An Escape to Country Castles

There's not much room for comfort these days in Prague. Every spare inch of shade is taken by someone in yearning for a cooler place. The bars and restaurants are sweltering, unless you find some multinational corporation like Costa or Starbucks that took the expense to put in some air conditioning. All the old white trash "herna" bars that were always stocked with air coolers were shut down in a popularly suspected anti-money laundering action a couple of years ago and nobody's house has anything remotely resembling a reasonable air conditioning system. This wouldn't be a problem if not climate change. Having spent many summers visiting family in Louisiana, I hate to complain about a bit of heat. In Louisiana, it's paired with unbreathable humidity, the kind where you step out of the car and fall back because the moisture just whacked you in the chest like a vengeful mafioso and now you have to adapt to breathing in water. Nothing compares to Louisiana heat, except maybe Florida heat I suspect, but I've never been there. I'm in Prague now anyway and it's pretty damned hot here.

Vitkov Castle

There are few things to do to escape the absurdity of the temperature. One can hit a movie, since they're almost always air conditioned. One can go to one of the few public swimming pools in town, like Podoli, but we tend to avoid those knowing how ridiculously over-crowded they ought to be with such a climatological extreme. The last option is to just get out of town. Around Prague, there are many lakes, creeks and rivers where people have adapted into beachfronts and places for pleasure-boating. I've yet to find a boat rental place outside of Prague though - you can rent boats on the Vltava on the embankment in the city - but they must exist.

For our outing, we decided to go to two beautiful Disneyesque castles we had scene last winter - Orlik and Zvikov. Both of the castles sit on the Vltava River, connected by about an hour long boat ride. We noticed the boat availability when we were there in November, but they only operate from June to August, so we decided to take advantage of the weekend and check it out. Orlik is only about an hour and a half drive, so going on the spur of the moment wasn't a problem for us. When we got to Orlik, we found the castle gates open this time, but instead of going in, we circled around and followed the coast a little back where the docks were. There was a small beergarden on the bank with an excellent view of the river. The Vltava had been dammed a bit further up making it almost like a really long lake with steep cliffs on every side.

The entrance to Orlik

The tour at Orlik is definitely worth it. There is a room with some of the most remarkable woodwork on a ceiling you'll ever see, and a very creepy sight of a thousand or so deer heads, then you get to see all the rifles used to get those deer heads. It's 120 czk and in Czech, but they give you a handy guide book in English to follow along. Outside of the tour, there's a small nature trail skirting the river and the beergarden. Orlik in Czech means "small eagle" or "baby eagle", and before the dam, it would have been high up on a rocky promontory overlooking the then much smaller river. Now it sits almost on the river, but still amazingly scenic, as more water never seems to take away from a sight. It was originally built as a royal property in the 15th century and like most major castles in Bohemia, passed hands to the Eggenbergs and then to the Schwarzenbergs. For a time it was the main residence of the Schwarzenberg family, and the most famous resident was Karl Phillipp, Prince of Schwarzenberg, who led the victory over Napoleon at the Battle of Leipzig.

Orlik standing over the water

We waited at the beergarden for about an hour for the boat. In such a heat, we didn't really have energy to do much else, but sit and drink and dodge the swarm of bees that took up residence there. Since we had arrived only in time for the last boat, it meant that we would only spend 15 minutes at Zvikov, which was fine since we had seen it before. However, Zvikov would have been a much better place to wait around, as there's a lot more shade as well as beach where one could relax and swim. Not so much was possible at Orlik. The boat though was a nice ride and had a bar serving up sort of cold refreshments. The ride was 240 czk round trip, which seemed to be pretty reasonable for such a beautiful and hassle free ride. Tickets are purchased first come first serve on the boat. There was also a boat that went to the damn and one that simply circumnavigated the immediate area too. All of them can be foundhere (unfortunately only in Czech, but there are no reservations anyway, so just come as you are).

