Cesky Krumlov, in southern Czech Republic, is lovely. Really lovely.
It’s also a bit like Banff, in that it’s a touristy town with mostly restaurants and sovenier stores in its centre, but the prettiness makes up for the touristy bits. And I guess I can’t complain – I am in fact a tourist.
The hostel I stayed in arranges, every day, for guests to hop in an inflatable raft, grab some drinks, and float down the river away from the city for the afternoon. Me, a Kiwi, and four Aussies showed up for the ride, drinks in tow. Pedro from the hostel chucked us in the boat and pushed us downstream – he came and picked us up hours and miles later.
The raft tour is usually a pub crawl, but after the summer most of the pubs along the river route are closed for the season. We were surprised, then, when we spotted a campsite with a little stand that looked open. We pulled the boat over and got out, but no one was there. We laid in the grass in the sun for a bit.
A man appeared from over a hill, then, pushing a wheel barrow. He waved and pointed at the small stand.
‘Pivo?’ he called.
His tattoos covered his entire body, and his earlobes were stretched more than anyone I’d ever seen. He stolled over, sold us some dirt cheap beer, and disappeared back over the hill with his wheel barrow of rocks.
Are all my posts about beer? It’s starting to seem so.