Cesky Krumlov and Durnstein

Czech please  (I just couldn’t resist…)

Another departure from previous year’s itineraries was a 2-day excursion to Cesky Krumlov, in Sud-Bohemia (Czech Republic). Culturally trespassing into Eastern Europe (the neglected step-sister of tonier, more “familiar” Western EU destinations) we elected to take an almost unmarked back road north from Austria, into the former Czechoslovakia.

This, mostly deserted, one-lane road provided a vivid contrast from Austria’s park-like order and white-washed mountain farms: the once imposing border crossing was now derelict; sad, neglected farms and businesses dotted the cloudy, dreary landscape; a few sleazy bars and “casinos” flashed their tasteless signs; foul, toiling mill towns, hardly altered from 18^th century commerce (with names like Pinskruvdvur – we wondered, was this the fate of a people who had, long ago, evacuated their vowels?)

Happily, the picture brightened as we came upon more mainstream byways approaching the UNESCO World Heritage preserved town of Cesky Krumlov (also referred to as Budweiser on old maps).

We stayed at pleasant Pension Barbakan (http://www.barbakan.cz/index.php?oid=746263) perfectly situated along the horseshoe shaped river and a footbridge to the ancient 12^th century city. Our ample room overlooking the river and impressive town castle was furnished in circa 1900 antiques. It could have been the bedroom of painter Egon Schiele and his scandalized lover, who for a while lived here, and whose images graced the room.

We ate in a dark, yet warm and cozy medieval restaurant, just under the balcony of our room. Imagine the cheerfully bearded, gnome-like proprietor, delighting in his distinctions for various local Pilsner, and the tattooed, pony-tailed chef, cigarette dangling from lip, rocking out with headphones, as he carefully tended whole fish, sausages and chicken on the wood fired oven.

The richness of the town’s character has come to life since the Velvet Revolution of 1989. Still there were abundant reminders of the grim past under German and Soviet shadows. Those oppressive markers are evident in vestiges of hardship, neglected structures, and persistent grey tones.

Dürnstein in the Wachau Valley

The compelling beauty of Dürnstein, a thousand year old village perched in heart of the Wachau Valley, and on the Danube, which forms it, were part of the lure of our return to this Austrian region. Johann Schendl’s family has owned and run the Gasthof Sänger Blondel, since 1730 (http://www.saengerblondel.at/).

“The gasthof’s name is based on the legend of Richard the Lionheart’s faithful servant, Sänger Blondel, who discovered his master was imprisoned in Dürnstein castle by playing Richard’s favorite song beneath his window. When the king’s voice joined in the refrain, the English knew where he was hidden.” (Thanks to Karen Brown for the Romanized, and marginally factual back-story)

This year, we were cheerfully greeted, “Grüß Gott”, by Herr Schendl and his gracious wife on a glorious, sunny afternoon. He informed us, remembering our love of music, of a flute and organ concert at the lovely rural church in Unterloiben, a village within walking distance. He also enthusiastically insisted we later dine at Loibnerhof (Fam. Knoll), adjoining the concert venue. The enchantment of music, food, and the walk back to our room under the crisp starlight night was a perfect reminder of why we return here.

Another evocative memory, which we sought to revive, was the warm apricot and soft cheese strudel with vanilla-apricot sauce, served in the tree-shaded garden beneath our room. After Lisa and I shared a plate, with Gruner tea, I pronounced the Topfenstrudel a national treasure, much to the delight of Herr Schendl.

The climb to the castle ruins above the town where Richard was imprisoned; evening strolls over the cobblestones of the tiny hamlet; wine pub dinner amidst the Gruner Veltliner vineyards; joining a procession of riders and carriages at the Herzogenburg Monastery where they received blessings for their magnificent horses; biking and picnicking along the river pathways that run through villages and blooming vineyards: are the riches we mined on this year’s visit.

Click pix – 2x for LARGE