We stepped off the train and found our way out of the station, and just like that: silence.
There’s nothing more satisfying than escaping the city and visiting a small town by train. Something about doing the same by car just isn’t the same, and it’s something I miss so much when I’m in the States. I find the train to be a far more powerful liminal space than a car. Maybe it’s because you can’t open the window to remember life outside. Or maybe it’s because you have far less control over where you’re going. Whatever it may be, I find train travel to be the most pleasurable thing for this reason alone.
I’ve visited the Czech Republic countless times now, but last month, Brooke and I decided to finally venture outside of Prague. You can’t blame us: Prague is an enchanting city. But we’d been wanting to visit Český Krumlov for forever, so we finally made it happen.
Český Krumlov is a small town located in the South Bohemia region of the Czech Republic. The Vltava River, the same river that runs through Prague, wraps around it like a snake. Its historic center, which is an incredibly well-preserved medieval town dating back to the 13th century, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In terms of Czech tourist destinations, this one’s at the top of most lists — and rightfully so.
We decided to visit in the extreme off-season: February. February in the Czech Republic is simply unpleasant. There is no sun and there is rain almost every day, but there are little-to-no tourists, which made it a pleasant time to visit a place that gets 2 million visitors each year.
To get there from Prague, we took the train from the city’s central station to the town České Budějovice. From there, we transferred to another train that took us to Český Krumlov. In total, the journey was around 2.5 hours; we left around 8 and got there just before 11.
The air smelled like home in the winter: cold air and smoke from invisible fireplaces. The walk from the station to the center was around 30 minutes, but it was lovely, and it was interesting, too, to see the area that surrounds the historic center: the one in which most residents of the town actually live.
As we approached the historical center, the 13th century castle grew bigger with each step. We skipped the tour of its interior this time, but I look forward to a return trip, perhaps in the wintertime someday to enjoy the town’s Christmas markets. The castle famously features a mix of architectural styles which are visible also from afar: Baroque, Gothic, and Renaissance are among them.
The Cloak Bridge, which connects two sides of the castle, reminded me of the Roman aqueducts, particularly those found in Rome’s Park of the Aqueducts. The back side of the castle was what impressed me most, though. I’m still wondering where the rocky headland ends and where the castle begins; it is truly a baffling structure, unlike anything I’d ever seen.
We had time to kill before we could check into our Airbnb, so we stopped into Masna 130 Espresso Bar for a cappuccino and a small bite to eat. As someone who has lived in Italy for three years, my biggest piece of advice is this: if you are looking for specialty coffee, don’t come here; go to the Czech Republic. I am consistently impressed by coffee there and am consistently let down by coffee here — though the low price and hectic bar culture 100% make up for it.
We meandered around in the spitting rain for a while, enjoying the fresh air and the act of aimless wandering.
The main area of the historic center is so small that we found ourselves in the same place we’d come from over and over again. It was surprisingly steep in some areas, though, and our Airbnb was on the same hill as the Saint Vitus Church, whose steeple stands out in landscape photos of the town.
The church is typical late Gothic style, and it was built in the 15th century. To reach it, you must climb up a fairly steep set of stairs, which add to its grandiose. We were the only ones in there, so we sat in a pew and watched the scattered wax saints stare us down.
We took a bit of a study break after checking into our Airbnb, and then decided to go back out while there was still a little bit of daylight. On our visit, one of the main bridges that connect the center with the northern side of town was closed for repairs, so we had to take a fairly long detour which was just a little inconvenient, but definitely worth it.
The other side of town was completely empty just before dark. There were a few shops open, so we did a bit of window shopping, but there wasn’t much else going on. It was quite lovely, having the entire place to ourselves.
We found a cocktail bar that was, expectedly, completely empty. It was a little eery, being the only ones in there for the majority of the time, but the server was super friendly, and it filled up by the time we left. It was called Zapa Bar, and it was located in a cool, cozy, cave-like room on the second floor of an old building.
After drinks, the long walk back meant we got to see the castle all lit up at night from all angles, which looked even more magical after a few drinks.
I had chosen a restaurant for dinner that I was pretty excited about, but when we found it, it turned out to be closed. That’s the thing about traveling during the off-season: restaurants are always hit-or-miss. But I’ve also found that, usually, the ones that are closed off-season are the ones that locals don’t go to.
We disappointingly walked in circles for a few minutes, unsure about where to eat since it was already pretty late. Then, we came across a miracle.
