relief of St. John of Nepomuk, a Czech saint who was thrown into Prague’s Vltava River from the Charles Bridge on the order of Bohemian King Wenceslas IV, who was married to Joanna of Bavaria. The Queen’s confessor, John of Nepomuk would not tell the king what his wife had said to him in confidence. I thought of the many times I had walked by the five-haloed statue of St. John of Nepomuk on the Charles Bridge. Once again focusing on this cathedral, I was amazed by the ribbed vaulting designed with crossing piers. There was a Late Gothic pulpit, and exquisitely carved Baroque stalls adorned the nave.

One of the side altars in the cathedral

Another highlight of the interior for me was the Smiling or Laughing Angel, one of the Annunciation figures. Enthusiastic about bearing exciting news for Mary, the angel was absolutely jubilant, and the sense of pure happiness that emanated from the sculpture made me joyful and thankful for everything I had in life. The joy was characterized by a sense of innocence, and it brought to mind the happy moments of my childhood. Opening Christmas presents in my grandparents’ house as Grandpa pretended to be Santa Claus, striking out batter after batter in Little League baseball, riding my sleigh in the fresh snow near our townhouse, reading Paddington the Bear books over and over, holding my Paddington and Snoopy stuffed animals, receiving an autographed picture from one of my favorite baseball or ice hockey players, hugging my mother and knowing that everything would be okay. I was amazed that a sculptural figure from the late 13^th century could depict emotions so poignantly.

Downtown Regensburg

Then I walked around the center of the town, admiring the large patrician houses, some even with towers. One building dating from the 14^th century even had a fresco of David and Goliath, created from 1570 to 1580. Dating back to the 12^th century, the Stone Bridge measures 30 meters in length and includes 15 arches. I tried to imagine knights of the second and third Crusades marching over the bridge on their way to the Holy Land. The views of the river and town from the bridge were incredible. I loved the small street called Kramgasse, next to my hotel. Once home to shops of grocers and junk dealers, now it flaunted luxurious shops. The oriels on the buildings intrigued me.

There were other delights in this colorful, vibrant town, too. The Fountain of Bishop’s Court was built in 1980 and showed a priest giving a sermon to geese while a fox nabbed one goose by the neck. In the tale the priest is an impostor, the Devil pretending to be a man of the cloth. It made me think of the false friends I had known through the years, the times I felt betrayed by people I had trusted.

View from the Stone Bridge

I explored Neupfarrplatz, where the homes of 500 Jews had once been located until their expulsion in the early 16^th century. The homes were gone now, and stylish shops lined the square. A reminder of the Jewish presence in the town, a relief showed the floor plan of a Jewish synagogue that had once stood near the middle of the square. I felt an emotional connection with the relief. It was modern and fresh, yet also represented the lost history of the town.

The Goldener Turm, built from 1250 to 1300, included the highest patrician tower in the city. Part of the Old Town Hall dated from the 13^th century and had a tower, too. I was intrigued by its Gothic windows. Patrician houses also lined Haidplatz Square. Emperor Karl V had been a guest at the architecturally captivating Goldenes Kreuz building. I also gazed at the Porta Praetoria Roman gate from 179 AD with its stone arch and side tower. As I walked through the center of town, I was surprised that Regensburg had so many tea shops and bookstores. A teetotaler and a literature addict, I wandered through each one. The varieties of teas offered were astounding.

In the morning I ate croissants in the hotel’s quaint breakfast room and headed for the Collegiate Church of Our Lady of the Alte Kapelle. A farmer’s market was in progress in the square where the church was situated. All the fruit and vegetables looked delicious.

The interior of the Alte Kapelle

I knew the church dated from 875, when a grandson of Charlemagne had it erected. The medieval sculptures decorating the main portal did not prepare me for the strikingly different interior. I gaped at the 18^th century Baroque and Rococo ornamentation. This was definitely one of the most beautiful chapels I had ever seen. It was light and airy, full of vibrant colors that emitted joy and hope. The main painting depicted the Pope handing Holy Roman Emperor Henry (Heinrich) II a picture of the Virgin Mary. It was only possible to see the two naves and six bays through an iron grille, unfortunately. I longed to walk through the chapel and peer closely at each decoration.

The Alte Kapelle

The stucco work was astounding, and the white walls were adorned with putti. The frescoes narrated described the legend of how the church came into being. They also celebrated the Virgin Mary as the patron saint of the church and glorified the founders of the church, Emperor Henry II and Empress Cunigunde of Luxembourg. Emperor Henry II had believed in centralized authority and had strongly supported the Catholic Church. Due to his devotion to the Catholic Church, Pope Eugene III canonized him in 1146. He was the only German bestowed this honor. His wife Cunigunde was involved in politics, participating in the Imperial Diets in Regensburg. She is said to have performed miracles, such as walking over flaming irons. One fresco showed the Virgin Mary as the Queen of Heaven, surrounded by angels and saints. The main altar was decorated in rocaille and focused on the Virgin Mary. God the Father was perched on a globe above her, and a dove symbolizing the Holy Ghost also appeared.

It fascinated me that this church retained elements of the Middle Ages and at the same time celebrated the Baroque and Rococo periods with a flourish. I could not get over how the 18^th century styles gave the chapel a sort of weightlessness and airiness that so poignantly represented joy and hope for me. It was uplifting. I was in an ever better mood when I left the chapel, after staring through the grille for at least a half hour.

Next I found my way to the Emmeram Abbey. I would be touring the Thurn und Taxis Palace adjacent to it later in the day. The monastery had gained independence from the bishopric in 975 and did not lose its independence until 1803. Then, at the beginning of the 19^th century, the abbey was secularized. The King of Bavaria gave the Thurn und Taxis family the monastery because the postal services that they had managed for centuries had been nationalized. I had read that the stone reliefs on the north portal, dating from the Middle Ages, were the oldest north of the Alps.

Religious ornamentation on the facade of a building

The complex was named after the bishop Emmeram, who had lived in Regensburg in the 700s. Inside frescoes told his exciting life story: He had worked as a missionary for Theodo I, the Duke of Bavaria and was much respected throughout the realm. Then the duke’s unwed daughter confided in him that she was pregnant, and she did not want to tell the duke who the father was. Emmeram advised her to lie and say that he was the father. Then he set off on a pilgrimage to Rome.

When the duke’s daughter told her father the news, he had his son and followers chase Emmeram. When they caught the pious missionary, the duke’s followers tied him to a ladder and chopped him into pieces, slowly torturing him. Then the duke found out that Emmeram was not the father of his daughter’s child and ordered his body to be bought back to Regensburg. Emmeram was made a saint. I also saw fascinating altars and a crypt dating from 780, showing off masterful Romanesque architecture. The high altar hailed from 1669.

My next stop was the palace. I had to use an audio guide at the palace because the tours were only in German. I was disappointed that the Electors’ Fountain was covered in scaffolding. I wanted to see the sculpture of Emperor Arnulf bearing a scepter and shield and the eight coats-of-arms standing for the Holy Roman Empire and the seven electors who selected the emperor.

The architecture of Regensburg

Upon entering the palace, we came to a monumental marble staircase. The guide spoke animatedly for some minutes before my audio guide started. The German-speaking tourists were enthralled with whatever he was saying. Then we went up one of the 14 marble staircases in the complex that was the largest residential palace in Germany. It included more than 500 rooms. A ceiling painting looked as if it was about to burst with color above the staircase.

The Thurn und Taxis clan dated back to the 13^th century when the family was named Tasso. During the end of the 15^th century, Francesco Tasso created the first postal system going from Innsbruck to Brussels. It took a week for the mail to reach its destination. The key to its success was that the rider and horse were changed at each postal station. For his ingenuity, Tasso was given nobility status by Emperor Maximilian I and thus became Franz von Taxis in 1512. By the end of the 18^th century, the postal system was flourishing.

Then bad times came. At the beginning of the 19^th century, most of the postal service was nationalized. The French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte put an end to the Thurn und Taxis’ control of the postal service in 1815. After the Napoleonic era, the family managed the postal service once again, but only until Otto von Bismarck became Chancellor of the North Germany Federation in 1867. A very conservative politician and nationalist who did not favor democracy, the prominent Prussian statesman was responsible for forming the German Empire in 1871.

A fascinating facade in downtown Regensburg

I was intrigued by the grotesque figures on the ceiling of the Conservatory, also called the Winter Garden. Female figures represented the seasons, though winter was conspicuously absent. I noticed that a sickle and grain stood for summer. The Brussels’ tapestries in the Large Dining Room were astounding. The Throne Room featured a throne from the 18^th century and tapestry decoration. The Ballroom took my breath away. Its wall paneling, frames, balustrades and stucco ceilings boasted Rococo and Neo-Rococo styles. Faience Neo-Rococo stoves were present, too. The Ballroom, created in 1730, had been transported from Frankfurt to Regensburg in 1890, when the Thurn und Taxis clan moved to Regensburg. Even the glass chandeliers had been equipped with electric lighting at the end of the 19^th century. I liked the idyllic landscape paintings hung high on the walls and the rich white decoration that included garlands and putti as well as plant and ribbon motifs.

I noticed a portrait of Elizabeth of Austria, often called Sisi, in the Balcony Room. Because her sister Helene was married to Crown Prince Maximilian Anton von Thurn und Taxis, she had often stayed here. The sisters’ father had been a Bavarian Duke while their mother was the daughter of the Bavarian King. I had read how uncomfortable Sisi had felt around the ceremony of royal life and how she had been a free spirit who had traveled around the world. I thought about Franz Joseph intending to propose to Helene but changing his mind and asking for Sisi’s hand in marriage instead. And I thought of Sisi’s assassination in Geneva, when an Italian anarchist stabbed her while she was taking a walk. And I remembered reading about the lavish funeral with all the pomp and ceremony that she had despised.

