{ "version": "https:\/\/jsonfeed.org\/version\/1.1", "title": "Czech Republic", "_rss_description": "Travel moments from the Czech Republic, mixing storybook cities, winter landscapes, and slow, thoughtful walks filled with atmosphere and charm.", "_rss_language": "en", "_itunes_email": "", "_itunes_categories_xml": "", "_itunes_image": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/userpic\/userpic-square@2x.jpg?1768315598", "_itunes_explicit": "no", "home_page_url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/tags\/czech-republic\/", "feed_url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/tags\/czech-republic\/json\/", "icon": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/userpic\/userpic@2x.jpg?1768315598", "authors": [ { "name": "by Nick Walker", "url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/", "avatar": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/userpic\/userpic@2x.jpg?1768315598" } ], "items": [ { "id": "62", "url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/all\/spindleruv-mlyn-snow-and-the-art-of-walking-somewhere-on-purpose\/", "title": "Spindleruv Mlyn: Snow and the Art of Walking Somewhere on Purpose", "content_html": "
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There’s something deeply suspicious about a snowy road that looks this polite. Wide, white, neatly packed, flanked by trees that stand like they’re posing for a postcard. That’s how it started in Spindleruv Mlyn: all of us walking confidently, pretending we absolutely knew where we were going. The air had that clean, alpine bite that makes your lungs feel refreshed and slightly judged, and every step sounded like a satisfying crunch you’d happily put on repeat. Spirits were high. Legs were warm. Nobody had yet suggested this was “basically flat.”<\/p>\n

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As the forest slowly opened up, the scenery shifted from friendly winter wonderland to dramatic “are we still on the right path?” real fast. Snowfields stretched out like blank pages, with lonely trees scattered around as if they’d lost a bet. Somewhere in the distance, mountains lounged under heavy clouds, half-hidden, looking mysterious and mildly unimpressed by our presence. This is usually the moment when conversation fades and everyone pretends they’re taking photos, when in reality they’re just catching their breath and reconsidering life choices.<\/p>\n

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Lunch, thankfully, arrived before any mutiny. Medvedi Bouda appeared like a wooden mirage, all red planks and mountain-chalet energy, promising warmth, food, and the sweet relief of sitting down. Inside, boots thumped, jackets steamed, and plates arrived that instantly made the hike feel like a brilliant idea. Nothing tastes better than mountain food earned the hard way, preferably while staring out a window and watching the weather do whatever dramatic thing it feels like doing that day.<\/p>\n

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Post-lunch confidence is a dangerous thing. Fueled by full stomachs and optimism, we pushed on through misty ridges, past rocks dusted in snow and signs pointing in several directions at once, none of which felt particularly reassuring. Somewhere near a border sign screaming “POZOR!” at us, the landscape turned moody. Wind picked up, clouds thickened, and the world shrank to shades of white, grey, and dark green. It was quiet in that special mountain way, where even your thoughts seem to lower their voices.<\/p>\n

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By the time Moravska Bouda emerged from the fog, it felt less like a building and more like a reward. Solid, dark, and stubbornly standing there as if to say, “Yes, you made it. No, it wasn’t easy.” Boots came off, layers were abandoned, and the kind of tired happiness set in that only appears after a long walk with good people. Outside, snow kept falling. Inside, the night settled comfortably around us. Somewhere between the last steps of the day and the first moment of rest, Spindleruv Mlyn quietly worked its magic — the kind that doesn’t shout, doesn’t rush, and definitely doesn’t care how many steps your watch recorded.<\/p>\n", "summary": "A snowy walking adventure in Spindleruv Mlyn with mountain trails, dramatic views, cozy huts, team laughs, and well-earned food stops - winter hiking at its best in the Czech mountains.", "date_published": "2022-04-08T16:10:55+02:00", "date_modified": "2026-02-10T16:11:10+02:00", "tags": [ "Czech Republic", "Europe", "Travel" ], "image": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9177_sign.jpg", "_date_published_rfc2822": "Fri, 08 Apr 2022 16:10:55 +0200", "_rss_guid_is_permalink": "false", "_rss_guid": "62", "_rss_enclosures": [], "_e2_data": { "is_favourite": true, "links_required": [ "jquery\/jquery.js", "fotorama\/fotorama.css", "fotorama\/fotorama.js" ], "og_images": [ "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9177_sign.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9162.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9166.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9167.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9177.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9179-1.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9182.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9185.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9188.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9195.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9198-1.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9203.jpeg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_9204.jpeg" ] } }, { "id": "54", "url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/all\/red-roofs-and-coffee-dreams-getting-lost-in-prague\/", "title": "Red Roofs and Coffee Dreams: Getting Lost in Prague", "content_html": "

