Week Twenty-One

A busy little day: Milla gets up late, and downs the gin-and-tonic. She spends the next few hours wandering around with her eyes half-shut telling everyone that no, she's not hungover - she's just tired.
Just before midday we go up to the hospital, where they take a bunch of X-Rays (not sure if that's the collective), and we talk to MUDr (Petr) Masek again. He shows us how straight the various pieces are, assures us that everything is "normal", gives us an envelope of X-Rays and writes a long note to take (in a mix of Czech and Latin - that'll be useful). We come back by the bus station to check times and costs of buses south.
We spend the afternoon looking at jewellery (Milla's still on a quest - she keeps trying to play me at cards with a pair of ear-rings as the stakes), and also at trousers - my thick green pair is close to death. Well past the point of death, some would say if they saw the gaping hole in the crotch. We are unsuccessful on both counts, but make up for it by going out for something to eat that evening. We select "Na Louzi", which is fairly cheap and close to the hostel. My curried chicken is okay, but not really curried (it's possible they don't have Indians in the Czech Rep yet): Milena's fried Edam and ham is excellent. Apart from the meal, we manage to fall out - mainly because I'm being grumpy. It's a core skill. Ah well - we're planning to make our first trip out of Cesky K tomorrow, so we'd better have made up by then . . .

We bought some supplies yesterday, and Milena supplements these by nicking rolls at breakfast and making up sandwiches. Armed with a little bag of food, we hit the bus station and find the appropriate stance (and queue) for the bus to Rozmberk nad Vltavou. It's a pretty minor route, along a 'B' road into the hills of South Bohemia, so we're fairly surprised that there's quite a few people waiting to get on. Little groups of old people - in fours and fives - agglomerate into one big group as the bus arrives: everyone seems to know everyone else. The bus makes several local stops in the outskirts of Cesky K, and at each stop another wave of OAPs (an alarming proportion of whom are shell-suited) gets on and there's much mutual greeting. It's standing room only by the time we hit the open road: it seems we're on the Pensioner Express to Rozmberk - it's possible we chose the wrong day to catch this bus. Bizarrely, one of the few normal-aged people on board also has his left-arm in a sling: I've started something of a fashion, it seems.
We travel south alongside the Vltava, and soon come to a decent-sized industrial town (maybe 5,000 people?) built around a large papermill. After that, the road gets narrower as we climb into the hills of southern South Bohemia. There are a lot more trees (and more snow on the ground - it's mostly gone in Cesky Krumlov), and a lot of very scenic little villages ringed with holiday homes. At one of these villages, all the pensioners alight en masse - either they're planning to hike back to Cesky K through the afternoon (10 or 15km), or else this village has a particularly good tea-room.

Ten minutes later, through the trees, we spot a white castle high on a ridge to our left - it's definitely Rozmberk Castle, since we've seen photos at the Infocentrum. There are no other buildings around (ie. the village of Rozmberk), though, and the bus races past with no sign of stopping soon. Bugger, we think. A minute further on though the Vltava, road and bus all hairpin back on themselves and we pull into Rozmberk village on the other side of the ridge. We get off, the bus pulls away, and there's silence.
We're standing in a tiny market square (triangle), surrounded by a small number of houses, surrounded by fields.
"There's nothing here," Milla tells me - she sounds as if she expects tumbleweed to roll past.

A car has arrived at the same time as the bus, parked in the square, and disgorged three people - en masse, we cross the square to inspect a little map/infoboard. A local dog watches us from a safe distance, perhaps startled by the sudden invasion of humanity. Our fellow arrivees repair to the Hotel Ruze (presumably for a drink), while our investigation starts with the Infocentrum - sited in a little gallery, it is closed; we then check the post office (closed); and then the big stone church at the end of the square (also closed). We're unable to discover any details about the church (what it's called, for example), so instead we cross the town's only bridge over the Vltava (with John of Nepomuk statue, and a little plaque commemorating this joint German-Czech project just before WWII).

Apart from the narrow flat strip alongside the Vltava (with the road), the far bank climbs up steeply towards teh castle. We know the castle itself is closed for winter, like Cesky Krumlov, and as we climb the road/path to the main gate it looks as if the whole complex might be. Thankfully it's open (the door was deceptive), because otherwise we'd have had nothing at all to do in Rozmberk - it's very much a one castle town. The castle here was the main seat of the Rozmberks, the main aristocratic family in South Bohemia from the 1200s until 1611 when the line died out with the hard-drinking womanising gambler and patron of alchemists, Petr Vok. Milla's developing a bit of an obsession on ol' Petr Vok, whom I think she sees as a fellow-spirit ("He was probably a Gemini", she tells me). Originally 13th century, the castle was later made over in the sgraffitoed Renaissance style, with a couple of gothic towers. Slightly further up the hill is a non-made over tower, standing separate - presumably a watchtower, since it's at a better vantage point, though less defensible.
The main castle building is over a high bridge and is closed (it has an entryphone - "I'm sorry - the Rozmberks can't come out to fight today: they've just sat down to tea"): from the outside, it's a pretty dull white box. The best views of it are probably from the non-village side, but the land falls away very sharply on that side ("Hey Moray - I've found a slope for you," Milla tells me). Up towards the other tower are a number of outbuildings, and some fairly uninspired gardens - a number of marked trails lead away into the surrounding forest.