The gate to the Stone Bridge

The Silver Room featured a silver chandelier with cupids holding candles. The tapestry with a battle theme in the Gobelin Salon got my attention as well. The Yellow Salon exploded with color. It was decorated in Rococo style and dated from about 1740. I tried to imagine members of the noble family playing music here, the tinkling of piano keys or rich melody of a clarinet. I was happy whenever I saw yellow because it was my Mom’s favorite color and the color of the kitchen walls in my parents’ house. I recalled all the earnest conversations I had with my Mom, seated at that circular kitchen table, sipping green or black tea.

The Green Salon had served as a bedroom for Princess Therese from 1812. I was mesmerized by the bed decorated with four swan figures on its legs. I loved the detail of the feathers and long necks of the swans. A curtain was adorned with gold bees. Both the swans and bees were characteristics of the French style that dominated this room. In the Czar Nikolaus Salon a portrait of Princess Theresa von Thurn und Taxis showed the 37-year old clad in a chemise dress and wearing pearls in front of a forest. I noticed an exquisite blue with gold tea set in another room.

Then we came to a contemporary art exhibition of portraits of the living family. The portraits of four women and one young man had blinking eyes. I thought it was a good idea to put portraits of the current family in the exposition, but I did not understand why their eyes were blinking. I guess it was meant to emphasize that they were living, that the tradition of the family continued, but it seemed out-of-place with the décor of the other rooms. Then I saw the House Chapel that had once been a bedroom for Crown Princess Helene. After the Princess’ death in 1890, her son Prince Albert I had it reconstructed into a chapel. The alloyed coats-of-arms decorating the windows impressed me.

Regensburg’s cathedral dominates the skyline.

Next we entered part of the cloister. I imagined monks walking through the round Romanesque arches while singing hymns. I saw statues dating back to 1200. I imagined how the room had looked in the Middle Ages with its then colorful decoration depicting biblical stories. I admired a Neo-Gothic tomb chapel as well. Another wing featured high and thin Gothic arches. The cloisters were certainly full of architectural wonders!

After touring the palace, I visited its museum. I saw a Japanese lacquered cabinet from 1690 and took special notice of the exquisite Asian landscape scenes on the front. White gold porcelain featured floral motifs. A ceremonial carrying chair also caught my attention. Medals from the chivalry Order of the Golden Fleece that was founded in 1430 and 55 richly decorated 18^th century snuff boxes also made up the exhibition. One room was decorated with Biedermeier furniture, dating from 1815 to 1848. The furniture was not positioned against the walls in order to encourage communication. The highlight, though, was the white with gold porcelain service set from the early 1700s, made by a Viennese manufacturer that had only been in existence for 30 years. It was the only complete service of this manufacturer in the world.

The Old Town Hall

I had a late lunch at an otherwise empty café near the monastery. It was decorated plainly and appeared to be a place for locals as the menu of five entrees was written only in German. I imagined that the restaurant would be packed on weekdays. I chose the Wiener Schnitzel and received a generous portion. It was delicious. I had dessert at the oldest coffeehouse in Germany, the Café Prinzess, where I managed to find a free table despite the crowd. I ordered almond cake and green tea. Surprisingly, service was not slow. The cake and the green tea were excellent.

Soon it was time for the English tour of the Old Town Hall across the street from the coffeehouse. I got a free ticket because I have a press pass and would be writing about the exhibition. However, only the torture chambers in the cellar were open that day. The lavish rooms once used for the Imperial Diet were closed for a conference. Two tourists complained that they had to pay full price for their tickets, even though the Imperial rooms were off limits that day. They decided to come back the following day when both parts of the tour would be open. I was leaving the next day, so I had no chance of seeing the Imperial rooms on this trip.

For almost 150 years from the 17^th to the beginning of the 19^th centuries, the Imperial Assembly had held political meetings in this building. But the Imperial history of the town was above, in those lavish rooms that I could not see. I descended into the torture chamber, which helped paint a portrait of the history of the town. I peered down at a dungeon that was three meters deep with no light. A Jewish gravestone served as the toilet seat, another reminder of the rampant anti-Semitism that had riddled the town. Once again, I recalled the 1519 expulsion of the Jews.

An ancient door at the Old Town Hall

I also saw a so-called spiked rabbit, consisting of spikes on a wooden chair. I could not imagine the pain a person would feel seated on those spikes. It was too awful to think about. Some prisoners were locked in a neck iron, exposed to the public in a pillory. I also saw a timber cell without any light. Prisoners sentenced to death stayed in the Dead Man’s Cell, where there was light and fresh air. An opening allowed family members to touch the incarcerated’s hands before the execution. A big beam balance from the 16^th century kept the merchants honest. If merchants cheated customers, they went to the pillory.

The instruments had been used from 1530 to 1781, during three centuries. It was difficult for me to imagine that such horrific methods had been used for such a long time. Then again, in in today’s world there is waterboarding. When the accused was detained, he or she might have heard a concert taking place in one of the Imperial rooms above, but the prisoners were never tortured to musical accompaniment.

The Romanesque portal at St. James’ Church

I walked around town for the rest of the day, the history of the town seeping into my soul. The next morning I had a little time before I headed to the train station. I was disappointed that I did not have a chance to visit any of the museums, especially the Historic Museum that told the tales of the town from as far back as Roman times.

First I walked to the Church of St. James, which was built by Scottish monks in 1150. The church still retained its Romanesque style. The entrance portal was pure Romanesque, richly decorated with sculptural figures and grotesque symbols. The architectural gem was encased in glass, so there was a physical barrier between the viewer and the object. I could understand the need to protect such an ancient treasure, but the glass barrier restricted the visual communication with the viewer. I gaped at the entrance portal for about a half hour. The interior was austere but beautiful.

Next, I headed for Dachauplatz, trying to find the remnants of the Roman wall as they were marked on my map. A small section of the wall that did not even come up to my knees disappeared into a parking garage. Modernization had destroyed some of the historical roots of the town, replacing significant reminders of the past with an eyesore common in the contemporary world. I was very disappointed that a car park had been built in the historical center of the town, marring the cityscape. I had read that in the past a monastery had been on the premises.

The decoration on the Romanesque portal

As I had made my way to Dachauplatz, I had taken note of all the various architectural styles of the buildings and the artwork adorning the facades. Standing on the square, facing the Historic Museum, I tried to imagine what it would have been like to have been present in 1945, near the end of the war. Residents had taken part in a demonstration, eager for the Americans to take over the city. Some protestors were executed in that same square.

Soon it was time to take the train back to Prague. I yearned to visit the town again and to get to know Bavaria even better. On the train a pleasant surprise awaited me. I began chatting with the woman seated across from me, an American world traveler in her sixties on her way to Prague. It turned out that she also loved reading mysteries and adored cats. As we discussed many topics, I realized that the best thing about traveling is the people you meet on the way to your destination. We would keep in touch, for sure.

I returned to Prague, elated, ready to face the long winter ahead with energy and enthusiasm and ready to plan a spring trip back to Bavaria.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Another look at the Romanesque portal of St. James’ Church

Kutná Hora Diary

January 1, 2014 by Tracy's Travels

A view of the town

I had visited to the medieval, former mining town of Kutná Hora back in 1992. I recalled exploring the mines, touring the awe-inspiring cathedral and gazing at the Italian Court. I could not forget my visit to the creepy ossuary with shapes made out of human bones. Still, it had been a long time ago. So, in 2012, I decided to return to this special place that for some reason I had not made time for during so many years.

I sharpened my knowledge of the town’s history during the one and a half hour bus ride on that perfect, sunny morning. Kutná Hora gained recognition thanks to its silver mines from the 13^th to 15^th centuries. At one time, the town’s mine in was the deepest in the world. There was an international demand for its silver, which was exported to one-third of Europe. During Kutná Hora’s golden days of the Middle Ages, the Prague Groschen, a significant currency in Europe, was produced here. Even after the turbulent years during the Hussite Wars in the 15^th century and during the Thirty Years’ War of the 17^th century, mining in Kutná Hora preserved. The mine was not even shut down from World War II to 1991.

Plague Column in Kutná Hora

I came to the downtown area and soon found myself at the plague column where impressive statues twisted and turned. Then I headed for Saint Barbara’s Cathedral, passing the art museum in the former Jesuit College that hailed from the 18^th century. Unfortunately, I did not have time to peruse the art collection during that excursion, but I promised myself to make another trip there in the near future. Too many other sights awaited me on that day. I admired 12 statues of saints, forged from 1650 to 1716, on the way to the impressive cathedral.

A statue on the way to St. Barbara’s Cathedral

I could not help noticing the cathedral’s outer buttresses. The gargoyles and monsters on the neo-Gothic façade were imposing, defending their holy site from evil. (By the way, I love Neo-Gothic!) I had familiarized myself with the history of Saint Barbara’s. Its past had much to do with mining. The cathedral was even named after the miners’ patron saint, Barbara. Although construction started on the cathedral in 1338, it was not completed until 1905. The building was as I had remembered it – absolutely stunning. Once again I marveled at the many Baroque works of art, including three Baroque chapels and a magnificent Baroque organ case.

St. Barbara’s Cathedral

I was particularly drawn to the oldest piece in the cathedral, a statue of Our Lady Enthroned, hailing from 1380. Flanked by two angels in mid-flight, the gold-clad Our Lady gripped a golden orb. The stained glass windows did not disappoint, either. They were exquisite, dating from the end of the 19^th century and the beginning of the 20^th century. I spotted the cathedral in the background of two of the windows. I also noticed soldiers on horses raising their swords.

