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Victoria may be British Columbia’s capital of charm by day, but by night, it belongs to its ghosts. A City That Whispers Between Sips By daylight, Victoria is all teacups, coastal walks, and tidy manners. But when dusk slides over the harbour, the polite façades loosen, and the stories begin to breathe again. Over the past weeks, I’ve wandered through the city’s most haunted cafés, pubs, and landmarks for my Haunted Sips of Victoria  series, listening, sipping, and occasionally questioning whether that chill was from the draft or something more deliberate. Now, for those curious or courageous enough, here is how to spend one unforgettable day tracing their footsteps. Morning Start: Where Secrets Still Steam 📍  Union Pacific Coffee (via Fan Tan Alley) Begin your morning slipping through the narrow shadows of Fan Tan Alley, once home to gambling dens and hidden doors. Follow the scent of espresso to Union Pacific Coffee, where brick walls hold stories far stronger than the brew. Order something bold; you will need it. The rest of the day only gets stranger. Late Morning History and Haunts 📍  Garrick’s Head Pub, Canada’s Oldest Pub (est. 1867) Pull up a stool at Garrick’s Head Pub, where miners once celebrated their luck and occasionally mourned it. It is Canada’s oldest pub, and regulars claim a few loyal spirits never cancelled their tabs. If your pint ripples when no one is near, that is just Garrick’s hospitality. Afternoon Reflections in Oil and Echoes 📍  James Bay Inn, The Ghost of Emily Carr Once a hospital and later the final home of artist Emily Carr, the James Bay Inn carries a quieter kind of unease. Have lunch or a drink in the pub below; locals swear Emily still lingers, perhaps pausing to admire her old haunt one more time. It is haunted, yes, but tastefully so. Twilight Drama in Stained Glass 📍  Craigdarroch Castle If ever a house deserved its own séance, it is this one. Built by coal baron Robert Dunsmuir in the 1890s, Craigdarroch Castle is all wood-panelled staircases, scandal, and whispers in the wallpaper. Visit near sunset, when the stained-glass windows cast fractured light across the rooms, soft, beautiful, and just eerie enough to make you wonder who else might be admiring the view. Evening Toast to the Departed 📍  Bard & Banker Pub Once a bustling bank, now a Victorian-era pub where the vaults that once guarded gold now guard Guinness. Order a pint, toast to the city’s lingering souls, and mind your balance in more ways than one. Nightcap with a Nod to the Past 📍  The Bent Mast Restaurant & Pub Few places in Victoria feel as genuinely haunted as the Bent Mast. The creak of its old staircase, the flicker of lamplight, and the feeling that someone might be listening from the landing make every sip feel slightly shared. If the chandelier sways, do not panic. It is probably just the building breathing. Final Stop: Grand Dreams and Ghostly Company 📍  The Fairmont Empress Hotel, 6th Floor if You Dare End your night in Victoria’s most iconic hotel. The Fairmont Empress has played host to royals, writers, and at least one resident who never checked out. Guests have reported flickering lights, phantom footsteps, and a kindly spirit who still tends to the corridors. Sleep well, if you can. Before turning in, wander out for Victoria’s Haunted Ghost Walking Tour, and let a lantern-carrying guide reveal the stories that still roam after dark. Plan Your Own Haunted Date in Victoria Whether you are planning a date, a girls’ getaway, or a solo adventure in good company, alive or otherwise, this itinerary blends Victoria’s charm and chills perfectly. Just remember, ghosts prefer respectful visitors and a toast now and then. Watch the Full Haunted Sips Series Experience every stop before you go: TikTok:   Watch the Series on TikTok I nstagram Reels:   See the Highlights on Instagram YouTube Shorts:   Watch the Full Series on YouTube Shorts Plan, Sip & Stay Curious If Victoria’s haunted charm has you curious for more, I have gathered everything you need to plan your own spirited getaway, from ghost walks to guided history tours. Head to my Day Trips, Food Tours & More page and scroll down to find my hand-picked Haunted Victoria experiences, including the city’s best ghost walking tours, historic pub stops, and after-dark adventures. Each one has been carefully chosen for travellers who love a good story served with a side of goosebumps. Whether you are planning a date, a girls’ night, or just testing your courage, it is all waiting for you there. Plan boldly. Sip slowly. Stay curious.

Flaming Bull Festival in Morella (Bou Embolat) A Train Delay That Changed Everything If it hadn’t been for a sudden train delay in Vinaròs, Spain, we never would have found Morella. It wasn’t on our itinerary. In fact, we hadn’t even heard of it. But after waiting several hours in an overcrowded train station, surrounded by bleary-eyed twenty-somethings returning from the party island of Ibiza, we began to realize we had two choices: spend the night on the tiled floor of a transport hub that smelled vaguely of beer and sunburn… or find another way forward. While my son retreated into a book, my husband was scanning the horizon like he might will a train into existence, I sat cross-legged on the floor and teetering between optimism and mild despair. So I pulled out my old-school Spain travel guide. I wasn’t expecting miracles, just an alternative to what was rapidly becoming a low point in our five-week European adventure. That’s when I found it. A small entry tucked between better-known destinations: Morella. A walled hilltop town, medieval in appearance, steeped in military history, and according to the guidebook, host to a unique local festival held only once every six years. I checked the date, and as luck would have it, this was the year. I nudged my husband. “What if we just… rented a car and went to Morella?” I pointed to the page like I was revealing a winning lottery number. “There’s even a car rental desk here at the station. Two, actually.” Even if the trains resumed (they wouldn’t), no train went to Morella. If we wanted to get there, it had to be by road. We took that as a sign. Road Trip to Morella: Spain’s Hidden Medieval Gem Keys in hand, backpacks in the boot, and an actual paper map in my lap, we set off, having never driven in Spain before and hoping the car’s clutch wasn’t going to be our undoing. Our first challenge came at the toll booth, where feeling falsely emboldened, we chose the automated lane. Unfortunately, it didn’t speak English. We didn’t speak Spanish. It asked us something we didn’t understand, and the only thing we could offer in response was panic. We backed up awkwardly, waved the locals around us, and shuffled over to a booth with a human inside. Between gestures, our guidebook map, and a shared tolerance for awkward grins, we communicated our destination. The toll agent nodded, took our coins, and lifted the gate. We were off! As we left the coast and entered Spain’s dry, rugged interior, the landscape shifted from parched to parched-and-hilly. For over an hour, we wound our way through quiet, sun-bleached terrain. Occasionally, we’d pass a farmhouse or a sheep. It was, by every measure, the road less travelled. Then, just as our son asked for the fourth time how much longer it would be, we rounded a bend and there it was. Morella, Spain First Impressions of Morella, Spain Morella. Perched high on a hill like a crown, flanked by soft valleys and jagged outcrops, it looked less like a town and more like a medieval film set that had been left untouched by modernity. The castle ruins caught the late-afternoon sun like a beacon. Everything, the sandstone walls, the warm-toned rooftops, the sheer drop of the cliffside, glowed with the kind of light you can’t photograph well but will remember forever. We were giddy. It was more than promising; it was perfect. We found a parking spot just outside the old-town gate and hauled our bags into the village. The town was quiet. Surprisingly quiet. Perhaps it was the hour or the day of the week. We had no reservation but managed to find a room at a small hotel where no one spoke English, and our collective Spanish hovered somewhere between “tapas” and “gracias.” Still, we managed. We got directions, mostly through mime and repetition, and went out in search of food. As we made our way down the main street, something struck us. The sidewalks, which ran under the buildings' overhanging roofs, were all barricaded from the road by thick wooden planks. It gave the place an odd, Wild West feel as if at any moment, a saloon brawl or shootout might erupt. We made a note of it, but only in passing. At the time, it seemed like quirky small-town infrastructure. That would change later. The town itself was charming. Local bakeries, small tapas bars, shops selling woollen goods and wine all with a distinctively Spanish feel, but none of the polish or pretense of a place used to catering to tourists. In fact, we got the distinct impression that we were the only tourists in town. It didn’t feel secret. It felt untouched. Finding Paella in Morella, Spain Finding Paella and Local Flavours in Morella Our first meal in Morella was found down a narrow alleyway just off the main street. The kind of place with no English menus and no apologies for it. The chalkboard listed items we could only half-translate, “pollo,” “arroz,” “verdures”, so we pointed, ordered one dish for the three of us, and hoped for the best. What arrived was not just better than expected, it was a feast. A massive, silver-rimmed paella dish, still steaming, filled with perfectly seasoned chicken, smoky rice, and just enough vegetables to convince ourselves it counted as a balanced meal. It was the kind of meal you don’t so much eat as surrender to. We devoured it. No polite small talk. No bites held back. When we finally looked up, dazed and glowing with post-paella contentment, the streets outside where hushed. Lights glowed faintly in doorways, and for a town that was apparently about to unleash flaming bulls, it seemed almost absurdly peaceful.  