Cesky Krulmov

We left Sunday at 9 am and arrived in Cesky Krumlov by about noon, 12:30. We includes myself, all of the FAMU students, and all of the Central European and Jewish studies students, all American. We took a miserably hot bus ride through unfortunately uneventful Czech lands, but I suppose you don't often get great views from highways, so I wasn't complaining. I slept the whole way down anyways so it's pretty irrelevant, but I write with a stream of consciousness, so deal with it. Kinda like right now, even though it has nothing to do with my story, I feel like you should know I'm currently cooking a pasta dish with a nice Bolognese sauce with chopped onions, peppers and garlic. I'm very excited. Anywho, this place was way too nice to be real. I hope my gallery helps to give you an idea of what I mean, but alas, the essence of a truly beautiful place cannot be captured through a lens alone. It requires sharp observation, as what made this town so beautiful is that every tiny little detail fell into place. The streets smelled of Trdelniks (amazing churro-type deserts), bakeries, crepe shops, and pure joy. Bridges spanned the river as kayakers and canoes passed below. Folk music rang through the streets, but from where I almost never knew, which I actually found more enticing. Streets were made for walking, as they bled into the sidewalks or were simply one in the same. Cars would have to drive very slowly through the town so as to not hit anyone, and honestly it's probably quicker to walk across town than drive. Sure, it was touristy, but it's the kind of place that nobody 'actually' lives in 'cause it's just so damn nice. Maybe that's just the Cleveland in me talking though.

We toured through the castle that overlooked the entire town, which is hugged by a crystal blue river that snakes around the center of the town while simultaneously acting as a moat for the castle. As if that weren't enough, they keep bears just under the bridge leading into the castle grounds as "protectors of the realm" or whatever. It's really just symbolic of the families that used to rule the Bavarian area, but I still thought it was massively cool. The interior of the castle was very nice, though most of the rooms were pretty much the same. I suppose when you have very limited technology, rooms can't really function as anything more than sitting or dining rooms. Did you know that royal families used to make foreign diplomats wait days at a time before talking to them as a way to speed up the negotiating process and get what they want? Amazing, I thought, how manners have come to dominate political conversions and how rude people were to each other. But I digress. The walls were lined with portraits, about one-third of which were very royally dressed dwarves, which was both amusing and slightly off-putting. Photography was forbidden, so unfortunately I can't show you them, but use your imagination; I'm sure it'll do the trick. What was left of the day we spent exploring until our feet hurt. Puppet shops, book stores, photo galleries, and quaint czech cuisine along the river--it just couldn't get old. That night we were all treated to a glorious dinner of our choice from the local brewery. I got wild game (half boar, half deer) with roasted potatoes and a tall pivo. A gypsy band arrived at the tail end of the meal and proceeded to play, complete with guitars, standing bass, a clarinet player, and of course an accordion. We danced and drank until the sweat poured from our foreheads and we had rest our legs. But before you know it, Hava Nagila is playing and you're up again, arms around strangers and grape-vining in circles and circles and circles.

The night took a turn for the most interesting, however. Because we were only in Cesky Krumlov for a night, pretty much everyone decided to make it 'a night to remember'. And by that, I mean not remember. Don't worry parentals, I didn't get too crazy. I mean, what's so crazy about body shots, absinthe, and dancing in a dungeon? Perhaps I've said too much. In all seriousness though, who would have thought that the Van Gogh Cafe would have a legitimate dungeon as their basement? It had a pit of despair that spanned about 5 feet across and at least 10 feet down, covered only by a thin metal plate. Very creepy. I was thoroughly convinced that many people had died down there 300+ years ago, but that didn't stop me from dancing all over it. It was tough to dampen our spirits that night. We stumbled our way through cobblestone streets wide and thin until about 2 in the morning, admiring literally everything we saw and laughing at our own drunken amusement of the place we had already spent over 12 hours in. The next morning at breakfast, my friend and I dubbed it "Sloppy" Krumlov--a fitting name for a small town in the South of the Czech Republic.

I just finished my pasta dish. It was great. I think I'll leave the rest for lunch tomorrow.