I love how the manhole covers in the Czech Republic are all decorative.

Cesky Krumlov is a small town in the Bohemia region of the Czech Republic. We ventured there for just one day and night, although we could have soaked up the beauty and quiet atmosphere for much longer than that if our return home wasn’t suddenly looming on the horizon. There isn’t much to say about the town that pictures can’t say better. For a brief overview, there is a great castle at one end of town that looks out over all of the red roofs on all the buildings in town. It is walkable from end to end in about a half an hour. The river cuts prettily through town, adding to the views and ambiance. I really liked the manhole covers, which just add to Cesky Krumlov’s charm.

The original Bud, Budweiser Budvar, is from Cesky Budejovice, near Cesky Krumlov, in Bohemia.

These pastries, made by wrapping the dough around a thick stick that spins slowly over the heat, are sweet and tasty, especially when you can get them hot.

Cesky Krumlov's castle looks a lot more imposing that Prague's did.

The aqueduct links sections of the castle in spectacular fashion.

The castle tower is decorated in trompe l'oeil style, like many of the buildings in Cesky Krumlov.

I would love to see the castle gardens when it is fully springtime.

The castle has two bears living in its moat. I can't really see how they might like it, as the space is fairly small and it is just the two of them down there and all of us up top with our cameras.

Here we are standing on the castle's aqueduct.

Views from the castle show Cesky Krumlov's picturesque jumble of red rooftops.

You can look over the whole town from the castle. I suppose that is the point.

I could have stayed just looking at the town for days.

It is a very vibrant city with all the red roofs and lovingly painted homes and businesses.

Like the building, this picture is an optical illusion. Those stones are just painted on for show! This style of decoration is common in Cesky Krumlov.

The town is particularly beautiful as the sun sets and all the buildings start to glow.

Dylan thought Prague’s center had changed quite a bit in 15 years.  Where there used to be crystal shops clustered together, there are now many more souvenir shops and TGI Friday’s restaurants.  It is also very crowded in the major tourist spots.  We still wanted to spend enough time in those areas to see the good bits, but we had several days in Prague so it was easy to get to a bunch of quieter places. 

The old Jewish quarter is popular but not as crowded as the Charles Bridge and the Old Town Square.  In the Old Jewish Cemetery, in certain corners I felt like I was all alone.  It is completely removed from the hustle and bustle outside of the walls and somehow feels quite peaceful.  It is really expensive to get in, because you have to buy a combination ticket that includes six other sites, mostly synagogues that now house museums.  I was determined to get my money’s worth and went to all of them.  I was a little artifact-ed out by the end, but my last stop, the Spanish Synagoge, was absolutely gorgeous.  The Holocaust victims’ memorial was also, unsurprisingly, incredibly moving.  Alas, no cameras were allowed anywhere, and my picture of the cemetery is from a peephole on the outside.

Prague has a fortress south of the center that is really more of a huge park.  Before I got to see these fortress in eastern Europe, I was expecting them to be a lot more imposing and, I don’t know, fortress-like!  But it turns out that fortress and even castles, as far as I can tell, are walled cliffs and parks.  I’m hoping to visit Transylvania in the future (another trip) and see if all the castles there are the same way.  Not to knock Prague’s Castle – it is cool to climb the stairs and see the lovely narrow streets and old church – but there it didn’t feel particularly castle-y to me.

We ended up in another great hostel in Prague.  We had made a booking at a place called Sir Toby’s.  I booked a “double ensuite” – meaning a room with a double bed and a private bathroom.  They accidentally put us in a twin bed room with shared bathroom.  When I asked if I was mistaken or they were – mainly to make sure we weren’t overpaying, since we have stayed in many a twin, shared bathroom room – they moved us to a fabulous hostel that was basically a hotel in the center of town, instead of the tram ride away where the first hostel was located.  I had looked at the new place, Mosaic House, online, and I think it was more than worth the price they were charging if you had a few extra dollars.  So another two thumbs up for this hostel chain.  Sir Toby’s was adorable and eager to please, and I would still recommend it for a budget traveler.  Mosaic House is also recommended for a budget/mid-range traveler.  It was funny watching the travelers in the Mosaic House bar.  Dylan and I decided it was the kind of place that 22-year old backpackers with money must stay, because they all looked so shiny and clean.

