Saint Barbara Cathedral and the Jesuit College in Kutná Hora
Sometimes when you sign up for an optional excursion you don't know what you're getting into. The excursion might let you down, or it might be a pleasant surprise. During our stay in Prague, we visited a pleasant surprise called Kutná Hora, a medieval silver mining town (since 1260) which has stayed vital over the centuries by reinventing its economic strategy. The silver mines here were Europe's largest until the silver ran out in 1700. Kutná Hora then promoted itself as a tourist destination, and now in addition to tourism its citizens can choose to earn their living by assembling servers for major computer companies or processing tobacco for Philip Morris. Philip Morris's Central European headquarters are nearby.
My story isn't about economic strategies, servers, tobacco, or silver, though. I'm going to show you the enchanting medieval buildings and one spooky, creepy church which earned Kutná Hora its UNESCO World Heritage Site status in 1994.
St. Barbara Cathedral
The Gothic St. Barbara's Cathedral dates back to 1388 when the town's silver miners wanted a church to honor their patron saint of miners. Master builders and artists from Prague participated in the design and construction of this cathedral and its notable frescoes.
Trompe l'oeil frescoes at Saint Barbara Cathedral
Miner statue (that's what miners actually wore) in Saint Barbara Cathedral
Three side altars at Saint Barbara Cathedral
This stone fountain from 1497 (below) is actually a twelve-sided structure built to cover a water tank. Clean water was difficult to provide to citizens in a mining town, so a system of pipes bring water to the town where it is stored in tanks. A clever architect named Rejsek who had been working on the cathedral built this fancy cover. It's unique in this part of Europe. Notice the date: where the '4' should be there is a fish standing on its tail. This is actually half of an '8' which is how medieval folks sometimes notated the number '4'.
Medieval water tank in Kutná Hora
The main residence of the Czech kings when they were in town is also the building where silver coins were minted. The Czechs brought into Kutná Hora Italians from Florence skilled in making coins to teach them how to make a Czech currency from the Kutna Horan silver. The building came to be known as the Italian Court because of those visiting craftsmen. This building is mostly a reconstruction because it suffered heavy damage in the 15th century at the hands of Jan Hus's Hussites.
Part of The Italian Court, where coins were minted
Kutná Hora lost thousands of citizens in wars and plagues, and this colossal Plague Column was erected in the town square in 1716 as an entreaty to God to end that year's plague.
The Plague column, 1716
I'm saving for last the Sedlec Bone Church. It's about a mile from the center of Kutna Hora. This church, really a chapel, was attached to a Cistercian monastery founded by St. Bernard of Clairvaux. Remember I mentioned the human beings lost to wars and plagues? Those people all wanted to be buried in the All Saints Cemetery here because, as the story goes, an abbott attached to the monastery brought back a handful of dirt from Jesus's grave in Jerusalem and sprinkled it over the cemetery. (You could say people were just dying to get in.) The common practice in popular cemeteries in some parts of Europe was to remove skeletons from the graves once the descendants are no longer around. The bones are stored in some kind of warehouse. Kutná Hora had accumulated 40,000 skeletons from the wars and plagues, and they found a very clever way to use them...to decorate the Sedlec Church!
This chandelier uses every bone in the human body.
Real bones. (Sanitized.)
A crest
...And the artists signed their names in bones! (Don't miss the bones stacked up on the left.)
As you might expect, this was the creepiest place I've ever been: dark and chilly with human bones everywhere!
Budapest's Parliament Building from the Sun Deck in the Rain
My sister and I recently splurged on one of those river cruises you see advertised on TV, especially if you watch Downton Abbey. Before we left, and after we returned, the most often-asked questions were about the ship! Not the Danube's color (I was asked about that a lot), or the various destinations we visited. People seem fascinated by the idea of cruising on a river on one of those skinny, odd-looking boats. So, before I jump into my thousand photographs of the fantastic destinations we visited via the ship, let me tell you about the ship itself.