Then I came to the unique late Gothic frescoes focusing on the mining profession. I had not seen art with a mining theme anywhere else. In the Mint Chapel frescoes from the 15^th century depicted miners making Prague Groschens, striking the coins with mallets. That made me think of how my favorite painter, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, portrayed people at their trades or in scenes from everyday life. A few weeks earlier I had visited the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, where I had feasted my eyes on 12 canvases by the masterful Bruegel the Elder.

“The Battle between Carnival and Lent” came to mind. In this depiction celebrating humanity and peasant life, the artist set the scene at a market and church squares. Mass had just ended, and the churchgoers carried their chairs out of the holy building. Crippled people begged for money in front of the church. A corpulent man dressed in pink and yellow stockings was playing a guitar and wearing what looked like a ceramic pot on his head. Bruegel the Elder’s “Seasons of the Year” cycle was another of my favorites. It focused on activities in the countryside. I thought of the depiction of winter, “Hunters in the Snow,” and the hunters in the scene that visually and poetically described man’s relationship to the last season of the year.

The main altar in the cathedral

“Peasant Wedding” also showed the lower class at their trades. A servant was filling mugs with beer, for example. Rich in tradition, it depicted the bride without the groom, seated at the table with her head crowned in a small wreath. A child tried the creamy porridge, licking the bowl. Everyday people were engrossed in what were for them everyday activities, some profession-related, others focusing on leisure. The portrayal of the common man as a miner minting coins was, in my mind, connected to the Flemish and Dutch canvases celebrating everyday life. A statue of a miner appeared in the cathedral as well, which made the relationship with Dutch and Flemish works of art even more apparent.

The exquisite stained glass windows in the cathedral

In another Chapel the Smíšek family huddled around an altar. Saint Christopher carried a child on his shoulders in one large fresco. Then I meandered to the other side of the cathedral, where I saw a mural with a different theme: Created in 1746, “The Vision of Saint Ignatius Wounded in the Battle of Pamplona” showed off angels fluttering through pink clouds. I was also entranced by the stone pulpit, built in 1560. The 17^th century ornate wooden pews caught my eye, too.

Hrádek, a museum about the town, mining and silver

After exploring the interior of the cathedral, I was hungry. I stopped for chicken on a skewer at a restaurant with outdoor seating in a courtyard on Ruthardka, a romantic and picturesque street cutting through the center of town. After lunch I stopped by Hrádek or The Small Castle and was eager to see the museum about the town as well as the history of mining and silver in Kutná Hora’s past. The entranceway was full of teenage tourists enthusiastically chatting to each other. I did not want to visit the mines again – I was too claustrophobic – so I asked for the short tour. The man at the box office said he did not think there would be a short tour that day, but maybe he would have one around four p.m., when I had to be back in Prague. I was disappointed as I had read that the former royal residence was decorated with a Renaissance coffered ceiling from 1493 and consisted of halls featuring late Gothic ribbed vaulting. The medieval Saint Václav Chapel boasted wall paintings of Czech saints, I had read. This museum would have to wait until another time.

I carried on to the Stone House, which harkened back to the era before the Hussite period of the 15th century, though it was last reconstructed at the turn of the 20^th century. I was fascinated by its richly decorated Gothic façade, even though it dealt with the grim theme of death. I spotted Adam and Eve under a tree in the gable.

The Stone House

First, steep stairs led me down into the lapidary in the basement, which was part of the pre-Hussite structure. The collection boasted stone fragments from medieval times. I was especially enthralled by the pieces of the outer buttresses of the Cathedral of Saint Barbara, especially with the stone set in a fleur-de-lis pattern. I also saw pinnacles, finials and crockets. The angels that had originally decorated the cathedral entranced me, too.

Then one of the guides, a cheerful woman in her forties, gave me a tour of the first and second floors. Part of the first floor was devoted to objects representing the city’s former guilds throughout the centuries. This I what I liked about small museums. They often contained pleasant surprises. I had never seen an exhibition dealing with guilds. One artifact looked like a griffin sticking his tongue out. Two lions and a crown represented another guild. The symbols of the guilds were intriguing.

A closeup of the Gothic facade of The Stone House

In the hallway stood a painted wardrobe and chest with folk themes. I loved folk art, so rich in tradition. Another space featured Baroque and Biedermeier furniture as well as a forte piano from the 19^th century. The Baroque desk and wardrobe from the 18^th century caught my attention.

On the second floor relics from religious orders greeted me. A New Testament hailed from 1677. I also saw a silver reliquary and pewter altar vase. Especially intriguing was the small, woodcut relief of Madonna and Child from the 19^th century. A Pieta scene from the 18^th century captivated me as well. My favorite, though, was a sculpture of Saint Mary surrounded by miners. She wore a star-studded golden halo, her hands clasped in prayer. Bruegel the Elder also dealt with everyday people’s relationship to religion. I thought of the canvas featuring Carnival and Lent again.

The Italian Court

I did not have time to go to the Italian Court that day, but I would come back again soon to visit it. I recalled its royal chapel in Gothic style with Art Nouveau decoration. The Italian Court, hailing from the end of the 13^th century, had played a significant role in the town’s history. The Prague Groschen was first minted there. Kings of Bohemia had stayed at the Italian Court, and Vladislav of Jagollen had been voted King of Bohemia there during 1471.

A chandelier made out of human bones

I knew that the 12-sided stone fountain was under reconstruction, so I headed for the suburb of Sedlec , where there was an ossuary and cathedral. A 20-minute walk took me to the ossuary with a cemetery, hailing from the 13^th century, the resting place of many plague victims and fallen soldiers from the Hussite wars.

The ossuary in Sedlec

The ossuary in the All Saints’ Chapel went back to the 14^th century. I remembered the space being bizarre and morbid yet fascinating at the same time. The Schwarzenberg clan had purchased the ossuary in 1784. They arranged the 40,000 bones and skulls into various shapes. Before that, architect Jan Santini Blažej-Aichel had renovated the space in his unique Baroque Gothic style, which I deeply admired. I gazed at the bones forming a huge chandelier, a Gothic tower and a chalice.

Another decoration in the ossuary

I was enamored with the Schwarzenberg coat-of-arms. Bones depicted a severed Turk’s head and a raven. The chandelier was my favorite, though. I also gazed in wonder at the skulls from soldiers during the Hussite wars of the 1420s in one display case. I could hardly believe that I was looking at skulls that were so many centuries old, skulls that had once been heads of living human beings.

A chalice made out of human bones

Last but not least I visited the oldest cathedral in the country. The Cathedral of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary and Saint John the Baptist has been a UNESCO site since 1995. It was constructed from 1282 to 1320 and got a makeover in Baroque Gothic style by the brilliant Santini Blažej-Aichel.

The cathedral flaunts Baroque artworks

I was astounded by the seven chapels and the renderings of saints. I was very excited to see three paintings by my favorite Czech Baroque painter, Petr Brandl, whose works evoked such strong emotions in me.

An impressive chapel

I admired the Baroque confession booths, hailing from 1730. Saint Vincent’s and Saint Felix’s relics, donated by Pope Benedict XIV in 1742 on the 600^th anniversary of the monastery, were also fascinating. The Chapel of the Virgin Mary of Sedlec was impressive with its elaborate Ionic columns and plump putti with angels. The statues originally on the west front of the building intrigued me, too. My favorite was a haloed Saint Benedict gripping an open book. I thought of how literature had opened up new worlds for me, especially the Slovak writings of Václav Pankovčín and his penchant for magic realism.

Once again, Kutná Hora had cast a magical spell on me. I had strolled down medieval streets, toured two cathedrals, visited an ossuary and a museum- all delightful and inspiring experiences. Now it was time to catch the bus back to Prague. One thing was for certain: I would definitely be coming back here. Soon.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

A picturesque street in Kutná Hora

Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau Diary

December 31, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

I took a bus from Prague’s Smíchov train station to Mníšek pod Brdy, where the chateau was close to the main square. The ride lasted only a half hour. It was my second time here. During my first visit in 2004, only one tour had been available. Then, in 2011, the chateau began offering two routes. I was eager to see what awaited me on the new tour.

Because I had already been here, I knew the basic history. The castle was first mentioned in 1348. Jan Vratislav from Mitrovic became its owner during 1487, and Mníšek pod Brdy stayed in his family for 168 years. During the Mitrovic era the castle was turned into a Renaissance chateau. However, the history of Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was not all rosy. The chateau was almost destroyed in 1639 during the Thirty Years’ War.

Luckily, when Servác Engel from Engelsfluss purchased it in 1655, he transformed the ruins into a Baroque masterpiece. Several other clans claimed ownership before the Kasts took over. Because Baron Kast had collaborated with the Nazis during World War II, the chateau was put in the hands of the state during 1945. Once utilized as an archive for the Ministry of the Interior, Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was taken over by the Ministry of Culture in 2000. It was reconstructed in 2001 and opened to the public a few years later.

Even the entranceway did not disappoint. The knight’s armor on the wall hailed from the Thirty Years’ War. A Baroque closet, designed with intarsia, was charming. Portraits of family members who owned the castle during the 19^th century also adorned the space.