With full bellies and a long unexpected travel day now behind us, we decided to head off to bed and rest up for what Morella had to offer us tomorrow. Exporing Morella Castle and Ancient History The next morning, with our nerves rested and the town still fresh to our eyes, we set off to explore the castle that had been looming over us since our arrival. My husband, ever the history enthusiast, looked like a kid en route to a medieval candy store. Our son, still not quite over the paella coma, trudged along behind us. At one point he climbed a low wall, announced he was a knight defending his kingdom, and promptly got bored. It was hard to tell if he was more interested in the history or in getting back to lunch. The castle at Morella is exactly what you'd hope for in a Spanish hilltop fortress: old, dramatic, and clinging to the edge of a cliff like it’s refusing to retire. Built on a chunk of rock that’s been considered prime real estate since the Neolithic era, it’s been occupied by just about everyone: Greeks, Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Christians. Think of it as a centuries-long game of military Airbnb. Strategically, it makes sense. You can see everything from up there, the valleys, the surrounding hills, probably even your neighbour’s dinner if you squint. And while various armies fought to control it over the centuries, nowadays it's mostly claimed by tourists in sensible footwear and puffed-out dads pointing at battlements. We climbed the uneven stairs, explored weathered stone rooms, and read signs we only half-understood. The view from the top was worth every step: the entire town stretched out below us like a movie set, the surrounding countryside rolling on forever. I could see why everyone wanted to conquer it. I also now understood why no one wants to walk back down without a snack break. Afterwards, we wandered back into the village, poked around shops, and noted the bullring, still very much in use, though thankfully not that day. We embraced the idea of a siesta before returning to the same little alleyway restaurant for what quickly became our signature order: chicken paella. Same server. Same bliss. The Flaming Bull Festival in Morella (Bou Embolat) And that’s when the real spectacle began. As we sat back, content once more with our meal, I remembered those odd wooden barricades from the day before. They no longer seemed like quirky infrastructure, but more like a warning, the kind you only recognize too late. Then the sound hit us: drums, horns, music rolling down the narrow streets, shaking the quiet air awake. The town had stirred, and so did our curiosity. As we made our way to the main street, the bands grew louder, echoing down the narrow stone street. Families climbed the barricades, settling in with the casualness of people who’d done this their whole lives. At first, it all seemed harmless. The men in white and red rolled out their wheelbarrow bull, a rough wooden contraption with curved horns. Children squealed as they were chased, giggling and darting between the barricades. Then came the older kids, the bull’s horns now fitted with sparklers that spat light and smoke. It was charming in a slightly pyromaniacal way. “That must be it,” I said. “Their version of the running of the bulls. Cute.” We relaxed. We even chuckled. And then the horn blast came. Loud. Guttural. The crowd surged as if hit by a shockwave. Suddenly, everyone knew something we didn’t. The first real bull charged into view. Massive, fast, its horns rigged with some kind of sheathed contraption that flared with balls of fire. The flames spat and roared with every shake of its head, lighting up the night. And behind it came another!  The heat rolled off them as they thundered past, so close you could smell the singed hair. Meanwhile, the locals leaned in casually, as though this were no more alarming. Than waiting for a bus. The street was barely wide enough for a car, and here they were, tons of flaming muscle, charging within arm’s reach. I grabbed the wooden barricade with one hand and my son with the other as the bulls tore past, hooves striking sparks on the cobblestones. The crowd screamed, cheered, and leaned dangerously close. This wasn’t cute. And it definitely wasn’t controlled. We might have survived unscathed had one bull not doubled back. Instead of heading for the ring at the end of the street, it slipped through a gap in the barricades and reappeared on the sidewalk, “our” sidewalk. Instinct took over. In one motion, I shoved my son sideways, trying to push him out of the bull’s path, just as someone behind yanked me backwards through an opening. The bull thundered past, flames licking the night, and for a few terrifying seconds, I had no idea where my husband or son were. When I spotted them, my son wide-eyed across the street, my husband hustling from another barricade, the relief lasted all of two seconds. Because the bull was coming back again! Spanish Hospitality Chaos, Barricades, and Balcony Hospitality We scrambled up the nearest crowded barricade, clawing for any handhold. In my panic, I grabbed what I thought was a support post, only to discover it was a local man’s … anatomy! He yelped, I screamed, and somehow he shifted aside on the overcrowded barricade to make room for us. To this day, I’m thankful my Spanish wasn’t good enough to translate what he told his friends about what just happened. We climbed off the barricade, but just when we thought we were out of danger, another bull came careening down the street. We spotted a ladder leading up to a balcony. We climbed, assuming it was public, only to find ourselves on someone’s private balcony. But instead of shooing us out, the family welcomed us, pressing food and drink into our hands as if we were distant cousins who’d just dropped by mid-stampede. From our perch, we watched more bulls charge down the street, the barricades rattling, the flames glowing against the stone walls. By the time we climbed back down, still buzzing with adrenaline, the streets were quiet again. We ducked into a bar to decompress. That’s when my son turned to me and asked, “Mum, why did you push me in front of the bull with flaming horns?” “What? I pushed you out of the way!” “Well, that may have been your intention,” he said with a grin, “but I came eye-to-eye with a flame-throwing bull, so… that’s a moment I won’t soon forget.” It’s his favourite version of the story. Mine is that I saved him. The truth, as always, is somewhere in the chaos. Back in our hotel room, none of us said much. My husband lay silently staring at the ceiling, my son kept replaying the moment in slow motion, and I sat there Googling “bull festivals Spain: how often do people die?” “Well,” my son finally said, “that was… something.” And that was the understatement of the trip. What is the Sexenni Festival in Morella? Only later, over coffee in a quiet corner of the village the next day, did we finally ask the obvious question: What exactly had we just witnessed? As it turns out, Morella’s flaming bull spectacle isn’t some one-off village stunt or eccentric summer tradition, it’s part of something much bigger. Every six years, the town holds the Sexenni de Morella, a nine-day festival to honour the Virgin of Vallivana, believed to have spared the town from plague back in the 1600s. In gratitude, Morella vowed to mark the occasion every sixth year with pageantry, processions, dancing guilds, and yes, bulls with literal fire on their heads. The event we’d stumbled into, called the bou embolat, is part of that centuries-old promise. Whether it’s cultural pride, divine obligation, or just a particularly intense form of local entertainment, it’s taken very seriously. And here we were, clueless Canadians, dodging flaming livestock like it was just another Tuesday night. Morella vs. The Rest of Spain: Why This Detour Stands Out In the days that followed, we continued on with our trip finally making it to Valencia, then on to Seville with its orange-blossom air and shaded plazas, followed by Gibraltar, where we were unceremoniously chased by monkeys on the Rock like it was some sort of wildlife-themed slapstick sketch. From there, we wandered through the medieval maze of Toledo, El Greco’s old stomping grounds, and a hilltop town that almost gave Morella a run for its money, before eventually making our way to Paris, and then into Germany to visit family. Over five weeks, we covered a lot of ground. Ate a lot of bread. Argued about directions. Got better at packing and worse at resisting pastry. But even with all that, nothing quite matched the absurd, accidental brilliance of Morella. It hadn’t been planned. It hadn’t even been in the realm of “maybe.” If the trains hadn’t stalled that day, if we hadn’t been stuck in that hot little train station full of hungover backpackers, if I hadn’t flipped open a guidebook out of desperation, we never would’ve known that Morella existed. Let alone that we’d be there, just hours later, climbing medieval barricades and dodging bulls with flaming horns like it was the most natural thing in the world. And to think, if that train had arrived on time, our story would have been about nothing more memorable than sweaty backpacks and missed connections. Medival towns of Spain Final Thoughts: When Travel Detours Become the Story Morella wasn’t just a detour. It was the story of the trip. The one that comes up whenever someone asks, “What’s the wildest thing that’s ever happened to you while travelling?” It’s the one we still tell with dramatic hand gestures and overlapping interruptions around dinner tables, long after the photos have been buried in old phones and half-filled albums. It’s the one my son never tires of retelling, especially the part where his mother heroically shoved him into the path of a charging bull on fire. Travel rarely goes exactly to plan. And thank God for that. Because the truth is, most of the best moments don’t happen when everything goes right. They happen when the train doesn’t come, and you’re forced to do something unexpected. Something mildly reckless. Something that might involve rental cars and toll booths and, if you're particularly lucky, flaming bulls. Morella gave us that story. And we didn’t even see it coming. Your turn... I’ve told you mine, flaming bulls and all. Now it’s your turn: what supposed disasters ended up as the best stories in your own travels?” Leave in the comments below.