The first thing we notice about the ship was the efficiency of the staff. Everyone chipped in to help with embarkation and disembarkation. The maitre d' Vladimir showed us to our room and gave us a thorough orientation to its amenities. The chef Erik was rolling passenger luggage behind me as we left the ship. Soon we were introduced to all of the key personnel just in case we needed anything: the concierge, the chef, the hotel manager, the program director, the front desk guy, the housekeeping manager, the maitre d', and the sommelier. They always seemed to be around, in uniform, and extremely professional, and all but the program director came from countries on or near the Danube. Most meals were taken in the ship's restaurant where friendly waiters took good care of us. By the end of the week, Ronaldo knew to have my Coke Light waiting for me at lunch! It's nice to be pampered.
I'll tell you a little secret about my philosophy of blogging: I avoid writing anything negative about the places I visit. I'm no Pollyanna, but I don't see any reason to tell you about crappy lunches or bitter salespeople or filthy bathrooms. I just leave that stuff out. Keep that in mind while you read this blog about our river cruise experience, because I suspect that you might suspect that I'm candy-coating it. Nope. I have nothing negative to say. It was fabulous: well-organized, fun, unboring. If I'm not mentioning it here, it is not because it was sub-par---it is because I don't want to make this thing too long. If you have a question, ask me in the comments section!
We chose the Danube Waltz cruise, starting in Budapest and sailing upriver through Slovakia and Austria to Passau, Germany. From Passau, we jumped off the Viking ship and onto a Viking bus which drove for four hours through the German and Czech countryside where we would stay for three additional days in Prague. And by the way, there were no passport checks anywhere except the airports at the beginning and end.
You're wondering about the stateroom, I bet. We booked late and were lucky to have found a cancellation, mid-ship on the first floor. The room was bigger and more luxurious than we expected. It was all we needed because we were hardly there except for sleeping. Here are some views...
I know what you're thinking: on the commercial, they show rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows and sometimes verandas. Yup, those rooms were on the boat, too, and if you think you prefer one of those, please start saving now, and book early. They are on the second and third floors. Let me remind you, though, of the people on the Titanic (in the movie) who traveled in steerage. Didn't they have a lot more fun than the Snooty McSnootersons in the fancier rooms? I contend they did, up until the iceberg happened.
So, yeah, when I stood on tippy-toes to look out our rectangular porthole, the top of the Danube River was at my chin level. This would mean, when I was lying down I was under water. So all of you people to whom I said, "I'll be floating on the Danube at the end of May," I should have said, "I'll be floating IN the Danube at the end of May." (That may have given you the wrong idea though. Accuracy is sometimes troublesome.)
View of Bratislava's waterfront from our stateroom. The green Danube is just above the porthole frame.
We signed-up for as many optional excursions as we possibly could, and I'll be blogging about them in coming weeks. There was plenty to do when we were on the ship besides watching movie in the room. There were great views from the Sun Deck (the top level),
From the Sun Deck in the Wachau Valley
plus shuffleboard and giant Chess.
One morning we were treated to a pastry demo by the chef, pastry chef, and two volunteers from the audience:
Rolling the strudel dough
Stretching the strudel dough
Adding the apple filling
Rolling the strudel with the extra tablecloth it had been created on
There was tea time.
One night while we were in Austria, the staff threw out the usual dinner protocol and threw an Austrian-themed party complete with Weiner Schnitzel, Sacher Torte, and strolling musicians. Some staff were in Lederhosen (or Dirndl), some in checkered shirts, but everyone was festive.
Speaking of food, the ship desserts were fantastic. Here's a collage of some of them:
The desserts and other courses were presented in sensible portions, so one never felt too full or too naughty/guilty. With all of the uphill cobblestone walking we did almost every day, I'm sure we walked-off these innocent desserts. And the Chateaubriand. And the Deconstructed Beef Wellington. And the cheese plate.
This was interesting: sometimes the ship double-parks at the dock and you have to walk through other ships to get to land. Here I'm standing on the ramp between two Viking ships in Budapest:
One last thing: what do you suppose this sign means? It was posted on the railing around the skylight on the floor of the Sun Deck. I'm guessing it's warning me against climbing over the rail and stepping on the skylight, but I can't be sure.