The moment I set my eyes on the knights’ armor, I thought of my first visit here, with Pavel, whose job involved restoring artifacts in castles and chateaus in central Bohemia. He had proudly pointed out that he had repaired that suit of armor, and he had been the one who told me about this chateau in the first place. We had met at Frýdlant v Čechách Castle and Chateau a month earlier. He had explained that he had a girlfriend, but she did not really like visiting castles. So he often traveled alone. I was alone as well. I appreciated his friendship. Then he had showed me around Kutná Hora, his hometown. The next time we saw each other, we came here. We were captivated by the chateau and then had lunch in a pizzeria in Prague.

The Winter Dining Room was first on the itinerary. I admired a closet that hailed from the second half of the 17^th century. The impressive ceiling painting also dated from that period. There were three sculptures in the chapel. An angel in a dramatic pose stood out on black, swirling columns. I was drawn to the landscape paintings on a wall in the Dining Room. I loved landscape paintings and how they depicted nature’s moods. Some works portrayed the land as idyllic while others emphasized that nature could be intimidating and even cruel. I also admired a jewel chest with intarsia. On one wall colorful plates with Oriental motifs dated from the 18^th century. The chantry in front of the chapel was the work of legendary Czech artist Karel Škréta.

The Big Dining Room was only used for special occasions. Four huge paintings represented earth, water, air and fire, according to the enthusiastic guide with a contagious smile and strong voice. In the allegory of the earth, the man dominating the picture wielded an axe, looking quite intimidating. The white tiled stove shaped as a pyramid exuded the Classicist style. The bottom part of a closet was false, hiding a stairway. Holy Roman Emperor Charles VI made an appearance, too, in a painting depicting a moment in front of the Czech court, shortly after his coronation during 1722. Candlesticks sported designs of swirls and green leaves. I loved the details in objects found in castles and chateaus. The decoration on the candlesticks was just one example of those details that made the object unique and intriguing.

The Servery, where food was prepared, included a closet made in Baroque style at the beginning of the 20^th century. Flowers and birds dominated wall paintings. The delicate porcelain on the table was created in Vienna during the first half of the 19^th century. There was also an 18^th century depiction of a big, white rooster with a colored face and brilliant feathers. The striking colors of the feathers caught my attention. This certainly was a piece that stood out. I had never seen a rooster portrayed this way. The wall flaunted a floral pattern on a tan background with the delicate flowers appearing in pink and blue hues.

The Great Salon was next. The furniture hailed from the first half of the 19^th century. A picture above the door showed Mníšek and its surroundings with a church. The symbols of hunting were very pronounced: A bear, sword, horn and rifle, among others, adorned the landscape. Across the space, on the wall above the entrance to the clock tower, more scenery of Mníšek was portrayed, this time accompanied by medical symbols such as a mask, an arrow and birds. Above the door leading to the following room, I could see what Mníšek Chateau looked like at the beginning of the 20^th century.

In the clock tower to one side of the space, there were four grandfather clocks. The one with red, black and brown decoration attracted me the most. The red complemented the black and brown colors and gave the clock a certain vibrancy. In the next room a jewel chest from 18^th century Japan was captivating, designed with pictures of the countryside and birds. I marveled at the exquisitely painted drawers.

The stucco ceiling of the Smoking Salon had original plastic ornamentation from the 18^th century. A pelican was one dominant figure. I do not think I had ever seen a pelican on a stucco ceiling of a chateau. I loved the surprises this chateau offered, first the rooster with the brilliant feathers and now a depiction of a pelican. I loved tours that held surprises for me. The dark crimson color of the walls was also appealing. A card table with indentations for money hailed from the first half of the 18^th century. A still functional bright red gramophone dated from 1890.

Then we entered the Ladies’ Salon. The paintings on the wall were framed in Secession style. The décor on the walls showed putti as well as people relaxing in the countryside alongside red and green flowers. Meissen porcelain went back to the 18^th century. A toiletry table intrigued me. If you turned up the central part, there was a mirror. Set down, it became a desk.

The library, with 2,000 books, hailed from the Kast family’s era in the chateau. The volumes were in English, French and German. The decoration on the ceiling captivated me. One section showed Venus’ engagement and the other portrayed Venus and Mars, accompanied by fluttering angels, with their son Eros. I loved how mythology was often represented in castle and chateau decorations. Greek and Roman mythology had intrigued me ever since I took a course on that subject at university. All the different attributes for the gods, the captivating stories and their morals – they fascinated me. A unique bell was also in the room. It was shaped like a round, pudgy woman.

We had a 20-minute break before the second tour. I wondered if Pavel had already been on the second route. He probably had, I mused. I thought back to our conversation in the pizzeria in Prague after we had seen this chateau. He told me that he had broken up with his girlfriend, and he had time to visit me every weekend in Prague.

I had valued our friendship, but I did not want to date him. He was much younger than I was and a bit naïve about the world. I stressed that I was only looking for a friend, not a boyfriend, and he was suddenly quiet as he picked at his lasagna.

How many times had a man I was interested in told me that he just wanted to be friends? Or how many times did a man I like express no interest in me at all? It happened to me all the time, and it was painful. But I could not lie to Pavel because I cared about his feelings.

After some minutes, he smiled – a forced smile – and began talking about a chateau near Brno where he planned to go some time the following month. He did not invite me to go with him. I was so lost in thought that I did not hear the guide announce the beginning of the second tour. I was one of the last people to enter the first room.

The second route featured the private apartments of Theodorich Kast and his wife. Framed embroideries complemented small, family photos. I wondered if his family life had been complicated as were my relationships. The family photos had an idyllic quality about them. It looked like Kast had a happy family, free of worries or tension.

The guide showed us one intriguing invention. A doll with a wide dress could be placed over a kettle to keep the water hot. This was another pleasant surprise for me. I had never seen such an object before. Yes, Mníšek pod Brdy was full of surprises. I noticed that the woman dressed in blue in one portrait closely resembled legendary 19^th century Czech writer Božena Němcová with her fragile, round face. Like Němcová she wore a sad but resilient expression and had sorrowful eyes and straight, black hair. I had read Němcová’s The Grandmother several times and had seen the play by Brno’s Divadlo Husa na provázku and film versions as well.

The following room belonged to the husband Theodorich. A jumble of black-and-white photos decorated the walls. The old telephone had no numbers, only a receiver. A heart with a black outline was carved into the headboard of the wooden bed. This was another example of a detail that captured my attention. The heart decoration made the bed unique and exquisite.

The next room showed off photos and paintings of horses. I had never been enthusiastic about horses. I was afraid of them. I would never ride a horse because I would be too scared that I would fall off or be thrown off. I thought of a friend whose teenage daughter had been thrown from a horse and had died, only 15 years old. Yet I knew many people were enthusiastic about the sport and did not get injured. I focused on the tour again. Two small cases resembled hat boxes, but they weren’t. Instead, they were meant to be used on picnics. One hid a jug that could be kept warm while the other was really a chemical toilet.

The Children’s Room was decorated in white. Three dolls from the beginning of the 20^th century sat on a children’s sofa. Two glass parrots that look like owls served as electric lamps above the desk. In a doll house I was drawn to the colorful decorative lamp shades. A model of a school could be seen in one corner of the room. Inside, I noticed wooden benches, a podium, a blackboard and pictures of animals on a miniature wall. I recalled how simple life had seemed when I had been a grade school student and how complex it had become when I had reached adulthood. Sometimes I longed for those simple days when the world was black-and-white, everything was good or evil. There were no gray areas to confuse or upset me.

The next room was meant for a mother and a small baby. I noticed another tea doll. Exquisite clothes for an infant were displayed on the crib. An 18^th century Venetian mirror also made an appearance. I admired the simple gold design on the headboard of the bed as well as the gold decoration on a closet.

The Ladies’ Bathroom included not only a flushing toilet, bidet and narrow tub, but also a selection of women’s and children’s shoes. The purple women’s footwear stood out. I remembered my outing to the extraordinary shoe museum in Zlín in Moravia a few years back. I had never realized that footwear could be so fascinating. Hat boxes took up space on the highest shelf.

We left the rooms after passing by graphics in the hallway. Once again, I was charmed by the chateau with its modest, though extremely appealing, décor. Mníšek pod Brdy had a romantic flair. No object in the chateau really stood out from the others. All the artifacts complemented each other to give a breathtaking impression. I loved the small details on the artifacts. Mníšek pod Brdy Chateau was a place I would love to visit once a year, I decided.

It was a sunny, summer day. The weather was perfect. I was happy. I was even happy to be here alone. Part of me missed Pavel’s presence, but I realized that it had to have played out the way it did. At some point during the second tour, I had stopped wishing Pavel and I could have gone on being just friends and had accepted what was. It was fate. Suddenly, for a short time, life seemed simple. As simple as the life represented by the dollhouse and model of the school in the Children’s Room. If only life could always be this simple! I headed to the nearby main square, where I ate my favorite chicken with peaches and cheese before catching a bus back to Prague. Yes, I was happy.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Frýdlant Castle and Chateau and Hejnice Basilica Diary

December 24, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

For the first time in a long while I went on a trip by car. Since my friend did not have a highway sticker that permitted her to drive on the highways, we had to take side roads that made the trip to northern Bohemia’s Frýdlant Castle and Chateau more than three hours long but much more scenic and intriguing.

I already was familiar with the history of the mammoth castle and chateau complex, as I had visited it eight years earlier. The first reference to the impressive sight went back to 1278, when the castle was sold to the Bibrštejn clan who ruled here for 300 years. During the 15^th century Hussite wars, the Hussites did not capture the castle, as it was spared the Hussites’ wrath that had destroyed so many sites throughout the Czech lands. The chateau came into existence at the beginning of the 17^th century, when Catherine of Redern had it constructed with sgraffito decoration. She also was responsible for adding the exquisite church.

