Portugal, Alaska, Prague and Akron

by Jamie Rhein on

Three of these places have something in common and one does not. I’ve just noticed that two start with P and two start with A, but that has nothing to do with this game. Everyone is going on a major trip but me. That, of course, is a gross exaggeration, but consider this. My father is winging his way to the Czech Republic with a stop in Lyon, France as part of his journey. My mother and my brother also left today. They’re in Seattle awaiting to embark on my mother’s dream trip–a cruise to Alaska. A close friend of mine from college left today for eight days in Portugal. (She left her two children with her husband for her jaunt away.) What does Akron have to do with anything? I’m heading there on Sunday. Actually, I’m going to Stow which is next door. My excitement might come from a stop at Grandpa’s Cheese Barn near the Ashland exit off of I-71. Wheee!!! Actually, the cheese there does ratchet up my excitement quotient.

There is nothing wrong with being closer to home. A good friend of ours who lives in Madrid, Iowa just flew in today on American AIrlines. The plane was early and my husband didn’t even have to pay for parking since he was at the airport for less than 10 minutes. This visit is a chance to show our friend, who has never been to Ohio, some of our favorite Columbus hotspots before my husband and he head to Cleveland for an Indians baseball game and a trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Sunday is the meet up in Stow for a family picnic gathering. These gatherings are one of the reasons why we are living in the U.S. right now. Still, when I am grazing the samples at the cheese barn, I’ll think of those people I love who are on their mega trips having those adventures they’ve dreamed about.

By the way, the friend who is visiting is the one who took us on the Boone & Scenic Valley Railroad mentioned in the fall foliage leaf peeping train post.

Great Czech Beers You’ve Never Heard Of

by Brett Atkinson on

Neil’s post on discovering the joys of tiny local pubs outside of the rip-off prices of Prague had me both salivating and reminiscing. Everyone has heard of Pilsner Urquell and Budvar, (the original and superior Budweiser), but a journey around the Czech Republic (hooray, I got it right Iva), is also a journey to Nirvana for lovers of the amber liquid. Here’s three Czech beers you’ve probably never heard of, but deserve to try at least once in your life.

  1. Eggenberg – From the quaint town of Cesky Krumlov. Try it at the town brewery or at the cosy Na Louzi pub.
  2. Bernard – A boutique brewery in the town of Humpolec, but available all around the country.
  3. Cerna Hora – The Black Mountain brewery in southern Moravia creates interesting brews like honey flavoured Kvasar. Try the range at the Cernohorsky Sklep in Brno.

There’s also Litovel from Olomouc, Hostan from Znojmo and Jezek (“Hedgehog”) beer from Jihlava. And don’t even get me started on the increasing number of micro-breweries popping up and bubbling away.

To quote Homer Simpson, or someone equally insightful. “So many beers, so little time.”

Thanks to Adam Polselli on Flickr for the pic.

Leave Prague for Authentic Czech Pubs

by Neil Woodburn on

To get the typical Czech pub experience these days, one must now leave Prague far behind.

When I first began visiting this fine city more than a decade ago, traditional Czech pubs were on every corner. They were smoky, served cheap beer, and full of all walks of Czech life, from students to pensioners, artists to soldiers, and everything in between.

Today, however, most pubs in the center of Prague are now overpriced tourist dives that lack the charm and character of their communist era predecessors.

So, what to do?

Traveler extraordinaire Rick Steves has a solution: leave town.

The Czech Republic is blessed with numerous small towns simply oozing with character. Although many have moved with the times, a leisurely drive through the countryside will reveal those that haven’t. You probably won’t be able to pronounce their names, but you will be able to locate the local bar and pop in for a pint. If you’re lucky, you just might get a surly, communist era waitress who ticks off your 50 cent beers on a small slip of paper left at the table. Take a deep drink and you may just travel back in time.

Low-Brow Wine-Cellar Hopping in Moravia

by Iva Skoch on

Getting away from cities. Folks in costumes. Plenty of cheap wine to go around. If this concept frightens you already, you might as well stop reading now.

Most people visiting the Czech Republic–some 8 million annually–come only to Prague. For those trying to get away from all those tourists, I suggest heading to the south eastern part of the country: the wine growing region of Moravia. September is a great month to go because the wine harvest is in full-swing and wine-tastings readily available.

I am not going to lie to you. Don’t expect Napa Valley or Bordeaux. Don’t even bother with the red wines. Too cold for them. The whites, however, range from Pinot Blancs to Rieslings, and are generally very good. Above all, the wine cellars are all different and their owners tend to be generous, eclectic types.

You can also do a bicycle tour of Czech/Moravian wineries. Just remember as of last year, you can actually get a ticket when riding your bicycle drunk in the Czech Republic. Thankfully, no “open container” laws, yet.

Mushroom Pickers Unite!

by Iva Skoch on

Well, it’s that time of year again in the Czech Republic. Time for those atavistic hunter-gatherer instincts to be unleashed. Thousands of Europeans with crazed looks in their darting eyes, trembling fingers clutching baskets, socks rolled over their pant legs (ticks!), marching, probing, snooping, we stumble through the forests like zombies. We guard our secret spots, we spy on others for their secret spots, we come home lucky, or we come home dejected.

Yes, it’s mushroom-picking time.

With Czechs and Slovaks, at least, it’s an obsession. I’ve heard claims that 80% of us do it at least occasionally. And this is the time of year. A certain combination of weather conditions (usually rain then heat) makes these buggers sprout up, filling the forests. And collect them, we do. It’s a family affair, taking up our weekends. The fuller the basket, the better. They are sauteed, made into soups, dried for the winter.

The kind we hunt is called the “hrib,” also known as the boletus or porcini mushroom (pictured above).

Americans can’t seem to understand this custom, although there is ‘gold in them thar hills’: one need only read a recent New Yorker article about the fortunes made mushroom-picking in the woods of Oregon, for example. Wikipedia, in a well down article, lays mushroom picking down as a Slavic custom, only for those braving poisoning, using knowledge passed down for generations.