There is a lot of delicious beer to be had in the Czech Republic, home of Pilsen, the original pilsner, and Cesky Budjovice, the original Budweiser (seriously, it was around a long time before Anheuser Busch thought the name sounded good).  We’ve gotten a little fatigued with the meat-heavy menus in eastern Europe, but if you are willing to look, you can find some pretty good food in Prague.

All in all, no regrets about our last-minute itinerary change.  Prague is a stunning city, and it was worth its spot at the top of my list!

We saw more cool street art and were touched by an origami paper crane tribute for Japan.

We visited the large, outdoor Ladies’ Market, where beer and olives are sold in bulk (in addition to plenty of other wares).

The ladies' market is a mix of food, clothing and trinkets. I loved the olive tables with their spittoons set out below.

Beer in Bulgaria was dirt cheap. Here you could bring any old bottle to fill it from a cask.

We also went to a stunning indoor market that was like a giant deli in a greenhouse.

Sofia's gorgeous indoor market is like a giant deli.

Sofia’s synagogue had a two-ton chandelier illuminating an impressive, lovely space that has detailed decorative painting everywhere.

The Sofia's Synagogue's chandelier weighs two tons.

Now for the real treat, the Rila Monastery. We rode in a mini-van that reeked of body odor for almost three hours to get to Rila. It was our third monastery in Bulgaria and by far the most impressive. I had read something that talked about its harmonious painting and architecture, and it was indeed harmonious. The setting is alpine, and the monastery is a surprise to enter, because the painting is so bold and the buildings are so grand. We first visited a little cave where the monk after whom the monastery is named lived for years, so we could climb through the cave and see the valley and mountains. Then we got to spend a couple of hours marvelling at the stunning monastery. It was well worth the smelly ride. I kind of wish I could have a model of it to sit on my desk!

Most of the buildings hugging the cliffs have red tile roofs. Many are stucco. All look like they could slide down the cliff on a moments notice.

I love the use of public space in the peninsula formed by the river. There is a really sad old hotel on one side of the U, but the park is vast and has one of those spring water fountains and the monument in the middle is huge and entertainingly celebratory of the Soviets.

Around ton there are a lot of pretty buildings, but there are also crumbly buildings and quirky graffitti. We were waiting for someone to walk by the cool walls and doors and finally took matters into our own hands.

The fortress is like a big park up on a hill with a really cool walkway. It is not as imposing as I thought a fortress would be, but it is in a great location. I would have built my fortress there, too.

The church at the top of the fortress hill has the creepiest murals I have ever seen. They would be creepy anywhere, but these suckers are in a church. I can’t imagine finding piece in a place covered in this business. Fire and brimstone in Bulgaria!

This guy is part of a mural in the church. I kid you not.

We rented a car one day in VT so we could visit small town Bulgaria. I think that VT is probably small enough. The towns we rolled through bore the marks of the Soviet days without any of the old town charm. We made it to a monastery and a winery that were interesting, though, for different reasons. The monastery was way up a mountain, totally hidden from view, and eerily quiet. The main chapel is covered in striking murals.

Lovico winery was unlike any winery I’d ever seen. In sum, it looked like an oil refinery. The “tasting room”, where the only tasting on offer was a glug of cabernet in a disposable cup, looked like a lackluster mini-mart. There was a winery cow. The wine we bought to share at our hostel, a Lovico gamza (a Bulgarian grape), was pretty good!

The guy who rented the car to us told us it was not meant for heights or distances.

Let's play winery or refinery!

We spent one of our days in Plovdiv taking the bus to Bachkovo Monastery and going on a hike there.  Getting there was half the fun.  Our hostel gave us directions to the bus station and then told us to catch us a certain bus and tell the driver where we needed to get out.  Bulgaria uses the Cyrillic alphabet (fun fact: Bulgarians invented that alphabet), so we needed some help with signage.  At the bus station, a security guard took pity on us and basically escorted us to the right ticket counter and then to the right bus.  On the bus, I guess we talked about and asked about Bachkovo a few times, because when we got to the town, the entire bus was shouting “Bachkovo” at us.  The driver knew we wanted the monastery and signalled for us to wait.  Another round of shouting ensued when we finally got to the monastery.   It was a great welcome.  We couldn’t take pictures of the monastery, but we actually enjoyed our hike to the remote buildings on the monastery grounds better anyway.