Protestant noble Kryštof of Redern participated in the uprising against the Catholics during the Battle of White Mountain in 1620, and after the Protestants lost, Frýdlant was confiscated. Albrecht von Wallenstein, commander of the Habsburg armies and a major player in the Thirty Years’ War, bought the place during 1622. However, Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand II started to distrust him and in effect gave him a pink slip. When the Protestants notched some victories over the Catholics, Ferdinand asked him for help again, and help he did. Yet, when in 1633 Wallenstein did not attack the enemy during a battle, he was accused of high treason. Unhappy with the way the emperor treated him, he had also been thinking about joining the Protestants. But he would not have the chance. Emperor Ferdinand II had Irish army officer Walter Devereux assassinate Wallenstein in Cheb during 1634.

Then Wallenstein’s General Matyáš Gallas took over the castle. The Gallas family owned Frýdlant until 1759, when the Clam-Gallas family became the owners. The castle museum opened in 1801. In 1945 Frýdlant was confiscated due to the Beneš decrees that ceded all property held by Germans to the state, and it was nationalized.

As we approached the castle, it was impossible not to notice the high circular wall that had been built by the Swedes in 1647. After entering the front gate, we walked over the drawbridge to what was called the Swedish courtyard, taking its name from the 17^th century occupation by the Swedish army. Then we came to the courtyard of the chateau and negotiated a steep path to the castle. In the castle courtyard we peered at a 13^th century round tower and saw Renaissance sgraffito on part of the castle’s wing. One part of the sgraffito portrayed a deer hunting theme.

I was glad that my friend and I were the only people on the tour. We went inside. What impressed me the most in the first room were not the huge portraits of the Redern family but rather the richly carved Renaissance chairs and the Renaissance chest. The green and white tiled stove also caught my attention. In the next room a portrait of Albrecht von Wallenstein showed a man with a serious expression, a small beard and moustache. One painting in the room depicted his assassination. In the dramatic rendition Devereux stabs the unarmed Waldstein in the stomach with a halberd.

Next came the Portrait Gallery, which boasted of huge paintings of Gallas family members. The Baroque fireplace astounded me with the Clam-Gallas coat-of-arms, cherubs and golden crowns adorning it. In the museum part of the exhibition, the legendary Czech nobleman and Austrian Marshall Jan Radecký of Radče was featured in several displays. His light blue uniform was on display as was a circular portrait of Radecký with gray hair and a gray moustache. A picture of Emperor Franz Joseph I’s wife, Empress Elizabeth (Sissy), who was assassinated in 1898, decorated a cup. A likeness of Emperor of Austria and King of Bohemia Franz Joseph I adorned a silver medal.

Then we entered a room featuring many uniforms for the servants during the 19^th century. I was surprised that the summer clothing for the carriage driver was so warm and heavy. He must have been burning up inside that thick attire. The embroidery on the sleeves and shoulders for the estate’s clerks was detailed and exquisite as well.

Following the guide, we saw a narrow, yellow women’s carriage. A Baroque sleigh was decorated with a dolphin that looked like a dragon – that was how the dolphin was rendered during those days. The Hunting Salon featured a table of 130-year old wood. In the Dining Room I saw a vibrant Baroque light green and yellow tiled stove. I particularly noticed the emperor’s eagle carved on the back of a black chair that also sported a golden crown.

The armory was a treat for those interested in weaponry. Even I was enthralled by it, though weapons are certainly not my cup of tea. Helmets, cannons, spears and knights’ armor adorned the rooms. Some of the spears came from the 15^th century Hussite wars; it was hard for me to grasp that I was looking at spears that were so old. Muskets also made appearances as did rifles from the 17^th century Thirty Years’ War. What intrigued me the most in the spaces was not a weapon but rather the huge hat and large boots that couriers had worn. The hat was so big because the messenger needed to store the letters inside it in order to keep them dry when it rained.

Soon we arrived at the exquisite, stunning chapel. The black and gold altar practically glimmered in the space. While the chapel was built in the 16^th and 17^th centuries, it now had a 19^th century appearance. A gold Renaissance altar also greeted me with its ornate Renaissance pulpit. Saints were gathered around the Baroque altar. A stained glass window added even more ambiance to the room.

Next we came to the attic of the chateau, where rooms were designed as they had looked in the 19^th century. In the servants’ room the 19^th century suitcases looked more like bulky chests. The children’s room was intriguing. It included a model of the castle and chateau plus wallpaper made from the comics section of old newspapers, reminding me of today’s wallpaper featuring the Czech Little Mole character or Disney figures.

The space below was called the women’s floor, primarily decorated in blue because that was the color attributed to women during the 19^th century. One room was fashioned after a military tent with a blue and white painted ceiling and wallpaper of the same design. A blue and white tiled stove also contributed to the atmosphere. A Baroque closet also adorned the space.

The Small Salon featured blue and white floral decorated furniture and a display case with women’s hats from the 19^th century. What intrigued me most were the two Baroque cabinets with painted drawers. One drawer was decorated with pictures of animals while two others flaunted countryside scenes. The toiletry area was unique as well. There was a lounge chair that reminded me of a chair at a dentist’s office. I had never seen such a piece of furniture in chateau, let alone in a toiletry space. From the space in front of it, I could see all the rooms in the women’s section all the way down to the exquisite Flower Salon at the end.

The Flower Salon made me practically dizzy with its blue and white delights. The blue and white floral wallpaper complemented the blue and white striped armchairs, making for an intimate and cozy decor. A while tiled stove also stood in the room. The lovely tea set was Rococo, hailing from the 19^th century. To give the room an even more dignified touch, a violin was set on a chair. The marble brown table with white ornamentation also entranced. Plants decorated the room, too, bringing it to life, so that it became more than a museum space.

In the hallway of the Castellan wing, I noticed an engraving of Rome from the 18^th century. I could see the Coliseum, which evoked fond memories of showing that sight to my parents a few years earlier. In the entertainment room hung two renderings of battles from antiquity.

The Morning Drawing Room would not have been my ideal place to spend my mornings or any other part of the day for that matter, because it was decorated with hunting still lifes that featured dead birds. Birdwatchers would no doubt be enthused, though, as some of the dead birds portrayed were no longer found in the Czech lands. Another painting that did not impress me featured a dead deer. Certainly not my idea of how to start off the day.

But the Women’s Bedroom did not disappoint. The intarsia table, jewel chest and Baroque dresser with intarsia charmed me. Yet another room was decorated with furniture from the 19^th century in Biedermeier style.

Next was the men’s floor. The Men’s Bedroom featured a hidden door that led to the women’s floor above and a lovely Baroque closet. The leather wallpaper in the Smoking Salon was gold with green in a floral pattern. The next room was decorated with leather wallpaper and English style blue furniture. A red and blue carpet made the room cozy yet lively as well.

The Coat-of-Arms Salon enthralled me. The dark green fireplace with white columns had a dignified air. On the walls I saw the coat-of-arms of the families that had owned the castle and chateau from the Berka and Dub clan to the Clam-Gallas group. I noticed the blue and yellow wheel on the Redern dynasty’s coat-of-arms and the yellow and light blue stripes of the Gallas family’s coat-of-arms.

The Dining Room was one of the last rooms on the tour. Velvet chairs with comfortable cushions and a red and blue carpet gave the space a lush appearance. The ornate green tiled stove was decorated with blue and yellow figures. Blue and white porcelain hung from the top of the walls. What I loved most about the space, though, was the richly carved wood paneling. The Baroque bureaus with intarsia greatly impressed me as well. In the still functioning large kitchen areas downstairs I was enamored by what was the largest collection of copper dishes I had ever seen, perhaps the biggest in the Czech Republic.

The tour took almost two hours. I loved long tours of castles! I would be happy to be on a tour that lasted four or five hours! I could spend all day in a castle or chateau. Thanks to our knowledgeable guide, we enjoyed the tour immensely.

After visiting Frýdlant, we made our way to the basilica in a village called Hejnice, but we often got lost one-lane roads with two-way traffic. The scenery in the Jizerské Mountains was breathtaking. At one point we were driving down a narrow road flanked by trees, yellow and green fields surrounding us. It was so peaceful and tranquil, just as I imagined the road to Heaven. So relaxing, putting my mind entirely at ease –until a truck came straight at us on the one-lane road. We moved over to the side, partially on the grass and let it pass us. Still, we did not get much of a warning on that winding road whenever a car would come at us from the other direction.

Traveling through the Jizerské Mountains, I realized how devastated the area had been by the floods of the previous year. Whole villages had been practically destroyed, homes in ruins. Barriers put up along rivers were now bent and deformed. The roads were in awful shape, too. I thought back to the floods of 2002 in Prague and the devastation that the natural disaster had unleashed on the capital city. I felt as if I was riding through an area that had just witnessed a war.

It brought to mind the damaged chairs and tables littering the sidewalks of Prague during 2002, so many homes and businesses destroyed. And thoughts of my good friend’s flat decimated in Prague’s Karlín district. It was still hard for me to believe that the flat where we had spent much time discussing anything and everything over cups of Earl Grey tea had been destroyed. I thought of the damaged theatres where I had worked, too. And I thought of the damage in my own flat because workers had been repairing the roof when the downpour had accompanied the floods. Mold everywhere, wet, wool sweaters destroyed, my cat traumatized – at least my home had survived in one piece, and most of my belongings had been saved. Riding through the destruction wrought by those floods in the Liberec region made me realize how quickly we can lose something precious to us and how we have to value each moment in life because drastic change can come at any time, anywhere.