We descend into the village again, stop for toilets and capuccino in the Hotel Ruze (and a rest for me), encounter their tiny but energetic dog, and then explore the rest of the village. The "rest of the village" comprises two or three streets set back from the river, running parallel to the main road. The church doesn't seem to have an attached graveyard (we're looking for Rozmberks), and we eventually find the town graveyard right at the back of the town, just past the little football pitch. There's an interesting predominance of German surnames, but no Rozmberks. Oh, and both the cemetery and the football pitch have a problem with moles. After further searching we find an old Jewish cemetery in Rozmberk as well, but it turns out to be a rather sad little overcrowded corner at the back of someone's garden. On the way back to the bus-stop we pass a couple of Pensions, Rozmberk's supermarket, and a nice stretch of riverbank where we watch the ducks (and try to taunt them onto the weir). The village is quite pretty (the light mist helps), but small and dull. We eat our supplies (accompanied by a little Dachshund, as it were) before catching the bus further south.

As with the journey from Cesky K the route is wonderfully scenic, winding through the low tree-covered hills alongside the Vltava. Almost halfway to Vyssi Brod there's a junction (the only one on the route) where a (presumed) hooker stands, optimistically waiting for passing traffic. Five or ten minutes after passing her, we're in Vyssi Brod, which turns out to be a decent-sized little town (it could have been another Rozmberk): the bus drops us just after the main square (rectangle), on the road to the monastery. We walk down the hill, past some residential blocks and a large supermarket (gosh - civilisation again).

The square is pretty enough - the old Town Hall is in the middle (a tiny, baroque church-like affair); there's a statue to John of Nepomuk (who else); there's a church and graveyard at the top (possibly the Dekansky Church - our Czech isn't good enough to tell). The graveyard has some interesting communist-era graves, adorned with red stars and hammers/sickles rather than crosses (though buried in hallowed ground, presumably just to keep their options covered). Another interesting point of note in Vyssi Brod is that all the signs are in Czech and German - there's no English-language notices at all (this is quite reasonable, since we're right next to the Austrian border; there's a bus service from here to Linz; and all the tourists we've seen/heard are Austrian). This contrasts with Cesky K, where it's about 50% English and 50% German, and with Prague where English has pretty much totally won the battle of foreign languages.

After the reasonable success of our trip, our intention is to strike out further this week - Ceske Budejovice and beyond. Wednesday, however, is pretty much limited on account of me needing to recover after all the energy and excitement. We manage a trip to the supermarket, and the post office, and the internet place by the castle. The rest, however, is inactivity - at least for me. After asking for some time, Milena finally gets to take Oskar for a walk - or rather vice versa. He starts off by trying to catch and eat the ducks that she stops to feed, attacks her arm when she tries to take a route he doesn't like, and then drags her round the back of the castle for a longer walk back - all this with only three working legs. On hearing the saga, Blanka assures Milla that he likes her - Paul presumably had much worse trouble first time.
Later in the evening, both myself and Milla get fairly paranoid about my shoulder - now that the pain in my arm is easing, I'm noticing how sore my shoulder is: also, it's not really very shoulder-shaped. We resolve to visit the hospital again tomorrow, to see the duty doctor at A&E - neither of us has a huge amount of faith in cheerful MUDr Masek. After that, we'll catch the first bus to Ceske B.

On Thursday, naturally, the duty doctor turns out to be none other than MUDr Masek. He prods my shoulder, assures us everything is "normal" and then has an orderly a.) cut the top off the plaster and b.) remove the tight strapping - I'm just in a sling and plaster now. In answer to our question about how we can/should travel, he confidently informs us that flying is best because it'll be quicker. Great. My new sling meanwhile renders me less stable and more susceptible to jolts and hence more pain. We abandon the trip to Ceske Budejovice and potter round Cesky Krumlov very slowly instead. That evening, since we like the internet café by the castle so much, we decide to try one of the pizzas: this turns out to be a mistake - we'll stick to their beer and coffee in the future.

Friday is also uneventful - we try the local laundry again, without bothering with the dryers: Milla is again unimpressed by the results. In the evening we watch the mindlessly tedious Opening Ceremony of the Winter Olympics, discussing the UK's and Romania's medal chances (both about nil, with the possible exception of the curling), and hoping for some kind of terrorist attack.
On Saturday and Sunday I recover further (with assistance from more supporting pillows as I sleep), and we watch lots of boring winter sports. Apart from that, we read up about Ceske B, experiment with different techniques to wash my hair, and wait for the weekenders to go home (Cesky Krumlov fills with tourists at the weekends, even in early February - it must be hell during summer). On Saturday, we and Stewart (the eternal resident - an Aussie who's been here almost as long as us, but without a broken arm) locate the local ice-rink in the hope of renting skates and having a go (Stewart and Milla, not me). We discover an ice hockey match in progress: local kids teams, but the game is taken very seriously both by the players and by the spectators. After the 8-12s finish, two 12-15 year old teams take the ice and have a better game, and then the 15-18 year olds start limbering up. We leave - although the games were all good, the arena is really cold. We also discover that they don't hire out skates.
On Sunday, two Americans and a Polish girl arrive from Southern Poland - we all sit glued to the TV watching their national hero Adam Malysz in the K90 ski-jumping. He finishes an inglorious third. Not to worry - I saw one Brit, and he didn't even make the qualifying cut. The event was won by Simone Amman, whom I thought was a Romanian gymnast . . .
Oh, and on Sunday we treat ourselves to Banana Splits at a local café.