We took lots of pictures of the amphitheatre and on our hike, so I’ll let those tell the story.

We went to the train station in Istanbul to book our ticket to Plovdiv, our first stop in Bulgaria. We read that it would be ten hours in a two-bed sleeper car leaving at 10 p.m. We envisioned a romantic cabin where we could open a bottle of wine and have a little Turkish late night snack plate then settle in for a cozy night of sleep. Our hopes were dashed when the ticket agent told us that, due to work on the tracks, we would have to change to a bus at some point on the trip, then change back to a train, with a stop somewhere in there to walk across the border. Oh, and the first train would not have sleeper cars. Dylan said, “Maybe we should look at flights.” I said, “Maybe we should look at the bus.” We bought the train tickets.

We got to the train station nice and early so we could try to get good seats. It was completely deserted, so much so that we were nervous we were there at the wrong time. The only other guy in the waiting room was snoring at top volume. We did enough hand signaling with the two people working there to learn that we were fine, our train was on Platform 2, and we were welcome to board when the conductor opened the doors. At about 9:35, we climbed in and were pleasantly surprised to see that one car had sleeper compartments. It had six seats below on two benches and two beds up top, so we could actually sleep bottom or top if we were alone. Dylan said, “I hope we don’t have to share.” It became apparent we wouldn’t have to share when ten minutes in, there were only two other people in the station.

At 9:45, Dylan jumped out to buy us some waters from the station mini-mart. There was a knock on the compartment door, and a young, single, male traveler was standing there. We exchanged pleasantries of the “I’m from San Francisco and going to Plovdiv” / “I’m from Japan and going to Sofia” variety. Then, boom, he asked if he could share our compartment with us. We had our luggage up top and I pointed to the bench seats and said we wanted to sleep, was that okay? He said sure and went back next door. Dylan returned and I told him what happened and that I was completely guilt-stricken over saying no to a fellow traveler who had worked up the nerve to ask a favor, but I had panicked. Dylan, with me on not really wanting to share but equally sympathetic, agreed with me that I should tell our neighbor that he could become our bunkmate. I knocked on his door and asked him if he still wanted to come over, and he hopped up, grabbed his bag, and joined us.

It was a bit weird, but it was also fine and guilt-free. We didn’t have wine and cheese or any chance at romance anyway. We exhausted easy topics then Akito, after bashfully admitting this trip was his first time traveling alone, climbed up top, we lay down on the benches, and we pretty much went to dozing as much as possible for the next few hours. As far as I could tell, we were four travelers, one conductor, and one attendant on a four car train. I figured we’d pick up more people along the way as our rickety, noisy old train seemed to stop to wake me up every half hour. After cranking up the heat as high as we could – I was covered in my towel and all my jackets and scarves – I was actually asleep when a pounding on our door roused us from our stupors. Dylan opened the door, and the attendant shouted at us “KAPIKALE! KAPIKALE!” We didn’t know if this was the bus or maybe the border, or maybe a snack cart? We tried to ask, and the response was “KAPIKALE! KAPIKALE!” but he also made a rolling over motion with his hands, and we figured out it was time to get out.

We disembarked at 3:00 a.m. to discover that in five hours, our train had picked up one, lone Turkish guy, making the travelers a party of five. We all stumbled into the train station expecting passport control, only to be directed out the back door after ten minutes, where a bus pulled up. We boarded and our passports were inspected on board. Now we were five travellers, one driver, one passport guy, and one attendant. We ambled to the border on the bus. A Turkish border agent got on board and checked our passports again while we waited. We ambled into no man’s land between borders. We were told to get out and walk through the Bulgarian checkpoint ourselves. We got in line behind two guys who had appeared from somewhere else, and when the agent finished with them, he decided he needed a smoke break, so we were sent back to the bus. Ten minutes later, we were fetched for try #2.