Hejnice Basilica seemed to magically appear in a village nestled in the Jizerské Mountains. The Baroque masterpiece used to be, back in the 13^th century, a stone chapel with Gothic vaults. Ambulatories were built around the Gothic church in 1676. By 1725, the church was able to hold 1,000 pilgrims. Between 1699 and 1725 there were 1,381,176 people who came here to pray to Our Lady. After suffering a fire in 1761, the religious site was rebuilt during only 18 months. By the beginning of the 19^th century, though, the church was plundered and all its valuable items stolen.

Interior of Hejnice Basilica

But restorations took place, and in 1936 the church was proclaimed basilica minor. After the war, however, Germans living in Hejnice were expelled from the country, including the Franciscans who lived in the church’s monastery. In 1950 all monks there were arrested and forced to leave the basilica, and the monastery became a concentration camp of sorts under the Communist government. Later, the monastery served as a school cafeteria and a kindergarten. Not surprisingly, the place that was once a glorious pilgrimage site found itself in ruins during the 1970s and 1980s. Thankfully, the church was renovated and restored after the Velvet Revolution of 1989.

One step inside and the frescoes and main altar enthralled me with their beauty and charm. I could hardly believe that the main altar was illusionary. An architectural feat, it was painted onto the wall rather than three-dimensional. The ground plan of the basilica took the form of a long cross. At the entrance I admired the two towers with a central convex buttress. In a niche I noticed the statue of the Hejnice Madonna.

The vastness of the space awed me. The basilica is the biggest cathedral in northern Bohemia, measuring 50 meters long in its southward cross and 37 meters wide. The cupola is 35 meters high. The central cupola fascinated me. Supported by four Corinthian columns, it was decorated with frescoes portraying events in the life of the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ. Above the main cupola scenes depicting the crucifixion and the Assumption bewitch the viewer with a swirl of movement of angels along with clouds and sharp light. A group of Apostles filled with awe watch the Assumption. Some angels raise the lid of the coffin while others carry the Holy Cross to Heaven.

The main altar in Hejnice Basilica

The main altar can be divided into parts. There is the fresco of the illusionary altar, which depicts allegorical figures representing belief, hope and love. In the middle of the altar, a large altar-piece portrays Saint Elizabeth and the Virgin Mother. The lower part is a stone altar that includes relics of saints and a tabernacle. A Madonna made from lime wood dominates, called the Mater Formosa or Sleek Mother. It was hard to believe that the Madonna hailed from as far back as the 13^th century. I also took special note of the pulpit, dating from 1740. Along with evangelists there was a hand holding a cross with Christ. A large chandelier also hung from the rafters.

Going back through the Jizerské Mountains, along the narrow lane flanked by trees and surrounded by fields, I admired the fantastic scenery that seemed to belong in a film. We made our way to Dubá, where we stopped at an intriguing church and then to Mělník and finally to Prague. It had been a fantastic day during which I had learned how important it was to appreciate what I had in life, to not take anything for granted.

The interior of the church in Dubá

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague. Some of the photos in this blog were taken by Lenka Hilbertová.

Some of my photos of Frýdlant from a 2022 visit, which includes pictures from the new Children’s Tour.

Segesta, Sicily Diary

November 29, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

The temple at Segesta

Before I arrived at the ancient monuments of Segesta, Sicily, I acquainted myself with its war-riddled history, which I found fascinating. According to the Aeneid, Aeneas, the hero of the Trojan Wars, founded Segesta on his way to establish the future Rome, and the first settlers came from Troy. During the Greek era, the town fought again the Sicilian towns of Selinute and Syracuse.

View of the countryside from the amphitheatre

The tyrant Dionysus – not the god – brought terror to Segesta when he took over. One tale that the people used to tell during his tenure as the horror-spreading leader: Dionysus knew that everyone in Segesta prayed that he would die, so his actions became even more ruthless. Then he found out one old woman always prayed that that he would be healthy. He invited her to his palace and asked her why she did not wish him to die as the others did. She told him, “Before you, your predecessor was bad. You’re much worse. So I’m thinking that someone who comes after you might be horrid. That is why I hope you live as long as possible!”

The amphitheatre at Segesta

In 307 BC, when Segesta refused to give money to the tyrant of Syracuse, Agathocles got revenge on the town. He tied Segesta citizens to chariot wheels pulled by horses, launched inhabitants from catapults and cut off their heels, then ordering them to run. He also placed residents of Segesta on a bronze slab and roasted them alive. The survivors set fire to the city, opting to die by flames rather than by torture. The merciless leader was eventually poisoned with a toothpick and died at the stake after a 20-year tenure of terror.

During the Roman era, slave revolts threatened the stability of the republic. The Segesta leader Gaius Verres stole artistic masterpieces, such as a revered statue of Artemis (Diana). Cicero did not mince words and accused Verres of being corrupt and ruthless.

A view of the countryside from Segesta

Clearly, Segesta had not had a rosy time in its heyday. Its history made the struggles in my own life seem petty and insignificant. I was worried about things that should not faze me; I felt stress when I should remain calm. I was thankful there were no tyrants like Dionysus or Agathocles in my life.

When I approached the Doric temple at Segesta, I was speechless. The limestone Doric columns, six on the temple’s short side and 14 on its long side, were crowned by a clear, blue sky as birds fluttered through the empty interior. The backdrop consisted of rich browns and greens, making the well-preserved temple at Segesta resemble a painting that had come alive. The elegant and majestic structure gave me a feeling of freedom, tranquility and independence. The Boston Marathon bombings, the death and destruction in Syria – for the moment it was as if these tragedies had never happened, and the world was a peaceful place.

The temple at Segesta

I still cannot fathom that the temple dates back to 430-420 BC. The barrenness of the inside cleansed me as the harmony of the Classical Age monument blended in with the natural beauty of the landscape. For a moment I closed my eyes and was convinced I was daydreaming. Then I opened them and realized that this beautiful temple from antiquity did really exist. I wanted to climb to the top of one of the columns and look down on the world with a fresh perspective on all the evils and dangers in the world today. Of course, that was not possible.

The amphitheatre at Segesta

But the temple would not be the only sight in Segesta to make a profound impression on me. The Greek theatre, built in the third century BC, also boasted artistic mastery with a serene landscape offering views of the gulf of Castellmare. Towns also dotted the countryside. It was if the Greek theatre was one with nature. I could almost see the chorus conductor making a sacrifice to the deity Dionysus (not the tyrant!) on the altar before the plays began at dawn, when the trumpeter would blow his horn to announce the beginning of a full day of tragedies, comedies and satires. I could imagine the artists in their masks in front of painted scenery with the breathtaking landscape as a stunning backdrop.

Now, more than six months after my visit to Segesta, whenever I get stressed or worried, I think of these magnificent sights in Sicily, how they gave me a sense of freedom, as if I were floating over the world, gaining a new perspective. Visions of the Doric columns and amphitheater complementing the awe-inspiring landscape give me a sense of hope when I feel that a dilemma is futile and a sense of calmness when I feel extremely stressed.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

A view of the countryside from Segesta

Czech Caves Diary

November 27, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

Koněprusy Caves

When I finished touring the Bozkov Dolomite Cave (Bozkovské dolomitové jeskyně), I had achieved my goal: I had finally visited all 14 caves accessible to the public in the country. The plethora of caves fascinated me with rich stalagmite and stalactite decoration, often taking grotesque forms in an Alice in Wonderland type of setting. Breathtaking rock formations resembled waterfalls, castle ruins and owls, for example. There are almost 3,500 caves in the Czech Republic. While not all of them excited me, in many cases, it was well worth exploring the depths that whisper about the long-ago past and even contain remains of prehistoric man. First, a little cave vocabulary is in order: stalactites hang down from the roof of a cave, while stalagmites point upwards from the floor of a cave.

PUNKVA CAVES

I have visited the Punkva Caves (Punkevní jeskyně)in the southern Moravian Karst region twice, once way back in 1992 and again in 2008. (The Moravian Karst region is known for its breathtaking caves. There are about 1,100 caves in the area, but only five are open to the public.) The first time I went to the Punkva Caves a friend drove me. For the second visit I took the train from Brno to Blansko (a short trip) and then took a bus to the information center near the caves. Back in the early 1990s, it wasn’t necessary to make a reservation in advance, and tickets were sold at a small kiosk. Now it is essential for visitors to make a reservation.

Punkva Caves

These caves are the most popular in the country. They are mentioned in many guide books and swamped with tourists from around the world. Discovered between 1909 and 1933, the Punkva Caves took me to the bottom of the Stepmother Abyss (Macocha), from which I felt the power and strength of the chasm, as if I was being swallowed up by its size.

Punkva Caves

Not only did I see stunning ornamentation, but I also enjoyed a magical motorboat ride through the Masaryk Cave and others. To be sure, fairy tale settings and grotesque shapes abound. Some of my favorite moments during the hour-long tour include the decoration of the wall of the Front Cave; the stalagmites and stalactites in the Mirrored Lake boasting Two Owls, A Castle on a Cliff and a Turkish Minaret, and the fantastic decoration of the Angel’s Cave.

Punkva Caves

KATEŘINA CAVE

Located near the Punkva Caves is Kateřina’s Cave (Kateřinská jeskyně), a short distance from the information center that hadn’t been there when I first visited the area in 1992. The 45-minute tour covers 430 meters. The name of the cave comes from a legend that enthralled me: The shepherd Kateřina entered the cave looking for one of her sheep that had gone astray. Unfortunately, she got lost and never saw daylight again.