Inside the Zvikov courtyard

Zvikov Castle is more of the traditional castle ruins that one might envision the Fellowship of the Ring coming upon while running from the Nazgul. Like Orlik, it also used to be high up on the rocks, but with the water rising up, now sits on a narrow peninsula formed by the convergence of the Vltava River and Oltava River. In a fashion, it's one of the oldest castles in the Czech Republic and much of Europe, in that there has been a fort there in one form or another since the Celts fortified the place in the 1st century AD. The current construction dates back to the 13th century, built under the orders of King Otakar I. It was under royal possession until the 1400s when it was sold to the Rozmberks, who sided with the Protestants during the 30 Years War and suffered a major siege there before capitulating. The Habsburgs proceeded to loot it and destroy it and it sat as a ruin for a few hundred years. The lands eventually passed, as all Czech lands eventually pass, to the Schwarzenberg family, who restored the castle.

Being in the middle of a major empire is really the worst place for a military fortification, and as the Schwarzenbergs were using Orlik as their primary residence, they let Zvikov slip away into memory. It was used for storing grain for awhile, until it was finally taken by the Communists and turned into a museum in 1948. Wandering the outside of Zvikov is amazing as it is, as there are few chances to freely walk around semi-preserved ruins. For the buildings that are left - which do have some interesting murals remaining - a small fee of 70 czk gets you in and wandering on your own. The most interesting room is the remains of a grand bedroom that half fell into the river below from age and disrepair - don't worry, it's safe now! Make sure you go early so you have plenty of time to explore both castles!

#castles #Orlik #Zvikov #museums #touristicsites

I have found...

Chiatura: The Steel Roads of Stalin

This season never makes me nostalgic for Georgia. July and August are sweltering no man's zones, when the streets empty out and the cities turn into virtual graveyards, nothing but plastic bags blowing in the wind like tumbleweed and a grandmother's cackling laugh as her and her friend share jokes about the kids these days.

But this season is the perfect time to start planning trips for the fall, which is definitely the perfect season to visit Georgia, just in time for the harvest, when the grapes are growing from every crook and cranny, filling up the air with such an exuberance of fruity smells that just breathing can make you stuffed.

And if you're planning a trip to Georgia, then make sure to include some real adventure. Make sure to include Chiatura.

Looking down on Chiatura

Young Stalin

Chiatura first came into my radar when I was reading Simon Montefiore's half-adventure, half-history book, Young Stalin. If ever you want to read an Eastern European history book that somewhat resembles a Western flick about an evil version of Jesse James, check that one out. It really is a history book, but the writing is so fluid and vivid, and the character is so out-of-this-world, that it feels like you're reading a fiction.

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After many of Stalin's robbery schemes, he would take his bags of gold by donkey over the mountains to the small mining town of Chiatura, which was in 1910s Georgia a Bolshevik stronghold. The people of Chiatura were rewarded for their fidelity too: under Stalin, development soared, with electrification, a road link to Tbilisi, and new housing blocks piling up. It also soon became the Manganese mining capital of the world, a fact that would have a double luck for the town. Though mining certainly put it on the map, it also turned the waters of the river black, an interesting site to see in and of itself. The more than unique thing about this canyon community, besides the Manganese mining, is how many of the city outlets and work areas are connected by a network of seemingly ancient gondolas.

Steel Roads of the Man of Steel

It was the gondolas that led me to really want to go to Chiatura. This article from the Daily Mail - I know, not the best source - and this one from the Atlantic on the things went viral, talking about how rusted, old and dangerous they were and how they hadn't been updated since their construction 70 years ago. It also wrote that the town Chiatura itself was somewhat of a post-apocalyptic nightmare community straight out of Furiousa Road, and that heading their might get you killed via pollution, frog plague, border creep, or whatever have you.