Dylan went through while I was spaced out. Our two original fellow travelers were looked at with suspicion as their Japanese passports were studied intensely – yes, despite the fact that were was another twenty-something, single, Japanese dude who was wearing nearly identical sand-colored bucks and hip clothes to his also on our train, somehow Akito wanted to bunk with us – but they each got through next. When I got up there, I felt like the agent spent five whole minutes studying the extra pages that I’d had sewn into my passport and the tape that the State Department used to hold it all together, but he eventually let me through. Dylan said the same thing happened to him. As soon as I was through, the four of us walked to the bus to wait for a few minutes. I can’t deny a thrill at walking across a border, even if it was past 4 a.m. We were in Bulgaria! We then took off without the Turkish guy! We asked the attendant where he went, and the driver, too, but no one could answer. All four of us were sort of deliriously, amusedly worried, but to no avail. We never saw him again.

After an hour on the bus, we pulled up to another train station and left the bus for our second train. This one was the one that was not in fact a sleeper. It was also not clean, new, comfortable, smooth or anything else you might want in a train. We were removed from the first train so abruptly that none of us had time to use the bathroom for hours, which was a real shame because the only bathroom on our four car, four person train had evidently had many crimes committed inside of it. We settled in for what should have been two but was instead almost four-and-a-half hours of devil train. The best part was that at about 9:30, eleven-and-a-half hours into our journey, the other two guys finally spoke to each other and were chatting away when we finally exited in Sofia at 10 a.m.

Our hostel had given us good directions, so one more short bus ride and an uphill hike later, we got to our candy pink temporary home. The young woman at the desk told us that the room was not ready because it was only 10:30 and we should come back at noon. Defeated, we left our bags in search of breakfast. We eventually found an open cafe after stumbling upon Plovdiv’s magnificent Roman amphitheater (more on this soon), and we dragged ourselves back up the hill at noon. We got checked in and Dylan, exhausted, told the clerk that we were very happy to get to our room, because we hadn’t slept in two days. Her eyes got huge and she blurted out “Sorry!” as we were going upstairs. We were two of maybe four guests in a hostel that had four rooms on the third floor alone. We surely could have started our day of sleep when we first got in. But after the night we had, we just had to be grateful to get into a bed at all.

We stayed in a great, cheap hotel in old town Sultanahmet, the touristy area near the biggest attractions in Istanbul (Hanedan Hotel – highly recommended). It was great to be in backpacker central again, especially since the first two days we were there, it was snowing sideways and below freezing, so we needed the loungey backpacker bars to hang out in between visits to mosques, markets and monuments.

How beautiful are these buildings at night?

The biggest and most impressive monument to me is the Hagia Sophia. It was dedicated in 537 B.C. as a church, and in its storied history has also been a mosque and a museum. It is a cavernous space lined with sections of marble, decorative painting befitting the most ornate tiles, and iconography that looks incongruous under a huge dome. It is lit by a series of huge chandeliers that give it a warm glow despite the very chilly interior. We lingered inside for a long time, taking pictures, watching other people taking pictures, and even spying on a cat who was warming himself in the heat of a large spotlight. (Side note: There are cats all over Istanbul and they are way cuter than the ones on Gili T!)

The Hagia Sophia looking particularly dramatic.

Nearby the Hagia Sophia is the equally huge Blue Mosque, so nicknamed because the domes have a blue hue on the outside. I told Dylan that it looked a lot like the Walt Disney Castle on the logos, and he agreed that if you lined them up, we’d probably see a source of inspiration for old Walt’s castle designing team. It is a beautiful place and incredibly peaceful inside. We were quietly awed by how beautiful Istanbul’s mosques were inside. We also visited the New Mosque and the Rustem Paca Mosque. I thought the New Mosque was the most beautiful of the three, but my favorite is the Rustem Paca Mosque because it sits right on top of all of these shops that extend out from the Spice Bazaar, and you can’t even see that it is there when you are at street level inside. It was also the quietest one – the Blue Mosque sees a steady stream of visitors – and had the most extensive tilework. It looked like there were tiles on nearly every surface, include the columns that support the domes.