There are some moments that happen to you while traveling that you just know are magical ones. They’re moments that are purely serendipitous and come from zero scheduled plans. When these moments happen, I always think of Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite, and one of the best quotes that came out of it:
“You know what kind of plan never fails? No plan at all. No plan. You know why? If you make a plan, life never works out that way.”
Dramatic, I know; the context of the quote is, of course, much greater than the story I’m telling you. But it’s a nice reminder that comes up frequently when I am traveling since it reminds me not to over-plan: something I do in pretty much every other facet of my life.
The restaurant we stumbled upon was truly one of the best dining experiences I had, and, amazingly, we didn’t spend more than 22 dollars combined. It wasn’t far from the main square, and yet we were the only tourists in there. I’d done plenty of research on good, authentic restaurants for us to eat at, but this one hadn’t even shown up on my Google Maps, which just proves my point about planning (and also how unreliable Google Maps can be).
It was a homey Czech restaurant with a little bar in the far left corner, a couple of wooden tables, and a window behind the bar where you could just peek into the kitchen. There were penciled portraits hung in frames across the imperfect walls, and arched ceilings, painted a mustardy yellow at each angle.
Just as we entered, a group of Czech men began setting up to perform a few songs. We each ordered a beer, and then some food, and then we watched them play.
There was one man who was running the whole place on his own. Every time he came over with something, he’d tally up the total of our meal onto a piece of paper he’d placed on our table. It was all so casual but it felt so special.
Admittedly, I’ve never enjoyed beer before and have never finished a pint without having to choke it down, but this one was great. Czech food pairs well with beer, so it just worked. I had already drank quite a bit, too, so that may have helped.
To eat, Brooke ordered a plate of potato pancakes, or bramborové knedlíky, which were filled with smoked pork and served over hot sauerkraut. The potato pancakes were so soft, and they were topped with flakey fried onions. I’d never tried hot sauerkraut before, but I tried a few bites and was pleasantly surprised.
I ordered the Czech klobása plate. It came with golden brown baked potatoes, and a side of sauerkraut, mustard, mayonnaise, and ketchup. The klobása’s casing was the crispiest I’d ever tasted, but everything was just so good. The serendipity and the ambiance of it all made it that much more delicious.
(The one downside, might I add, was that the band set up right in front of the bathroom. If you, too, have a small bladder, you will understand our pain. Thankfully, we loved the music, so we couldn’t be bitter about it.)
That night, we went to bed with full hearts and stomachs, and then woke up the next morning to blue(ish) skies.
The view from our Airbnb’s balcony was pretty great, and we were so glad to see it with a little bit of sky before heading back to Prague.
We walked over to the other side of town one last time for breakfast, and we got to see the Cloak Bridge in front of a blue sky, too. If you look closely, you can see people on it. I can’t wait to come back so I can do a proper tour of the castle and see the town from way up high.
For breakfast, I found a little bistro called Caffé Klášter. It was busy, since it was a Saturday morning, but we found a seat at the communal table.
We ordered a few things with our cappuccinos: a quiche, a Štrůdl, and buchtičky s krémem, or Czech buns in vanilla cream with a cranberry sauce.
The buns are something that are popular for breakfast in the Czech Republic, and I’d been wanting to try them for a while. Now that I’ve tried them (and loved them), I’d like to try and make them.
We took a bus on the way back to Prague, because the train we needed to take had shut down for maintenance, so we walked around for a few minutes before heading to the station and enjoyed the fresh air while we could.
The sky was so blue, just as we were leaving, so it was nice to see the town in such a different light. Suddenly, tourists crawled from their hotels and Airbnb caves and crowded the streets.
Český Krumlov sure is an interesting place. It reminded us a lot of the Cinque Terre, particularly because of the amount of hotels and vacation homes we spotted. Both are beautifully preserved places, but in a way, they feel almost too unreal because of how few people live here year-round. It’s a tough balance, the need to preserve cultural heritage, keep locals local, and sustain the local economy.
The FlixBus we booked arrived right on time, and it was the best FlixBus I’d ever taken. If you’ve ever taken a FlixBus, that says a lot, because they suck 99% of the time. The sky was bluer than I’d ever seen it in the Czech Republic that day, which helped. It was a totally new experience getting to see small towns and the countryside of a place I’d visited so many times. Plus, the wifi magically worked and there were very few people on the bus. (I’ll just skip over the part about the loud, beer-drinking Czech men who sat directly behind us for half of the ride :))
And then, after about three hours, we were back to noise and people and city air. Though our trip was short, it was a relaxing, much-needed break.
studio josie 