Chiatura with a cable car going to apartments

The road to Chiatura was riddled with scenic outdoor cafes, snuggled amidst the forests and brooks that litter the Shida Kartli and Imeretian countryside. When the forests end, rolling hills take over, with the vaguest outline of the towering Caucasus in the distance. Most of the hillside lies mysteriously unused, as it seems to be premium farming land, but for the proximity of the occupied territory of South Ossetia just nearby. Finally, after entering well into Imereti, the road descends back towards the main East-West highway, following a sharp and huge canyon, not so grand as America's Grand Canyon, but big enough to mystify any common viewer, and steep enough to send any cliff climber into spasms of ecstasy. If you go to Chiatura, forget going for a dilapidated town, go for the countryside, preferably with a car of your own so you can take as much advantage as you can. Especially also because you'll want to stop afterwards at the Katskhi Pillar, a place taxis seem to fear to go.

The Black River

In fact, contrary to what that aforementioned article hints at, Chiatura is quite a nice little town, once you get past the complete black waters of the lazy Kvirila River that it traverses. The river is black from some process of the Manganese mine, and littered with Coke and lemonade bottles and cigarette packs, but that latter part is to be expected in any Georgian town. Besides all that, the center of the town shows some beauty and perhaps even potential for tourism. The concept has only recently woken up, with a few hotels popping up. You can follow this link to booking to find accommodation:

The buildings of the city are a mix between the grand Soviet styles and the more blocky housing units, but most are painted and fairly nice looking. We stopped at one hole-in-the-wall cafe that was on the park which served as a boardwalk along the inky river. They served a kebab that came in a soup - which ended up being quite amazing and spicy. We also had some Imeruli xatchapuri, which was again better than most places I had tried in Tbilisi.

the black river

The cable car building near the main square

The Steel Roads

From the cafe, we went to find a car of the famous steel roads, which wasn't hard to do. All you have to do is look up and follow one of the lines that hang over the skies to their base and there you can find your Soviet-era pot of gold. Some of the lines have been retired from lack of use - more than half the town is a ghost town - but there are still many that continually function. They operate on a "jig back" system, where there is one car for each way and they run on the same line; as one car goes up, the other goes down. We walked up to one, where three guys were sitting on the bench. Assuming they weren't the workers, I asked in Georgian, "Where is the operator?"

"I am the operator," one of the sitting guys said. "Oh," I said. We stood silently. They sat silently. "Can we take a ride?" I asked. "Yes," he said. He still didn't move. "Good," I said, trying to figure out the trick to this exchange. "How much does it cost?" "It's free."

We decided we should just get on, and maybe the guy would do whatever it was he had to do. And he did. He stood up, rang a bell and sat back down.

View from the gondola

The gondola itself was a blue box, not unlike Doctor Who's TARDIS, but instead of flying through space and time, this thing flew up the cliffside, in about the same wibbly-wobbly manner. However, I was a bit disenchanted. The construction, though clearly old, looked solid, and nothing about the trip seemed dangerous or even that exhilarating, except the fact that you were hanging by a steel thread some 500 feet in the air. But fear of heights aside, it wasn't really that big of a deal to worry about, or to write an article on commending the bravery of the author.

Where Beergardens Should Have Been At the top of the gondola was a big patch of dirt, a block of apartments, and a road block, behind which was some operation going on that was probably linked to the mines. There was also an amazing view of Chiatura, and a great place to at least put a beergarden, of which there was none. If since I've been there nobody has since put one, I'll bang my head against a wall! I mean, really, what a spot for beer drinking! In fact, the most terrifying thing in Chiatura is the locals' lack of vision when it came to the beauty of their landscape and the tourism potential.

My friend clearly upset by the lack of a beergarden

The articles mentioned show a common tendency in media today, to show that the photographer or writer was in much more danger than they were in reality, whether it's showing the gondolas of Chiatura, the riots in Turkey, or the streets of Detroit. The friend I was with then called it, "Disaster Porn," when the writer wants to portray themself as some brave adventurer, spurred on by a crowd of armchair readers too lazy or ignorant or inexperienced to know that much of the world isn't actually that dangerous and most people in the world are simply people trying to get by, for the most part. Which then feeds a great paranoia of American travelers, and keeps them from exploring a fantastic new world of possibilities that is really spread across their fingertips, ready for them to seize, had they not been cheated by such a sensationalist mentality.