The Blue Mosque is a hub of activity with a beautiful courtyard.

Doesn't this remind you of the Disney castle?

The other big attractions are the markets. We went to two, the Spice Bazaar and the Grand Bazaar. The Spice Bazaar, also called the Egypt Bazaar due to the flotillas of goods that used to come in from there, is part tourist junk and part fabulous delis. We bought postcards, a box of Turkish candies and the cheapest, tastiest kebap in a pita lunch there and were very satisfied with a quick visit.

Turkish candy, clever advertising.

Treasures for sale in the bazaar.

The Grand Bazaar, on the other hand, held our attention for an entire day. We went one of the snowy days, which worked out well because the bazaar is fully covered and mostly enclosed. It feels more like a really old, colorful mall in parts than a bazaar. We just avoided the parts that sold exclusively crappy knockoff clothing. We spent hours choosing the perfect colorful lamps, sitting through rug vendors spiels and choosing luxurious, Turkish cotton towels and robes. We didn’t buy one thing, though! The post-Paris lighter backpacks won the day, and it was all just window shopping. It was great window shopping, though. Man are those rug guys good. When we finally gave in and allowed ourselves to be pulled into a shop (“just two minutes”) and hour and two apple teas later, they had nailed our taste on a rug that was exceptionally beautiful. We were sad to walk away, but we told them from the beginning that we weren’t buying!

A courtyard off an alley touching the Grand Bazaar.

We also left Sultanahmet and its old Istanbul feel for the newer, hipper area north of the popular-with-fishermen Galata Bridge, called Beyoglu. Its main street, Istiklal Caddesi, is one of the liveliest streets in the world, at least according to Time Out. It is a great walking, people watching, and cafe sitting street. We had beers at a great-looking place called Enginar where a Turkish soap opera is sometimes filmed. Central Perk, Istanbul style. I can’t believe I just made that reference. In one of the neighborhoods within Beyoglu, we checked out the Istanbul Museum of Modern Art – yay, an open museum! – and sat at a cafe that was way too cool for itself. There is one of those in every city if you can find it.

I thought Istanbul was a great city. It is visually arresting and the people friendly, if maybe overly so when a rug is in sight. The one thing that was really odd to get my head around was the absence of women. It took me a day or so to realize it, but before long, we realized there were no women working in the shops, none in the restaurants, none in the hostels, etc. There were even men working in the lingerie stores that were surprisingly ubiquitous. We couldn’t really figure it out. There weren’t even that many women walking around except for on the Saturday evening that we were there, when the crowds of people looked completely different from the rest of the time. I loved that time, but I have to admit to being a little unsettled when I really took notice the first couple of days.

I love how these shutters make the windows look like tulips!

Whatever the story, Amsterdam, in Holland, in the Netherlands, is a beautiful city.  As with Ghent, most of the central city lies along waterways, so you get a charming setting of boats, canal and preserved architecture.  I forgot to mention how many bikes there were in Ghent – lots – and there are even more in Amsterdam.  The riders are a bit militant so you have to watch where you walk.

I think the Dutch like to show their personalities off in their bikes.

We spent a few days in Amsterdam at what turned out to be the height of a bad cold, but it is too interesting of a place to do anything but power through.  I might have been near passing out at the Van Gogh Museum, but the paintings were worth the pain.  I was so sad that the Picasso Museum was closed in Paris, but we were rewarded with a Picasso in Paris exhibit at the Van Gogh Museum that was excellent.  It showed works by Picasso created from 1900-1907 as well as works by the contemporaries that influenced him during the period.  Many works had informative description of how those influences played out.  The exhibit and the museum’s permanent collection were treats.  We did not get to go to the museum there that focuses on more modern art because, once again, closed for renovation!

I loved just walking around Amsterdam.  There are so many cafes and shops.  We spent Saturday afternoon walking around a couple of neighborhoods that were stuffed so full of places that I wanted to move in.  Definitely go to the 9 Streets neighborhood if you visit Amsterdam!  It had real coffeehouses – not the Amsterdam kind – on every street.