Venetian Gondolas Venice Isn’t Always Straightforward, And That’s Part of the Adventure The first time I saw Venice, I was so eager to get there that I rushed my poor family out of the city we were in. My husband still jokes, “Let’s go! We gotta get to Venice!” anytime he tries to get me to hurry up to go somewhere. But honestly, can you blame me? Over three different visits: a summer family trip, an autumn getaway with my mum, and a spring girls’ trip - I’ve learned how to do Venice well, and how to do it better. This isn’t a list of “top 10 must-see sights”; you can Google that. This is more of a practical, slightly chaotic love letter to the most unusual city I’ve ever stepped into. First Lesson : Just Because the Bus Driver Yells "Venezia" Doesn’t Mean You’re There (This post contains affiliate links. That means if you click and book or buy something, I may earn a small commission, at no extra cost to you. I only recommend things I’ve used myself or would genuinely recommend to a friend.) Spoiler: You probably want the version with canals, not parking lots and chain hotels. Venezia Mestre  = chain hotels, concrete, commuter life Venezia Santa Lucia  = postcard-perfect canals, faded grandeur, and a whiff of sea air. We made that mistake on our first trip. After a long haul from Czechia, our bus driver barked out “Venezia!” and everyone scrambled off, except we weren’t in Venice. Not the one with canals, anyway. The driver, clearly fed up with tourists who couldn’t read minds, started flinging bags out of the undercarriage and yelling at us to get back on if we wanted “actual” Venice. Apparently, there’s a mainland stop and an island stop. Who knew! We scrambled back on with backpacks half-zipped, and finally crossed the bridge into the version of Venice I’d been dreaming about: glittering water, boats bobbing at every turn, buildings in every state of faded glamour. It was magical. And humid. But mostly magical. A gondolier navigates a narrow canal in Venice, with colourful buildings lining the waterways Where to Stay in Venice: Lesson From Three Trips Each trip gave us a wildly different kind of “home.” Trip 1 (2010 - Family Trip) : A small family-run boutique hotel tucked just a few hundred feet from the Rialto Bridge (It's been a while, but I believe it was called Residenza Ca San Marco ) . We had one king bed between the three of us, me, my husband, and our son, and barely enough room to turn around. But the charm? Unreal. Breakfast was served across a tiny covered bridge that connected the buildings, a literal mini Bridge of Sighs, especially when we waddled across it full of pastries. The food was fantastic, and the owners gave us real-deal local advice over coffee. Trip 2 (2019 - Trip with Mum) : We stayed at Ca’ San Polo , tucked into the quieter San Polo district. Faded elegance, creaky floors, warm light, and it felt like we were visiting someone’s eccentric Venetian aunt. Trip 3 (2023 - Girls' Trip)) : We went apartment-style and stayed at Appartamento San Marco . It was perfect for mid-afternoon prosecco breaks and spontaneous evening cicchetti runs (more on that later). Where to Eat in Venice (without getting ripped off) Lesson 2 : Avoid tourist traps near St. Mark’s. Instead, get gloriously lost in search of cicchetti, Tortino, and surprise wine quests. Venetian Food: Wander Until Something Smells Amazing Here’s what I’ve learned: Venice rewards those who wander, especially when it comes to food. Avoid anything on or near St. Mark’s Square, unless you like paying €15 for a lukewarm cappuccino plus  a sitting fee. Instead, follow your nose down alleyways. Get a little lost. The best meals we had were often total surprises, places we stumbled into when we were just hungry enough to take a risk. On our 2023 trip, we discovered cicchetti: little bites of local goodness, served up at stand-up bars with a glass of wine in hand. Think Venetian tapas, but no fuss. We made dinner out of hopping from one tiny place to another: Tortino, seafood, tramezzini, bruschetta, and lots of laughter. Cantina do Mori, a traditional cicchetti shop During my 2019 trip, my mum got on a mission to find Barolo wine, and I kid you not, she turned into a full-on detective. Every wine shop, every menu, she was determined. Next time, I’ll pair her wine quest with a cicchetti crawl and call it dinner and a show. Breakfast? Skip the hotel buffet. Do what the locals do: pop into a coffee bar, stand at the counter, knock back an espresso like it’s a shot of tequila, and grab a pastry. You’ll be done in five minutes and fuelled for hours. The Best Things to Do in Venice? The Ones You Don’t Plan My Venetian travel mantra: You’re not lost, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Venice is not a city that rewards schedules. Every time I tried to stick to one, I got distracted by something better: a hidden church, a mask shop, a leather maker, a quaint piazza with locals hanging out their laundry. A vibrant display of colourful blooms brightens the corner of a Venetian piazza Getting lost in Venice is like being given permission to be aimless, and somehow, it always works out. Even the locals get lost, and they live there. On every trip, I found myself turning corners I didn’t mean to and finding little slices of peace and beauty. Hot Tip : Don't bother with Google Maps. It will weep openly in Venice. If you truly lose your bearings, find your way back to the Rialto Bridge and start again. Venice is small. You’re never too far from a landmark, or at least a gelato stand. A Water Taxi at 4 A.M? Surprisingly Worth It Lesson 3:  The Best Way to Leave Venice? By Boat at 4 A.M. It’s not just transportation, it's a cinematic exit! My most unforgettable moment? Easily the early-morning water taxi with my mum in 2019. We had a ridiculously early flight, and my mum said, “Let’s go out in style.” So we booked a private water taxi. At 4 a.m., we wandered through silent alleys lit by warm street lamps until we found our unmarked dock. The city was still. Eerie and stunning. And then: a beautiful mahogany boat glided around the corner off the Grand Canal like something out of a Bond movie. The captain welcomed us aboard, wrapped us in blankets, and led us into the soft warmth of the cabin, then, with barely a ripple, we glided off into the quiet Venetian night. The canals were nearly empty, the moon a burnt orange low in the sky, the water perfectly still. In just 30 magical minutes, we pulled right up to the airport dock at Marco Polo Airport, took an escalator up, and checked in for our flight like nothing had happened. But something had. We’d ended our trip like movie stars. If you get the chance, take the boat. Bridge of Sighs, Venice Venice Travel Tips From Someone Who Learned the Hard Way Buy the vaporetto pass (aka water shuttles).  You’ll use it constantly, and it’s cheaper than buying single rides. Hot tip: Don’t forget to validate it each time to ride. Don’t buy masks or souvenirs near the Rialto.  Head into the alleyways and look for artisan workshops. The real deal has a tag showing it was made in Venice. Skip sit-down breakfast.  Stand at a bar, order an espresso and pastry, and eat like a local. Get lost.  It’s not a mistake in Venice, it’s the whole point. Watch where you’re walking near canals.  I once saw a tourist fall in while getting her picture taken by her boyfriend. He froze, someone else jumped in to get her out, and I’m still not sure if that relationship survived. Local artist painting along a hidden corner in Venice My Venice Do-Over Fantasy… If I had one more day in Venice, I’d time it for Carnival (February), mask on, camera ready. I’d let the morning unravel with no plan, just wandering until I found a courtyard that felt like it belonged in a painting. By afternoon, I’d be elbow-deep in a food tour, taste-testing my way through the city’s edible cicchetti secrets. Then I’d find some lavish Carnival soiree, ideally one where barolo and prosecco flows and no one minds if my costume is from Amazon. And the next morning? You’d find me on a water taxi at first light. Because there is no finer way to leave Venice than slicing through its silent canals like you’re in the final scene of a movie. Venice doesn’t ask you to conquer it, it asks you to let go a little. So my advice: take the wrong turn, sit on the steps, order the house wine with your cicchetti, and when someone tells you to hurry up; smile and ask, “Gotta get to Venice?” Want the full scoop on where to stay, how to get around, and what not to waste your euros on? My Venice Travel Guide has all the details I wish I'd had before my first visit. Have you been to Venice during Carnival season? If you have, share below. I’m always looking for an excuse to go back.

