The Czech Republic Beyond Prague
For more information on travel in Barcelona and Catalunya, visit our resource page.
Few travelers venture beyond Prague to experience the Czech Republic's many cultural riches and offbeat delights. We'll get you started with a whirlwind of Art Nouveau, local pub music, stinky cheese-tasting, river-rafting, and peat-bathing in places like Olomouc, Moravsky Krumlov, Trebon, Konopiste, and Cesky Krumlov.
 Hi, I'm Rick Steves, back with more of the Best of Europe. This time we're soaking up the good life as we explore the off beat delights of the Czech Republic. Thanks for joining us!
[2 series open]
 To get a fair look at any country, you need to venture beyond its dominant city. Here in the Czech Republic there's a world of cultural riches outside of Prague — and in this episode, that's our focus.
 We'll discover stately squares with no tourists; eat stinky cheese and wash it down with Europe's best beer... See the trophies of a bored yet trigger happy prince and learn of an evil Nazi hoax. Then we'll follow the epic story of a Czech nation on canvas, paddle through the bohemian countryside, and delight in a fairytale town that comes complete with jaunty Gypsy music.
[5 Map] Buried in the heart of central Europe is the Czech Republic. Skipping Prague, the capital, we start in Olomouc in Moravia, before visiting Moravsky Krumlov, Trebon, Terezen , Konopiste, and Cesky Krumlov .
 As Europe unifies into one vast free trade zone, it's employing a kind of internal Marshal Plan, investing hundreds of billions of dollars into its own infrastructure. Here in the Czech Republic they have a new express train which, in less than two hours, zips from Prague to here...Olomouc.
 Its circa-1950s train station is a fascinating blend of old and new: Bright and happy workers put down their hammers and sickles long enough to greet you — a reminder of the country's recent communist past. Just a short tram-ride from the station gets us to the old town center.
 Olomouc, the historic capital of this region, is the Czech Republic's fifth-largest city with 100,000 people and home to a leading university. With its wealth of cafés, clubs, and student life, Olomouc gives you vibrant local culture — without the tourist crowds and high prices of Prague.
 I'm joined by my Czech friend and co-author of my Czech Republic guidebook, Honza Vihan.
Rick: So, Moravia, is that a political unit or an ethnic region?
Honza, Moravia is region in the Eastern part of
 The fortune and misfortune of Olomouc comes from its strategic location at the intersection of Central Europe's main east–west and north-south trade routes. The city's historic core is simply workaday Moravia. Trams clatter through the streets — as they have for a century. The town's economy is lively even without much tourism.
 Standing in front of the Town Hall surrounded by the vast square and its fine noble and bourgeois residences, you can imagine the importance of Olomouc in centuries past. The people here are proud — as if their fine city was still ruling Moravia...which is hasn't done since about 1640.
 Locals brag that their city is the home for the country's second most important bishop and its second most important university. Perennially number two, Olomouc actually built its bell tower to be six feet taller than Prague's. But, when it comes to plague monuments, Olomouc is unrivaled..... this baby is the tallest and most grandiose anywhere.
 Throughout Central Europe squares like this are decorated with similar structures, erected by locals to give thanks for surviving the plague. The tip of the column features the Holy Trinity: God the Father making a blessing, Christ sitting on a globe, and the dove representing the Holy Spirit. Tumbling below the Trinity, the archangel Michael — with his ever-ready sword and shield — reminds us that the Church is in a constant struggle with evil.
 It all sits atop a tiny chapel where, on the day the column was inaugurated in 1754, the mighty Hapsburg Empress Maria Theresa — who traveled all they way from Vienna — knelt to pray — devout, yet envious. Proud little Olomouc, way out here in Moravia, had a plague column grander than Vienna's.
 A series of allegorical fountains decorate the old town. Most were inspired by classical mythology. This one, featuring Julius Caesar, is dedicated to the legendary founder of the town.
