I'm on a train with wi-fi. No doubt those of you who live in developed countries are thinking "Yeah? And?". But for me it's a first, and quite fun :-)
I mean, I've seen signs before that say there's wi-fi on the train, and even on coaches. But I figured it was one of those things that's only real in Norway, and never actually works anywhere else. Apparently I was wrong ... cool!
Anyway ... we're speeding towards a town called Ostrava, about 30kms from the Czech-Polish border. Here I'll start the next leg of my cycling journey.
The last couple of days have essentially been rest days. I pitched up in the town of Olomouc on July 30th, very curious to see it for myself; as I mentioned in the previous entry, it's garnering a reputation as a bit of an 'undiscovered jewel'.
So is it?
Well ... er, yeah, I think so. I mean, it's not likely to knock Vienna or Prague off the top of a few million tourist itineraries, but it certainly has some pretty parts.
Btw, just in case you're wondering, the town's name is pronounced roughly as o-la-MORTS. Before I came here, I found it useful to think of the phrase "old moats" to help me remember the pronunciation.
Sadly there aren't any old moats in Olomouc - that would've been great! But it is a very likeable place; one of those European 'regional capitals' where poky laneways abound, and where, if you're near the centre, you usually spy something grand and a bit monumental if you peer down the lane to the next big street or open space.
It also has the wacky thing pictured below – which is known as a 'plague column' – in one of its central squares. I'd never seen or even heard of plague columns before, but apparently this is the biggest one you'll find anywhere in Central Europe. Kind of an intriguing concept.
You can only see the bottom half of the column here, because it's frikkin' enormous. A bunch of Moravia's most exciting architects designed and built it in the early 18th Century, to celebrate the end of plague in the region – but in a fit of local pride, the ordinary citizens of Olomouc helped out with its construction. Now, it just sits in the middle of the square, all baroque and massive and happy-about-the-lack-of-plague.
The town has quite a studenty, artsy vibe, with lots of street art and so on. This little piece decorates the wall of one little underpass, near the city museum.
But probably my favourite bit of 'public art' in Olomouc is the astronomical clock on one side of the old Town Hall.
If you live and/or have travelled in Europe, you know these things pop up fairly regularly in large European cities. And let's face it: they're incredibly kitschy. Usually they feature a bunch of Jesus' disciples, a Wise Man or several, and a crowing rooster, whirring out from behind little wooden doors on the hour, as bells and other 'special' effects mark the occasion. And without wanting to be too mean, I have to say I find it a little sad when tourist crowds gather round these clocks in anticipation, as though the cheesy little spectacle is worth the price of the plane ticket.
What makes the one in Olomouc so different is that it isn't the work of some 16th Century watchmaker; it was created during the Communist era, and its design seems, as much as anything, like a playful parody of the whole astronomical clock idea.
It also seems (rather bravely for the time) to thumb its nose at the cliched 'socialist heroes' who were the artist's constant subject during the Socialist Realist period (whether s/he liked it or not). Here they take the place of disciples, Wise Men etc., parading out of their little doorways – farmers, athletes, scientists and the whole Socialist pantheon, all looking utterly plastic and fake and caricatured. I'm actually surprised that the artist got away with it.
At the same time, there is a certain elegance to the mosaic portion of the clock – and again, a playfulness that was very noticeably missing from most Socialist Realism. Rather than showing Holy Days, like your 'traditional' astronomical clock, the dials here rotate to show Lenin's and Stalin's birthdays, as well as Communist holidays like International Workers' Day. It's really funny, and kinda brilliant :-)
But while Olomouc doesn't disappoint for either quirkiness or architectural splendour, it does lack one crucial ingredient: life. It's weird; I mean, I definitely prefer a medium-sized European city with a laid-back atmosphere to a huge, crowded capital (see my comments last year re beautiful, chilled-out Antwerp vs. ridiculously packed and slightly repugnant Brussels). But here, in Olomouc, you often find yourself wondering "Where are all the people?"
I don't quite know why there are so few folks here, either locals or tourists. Maybe it's the heat – we almost reached 40 degrees this week, which would certainly encourage me to stay home if I was a local! Or maybe there's a cool part of town that I don't know about, where all the students go. Don't think so, though: I think this intense quietness actually pervades the entire city.
At times I find it quite pleasant, but at other times it's almost eerie – especially late at night, as empty trams rumble along the dimly-lit, cobbled ring road at the Old Town's edge.
Anyway, now I've said goodbye to Julča (a cute tabby kitten who lives outside the very Soviet-looking hotel where I stayed, and who is spoiled every morning with leftover processed meat from the breakfast hall), and I'm heading east to begin the next leg of the cycling tour.
I'll cross into Poland tomorrow, arriving in the city of Cieszyn. From there I'll head to Bielsko-Biała, at the edge of the southern Polish / northern Slovakian Tatra mountain range – a region which I've long been planning to visit. Finally I'll go north to Oswięcim, better known by its Germanic name "Auschwitz", before hopping a train to Katowice and then to Warszawa (Warsaw).
As usual, I'll let you know how if anything noteworthy happens along the way.
See you!