The Roman Colosseum in the magic month of October After six visits to Italy over nearly forty years, I thought I had Rome down to a science. My first time? The summer of 1988. I was 18, sweating through Milan and pretending I knew how to drink espresso properly. Since then, there have been family trips with my husband and son (2010–2016), a girls’ escape in May 2023, and a few others sprinkled in for good measure. And every time, I planned for what the guidebooks and glossy magazines insisted was “peak season,” convinced that summer was the  time to experience the Eternal City. Then came October 2024, and everything I thought I knew about Rome quietly collapsed, in the best possible way. (This post contains affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase through them, at no extra cost to you. Thanks for supporting Tailor Made Travels!) Trevi Fountain in the height of summer The Roman Reality of Summer Let’s be clear: I’ve never not  been awed by Rome. The first time I stood inside the Colosseum, I felt like I’d stumbled onto a Ridley Scott set (minus the CGI and plus 40,000 other tourists). The Pantheon still stops me mid-step every time, and the layers of history here are like a lasagna baked by time itself. But summer in Rome? That’s a very specific kind of chaos. Picture this: 35°C+ heat bouncing off ancient cobblestones, gelato melting faster than you can eat it, and lineups snaking around monuments like you’re waiting for Taylor Swift tickets. We spent more time darting into air-conditioned cafés than we did at actual landmarks. And despite our best intentions, by mid-afternoon, we were usually too hot, too tired, and too cranky to care whether we were looking at a Bernini or just a badly parked scooter. Even in May 2023, on a girls’ trip that was almost ideal, the traffic was so chaotic we literally watched a car and a Vespa collide directly in front of us. No one was hurt, but it felt like the universe was underlining the phrase: “Rome in peak season is not for the faint of heart.” An old Ford Pickup Truck decorated for Halloween, Rome Italy We Went for Halloween. Seriously. For our October 2024 visit, my husband and I decided to test a theory: Would Rome do anything  for Halloween? We didn’t have high hopes, maybe a few pumpkin-shaped pastries or the odd themed gelato. What we found instead was low-key festive and oddly delightful. We stayed at Guesthouse Interno 7 Luxury Rooms , a charming little spot in the Monti district, close enough to walk to everything, but just far enough from the madness of Termini Station to feel like we were in on a secret. Guesthouse Inferno 7 Luxury Rooms in the Monti District of Rome, Italy From the moment we arrived, something felt different. The air was crisp but still warm, perfect 22°C afternoons, comfortable evenings, and no heat-induced meltdowns (emotional or gelato-related). For the first time, we wandered without checking how close we were to the nearest shady bench. Rome in October feels like the city has finally unclenched its jaw. Some shops leaned into the Halloween season with playful window displays, and local kids were out trick-or-treating in full costume. We even visited the Roman Catacombs  during Halloween, which made the experience feel appropriately eerie, somewhere between “this is fascinating” and “why does it suddenly feel colder down here?” The Practical Differences That Actually Matters You don’t need me to tell you Rome is beautiful. But here’s what no one seems to emphasize enough: Rome in October is practical. Which, let’s face it, is what we really care about when we’re deciding whether or not to schlep across the Atlantic. Weather Rome in October = 22°C afternoons and light-jacket evenings. You’ll actually want  to be outside. Compare that to July, where every walk feels like a desert trek with nicer architecture. Crowds We visited the Trevi Fountain midday, and there were actual moments of low crowds. No elbows, no pushing, no fight for photo angles. October crowd levels felt human again. For once, we set the pace instead of being herded like caffeinated sheep. Accommodation Monti in October was a dream. Quieter streets, charming trattorias, and walkability that didn’t feel like a sweaty punishment.  Guesthouse Interno 7 Luxury Rooms  hit the sweet spot: affordable, central, and devoid of screaming tour groups in the lobby. Food We had dinner at Nannarella . They don’t take reservations, but it’s 100% worth the wait. We sat outside and watched local kids trick-or-treating through the charming neighbourhood of Trastevere while sipping wine and tucking into perfect plates of carbonara. If there’s a better combination of food, setting, and seasonal charm, I haven’t found it. What to Pack for Rome in October Packing for October is refreshingly easy: Comfortable walking shoes (you’ll do a lot more of it) Layers (mornings and evenings can surprise you) A light jacket or scarf Curiosity, especially if you're a Halloween fan Bonus tip : Book your accommodation 2–3 months out. You’ll still get shoulder-season pricing, but the best boutique stays fill quickly. Verdict: October is the Secret Season I’ve been to Rome half a dozen times, and this was the first trip where the city felt both awe-inspiring and accessible. October offers that rare travel combo: warm but not hot, lively but not chaotic, and atmospheric in a way that’s hard to explain but easy to feel. You're walking alongside locals, not just fellow tourists. You're taking in historic sites without the rush. And the light in October? Golden hour seems to last all day, ideal if you care about photography, or just enjoy feeling like you’re starring in your own indie film. Rome’s Piazza del Popolo on a sunny October day, Rome Italy Ready to Plan Your October Rome Adventure? If you're thinking about Rome but dreading the summer crush, consider October. You'll avoid the heat, enjoy more space to breathe, and (if you time it right) even catch a bit of spooky charm. Want more real-world travel stories and practical planning tips? Subscribe to my blog for thoughtful advice, destination ideas, and inspiration tailored for cultural travellers who like their trips a little bit adventurous (but never chaotic). Have you visited Rome in different seasons? Drop your favourite time to go in the comments, I’d love to hear how it compared.

