The super-simplified gloss on why Czecho- split from -Slovakia in 1992 is down to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Czechs were essentially Austro, and the Slovaks Hungarian. Clearly there’s far more to it than that; argue with me in the comments below. (NB Comments not available on this page.)
But, in terms of guesthouse breakfast, today was definitely the full Austro-German deal. Cereals, yoghurt, milk, fresh fruit, fruit juice, gallons of coffee, cold cuts, cheeses, salads, bakery-fresh bread rolls, and just-boiled eggs for the bleary traveller to shell laboriously. Mmm.
And off we went, up the long steady climb – 200m or so – into the woods above Křivoklát followed by a whooshing descent down a main road into the town of Nižbor. I paused to admire a library in a decommissioned phone box – an idea we could copy in Britain, perhaps – and we took the flat road alongside the Berounka River to head to Prague.
In fact, we were by the waterside for the rest of the day into the capital. Lunch was outside a supermarket at the halfway point somewhere round Karlštejn. The magnificent castle here is unmissable, so of course we missed it.
There were some very nice, long stretches of car-free riverside path by the Berounka. A few climbers were out scaling the gorgey rock faces. I didn’t wave too much for fear of them waving back and coming to grief.
I also saw plenty of raptors, herons and cuckoos. Yesterday they had been hooting a minor third; today it was a major third. Proof that we have now entered summer.
Or perhaps they were imitating the harmonic plan of Smetana’s Vltava, the river we would soon be joining south of Prague.
The day couldn’t quite make up its mind whether to be nice and sunny, gloomy and drizzly, warm, cold, or breezy. Pizza Express weather: four seasons in one lunchtime.
As we got into the outskirts of Prague, the river – a few grazing sheep notwithstanding – became more industrial and grittier. As did the people. I’d always thought of the Czechs as a philosophical, intellectual, lugubrious bunch who would write intense academic thoughts or music about grave matters.
But here was some sort of loud, tented music festival, with a lot of scruffy, tattooed and frankly unsettling blokes lavishly swigging beer from cans. If there was a philosophy here it evidently involved getting drunk to noisy pop music as rapidly as possible. As Sam Goldwyn allegedly said, it’s time we had some new clichés.
We arrived at Prague’s Old Town Square around four. We had it virtually to ourselves. Well, along with two million tourists, all photobombing each other’s selfies.
On the hour there was some ominous dinging and donging, and the grand clock’s spooky figures jerked around doing grisly things. This included a skeleton banging a bell with an evil grin. Tempus fugit! Carpe diem! Duas cerevisias si placet!
The Ibis beckoned. We showered, beered, and joined an old college chum of mine for a slap-up dinner on him in a nice restaurant round the corner. My vegetarian friends warned me against eating mussels this far inland, but, ha, what do they know! Tempus fugit! Carpe diem! Duas cerevisias si placet!
Another excellent day.
Miles today: 45
Miles since Cheb: 160