Bohemian Villages

We slide along roads where neither milk nor honey flow, nor do Slivovitz or Pilsner.
It's not even a proper road. We are currently on a muddy dirt path that the last heavy downpour has turned into a slippery slide. From above, I can look down at the small reservoir we are heading towards.

The sun burns from the blue sky, causing temperatures to rise sharply even in the morning.
However, we cannot stop the car to enjoy the view, because as soon as we stop, the wheels will sink into the thick clay muck, never to be seen again. So, the robber cave sways mile after mile high above the water.

The ride gets wilder and my panic reaches unutterable proportions. Once again, I have to complain: No! No! No! We are going to tumble down the steep slope, sink into mud, mire, and slime, rolled and dived by wild boars, and dissolve forever into the lonely expanses of Czech Canada. No! No! No!

I really don't want to go into that stupid reservoir anymore; you don't have to wash every day, body hygiene is overrated anyway!
As the rear tires of the Kangoo sway dangerously again and the back end almost swings over the abyss, I cover my face with my hands, unable to face fate with its cold, merciless eyes.

A last roar of the engine, and the hero proudly announces: “Oh man, even here the water is just brown sludge!”

I can hardly believe it, but we have arrived without injuries, scratches, or dents, and even without the obligatory vacation getting stuck at the reservoir.

A fisherman sits motionless on the opposite shore, a pedal boat family paddles in the sun, and an autonomous brigade of ducks patrols the water.
We take our daily bath, but true joy looks different. Up to now, all rivers, streams, lakes, and ponds we have encountered have been completely over-fertilized and algae-covered, making them only hospitable to the universally beloved New Year’s carp. But the stink has to go, especially with these summer temperatures. Because contrary to all forecasts from the weather app, the sun accompanies us on this trip.

When the fisherman opposite finally moves around noon, contrary to my expectations, friendly employees from the waterworks ask us to drive the robber cave out of the dense riverbank to the roadside: “Car – there – water.” Only now is it clear how many vehicles are hidden in the bushes. Suddenly, numerous cars emerge from the plum thickets around the lake! This is presumably to prevent fuel or oil from entering the water. Or perhaps one or the other vehicle has previously toppled over the fragile sand cliff and landed in the lake.

Maybe you're wondering if we can recommend little Czechia as a travel destination? A detour is definitely worthwhile!
The Krkonošsko Mountains are not far away and offer endlessly green avenues lined with oaks, linden trees, or chestnuts, whose romance is undisturbed by any guardrails. And when you ascend the next hill, a wide view of Sněžka may suddenly open up. And this is, after all, referred to by VisitCzechia as the “Czech Matterhorn.” Moreover, there are the Czech Dolomites, the Bohemian Paradise, and Czech Canada.

We find many quiet rural areas where tourism is still gentle. The people are relaxed and very polite, and are quick to offer help if travelers struggle with the circumstances. Young people speak English very well and almost fluently. The older generation often remembers a few phrases in German.

Culinarily, however, the Czechs do not impress me. Although grocery shopping is comparatively inexpensive, neither the limited cheese selection nor the bacon-filled dumplings, gigantic boiled hams, or almond cream—which unmercifully reveals itself to be liver sausage after purchase—excite me.

Vegetables seem to consist mainly of cabbage, and the camping kitchen is rather one-sided on this trip.
In return, plums and prunes grow everywhere, which we eagerly collect. The selection of sweet pastries is definitely noteworthy; especially the different poppy seed cakes have captured our hearts.

We randomly discover large stones in Czech Canada, also find the small vineyards in Moravia, and eat in Telč the obligatory soft ice cream that can be bought in every, even the smallest village, and seems to belong to Czech culture just like beer and knedliky.

Now on the itinerary is Český Krumlov.
It has been the hero's dream for a while to visit the Seidel photo studio. The opportunity presents itself quite unexpectedly but is seized readily, which is why our path now leads us to South Bohemia.

The museum is housed in the Jugendstil building of the Seidels and offers impressive insights into the history of photography. The studio is faithfully reconstructed and vividly illustrates the work of photographers in the early days of this craft. 

Old wooden cameras, costumes, couches, printed wallpapers, plenty of authentic interior from the turn of the century, a historical darkroom, and a comprehensive archive in the attic captivate even those without prior knowledge.

Enchanted by the charm of this wondrous place, which seems to be from another era, we don’t want to miss the old town of Český Krumlov, which is embraced by the Vltava River.

Still mentally on another planet, we are once again struck by the Riquewihr effect. Just quickly around three corners, and suddenly we find ourselves in a bustling crowd. Tourists from all over converge. Asian influencers film themselves with thoughtful looks at the river, youth groups test their Budweiser tolerance, families struggle through soft ice cream lines, scouts whistle each other shrill signals, school trips load their luggage onto canoes and capsize on the Vltava, couples kiss against the colorful backdrop, and there’s a shift change for street musicians on the bridge.

I break into a sweat again and we decide we have seen enough. The parking machine eats our remaining crowns, and then it's time to get out of here!

Unfortunately, our last day in this little land is marred by failures. The Farmer’s Baroque in Holašovice, not far from Budweis, has been blocked by carnival booths of the annual fair, at the sight of which I once again lose my breath.

So onward to Liberec, where there’s a flea market taking place tomorrow that we want to check out. On the way, we inadvertently land on a toll highway even though I had drilled it into the GPS that we wanted to avoid this. We can’t make sense of the Czech toll system and later book a vignette for a whopping 11 euros for ten days. We should have done that right from the start…

Arriving at our chosen spot for the night in Liberec, friendly staff inform us that the annual music festival Benátská! is currently taking place and we must sleep elsewhere.

On the road to Mount Ještěd, which towers over the city at just over 1000m and features a conspicuous television tower, there are some parking spots available, but tomorrow, Saturday, a car race will take place. The racing cars have set up base halfway up and are already roaring up and down for test drives.
Fortunately, the noise subsides with the onset of darkness and we can spend the night here.

After traveling over 2300km and making a detour to the remarkable Görlitz, we return home on Sunday during a downpour, with lightning and thunder. We’ve brought back a few bags of caraway and beautiful memories, and there are still some attractions left to discover on the next trip.

So, until we meet again: a hearty farewell!