Naples cafe surrounded by ancient ruins and classic architecture There’s a strange thrill in telling people you’re heading to Naples. Watch their expressions shift from polite curiosity to thinly veiled panic, as if you’ve just said you’re holidaying in a live volcano. “Oh, Naples,” they say, in the same tone you'd use for a friend who’s just announced they’re dating a known heartbreaker. “Are you... sure?” The warnings come thick and fast: It’s dangerous! It’s dirty! The traffic is apocalyptic! You’ll be robbed blind! The garbage situation is... well, let’s just say no one’s winning any municipal awards. By the time everyone’s finished painting Naples as a post-war wasteland, you half expect tumbleweeds to roll down Via dei Tribunali. Forget the headlines. Naples isn’t dangerous, it’s just misunderstood. Here’s why this gritty, glorious city belongs on your itinerary. (This post contains affiliate links, which means I may earn a small commission if you make a purchase through them, at no extra cost to you. Thanks for supporting Tailor Made Travels!) T he Great Naples Anxiety I’ll admit it, by the time my girlfriends and I stepped off the train in Naples during our 2023 Italian adventure, I was bracing for impact. We’d heard it all: tales of pickpockets with PhD-level skills, and traffic that looks more like an adrenaline sport than a transportation system, and a general atmosphere of barely contained chaos. What we found instead was a city that seemed to wink at us, as if it knew exactly what we’d been told and was having a quiet laugh about it. First Impressions What hit me first wasn’t the dirt or danger; it was the unfiltered authenticity of Naples. Yes, there’s graffiti. A lot of it. But what the doom-and-gloom brigade doesn’t mention is that much of it is surprisingly beautiful. Naples doesn’t hide its rough edges; it shows them off like battle scars that tell a story worth listening to. Naples: Late afternoon in the Spanish Quarter — gritty, alive, and buzzing with local life. The traffic? Absolutely nuts! But not without a strange rhythm. Neapolitan drivers have elevated the art of “making it work” to a level that feels almost choreographed. They flow around each other like water around rocks, honking not in anger but in a kind of automotive jazz. The Francesca Factor Our accommodation choice turned out to be a happy accident. Unico Relais , a boutique hotel tucked into the historic centre, became our peaceful retreat from the Neapolitan buzz. But the real highlight? Francesca. She didn’t just run the place, she hosted us in the truest sense of the word. Need dinner recommendations? She had three, colour-coded by vibe. Confused about getting to Pompeii? She wrote out instructions about which train to get and where to get off. Worried about safety? She smiled gently, the way you would at someone asking if Italy really has pizza. If you're planning a trip to Naples and want a stay that’s central, welcoming, and effortlessly stylish, I highly recommend booking   Unico Relais. You can check rates and availability here: Unico Relais . Why Every Back Alley is a Restaurant Here’s a travel tip Rick Steves would definitely back: in Naples, if you see a tiny spot packed with locals, don’t walk past. Walk in. We developed a foolproof system: Spot a restaurant with no empty tables. Wait casually nearby. Politely pounce when someone leaves. Proof that the best aperitivo in Naples doesn’t need a view, just good company and a table that opens This led us to some of the most unforgettable meals of our entire Italy trip. Not because the places were fancy (they weren’t), and not because of Michelin stars (none in sight), but because of the pride in every dish. It felt like someone’s nonna was quietly judging the chef in the back. The pizza alone justified the trip. Naples doesn’t just claim it invented pizza, it acts like it, then proves it with every charred, gloriously floppy slice. Naples, wher you'll find authentic Neapolitan pizza with charred crust and fresh toppings on a plate with no regrets The Myth of Danger Let’s address the elephant: is Naples dangerous? Well... it’s a city. And cities come with caveats. But the melodramatic warnings we’d heard were mostly rooted in outdated info and exaggerated stereotypes. We walked around the historic centre, camera in hand, and felt safe. The biggest danger? A gelato-induced existential crisis when faced with 17 flavours and only one stomach. The Practical Bits If you’re considering a visit, here are a few tips to help plan your trip to Naples: Where to Stay We loved Unico Relais  for its unbeatable location, charming room, and Francesca’s insider knowledge. Stay somewhere central. Naples is best explored on foot. Getting Around The train to Pompeii is crowded, chaotic, and slightly sweaty but it’s part of the experience. Buy tickets in advance, keep your belongings close, and prepare to get super cozy with your fellow passengers. What to Do Besides the obvious (pizza, gelato, more pizza, and the archaeological sites), give yourself time to just wander. Naples doesn’t reveal itself in guidebook bullet points. It shows up in side streets, handwritten menus, and the rhythm of daily life. T he Real Naples Naples isn’t trying to win you over. It doesn’t tidy up for tourists or tone down its personality. It’s a bit wild, a bit worn-in, and absolutely itself. Walking through the heart of Naples feels like entering someone’s open-air living room, laundry, scooters, saints, and all. In a world of polished, pre-packaged travel experiences, Naples is real, graffiti and all. The graffiti? It’s not vandalism. It’s urban storytelling. The traffic? Not chaos, but choreography.The danger? Mostly reputation, not reality. The Verdict Would I return to Naples? Absolutely. In fact, next time I might base myself in Sorrento and day-trip into the city but that’s a plan for another post. Sometimes, the best travel advice is to ignore the travel advice. The places everyone warns you about? Those might be the ones that surprise you most. The destinations that seem to have nothing to offer? They might give you everything you didn’t know you were looking for. Naples reminded me that travel isn’t about box-ticking, it’s about being open to the idea that what you think you know might be completely wrong... in the best possible way. So if you’ve been hesitating, wondering whether Naples is “too much”, I hope this nudges you toward yes. You might just fall in love with the chaos, too. And if that’s not worth the price of a train ticket, I don’t know what is. Have you ever ignored travel warnings and discovered something amazing? Share your story in the comments. I’d love to hear about the destinations that surprised you most.