 The modern turtle fountain is a meeting place for young mothers, and a fun place to watch toddlers enjoy the art.
 This astronomical clock was destroyed by the Nazis in World War II. Today's version was rebuilt in 1953 by the communists — with their kitschy flair for propaganda. In good Social Realist style, you have earnest chemists and heroic mothers rather than holy saints and Virgin Marys. In this region so rich in agriculture, these symbols of the 12 months each feature a seasonal farm activity. High noon is marked by a proletarian parade, when a mechanical conga line of milkmaids, clerks, blacksmiths, teachers, and first defenders are celebrated as the champions of everyday society
 As with any full service astronomical clock, there's a wheel with 365 saints, so you'll always know whose special day it is. And this clock comes with a Moscow-inspired bonus — red bands splice in the special days of communist heroes: Lenin died on the 21st day of the year; Stalin's saint was Tomas — day 355.
 We can't leave Olomouc without experiencing on the city's greatest attractions; its notoriously stinky cheese.
 What's so special about this Czech beer? I don't know...but as other We know about the beer. Tell me about this famous cheese. The stinkiest cheese in the Czech Republic. You eat it this way...lots of butter, young onion — it's good for your manhood, and this cheese. When my mom served it my dad and I would clear out of the kitchen. It's aged under aged meat...and as you age you appreciate it. These are very strong mints so you can kiss your wife when you go home. [fade to black]
 Thirty miles south of Prague is Konopiště, the lavish residence of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Its interior dates from about 1900, when the heir of the Hapsburg throne, Franz Ferdinand, moved in. Against the wishes of his uncle, Emperor Franz Josef, Franz Ferdinand married a Czech countess, Sofie. To escape family problems back in Vienna, he purchased Konopiste and moved here to raise their 3 children and wait his turn to be emperor.
 Money was no object as Franz Ferdinand turned his castle into a palace with all the latest comforts: As one of the first castles in Europe to have an elevator...a shower with hot and cold running water...and even a new-fangled flush toilet, Konopiště shows "modern" living around the year 1900.
 The archduke had lots of time on his hands as his uncle, Emperor Franz Josef held onto power from 1848- and all the way until 1916. While he waited, Franz Ferdinand amassed one of the best collections of medieval arms and armor in the world. The exhibit, mostly Italian from the 16th to the 18th centuries, raises weaponry to an art form.
 And for Franz Ferdinand, guns were more than showpieces. Obsessed with hunting, he traveled around the world, shooting at anything with four legs: deer, bear, tigers, elephants, and this Polish buffalo. He actually recorded over 200,000 kills in his log. Keep in mind Royal hunting was a kind of massacre game with his aids sweeping doomed animals into the archduke's eager sights. Over 4,000 trophies decorate the walls and halls of his castle.
 Franz Ferdinand did more than his share of shooting. But in 1914, he himself was shot, with his beloved wife Sofia, in Sarajevo. His assassination sparked WWI which ultimately ended the rule of the Habsburg family — whose crown he had waited so long to inherit.
 Another sight near Prague is Terezin, a town built in the 1780s with state-of-the-art walls designed to keep out German enemies. In 1941, the Nazis evicted its 7,000 inhabitants and packed in 60,000 Jews, creating the Terezín Concentration Camp. The town's historic walls, originally meant to keep Germans out, were now used by Germans to keep the Jews in. But this was a concentration camp with a devious twist.
 This was the Nazis' model "Jewish town," — in reality a concentration camp dolled up for propaganda purposes. Here in what they called a "self-governing Jewish resettlement area," Jewish culture seemed to thrive, as "citizens" put on plays and concerts, published a magazine, and raised their families in ways that impressed Red Cross inspectors.
 The Germans wanted the Jews to accept this new reality — harsh, but at least life would go on. Children made dolls of their friends "in transport" — as if relocating was just the start of the next stage of their lives. They drew care-free memories of life before incarceration and made scrapbooks about life in the camp. The museum comes with a recreated barracks with actual belongings of Terezen inmates.