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I set out that morning with modest ambitions — just a quick stroll, maybe a coffee, definitely no existential revelations. But Prague had other plans. The moment I stepped onto Charles Bridge, the city hit me with its full medieval charm offensive — towers, statues, spires, and that smug little Vltava River reflecting it all like a show-off.<\/p>\n

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From above, the red rooftops rolled out like a sea of paprika, stitched together by narrow cobbled veins full of tourists pretending not to be lost. I climbed a tower (because apparently I hate my legs) and stared at a skyline so beautiful it felt photoshopped by history itself. Petřín Hill brooded in the distance, the TV tower poked the clouds, and I stood there thinking, “Yeah, okay, Prague, you win.”<\/p>\n

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By the time I came down, the streets glowed in that golden hour haze, and I found myself in a café, drinking something that tasted suspiciously like happiness. Prague doesn’t just show you sights — it traps you in a daydream made of rooftops, riverlight, and the quiet conviction that you’ll definitely be back.<\/p>\n", "summary": "A September walk through Prague’s Old Town turns into a gentle trap of red rooftops, river views, tower climbs, and café pauses. A short stroll becomes a reminder that Prague doesn’t let you leave unchanged — or on time.", "date_published": "2020-09-05T17:34:13+02:00", "date_modified": "2026-01-27T10:56:52+02:00", "tags": [ "Czech Republic", "Europe", "Travel" ], "image": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4116.jpg", "_date_published_rfc2822": "Sat, 05 Sep 2020 17:34:13 +0200", "_rss_guid_is_permalink": "false", "_rss_guid": "54", "_rss_enclosures": [], "_e2_data": { "is_favourite": true, "links_required": [ "jquery\/jquery.js", "fotorama\/fotorama.css", "fotorama\/fotorama.js" ], "og_images": [ "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4116.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4116_sign.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4117.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4119.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4120.jpg", "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/pictures\/IMG_4122.jpg" ] } }, { "id": "52", "url": "https:\/\/walkingwith.me\/all\/frozen-turns-and-slow-steps-around-lipno\/", "title": "Frozen Turns and Slow Steps Around Lipno", "content_html": "

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Lipno welcomed us on January first the way only a proper winter resort can: with blue skies, suspiciously perfect snow, and that quiet confidence of a place that knows you’ll eventually fall over anyway. The chairlift hummed above us like a patient therapist, carrying people uphill while they silently questioned their life choices. Snow cannons blasted clouds of icy mist across the slope, working overtime like overcaffeinated dragons determined to keep winter alive, no matter what the calendar said. From the lift, everything looked peaceful and cinematic. Up close, it smelled faintly of wet gloves and determination.<\/p>\n

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Snowboarding started with the usual optimism. Everyone looks cool standing still, especially when the sun is low and the mountains pretend they’re Alps. The moment you start moving, though, gravity becomes very personal. Kids zipped past with the reckless confidence of people who heal fast, while adults negotiated every turn like it was a business contract. Somewhere between avoiding a snow cannon’s icy breath and untangling myself after a graceful fall that definitely impressed no one, I remembered why I love places like this. It’s cold, it’s exhausting, and somehow it makes you laugh more than most summer holidays ever could.<\/p>\n

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Later, we traded boards for boots and went wandering around Lipno Lake, which was half frozen and completely unapologetic about it. The ice stretched out like a giant white table, cracked and textured, reflecting the sky in soft pastel colors. People strolled along the shore, pushing strollers, holding hands, or staring thoughtfully at the horizon as if January first was a perfectly reasonable time for deep life reflections. Houses along the water looked warm and colorful, quietly judging us for not already sitting inside with tea and cake.<\/p>\n

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As the sun dipped lower, the world slowed down in that special winter way, where even conversations become softer. One person tested stones on the ice like a scientist with a deadline, while a metal statue nearby sprinted eternally toward something invisible, clearly more motivated than the rest of us. Fingers went numb, cheeks turned red, and everyone agreed it was probably time to head back, even though no one really wanted to say it out loud. Lipno had done its job: it gave us snow, laughter, tired legs, and that calm, slightly frozen happiness that only comes from spending a day outside together, doing absolutely nothing productive and enjoying every second of it.<\/p>\n

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