Kateřina Cave

At the beginning of the tour, I learned that the Main Dome is the biggest publicly accessible natural underground space in the country; concerts are even held there, the guide informed our group. In this space I felt swallowed up by its vastness just as I did in the Stepmother Abyss. Some shapes of intriguing stalagmites that I saw included Two Owls and The Shepherd Kateřina. I noticed many exquisite, tall stalagmites and stalactites, especially in the part of the cave nicknamed the Bamboo Forest. I especially liked one formation, in which stalactites appear as an angry storm cloud with claws.

Kateřina Cave

SLOUP-ŠOŠŮVKA CAVES

Not far, in the same region of southern Moravia, are the Sloup-šošůvka Caves (Sloupsko-šošůvské jeskyně). I took a bus there from Blansko; they run every hour. The bus dropped me off 200 meters from the cave itself. The short tour covers 890 meters, while the long tour covers 1,670 meters. The total length of the underground corridors reaches 4,200 meters. Of course, I took the long tour.

Sloup-šošůvka Caves

I was fascinated that remains of Neanderthal man have been unearthed there. I crossed a bridge that allowed me to gaze to the bottom of Nagel Chasm, 80 meters in depth. That was something to remember! Some of the decoration that awed me included the rich ornamentation of the stalactites in the Gallery and a four-meter high formation called the Waterfall.

Sloup-šošůvka Caves

I also saw cave bear bones, and a vertical abyss that is 64 meters deep. In the Big Three Hall three huge stalagmites resemble a snow mountain, a waterfall and a fortress. I also imagined shapes of a spiraled totem pole and a spiraled tower as well as a gigantic top hat and swords stuck firmly in the cave floor.

Sloup-šošůvka Caves

BALCARKA CAVE

Also nearby in the southern Moravian Karst region, the Balcarka Cave (Jeskyně Balcarka) features two floors of unique stalactite and stalagmite decoration, such as that exhibited in the Gallery. Since I did not have a car, I could not combine this visit with my trip to the Sloup-šošůvka Caves, even though the two are not that far apart. I went by bus from Blansko to Ostrov u Macochy. Buses ran every hour, so I did not have to wait long.

Balcarka Cave

I was in awe that stone and bone instruments dating back to the Stone Age as well as bones of Pleistocene animals have been discovered there. One shape in the cave looked like an elderly hand with knobby, long fingers pointing downward, as if it was about to gently touch something.

Balcarka Cave

Shapes similar to ruined castles and towers fascinated me as well. Some lumpy forms reached out with tentacles to touch the stalactite quills above. Other ornamentation took on the appearance of a spiraling tower with a steeple on top. I saw many fragile-looking stalactites hanging from the roof of the caves, too.

Balcarka Cave

JAVOŘÍČKO CAVES

As fascinating as the Punkva Caves are the Javoříčko Caves (Javoříčské jeskyně) near Litovel and Olomouc in central Moravia. Discovered in 1938, these caves boast some of the most exquisite stalactite and stalagmite decoration in the Czech Republic. In all, 788 meters are accessible to the public. Visitors can choose from a 40-minute or 60-minute tour. The short route takes one 450 meters, while the long one covers all 788 meters. I chose the 60-minute version.

Javoříčko Caves

Perhaps this system of caves is the most grotesque, appearing to be part of a horrific fairy tale filled with monsters. Yet it was difficult to get to; I went by car from Olomouc, the historic town where I was staying. I could not find any suitable public transportation.

Javoříčko Caves

Some intriguing formations featured a stalagmite shaped as a pagoda, with what appeared to be a Rococo doll seated on it. Pastel colored limestone spikes took on the appearance of waterfalls, named Niagara Falls and the Falls of the Elbe. The Curtain, which appeared to be fringed with lace and measured more than two meters in length, fascinated me the most. It looked as if the curtain was almost flapping, captured in a single moment. Crystallizing calcite surfaces made up the lace while the red tint came from ferrous compounds.

The Sacred Hole has a spellbinding history. Banned religious groups used to gather there in the Middle Ages; I saw black stains on the ceiling that had resulted from torch smoke. The most beautiful decoration I saw, though, was in the Scree Dome and the Dome of Giants. The Scree Dome featured a unique-shaped mound sprinkled with what looked like white icing or virgin snow. The breathtaking ceiling was a composite of fragile, thin exquisite stalactite spikes.

Javoříčko Caves

In the Fairy Tale Cave there was even more astounding decoration of stalactites pointing down from the ceiling. In the Dome of Giants one shape looked like a monster with a multi-layered crown on his head. Another formation I liked featured stalactites hanging from the roof, looking like a cloud with droplets of rain frozen in the sky. One more intriguing characteristic about these caves is that some stalactites and stalagmites called heliotites grow against the laws of gravity.

MLADEČ CAVES

The Mladeč Caves (Mladečské jeskyně) are also located near Olomouc, not far from the Javoříčko Caves. I went by car the same day I visited the Javoříčko Caves. It was not easy to get to these caves, either, and I was there on a weekend, which made it even more complicated to go by public transportation.

Mladeč Caves

Remains of prehistoric man have been found here, including many skeletons of people from the Early Stone Age. I saw skeletal-like formations in the Cave of the Dead while Nature’s Temple was dominated by what looks like it was once a shimmering white waterfall. In the Virgin Cave the shapes took on forms of hills with towers and castle ruins. One figure that impressed me looked like a mummy.

Mladeč Caves

KONĚPRUSY CAVES

The Koněprusy Caves (Koněpruské jeskyně), only an hour or so from Prague and seven kilometers from Beroun, boast the largest system of caves in Bohemia. The caves were discovered in 1950 and opened to the public in 1959. They are easy to get to as well. I took the train to Beroun, about an hour from Prague, waited about an hour and then went by shuttle bus to the caves. I was impressed that bones of prehistoric animals have been unearthed there. The stalactite and stalagmite ornamentation was thrilling; one cave even used to be a medieval money forgers’ workshop in the 15^th century. According to the guide, between 5,000 and 10,000 fake coins were made there using copper sheets and an amalgam of silver. I saw copies of the equipment the forgers used.

Koněprusy Caves

I took note of some stalactites shaped like an organ; Eternal Desire is composed of stalactite and stalagmite spikes that are almost touching; and another formation appeared as white gushing water, stopped in time. Perhaps Prošek’s Dome astounded me the most. In this cave I set my eyes on the 1,500-year old Koněprusy Roses stalactite formation. It fascinated me that this is the only place in the world where this sort of ornamentation has been discovered.

Koněprusy Caves

In another cave a certain formation could depict a rock-made window frame overlooking a grotesque landscape of quills, resembling swords, pointing down from the roof. Nearby a stalagmite appeared to me as a sandcastle, seemingly so fragile that it could be broken with the slightest moment. A shape on the ceiling looks like a gaping mouth about to swallow the visitor.

Koněprusy Caves – The Waterfall

In the waterfall I saw the droplets of water gushing down, stopped for eternity. Also, in the Organ Hall, I noticed stalagmites taking the form of a small town made of cliffs. Replicas of bones unearthed in Prošek’s Dome were exhibited in the Empty Dome; for example, I took note of the skull of a woolly rhinoceros and part of a human skull, both 13,000 years old.

BOZKOV DOLOMITE CAVE

There are other caves that I liked, too. I went by bus to Semily and then took another bus about one kilometer from the Bozkov Dolomite Cave, but it can be difficult to find public transportation that goes there. This cave, in the foothills of the Giant Mountains of northern Bohemia, boasts the longest cave system in the country formed on dolomite limestone as well as the largest underground lake in Bohemia in the Lake Cave. Discovered in the 1940s, it is the only publicly accessible cave in northern Bohemia.

Bozkov Dolomite Cave

For me, the underground lake of glinting green water framed by rock formations was the thrill of this tour. Some of the rocks even formed an archway through which the water seemed to flow into the horizon. I saw other rich stalactite and stalagmite decoration on the tour, too. For example, I imagined that a squid was moving sideways in a strong current when setting my eyes on one formation. I was a bit frightened when I peered down a chasm into the depths of darkness. In another cave I took note of a waterfall bulging at its bottom.

Bozkov Dolomite Cave

NA POMEZÍ CAVES

I stayed in the spa town of Jeseník in northern Moravia when I visited the Na Pomezí Caves (Jeskyně Na Pomezí). I took the bus from Jeseník, but times were irregular. The Na Pomezí Caves have the largest cave system in the country.

Na Pomezí Caves

While exploring the 530 meters of these caves, I saw a curtain-like formation that appeared to be made with coarse material. Cascades and large stalactites adorned the caves. I imagined one grotesque shape as someone’s dentures about to bite into two muffins. Some of the caves that enchanted me here included the Ice Dome, the Weeping-Willow Cave and the Roman Bath corridor.

Na Pomezí Caves

There are other caves in the country, but those are the ones that excited me the most. Whenever I descended the steps and walked into the depths of a cave, I felt as if I was looking deep into my soul. When I listened to the legend of Kateřina getting lost in the cave of the same name, I thought about feeling lost myself, how I didn’t want to be an English teacher anymore, but for the time being couldn’t find another job that suited me. I felt that I had yet to find myself, and I was nearing 40.

Sloup-šošůvka Caves

In other caves I mused about my life as well. I pondered over whether I should have had children. I wondered if I would be happy being single all my life as the few men I had loved hadn’t loved me. I thought about many things during those visits to caves, and I always felt enlightened by the time I exited each cave, leaving the darkness of my musings for the joyous light of day.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague.