I mean, I've seen signs before that say there's wi-fi on the train, and even on coaches. But I figured it was one of those things that's only real in Norway, and never actually works anywhere else. Apparently I was wrong ... cool!
Anyway ... we're speeding towards a town called Ostrava, about 30kms from the Czech-Polish border. Here I'll start the next leg of my cycling journey.
The last couple of days have essentially been rest days. I pitched up in the town of Olomouc on July 30th, very curious to see it for myself; as I mentioned in the previous entry, it's garnering a reputation as a bit of an 'undiscovered jewel'.
So is it?
Well ... er, yeah, I think so. I mean, it's not likely to knock Vienna or Prague off the top of a few million tourist itineraries, but it certainly has some pretty parts.
Btw, just in case you're wondering, the town's name is pronounced roughly as o-la-MORTS. Before I came here, I found it useful to think of the phrase "old moats" to help me remember the pronunciation.
Sadly there aren't any old moats in Olomouc - that would've been great! But it is a very likeable place; one of those European 'regional capitals' where poky laneways abound, and where, if you're near the centre, you usually spy something grand and a bit monumental if you peer down the lane to the next big street or open space.
 |
Take The Tiny Lane to The Giant Church ...
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 31.07.15
|
It also has the wacky thing pictured below – which is known as a 'plague column' – in one of its central squares. I'd never seen or even heard of plague columns before, but apparently this is the biggest one you'll find anywhere in Central Europe. Kind of an intriguing concept.
 |
There's No Plague on Us!
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 31.07.15
|
You can only see the bottom half of the column here, because it's frikkin' enormous. A bunch of Moravia's most exciting architects designed and built it in the early 18th Century, to celebrate the end of plague in the region – but in a fit of local pride, the ordinary citizens of Olomouc helped out with its construction. Now, it just sits in the middle of the square, all baroque and massive and happy-about-the-lack-of-plague.
The town has quite a studenty, artsy vibe, with lots of street art and so on. This little piece decorates the wall of one little underpass, near the city museum.
 |
Underpass Art
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 01.08.15
|
But probably my favourite bit of 'public art' in Olomouc is the astronomical clock on one side of the old Town Hall.
If you live and/or have travelled in Europe, you know these things pop up fairly regularly in large European cities. And let's face it: they're incredibly kitschy. Usually they feature a bunch of Jesus' disciples, a Wise Man or several, and a crowing rooster, whirring out from behind little wooden doors on the hour, as bells and other 'special' effects mark the occasion. And without wanting to be too mean, I have to say I find it a little sad when tourist crowds gather round these clocks in anticipation, as though the cheesy little spectacle is worth the price of the plane ticket.
What makes the one in Olomouc so different is that it isn't the work of some 16th Century watchmaker; it was created during the Communist era, and its design seems, as much as anything, like a playful parody of the whole astronomical clock idea.
 |
Pocket-sized Socialist Heroes Greet The Hour
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 01.08.15
|
It also seems (rather bravely for the time) to thumb its nose at the cliched 'socialist heroes' who were the artist's constant subject during the Socialist Realist period (whether s/he liked it or not). Here they take the place of disciples, Wise Men etc., parading out of their little doorways – farmers, athletes, scientists and the whole Socialist pantheon, all looking utterly plastic and fake and caricatured. I'm actually surprised that the artist got away with it.
At the same time, there is a certain elegance to the mosaic portion of the clock – and again, a playfulness that was very noticeably missing from most Socialist Realism. Rather than showing Holy Days, like your 'traditional' astronomical clock, the dials here rotate to show Lenin's and Stalin's birthdays, as well as Communist holidays like International Workers' Day. It's really funny, and kinda brilliant :-)
But while Olomouc doesn't disappoint for either quirkiness or architectural splendour, it does lack one crucial ingredient: life. It's weird; I mean, I definitely prefer a medium-sized European city with a laid-back atmosphere to a huge, crowded capital (see my comments last year re beautiful, chilled-out Antwerp vs. ridiculously packed and slightly repugnant Brussels). But here, in Olomouc, you often find yourself wondering "Where are all the people?"
 |
A Strangely Empty Square
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 31.07.15
|
I don't quite know why there are so few folks here, either locals or tourists. Maybe it's the heat – we almost reached 40 degrees this week, which would certainly encourage me to stay home if I was a local! Or maybe there's a cool part of town that I don't know about, where all the students go. Don't think so, though: I think this intense quietness actually pervades the entire city.
At times I find it quite pleasant, but at other times it's almost eerie – especially late at night, as empty trams rumble along the dimly-lit, cobbled ring road at the Old Town's edge.
 |
Julca's Meat Cup
Olomouc, Czech Republic, 01.08.15
|
I'll cross into Poland tomorrow, arriving in the city of Cieszyn. From there I'll head to Bielsko-Biała, at the edge of the southern Polish / northern Slovakian Tatra mountain range – a region which I've long been planning to visit. Finally I'll go north to Oswięcim, better known by its Germanic name "Auschwitz", before hopping a train to Katowice and then to Warszawa (Warsaw).
As usual, I'll let you know how if anything noteworthy happens along the way.
See you!
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