Disaster Porn

It's a secret that most travelers don't want to let out, because then all that mystery we create at a bar while trying to pick up women just drifts away like a puff of smoke from a nargile out the window of a seedy Arabic cafe filled with sheikhs and businessmen - you know, some really dangerous place where any minute a terrorist could run in and blow the thing.

Okay, maybe they're not THAT safe

The truth makes some disaster seekers ever more disappointed and ever more willing to take real risks, until they end up backpacking on the borders of Iran and Iraq and sent to an Iranian prison, accused of spying, or with their heads chopped off in an IS propaganda video. What Iranian officer could ever believe that, "Well, we were just looking for adventure" could actually be the truth? People who live in the bonafide dangerous areas, or those who have had to deal with the real dangers of life, are probably hugely confused by disaster porn and its pornographers. And when reading disaster porn on the net, one should remember that it has about as much to do with real disaster as porn has to do with real sex, that is to say, about nothing.

Didn't I Mention Tourism Potential? The gondolas and the black waters of the Qvirila River aren't the only things to see in Chiatura, which again expands my faith for Chiatura to have at least some tourist traffic in the future, with the right planning. The first stop was Mgvimevi Monastery, which lies a 15 minute walk north from the center of Chiatura.

Looking up to Mgvimevi from the road

The stairs that lead up to this cliff-side monastery were hidden among a construction site, a candle and ikon shop, and a house. There's a small sign marking the ascent, but little more than realizing you'll have to go straight up to get to the monastery. A small cable car sits above the shop, used to carry supplies up the monks that live above.

at Mgvimevi, look at the beautiful stone work

Despite being impossible to pronounce, Mgvimevi hosts a cave chapel and a large number of beautiful carvings chiseled into the stone walls of square chapels carved out of the side of the rock. The monks remain out of sight, leaving only old ladies to tend the candles and mop and to allow you for your own contemplation in a cave. There is continued construction behind closed doors (that further church in the picture), winding around the cliffside - but no worries, the main part of the monastery is from the 13th century, though the carvings and outer structures seem to be more recent, so if it's ancient dwellings you're after, this still certainly more than suffices.

Looking the other way

Katskhi Monastery

When we finished our sightseeing in the main part of Chiatura, we had to get a taxi, since the last three sights weren't exactly convenient.

We reunited with our driver and went on to the Katskhi monastery, again, just on the roadside to Zestaponi. We stopped and had a look. The monastery church was interesting to me due to the shape. It was an hexagon, which was altogether unusual in Georgian religious architecture, the only churches I had seen or heard like it were in Armenia and Oni, though both of those had long since been in ruins, and another still functional one in Czech Republic.

Katskhi monastery

Katskhi was built in the 10th century AD, and covered in ornate carvings, the like of which are barely seen anymore in Georgia, but probably covered most of the older churches prior to earthquakes and Mongol, Persian and Turkish invasions.

The Monastery on the Pillar

When we got back to the car, the driver started complaining about the price. "It should be more, gas is so expensive and it is hard to get to the pillar."

"The pillar is on the way and we already paid you and agreed!" I said back. I started getting a sick feeling in my gut, the feeling of utter disgust I get when people go back on their agreements, or when taxi drivers start complaining about their previously agreed fare. The man became less of a man to me, and seemed more of something resembling a weasel. But I stuck to my guns and refused to change price. Likewise, he refused to stop at the pillar, even for a view, despite it being on the road to Zestaponi.

So we missed that sight, though we did get a peak of the pillar from the windows of the speeding car.

#Chiatura #rantsandraves #touristicsites #churches