Looking up at the Macocha Abyss from the Punkva Caves

Žleby Chateau Diary

November 22, 2013 by Tracy's Travels

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Miraculously, I made the train connection in Čáslav with four minutes to spare and not long afterwards found my way from the train station in the village of Žleby to the chateau. To say Žleby is majestic and romantic is a vast understatement. The chateau looks as if it has emerged from a fairy tale. I inspected the fountain in front of the chateau. It dates from 1860 and shows a member of the Auersberg family, who owned the chateau for over 200 years, grappling with a bison. As I bought my ticket, I was a bit disappointed, though. A 90-minute tour was available, but a third tour did not open until May. So, I would miss the chateau theatre and lower floor library, unfortunately. (I saw these during my 2020 visit by car.)

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While I waited for the tour to begin on that freezing April morning, I familiarized myself with the history of the chateau as described in a booklet I had purchased. Žleby was first mentioned in writing during 1289. The Lichtemburks owned Žleby until 1356, when Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV gave it to Markvart from Vartenberk. During the Hussite wars, the castle was razed, sharing the same fate as many other places in Bohemia during that bloody era. Then Jiří from Dubé and Vizmburk restored the castle in Late Gothic style. It was changed into a four-winged Renaissance chateau with an arcaded courtyard at the end of the 16^th century and the beginning of the 17^th century under another owner. During the first part of the 18^th century, Baroque renovations began.

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In 1746, while the Schönfelds owned the chateau, their daughter Kateřina married Jan Adam from Auersperg. When Kateřina died, the Auersberg line took over ownership of the chateau, and the family would retain Žleby for 200 years. Baroque restorations continued, and the Auersbergs also designed Rococo interiors. Some years later, owner Vincenc Karel Auersberg and his wife Princess Vilemína Colloredo-Mansfield would become responsible for many changes that gave the place a romantic makeover as they were influenced by English architecture from the first half of the 19^th century.

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Thus, from the 1840s Žleby took on a more romantic air. The Auersberg couple wanted to give the chateau more of a Gothic character and added a prison and bastions. They fitted the interior with leather wallpaper, wood furnishings, weapons and historic furniture, all of which can be seen in the chateau today. In 1849 Vincenc bought land for the future park. In 1942 the chateau changed hands, and after the war it was nationalized.

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The chapel was first on the list. Upon entering the tiny, quaint two-floor chapel, the narrow, high and oblong stained glass windows behind the altar of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary caught my attention. The windows bewitched me with their dynamic, bright colors. I then studied the main altar and was drawn to the bright red of an angel’s cloak. The chapel was the youngest part of the chateau, in 19^th century Neo-Gothic style, the guide – probably a university student – explained. It dated from 1853 to 1858. Still, there were a few items that went back farther than the 19^th century. For instance, a side altar hailed from the 15^th century. The triptych showed the Virgin Mary with a sculptural grouping of a Pieta in the middle of two statues. I noticed the trickles of blood on Jesus’ crossed hands. The oldest item in the entire chateau was here – a 15^th century richly engraved baptismal font. Statues of saints were positioned high on the side walls of the chapel. I spotted the flapping drapery of Saint Elizabeth.

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Then we left the interior and walked through the courtyard with its breathtaking Renaissance arcades to another entrance. The inside hallway was dominated by a 16^th century knight in armor on the model of a horse cloaked in red. The guide said that the knight weighed 40 kilograms, the horse 20 kilograms. On the walls were very wide moose antlers. I also noticed slits for eyes in some helmets, the shoulder boards and the neck guards of armor, a two-handed sword and a rapier.

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As we made our way up the Renaissance stairway, the young man leading our group pointed out that the chateau had the second most weapons after Konopiště, a popular chateau located about an hour from Prague. Indeed, on the walls leading up to the next floor I saw many weapons. Ancient rifles covered one wall, and in another place I spotted a white ivory horn with detailed engravings, once used by Polish King Jan III. Sobiesky, who liberated Vienna from a Turkish threat in 1683.

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We entered the Knights’ Hall, which was decorated with 14 knights’ armors from the 16^th century, hunting trophies, pistols and swords – one with red and green gem decoration in the hilt caught my eye – as well as 188 painted glass pictures covering one wall. These glass paintings hailed from 1503 to 1749 and were decorated with allegorical figures, biblical scenes and coats-of-arms. I spotted the coat-of-arms of the Auersberg family above the doors. Three paintings from the beginning of the 16^th century showed tournament and banqueting scenes. The ceiling featured stucco designs. An intarsia-designed credence was a delight, too.

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We went through the Emperor’s Room with its white swirls and flowers on brown wallpaper and dark brown table with white swirl decoration on the top. Then we moved on to the bedroom, where a brilliantly colored triptych from the 15^th century entranced me. The gold and red colors complemented each other. A huge Baroque bed featured columns and a canopy. On the white tiled stove I saw scenes in nature. I noticed the sea, cliffs and a castle in the landscapes. A black and gold jewel chest was riveting as was an intarsia brown table. The golden wallpaper made an everlasting impression on me. Made with leather, it showed flowers with greenery and golden grapes. Little did I know that even more fascinating leather wallpaper awaited me in other rooms.

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The Prince’s Study was next on the agenda. The velvet leather wallpaper, colored dark blue and decorated with flowers, also heated the room. An intarsia closet was exquisite. In the Travel Room, silverware was packed in a box that fit into a portable chest that could be lugged around during journeys. The bed itself was enthralling – it could be packed up, appearing as a closet with intarsia design. A travel toilet in a box resembled a crate.

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The Rococo Salon was dominated by a tapestry featuring fountains, trees, apples, peacocks and well-dressed women taking a stroll through the idyllic scenery. Again, the wallpaper amazed me. This time it was decorated with flowers and birds. The leather wallpaper in this chateau brought to mind that fascinating leather wallpaper at Šternberk Castle in central Moravia.

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Soon we came to the Small Men’s Study with its daiquiri tiled stove that boasted coat-of-arms – just one of many tiled stoves that would bewitch me with its beauty. The leather wallpaper above the desk consisted of royal blue and brown swirls. I also peered at ancient books with delicate, brown and gold bindings.

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From there we entered the representative rooms. In the hallway the chairs had carved, wooden figures in their backs, and the bench also had a finely carved back displaying coats-of-arms. In the Thirty Years’ War Room the walls were covered in Late Gothic carved wood paneling with swirls cut into the wood. Elegant, dark chairs complemented ivory rifles and swords as well as helmets. There were two secret doors in the room – one led to a dry toilet and the other to the downstairs library.

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The upper floor library consisted of 6,000 books and 6,000 engravings. The big books had beautiful spines. Smaller books were set on shelves high on the walls. The Gallery enthralled as well. Engravings made up one display case. Paintings on the walls included those with animal scenes and a delicate still life of fruit. The leather wallpaper came from 72 deer. The walls were decorated with wood paneling featuring the geometric motif of the Auersberg “A”. There was also a Renaissance dagger that caught my attention. The coronation sword of Emperor Ferdinand I was compelling, too. A Baroque ebony bureau was made of ivory and tortoiseshell.

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The Red Room, though, had the most enticing wallpaper, with its gold and red ornamentation. A painting on the ceiling showed fluttering cherubs. The Late Renaissance tiled stove from the 16^th and 17^th century featured Old Testament scenes in the upper part and New Testament scenes in the lower section. The green and brown colors made it attractive as well. The door with intarsia dated from the Renaissance, from 1573 to be exact, and used to be part of the Jihlava town hall. Above me was a beautiful, coffered ceiling.

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The Tyrol Room boasted a Baroque tiled stove from the Tyrol region that was just as captivating as the one in the Red Room. The brown stove showed scenes from mythology in white relief. The swirling, white columns on the stove were complemented by the swirling, pine wood columns in the wood paneling hailing from the Tyrol. A wooden Rococo sleigh for children looked precious. A Delft fajan vase was exquisite, and on the walls were impressive fajan plates.

The stunning Blue Salon was decorated with the biggest tiled stove in the chateau, a blue, white and mustard yellow piece hailing from Bavaria and featuring grape harvest scenes from that region. A rare black desk was complemented by gemstones. A Spanish-Moorish bureau from the 17^th century graced the room as well. A Baroque ebony cabinet hailed from 17^th century Germany. The walls in the lower half of the space were decorated with light wood panels while the upper part included blue and gold leather wallpaper. I looked up at the wood, coffered ceiling. It was astounding.

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The Knights’ Dining Room did not disappoint, either. The biggest space in the chateau included an intarsia closet and rare hand-painted goblets with colorful figures. Swords and hunting trophies covered the walls. Another bureau in the room was decorated with an ivory engraving of a man on a horse, spearing a boar.

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Blue-and-white porcelain dominated the space where meals were prepared, and rare rose porcelain from Slavkov in Moravia was exhibited in the kitchen itself with its huge, astounding brickwork. Blue-and-white English porcelain was displayed on a table. A unique, 19^th century, cylindrical grill stood out. The kitchen smelled like a bakery. Chateau employees in historic dress were baking bread. A boiling house and smoke house were attached, too. The stove dated from the 19^th century.

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After the 10 of us on the tour sampled some homemade Easter bread, the eloquent and enthusiastic guide said goodbye. I took a few more photos of the romantic, fairy tale façade with elegant gate before heading to the park. Then I walked down the street to a pub for a fattening, yet tasty, lunch of beef and dumplings. From the pub window I gazed at the chateau. I felt as if I was a trance. I was so drawn to the chateau. I knew that soon I would have to wake up from my trance and get on the train to Čáslav, where I would switch to a Prague-bound train. Looking out the window at the chateau, I decided that I had had a great day. I just wished that more tourists would visit the chateau that was located only 18 kilometers from Kutná Hora, a major attraction.

Tracy A. Burns is a writer, proofreader and editor in Prague, Czech Republic.

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