 Sinks were installed — looking good for human rights abuse inspectors from the outside world...but never actually plumbed with water. Group showers became a routine part of life. The fatal last shower many Terezen residents would later take at Auschwitz looked no different...except there were no windows.
 Tolerable as this sham Jewish town seemed, virtually all of Terezín's Jews ultimately ended up dying either here or at the extermination camps farther east. As you explore the camp, ponder the message of all such memorials: Forgive, but never forget.
 Today, the Czech Republic — independent and enjoying an unprecedented prosperity — is dotted with plain and sleepy towns. These non-descript, work-a-day places go about life oblivious to modern tourism. But one particularly ugly town hides an artistic pearl.
 Moravský Krumlov has only one real restaurant and shops shut down by 5:00. The concrete ugliness of the circa-1950s main square (rebuilt after the town was bombed out by Russians in WWII) feels a world-apart from the rest of the country.
 But...there's one good reason to visit Moravský Krumlov: Discovering the Slavic Epic, by the Czech Republic's greatest painter, Alfons Mucha. His masterpiece is tucked away in the town's decaying castle.
 Around 1900, Mucha made a hugely successful commercial career for himself as the Art Nouveau poster artist and illustrator of ads and magazine covers.
 His specialty: pretty women with flowers, portraits of rich wives, and slinky models celebrating the good life. But he grew tired of commercial art.
 Mucha dedicated the second half of his career — 18 years — to painting the Slavic Epic, 20 huge canvases designed to tell the story of his nation on a grand scale.
 The art fills this humble space only until a suitable home can be found in Prague. In this self-portrait young Mucha is the seer — a conduit, determined to share wisdom of a sage Slav with his fellow Czechs.
38 Mucha paints a brotherhood of Slavic people — Serbs, Russians, Poles, and Czechs — who share a common heritage, deep roots, a hard fought past, and ultimate triumph. Through this series of epic events, Czechs can trace their ethnic roots:
 Mucha, with his romantic nationalist vision, shows how through the ages Goths and Germanic people have brought terror and destruction to the Slavs....whose pagan roots are woven deep into their national character. The establishment of the Orthodox Christian faith provided a common thread for Slavic peoples. To maintain their identity, they stood up to the Roman Church with courageous religious leaders boldly confronting Vatican officials. The printing of the Bible in the Czech language was a cultural milestone.
Then they endured three centuries of darkness during the time Czechs were ruled by the Catholic Austrians. Mucha's final canvas shows the ultimate triumph of the Czech people as, in the 20th century, they join the family of nations with their Czech ethnicity intact. The Slavic Epic.
 A short drive takes us to another popular stop: Třeboň. Its venerable square is lined with playful arcades artfully blending both Renaissance and Baroque building styles. The town was built by 17th-century businessmen, whose wealth came from fish farming. From one of the outdoor cafés, you can watch the parade of local life in the shadow of another plague monument.
 The bank sports a relief extolling the virtue of working hard and stowing your money right here. And a happy fisherman cradles the historic...and wiggly...source of this town's wealth.
 Centuries ago lake-builders of Třeboň employed ingenious techniques. They transformed what was a flooding marshland into a clever and delightful combination of lakes....oak-lined dikes...peat bogs...and fertile meadows. Rather than unprofitable soggy fields, the nobles wanted ponds swarming with fish. Today — five centuries later — Třeboň remains the fish-raising capital of the Czech Republic.
 16th-century landscape architects struck an amazing balance between civilization and nature, which today is a protected ecosystem. Nature enthusiasts visit to bird-watch, bike along dikes held together by roots of centuries-old oaks, and of course, catch a few fish.
 Třeboň's other claim to fame: its peat spa. Patients come — mostly on their doctors orders and therefore covered by the national healthcare system — for weeklong stays. And gawky tourists can line up for a soak too. With clinical efficiency...["Rick Steves'], I'm suddenly part of the system — like it or not. Soaking in the black, smelly peat sludge is thought to cure aching joints and spines. We'll see about that. The treatment continues with a cursory hose-down. Its capper — a no-nonsense massage — gives a relaxing opportunity to judge the power of peat.
