Kutna Hora

25 September 2009
The train from Prague to Brno (via Kutna Hora…our first stop) was vaguely reminiscent of an older and slightly less magical Hogwarts Express; individual eight-person compartments lined the train, while the occasional food cart stuffed with goodies would push its way past. With the help of Edith, our new Quebecian friend, and her Czech boyfriend Thomas (like thoMAS not like THOmas) we managed to buy to infinitely cheaper group ticket and board the train. The six of us stuffed our way into the Harry-Potter style compartments which we shared with an older couple that was a little less than thrilled to find their compartment bombarded by youthful tourists.

After sleeping on the train for a little less than an hour we arrived in the quaint little Czech village of Kutna Hora. Thomas, with his infinite knowledge of his native language, guided us first to an information centre where the most tourist-friendly man booked us a four person room for $15 person/night. Thomas then led us to Kostnice, which translates to “place of bones” but is better known as the Sedlec Ossuary.

The area began as a cemetery when a Cistercian abbot sprinkled soil from the Holy Land on the area. The land became an incredibly desirable burial place as a result. During the Black Plague so many people were buried in the area that the cemetery had to be greatly enlarged. In the 14th Century a gothic Cistercian church was built on the site. The building was updated to a more modern baroque style in 1710. In 1870 Frantisek Rint was commissioned by the Schwarzenberg family to reorganize the millions of bones left by bodies that had been consumed by the Black Death 300 years before. Rint organized the bones from a predicted 40,000 to 70,000 bodies into and artistic expression “about substance and sense of human life” (back of my ticket).

While somewhat morbid and agreeably disconcerting the art that Rint created from the bones was breathtaking. Bone-decorated archways led down the stairs to a single-roomed chapel. The artist left his signature in bones on the wall at the bottom of the stair case. Two sectioned off rooms to the right and left of the staircase are filled completely with massive piles of bones. In the centre of the room four pillars of skulls and femurs rise up towards an overwhelming and surprisingly beautiful chandelier made from every bone in the human body. Two more fenced off rooms in the back corners of the church are also filled completely with piles of bones. Garlands of bones connect each fenced off room to the other. Rint even included the crest of the Schwarzenberg family also made entirely of bones. The skull having its eyes pecked out by a raven represents the family’s takeover of a Turkish fortress.
After taking a brief tour of the still prestigious cemetery surrounding the church our faithful guide Thomas led us onward to some real Czech food and then the bus stop.

The town of Kutna Hora is very much a ghost town in its off-season. Quaint clothing stores line the streets while pubs and cafes absorb every corner. The stores, though, are never open and the restaurants rarely contain more than a few small groups. I feel like our relatively large group of six stands out immensely in this empty town: all of us with our maps trying to orient ourselves.

We found our hotel smoothly but the receptionist had been expecting us hours earlier (when the helpful man from information booked the reservation) but had given up on us. She arrived a brief ten minutes after we called her though and left again once we had paid. Our room was much better than any of us had expected. The single room came with four individual beds and a bathroom (more than I expected for what we were paying), so in consideration of the price, the service, and ease of access I would certainly encourage anyone visiting Kutna Hora to stay at the Hotel Anna.

After dropping our backpacks off (and resituating all or our valuables) we made our way over to the silver mine that had been the root of Bohemia’s economy throughout its early centuries. The museum that the mine had become dressed us up in white coats and the most amazing helmets you will ever see. A sweet, cross-eyed old Czech man was our tour guide and as he prepared us for the descent down into the mine he explained mining in terms of his own youthful career as a miner. We descended more than 600 steps down into the mine before the ground leveled out into a damp system of caves. White and green film from calcium and copper coated the walls as well as the occasional moss, fed only by the recently installed lighting system. Our tour guide (now a young Czech girl) led us deeper into the cavern on an increasingly narrow tunnel where we had to balance on a plank of wood to avoid getting super muddy. Water trickled down from the ceiling and out of the walls creating a light stream that ran beneath our feet; all of our feet were soaked by the end of the tour. We were led first to bridge over what looked like a small underground pond. We then ventured onwards to the lowest part of the tunnel where almost everyone had to double over to get through; our amazing cantaloupe shell helmets fulfilled their duties. At the widest part of the tunnel our guide sat us down on a stone bench, turned off all of our flashlights and demonstrated with her own severely dimmed flashlight what badly lit conditions miners during the middle ages had to contend with. When she turned off the lights completely it was impossible to see anything; I was so blind I accidentally hit Yisha in the face with my waving hand. For the last half of our journey the lab coat style white jackets came into good use as the tunnel became so narrow we had to squeeze between a rock and a hard place (also known as a rock) to get through. The exit was a great deal more accessible than the entrance; we did not have to wind our way back up the 600+steps, which was a huge relief.

For the last part of our Kutna Horan adventure we made our way over to a structure closely resembling a giant upside-down spider known as St. Barbara’s Church. The church is frequently mistakenly called St. Barbara’s Cathedral (according to Wikipedia). The church is situated in one of the highest points of Kutna Hora and watches over the city like a giant crouching spider. Its gothic architecture and rows of flying buttresses make the church an amazing spectacle. St. Barbara was the patron saint of miners.

Edith and Thomas left us soon after our visit to the church in order to return to Prague for a camping trip. My roommates and I continued to wander around (and exhibit our presence in the small town) the quaint little town of Kutna Hora until we came across a bar-café that by all appearances was open. After enjoying a round of happy hour drinks the sudden realization that the shop had actually been closed when we wandered in drove us back out into the street. We retired to our lovely little room fairly early after dining and desserting at a couple other restaurants.