Have you ever had a flight where things go so delightfully off-kilter that you half expect Leslie Nielsen to step out of the cockpit, adjust his captain's hat, and solemnly announce, "I am serious, and don't call me Shirley"? Well, buckle up (pun intended), because I just lived through exactly that kind of travel day. The Plot Thickens at Gate 47 It was a Friday in late June at Toronto Pearson Airport – already a recipe for adventure in any seasoned traveller's book. My Air Canada flight was running late, which in the grand scheme of Canadian airport experiences ranks somewhere between "totally expected" and "Tuesday." As an avid traveller, I've learned that patience at airports is not just a virtue; it's practically a survival skill. When our incoming aircraft finally arrived, passengers disembarked with the urgency of people fleeing a discount shopping sale. This mass exodus should have been my first clue that our flight was destined for comedic greatness. Sure enough, just as boarding was about to begin, one passenger made a dramatic dash back toward the gate, bypassing staff like a determined linebacker heading for the end zone. The Great Phone Rescue Mission After a hushed conversation that looked more like a diplomatic negotiation than customer service, the passenger was escorted back onto the plane for what I can only assume was a reunion with his digital lifeline, because let's face it, what else would make someone risk missing their connection? In today's world, leaving your phone on a plane is like leaving your soul behind. We finally boarded, and then... we sat. For twenty minutes. Just long enough for everyone to settle in and start wondering if we'd accidentally signed up for a very expensive meditation retreat. Plot Twist: The Case of the Overturned Catering Truck Then came the captain's announcement that elevated our delay from mundane to magnificent. The catering truck destined for our flight had gotten into an accident and 'tipped over’. Everyone was fine (thankfully), but our in-flight meals had gone from "airplane food" to abstract art. The captain, displaying the kind of Canadian optimism that makes you proud to be travelling domestically, assured us that another catering truck was en route to collect our fallen feast. I couldn't help but picture our meals transformed from typical airplane cuisine into abstract art scattered across the tarmac, tossed salads taking on a whole new meaning. Good News, Bad News, and Tarmac Fugitive After another twenty-minute intermission, our captain returned to the PA system with what he called "good news and bad news." The good news? Our replacement food had arrived, though apparently not all of it. I briefly wondered if we were about to witness some sort of airborne Hunger Games scenario over the remaining dinner rolls. The bad news was even more surreal: a civilian was "on the loose" on the tarmac, and police were currently pursuing this unexpected runway runner. "I'm not making this up," the captain added with a slight disbelief musing in his tone. By this point, the passengers were giggling like we were all extras in a feel-good disaster movie. If that's the case, I'd like to request Sandra Bullock play me in the film adaptation, please. Angels, Wind Socks, and Runway Conga Lines Once law enforcement apprehended our tarmac fugitive, the flight crew introduced themselves with admirable professionalism. When one crew member announced her name as Angel, the collective sigh of relief was almost audible. After everything we'd been through, having an actual Angel aboard felt like excellent insurance. As we finally taxied toward the runway, I gazed out my window at the wind sock, which was performing interpretive dance moves that would make a rave glowstick jealous. Behind us stretched a conga line of aircraft so long that I wondered if some of those planes had originally been scheduled for next Tuesday. It was like the world's most expensive game of follow-the-leader, except everyone was following at 5 mph and burning thousands of dollars of jet fuel while doing it. The Storm Finale About three-quarters of the way home, our captain made one final announcement: we'd be taking a "slight detour" around a massive storm system over the prairies. Looking out my window, I watched lightning illuminate the clouds like fireworks exploding in dense fog, nature’s own spectacular light show that made the delay worth it. In my excitement, I instinctively turned to share this amazing view with my travel companions, momentarily forgetting I was flying solo. Instead of my usual husband and son, I found myself tapping a complete stranger on the shoulder – because apparently nothing says "I'm definitely not a weirdo" quite like enthusiastically accosting fellow passengers mid-flight. "You might think I'm crazy," I said (thereby confirming his suspicions), "but I think this is absolutely incredible. Have you ever seen a thunderstorm from above the clouds before?" He hadn't, and his face lit up with the same wonder as he peered out the window. When he worried about lightning strikes, I found myself channelling my inner science teacher with half-remembered explanations about Faraday cages protecting aircraft. It's remarkable how confidently you can discuss electromagnetic theory at 30,000 feet when you're really just hoping you haven't mixed up your high school physics with something you saw on the Discovery Channel. The Silver Lining at 30,000 Feet We arrived home an hour and a half late, but with a story that's already become legendary among my travel tales. Throughout this comedy of errors, Air Canada's crew handled each curveball with grace, humour, and transparency that turned potential frustration into entertainment. Sometimes the best travel experiences aren't the ones that go according to plan, they’re the ones that give you stories worth telling. And in a world where flying has become routine, there's something refreshing about a journey that reminds you that travel, at its heart, is still an adventure. The next time you're facing flight delays, remember that you might just be living through the opening scene of your own travel comedy. And if a passenger starts sprinting back onto the plane while catering trucks are toppling over, just sit back and enjoy the show, you’ve got front-row seats to airport theatre at its finest. Have you experienced any memorable flight delays or travel mishaps? Share your stories in the comments below – after all, misery loves company, but comedy loves an audience. Planning your next adventure? Check out our other travel tips and stories for navigating the beautiful chaos of travel.

Hvar Island, Croatia Discovering Croatia Before the Crowds: Our First Trip in 2008 I still remember the look on my son’s face when we stepped off the ferry in Hvar in 2008 and were immediately greeted by a swarm of friendly strangers waving plastic photo albums like they were auditioning for the role of “Croatian Aunt With the Best Spare Room.” This was back when accommodations were arranged by what can only be described as the most charming black market in Europe. No Booking.com . No Airbnb. Just a healthy dose of optimism and a willingness to hop into a stranger’s Renault in pursuit of a seaside view. And hop in we did. My husband, our wide-eyed son, and I were swept up in a travel moment that’s now gone the way of paper maps and Kodak film—spontaneous, slightly suspect, and completely unforgettable. The Lost Art of Spontaneous Travel: When Photo Albums Were Airbnb We’d “discovered” Croatia the way North Americans like to imagine we discover things: entirely late to the party, but blissfully unaware of that fact. In 2008, the country was still on the Kuna, still on the cusp of being a household name, and still relatively untouched by the waves of international tourism that would soon flood its shores like a Game of Thrones fan tour. That first trip felt like stepping into a parallel universe—one where stone towns shimmered like something out of a Thomas Kincade painting, where the Adriatic Sea sparkled with that otherworldly Mediterranean clarity, and where Plitvice Lakes National Park looked like Mother Nature’s attempt at a sci-fi film set. Honestly, if a unicorn had trotted past us at the waterfalls, we wouldn’t have flinched. Croatia Then vs. Now: Yes, It’s Changed—But the Magic Is Still There Since then, we’ve been back. Many times. From the tiniest town of Hum (population: blink and you’ll miss it) to the polished Old Town of Dubrovnik, we’ve traversed Croatia north to south. And yes, of course it’s changed. The Dubrovnik we knew in 2008 had sleepy alleyways where cats outnumbered tourists. Today? It’s got crowd-control ropes and cruise ship spillover. But the thing is: the magic’s still there. You just have to look beyond the selfie sticks and cruise lanyards. The Overtourism Debate: Can You Still Enjoy Popular Places? This brings me to the great overtourism debate —a term that gets thrown around these days with the same enthusiasm as lost luggage at a budget airline. Yes, places like Venice, Barcelona, and Bali are busy. Yes, Instagram has turned parts of the world into open-air film sets. But here’s the truth: no place stays the same . Not your childhood home, not your favourite dive bar, and definitely not that sleepy seaside town you fell in love with seventeen years ago. Travel, like life, moves on. How We Travel Differently Now: Tips for Dodging the Crowds in Croatia So, what do you do when the old ways are gone? You adapt. Now, when we go to Croatia, we skip July and August and aim for shoulder season—that sweet spot in May or September when the water is still warm, the prices are gentler, and the crowds have thinned just enough to let you breathe. If cruise season still lingers, we tweak our plans. Sightsee in the early morning or after the ships have pulled away. Dine at 8 p.m. instead of 6, when the Old Town belongs once again to the locals—and those of us who’ve figured out how to travel around the wave instead of through it. A Final Word on Nostalgia: You Can’t Go Back—But You Can Travel Forward Is it the same Croatia we met in 2008? No. And thank goodness for that. If I could give my younger self any advice back then, it wouldn’t be “don’t trust the man with the photo album.” It would be: soak it up, take the photos, eat the grilled fish with your hands, and know that this version of Croatia is yours for this moment only. And to anyone mourning the loss of a “hidden gem”: the magic’s still there—it’s just had a bit of a glow-up. Travel isn’t about finding things as they were; it’s about finding joy in what they’ve become. Practical Tips for Finding the Magic Again (Even in the Crowds): Travel in Shoulder Season:  May–early June and mid-September–October are your best bets for avoiding peak madness in most of Europe. Shift Your Schedule:  Avoid peak meal and sightseeing hours. Go early or go late. The experience changes completely. Stay Outside the Hotspots:  Base yourself just outside the tourist hubs—Cavtat instead of Dubrovnik, or Šibenik instead of Split—and do day trips in. Think Small:  Towns like Trogir, Korčula, or Motovun offer the same Adriatic charm without the crowd control barriers. Don’t Let Nostalgia Ruin a Good View:  Be happy you saw it before. But be curious enough to see it now. What has your experience been? Have you revisited a place after many years and noticed how it has changed? Did it break your heart, or open it in a new way? I’d love to hear your stories. Drop me a comment, or reach out if you want help planning a trip that captures the feeling  of discovery—even if the photo albums have gone digital.