 Moving on, we enter the region of Bohemia. This part of the Czech Republic closest to Germany is much appreciated for its pastoral countryside. And floating a few hours down the Vltava River through Bohemian forests and villages you see why. Families and gangs of friends enjoy multi-day river trips. These guys aren't letting a little rain dampen their spirits. Anyone passing through can rent a canoe and enjoy a paddle — short or long. Float companies pick you up and drop you at convenient and scenic spots of your choice. Going with the flow takes you to my favorite stop in the Czech countryside outside of Prague... Český Krumlov.
 The enchanting town of Cesky Krumlov — buried in the hills of Bohemia, lassoed by its river and dominated by its castle — feels lost in a time warp. Its delightful Old Town of shops and cobbled lanes, characteristic little restaurants, and easy going canoeing options, makes it a favorite with tourists.
 And there's no shortage of accommodations. Our home is the Castle View Apartments. Plush and thoughtfully-equipped — my room is typical of the work locals are doing as even medieval lofts are being renovated to meet the needs of the growing number of visitors. Open beams, a handy kitchenette...and — as its name promises — a castle view, make this a fine temporary home.
 With the natural moat provided by the Vltava river, it's no wonder this place has been a choice spot for ages. The 16th century was the town's Golden Age, when Český Krumlov was a cultural power hosting artists, scientists, and alchemists from all over Europe.
 The town's many tourists set their sights on the mighty castle of the Rožmberk family. For three centuries — until about 1600 — the Rožmberks — Bohemia's top noble family — ran the city from this perch. Its 16th-century Renaissance paint job is fancifully restored.
 Visitors wait their appointed time for a tour in the castle courtyard. The interior gives a glimpse of the ultimate in Bohemian noble living through the ages. Imagine being a guest — back in the late 16th century — of this man, Count Rozmberk. You'd enjoy the scenes frescoed here which celebrate a Rozmberk family wedding. Then, riding his assembly line of fine living, you'd dine here. Come back two centuries later, and you'd eat here and it the countess tired of your company, she'd retire to her adjacent bedroom...but only after a servant lit the candles on her Meissen porcelain chandelier.
 Of course the party would go on...perhaps with a Venetian-style masquerade party in the ballroom. For a little fresh air, you'd hike down this corridor, 150 yards, to the count's formal garden. But don't forget...at 8pm, the candles would be lit...for a play in the Baroque theater.
 Europe once had several hundred fine Baroque theaters like this. Using candles and oil lamps for light and pyrotechnics for special effects most burned down. Today only four survive in good shape and are open to tourists like this one here, at Krumlov Castle.
 Baroque theater was all about melodrama — lighting, perspective, and sound effects were all melodramatic. Even the weather was thrilling — with machines to make horrifying wind...a driving rain storm...and menacing thunder. Even back then...it was all about special effects.
 Tonight, the liveliest place in town is the local Gypsy Bar — good food and music. The easiest way for a traveler to experience the traditional Gypsy or Roma culture is through its lively music — always crowd pleasing and fiery.
Honza: There are 12 million Roma people mostly in central and Eastern Europe. They came from India to Europe in the middle ages and were long persecuted. Hitler treated them like the Jews. The communists forced them to stop their nomadic ways and tried to assimilate them — it was catastrophic to their culture. Today their culture is falling apart — people don't speak their Roma language...its hard to even find young people to play their traditional music. The test for our society is how we learn to respect each other and live together. There's a long way to go.
 And judging by the way music is bridging cultural barriers here tonight, there's reason for hope.
 Thanks for joining us. I hope you've enjoyed our look at the highlights — beyond its capital city — of the Czech Republic. I'm Rick Steves. Until next time...keep on traveling.