Do you know what the Amsterdam kind of coffeehouse is?  It is a pot bar.  A bar where you can buy pot.  And coffee I guess.  They are everywhere!  It is bizarre, and I was tricked by a few when I wanted caffeine before I wised up.  Here is a tip: if there is neon in the window, it is not just selling coffee!

Amsterdam has lots of fabulous bridges and architecture that make walking around aimlessly very fun.

The other bizarre part of Amsterdam is the Red Light District.  You are just out having beer downtown in the evening, and you go to walk down a canal to the tram to go back to your cute, cheap boutique hotel on the outskirts of the city, and lo and behold, there are red lights highlighting windows and people standing in them.  Not ordinary people, either.  I’ll keep this PG and keep it to stating that it was weird.  Surreal is an overused term, but it might even apply.

They love french fries in Amsterdam covered in huge gobs of mayonnaise.  We tried the fries with curry ketchup instead of mayonnaise.  We made sure to get them somewhere that had a big line waiting for them.  Eh, I will take sweet potato fries at Taylor’s Refresher (or whatever it is called now) downtown SF any day.

We did not rent bikes as we had planned to do because it was bitterly cold the entire time that we were there.  We both really wanted to and admired all of the stacks of beat-up old fixed-gears that were like public art on every street, but between my cold and the cold, it just didn’t happen.

There are blue heron all over the place! This one was standing on top of a car in the 9 Streets. I thought it was a statue at first!

After our few days we headed to another city in the Netherlands, Amersfoort, where we spent a lovely couple of days and nights with friends who have lived there for 13 years.  Amersfoort is a true Dutch city and we got a nighttime walking tour of this incredibly cute place.  During the day our friends drove us to another tiny town way up in North Holland that is all on the water called Enkhuizen.  We had a traditional local dish there, kibberling, that was like Dutch fish and chips with a yummy garlic tartar sauce, and we walked around marveling at yet more cuteness.  We also drove over some of the dikes they are famous for in the Netherlands.  Very impressive.

Enkhuizen's harbors were filled with sailboats, some uber-fancy, some closer to decrepit.

Kibberling is a traditional meal to eat in Enkhuizen. The fish was cod.

I would love to go back when it is tulip season and see the fields of flowers that were still plantings in early March.  Amsterdam is a visual treat, especially for a big city, and I would love to back and see more of Amersfoort and enjoy the hospitality we were provided there.  It didn’t surprise me after leaving the Netherlands that every Dutch traveler we have met on the road has been incredibly friendly!

It isn't tulip season yet, but hothouse tulips are for sale in the flower markets.

We stayed in what felt like the smallest hotel room in Europe, although we might have been biased after the luxury of having a whole studio apartment for five weeks in Paris.  It was in a great location, though, right above a public square that hosts a flea market every morning.  We even wandered the flea market, an activity we never do at home!  It was a mix of interesting stuff and complete junk, as is to be expected.  Our walk from the square took us up that great antique street towards the museum district.  I really wanted to go to the modern art museum, but as has happened so many times during this year, it was closed for renovation.  We just enjoyed all the public art instead.  The creator of Tin-Tin was Belgian, and there are Tin-Tin murals everywhere!  He was scampering all over the sides of buildings.

We were completely bowled over by the Grand Place.  It is maybe the best public square either of us has seen.  It is a vast space ringed by absolutely gorgeous, ornate buildings.  One side is dominated by the magnificent Hotel de Ville.  I read that all of the other fabulous buildings around the plaza used to belong to various guilds in Belgium, such as the brewers’ guild, the bakers’ guild, the shipbuilders’s guild, etc.  A few of them are still using some of the spaces there, but most have been repurposed for other businesses.  They are incredibly well-preserved and the whole picture is jaw-droppingly beautiful.

We also visited the water town of Ghent just an hour or so away by train.  It is much smaller than Brussels and the center has lots of lovely buildings, canals, bridges and plazas.  It is a very pretty place to walk around for an afternoon.  It is also, as is Brussels, a nice place to sample a Belgian beer.  It couldn’t quite compete with Brussels on the beer bar front, though, because it didn’t have Delirium Tremens.  Also a beer, this bar, mentioned above for its huge selection, was three floors of beer paradise.  One of the floors even had over a hundred varieties of American craft beers.