Europe Train Travel I’ll admit it: I’m hopelessly, romantically biased toward train travel in Europe. Not in a beret-and-wine-glass kind of way (though I’ve done that, too), but in the "this is actually brilliant and more people need to do it" sort of way. If you've ever tried to navigate a foreign country with a rental car, dodging roundabouts, deciphering street signs in Hungarian, and praying the GPS doesn't conk out mid-alps, you already know: there's an easier way. It's called the train. And no, I don’t mean the over-air-conditioned, beige-boothed commuter train you took in Toronto once in 2006. I’m talking comfortable,  high-speed marvels that glide across borders, cut through countryside, and—dare I say it—make you feel like you're starring in your own slow-travel European mini-series. The Beauty of Getting There Train travel in Europe is about the journey and  the destination. You climb aboard in Paris—city of love, flaky pastries, and existential café chats—and before you can say pain au chocolat , you’re sipping coffee as the Eiffel Tower disappears behind you and the vineyards of the Loire Valley roll into view. By the time you step off the train, you’re in a different cultural universe, one filled with chateaux and wine cellars and absolutely no baggage claim in sight. That’s the thing. Trains in Europe don’t just connect cities. They connect moods, rhythms, cuisines, languages. You go from one cultural chapter to the next, seamlessly, scenically, and without the dry-air exhaustion of flying or the high-stress navigation of renting a car. Train Stations: The Unsung Cathedrals of Travel Here’s something most guidebooks forget to mention: the train stations themselves are part of the adventure. In North America, we treat train stations like sad, functional rectangles designed for standing and waiting. But in Europe? They’re lively public squares, some even have shopping centres, and sometimes they are architectural masterpieces. Take Antwerp Central Station, for example. On our first family trip to Europe, we had 20 minutes between trains—plenty of time, we thought—until we stumbled up the stairs and found ourselves staring at a grand staircase so opulent, it looked like someone had dropped a royal ballroom into a train station. The Antwerp Central Train Station's grand staircase was so jaw-dropping, we stopped mid-dash to gawk, only to be politely nudged forward by busy commuters who had clearly seen this baroque masterpiece many times before. Or Le Train Bleu in Paris’s Gare de Lyon—a gilded restaurant inside  the station. Because why wouldn’t your pre-boarding snack come with chandeliers and foie gras? Some train stations are even attached to airports, like in Paris, which makes catching your train post-flight as easy as strolling down a hallway. Europe has figured this out, folks. A Front Row Seat to Real Life One of my favourite things about train travel is that feeling of being in it . Not floating 35,000 feet above the world, and not driving through it with white knuckles. You’re sitting next to commuters, students, chatty retirees, and families with well-behaved dogs (and sometimes kids). You overhear snippets of languages. You watch kids hop on before or after school, backpacks swinging, sharing snacks and gossip. It’s wonderfully uncurated—real life rolling past your window, sometimes literally and sometimes figuratively. And the scenery? Unmatched. Snow-capped Alps, fields of vineyards, medieval villages, and the occasional castle perched on a hill like it’s no big deal. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a movie montage, except it’s Tuesday, and you’re just going from Lyon to Milan. But What About Planning? Ah yes, the dreaded logistics. This is where Rail Europe  steps in like your organized, well-dressed travel friend who knows exactly  how to get from Rome to Salzburg without pulling out their hair or a map. With Rail Europe, you can book tickets and passes across the continent in one place—whether you're zipping through Spain, meandering in Germany, or hopping from Prague to Vienna. It takes the guesswork out of train classes, seat reservations, and whether you need to validate your ticket (spoiler: sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t). It’s simple, it’s trustworthy, and it means you can spend more time researching wine tours in Tuscany and less time Googling “difference between second class and second class comfort.” Final Thoughts from the Train Window Train travel in Europe is practical, yes. Comfortable, absolutely. But it’s also quietly magical. You arrive rested, caffeinated, and about 27% more cultured than when you left. So if you're planning a couple’s escape, a girls’ getaway, or a solo adventure where you finally  read that book you've been meaning to read, consider skipping the rental car queue and hopping on a train instead. Because the truth is, Europe was made to be seen from a train window. Ready to Ride? Skip the stress and start planning your scenic escape with Rail Europe . Whether you’re city-hopping or countryside-coasting, they’ve got the tickets, the maps, and the know-how. Have you taken a train through Europe? What was your favourite route? Share in the comments below.

Let me paint a familiar picture: you’ve just landed after a long-haul flight, you're jetlagged, slightly dehydrated, and desperately trying to remember where you packed your travel adapter. Now imagine trying to hunt down a kiosk to buy a local SIM card, navigating an unfamiliar language, and fiddling with a paperclip to eject that tiny tray from your phone all while resisting the urge to lie down in the arrivals hall and nap under your luggage. No thanks. Three years ago, I discovered Airalo , and since then, my phone has worked seamlessly across Europe and Southeast Asia without a single SIM swap. For someone who doesn’t consider herself particularly tech-savvy (I still call it “the Google” from time to time), that’s saying something. If I can manage to install and activate an eSIM in five minutes flat, trust me — you can too. What I love most? My phone is ready to go the moment I land. No wandering around trying to connect to dodgy airport Wi-Fi. No mystery data plans or disappearing top-ups. Just instant access to everything I need: hotel confirmations, train tickets, restaurant reservations, Google Maps, and all the must-see spots I definitely meant to research earlier. The Airalo app is simple and straightforward, and you can buy a data plan for your next country before you even leave home. Load the eSIM, follow the prompts (no tech wizardry needed), and boom — you're online. Whether I’m navigating Venice’s alleyways or ordering mango sticky rice in Chiang Mai, I’m connected and cruising. Now — full disclosure — I have an affiliate link to Airalo, which means if you click through and end up using it, I get a small commission (at no extra cost to you). It’s the usual “thanks for the referral” setup, and honestly, I only ever share stuff I actually use and love. This one? Total game-changer. 👉 Check out Airalo here if you want to poke around and see how it works. It’s a brilliant little travel hack that’s made my life on the road way easier. Pro tip : Download the app and set up your plan while you’ve got reliable Wi-Fi at home. Your jetlagged self will thank you. Have questions about using Airalo in your destination? DM me on Instagram or check out my travel planning services, I’m always happy to share real-world tips for making travel smoother, simpler, and just a little bit smarter.

*If you’re short on time, the condensed 10-day itinerary with accommodation links is listed below. * Prague, Czechia Where your trip begins and your step count explodes. We kicked off our Czech road trip in Prague, the city of spires, beer, and more history per square meter than seems entirely reasonable. Our home base was Hotel Černý Slon , a charming boutique stay tucked just off Old Town Square in a building that predates Canada by several centuries. It’s quiet, central, and yes, walkable from the train station (if you packed light or enjoy cobblestone cardio). Looking for Prague hotel alternatives?   Try Týn Yard Residence , another 4-star option right by the main square. What to Do & See in Prague There is so much to see, but let’s start in Old Town, where every corner feels like it’s auditioning for a period drama. Don’t miss the Astronomical Clock, it's best to show up on the hour for the medieval mechanical show (and about 200 camera phones). From there, stroll across Charles Bridge, ideally early in the day to dodge the crowds. Across the river, venture up to endless stairs to explore Prague Castle — we went with the self-guided ticket, a solid choice, though a proper guide would’ve helped us connect the dots a bit faster. Afterward, get pleasantly lost in Malá Strana’s winding streets. Pop into any pub (seriously, it’s hard to go wrong here) and enjoy a beer that probably costs less than your bottled water. Still have energy? Add a Vltava River cruise to your itinerary (on our “next time” list), or climb the Old Town Hall Tower for some stunning city views. Also flagged for next time: the historic monasteries and a classical music concert in one of the chapels near Old Town. Karlovy Vary: Czechia’s Most Famous Spa Town Come for the healing waters, stay because your legs are jelly from all the spa time. From the buzz of Prague, we detoured into the land of slow living: Karlovy Vary, Czechia’s premier spa town, where even the rivers seem to glide at half-speed. We stayed at Spa Resort Sanssouci , which felt like a 1950s-era hotel, was just a 15-minute stroll from the center along a tree-lined path that looked like it was made for leisurely afternoons and unhurried conversations. While the room decor gave off vintage Eastern European vibes, the award-winning spa facilities are truly world-class. We're talking 50+ health professionals, including physicians, physiotherapists, nurses, and massage therapists, ready to recalibrate your very soul. We opted for the mineral pools, saunas, and thermal baths — low effort, high reward. Grandpupp Hotel, Karlovy Vary If you prefer something more private and luxurious, Villa Julius a Emma  offers boutique serenity just next door to Spa Resort Sanssouci. Or if you prefer to be in town, go full Bond villain at Grandhotel Pupp (yes, Casino Royale  was filmed there). We popped in for afternoon tea, and I may or may not have channelled my inner Vesper Lynd in the elevator. It’s that kind of place. Another top-tier choice is Spa Hotel Imperial , perched high above the town with views as pampering as the treatments inside (or so I’m told). What to Do & See Spa towns aren’t built for rushing. Start with a leisurely walk down the main promenade of Karlovy Vary, flanked by historic colonnades, bubbling mineral springs, and enough spa shops to rehydrate your skin and deplete your wallet. Not into facials and mud wraps? No problem, Karlovy Vary is also a gateway to Czechia’s forest spas, otherwise know as hiking. Lace up for one of the town’s 180+ km of scenic routes. We took the Diana Lookout Tower and Deer Leap trails. Bonus : you can ride the funicular up and hike down, landing conveniently back in town where celebratory pints await. A “forest spa” might not be listed in the brochures, but it should be. Hluboká nad Vltavou & Český Krumlov From spa jellyfish to storybook royalty in under two hours. After our time soaking in mineral pools like vacationing sea creatures, it was time to don our metaphorical tiaras and head to Hluboká nad Vltavou, where the castle looks like it was plucked straight from a Disney storyboard, if Disney had a thing for Czech Baroque Gothic Revival. We stayed at Hotel Štekl , (pictured above) a castle-adjacent property that manages to be both regal and cozy. The rooms are grand, the views sweeping, and yes, there’s even more spa pampering if you haven’t quite had your fill. Honestly, this is where you come to channel your inner Rapunzel (preferably without the hair-related drama). If Hotel Štekl is booked, head straight to Český Krumlov, a UNESCO World Heritage site that feels like it’s been preserved under a glass dome. Consider staying at the charming Garni Hotel Castle Bridge , the historic Hotel Krčínův Dům , or the cozy Guest House Olšakovský  for a more budget-conscious stay. What to Do & See In Hluboká nad Vltavou, don’t miss the castle tour, it’s the town’s main event. Later, grab a bottle of local South Bohemian wine and relax in the castle gardens at sunset. In Český Krumlov, visit the State Castle and Château, feed the bears, then wander the cobblestone streets with a free walking tour to discover how every building has at least three historical footnotes. Wrap it all up with a canoe float down the Vltava River through Maleček Rafting & Canoe, where you’ll paddle past medieval towers, rustic pop-up wooden bars selling beer, and the occasional duck that have clearly seen some things. Mikulov (with detours to Třeboň & Telč) Where wine meets wellness, and castles meet countryside. On the way to Mikulov, we stopped in two charming towns: Třeboň: A spa town known for its peat mud baths. Check out treatments at Hotel Zlatá Hvězda , right in the town square. Třeboň also boasts an extensive network of artificial lakes for fish farming, originally created in the 13th century and still operational today. Telč: Yet another UNESCO-listed town with a stunning Renaissance square. Great spot for a mid-day coffee. Arriving in Mikulov, we found a quieter charm and a perfect base for South Moravia. We stayed at Pension Baltazar , a 3-star guesthouse with views of the Holy Hill (Svatý Kopeček) above us and the Moravian valley below. Next door: the equally charming Boutique Hotel Templ . Pension Baltazar, Mikulov What to Do & See in Mikulov Hike Holy Hill: From bed to summit in 40 minutes. A gentle hike with panoramic views of South Moravia. Day Trips from Mikulov: Lednice Castle: ~20 minutes by car Château Valtice: ~12 minutes by car Reistna Kolonnade: ~15 minutes, near Valtice, with sweeping views over the vineyards This road trip through Czechia easily ranks among our favourite travel experiences. It was a perfect mix of castles, countryside, spa days, and storybook towns that felt worlds away from the usual tourist trail. The further from Prague we went, the bigger the adventure became! Prague might draw the crowds, but the real magic happens when you venture off the beaten path and you find yourself winding through Bohemian country roads, stumbling upon hilltop castles, and soaking in spa towns you’ve never heard of but won’t soon forget. If you’ve ever considered visiting Czechia (or hadn’t until now), take this as your sign to go. And if you want help crafting a route that fits your style, I’d love to build a custom itinerary just for you. Have you been to Czechia and ventured outside the city limits of Prague? What was your favourite place to visit? Leave your list of favourites in the comments below. 🇨🇿 10-Day Czechia Road Trip Itinerary 1–3 Days: Prague 🛏️  Where We Stayed : Hotel  Černý Slon  - Old Town (4 ⭐️ ) 💡  Alternative Accommodations :  Týn Yard Residence  - Old Town (4 ⭐️ ) Top Things to Do: Explore Old Town Square & Astronomical Clock Cross Charles Bridge at sunrise/sunset (both are magical) Visit Prague Castle & St. Vitus Cathedral Enjoy a Vltava River cruise or a viewpoint from Letná Park Grab drinks in Malá Strana or hidden courtyards in New Town 2 Days: Karlovy Vary 🛏️  Where We Stayed :  Spa Resort Sanssouci  (4 ⭐️ ) 💡  Alternative   Luxury Options : Grandhotel Pupp  (5 ⭐️ ) or  Spa Hotel Imperial  (5 ⭐️ ) Top Things to Do: Stroll the colonnades and drink from the mineral springs Take a spa day: mineral bath, sauna, massage or book a whole Ride the funicular to Diana Tower, hike back down Forest hikes: Deer Leap or Goethe's Lookout Coffee or cocktails at Grandhotel Pupp 2-3 Days: Hluboká nad Vltavou & Český Krumlov 🛏️  Where We Stayed : Hluboká :  Hotel Štekl  (4 ⭐️ ) 💡  Alternative Accommodations in Český Krumlov : Garni Hotel Castle Bridge  (4 ⭐️), or   Hotel Krčínův Dům  (4 ⭐️) a great alternative Top Things to Do: Hluboká nad Vltavou : Tour the romantic Hluboká Castle Stroll castle gardens or nearby lake Český Krumlov : Visit Český Krumlov Castle & Tower Raft the Vltava River Explore the UNESCO-listed old town Sunset views from the hill above the castle 2 Days: Mikulov (via Třeboň & Telč) 🛏️  Where We Stayed :  Pension Baltazar  (3 ⭐️) 💡  Alternative Accommodations: Boutique Hotel Templ  (3 ⭐️) En Route Highlights: T ř ebo ň: Spa town with carp ponds & castle square Tel č: UNESCO-listed town with a pastel Renaissance square Mikulov & Surroundings: Hike Holy Hill (Svatý Kopeček) Visit Mikulov Castle & wine museum Day trips to: Lednice Castle & gardens Valtice Chateau  and Reistna Colonnade

Mikulov, Czechia After one more magical evening pretending to be queen of the castle and promenading through the palace grounds, our trusty steed TicTack (our blue and white rental) was saddled up again and pointed southeast. We cruised through South Bohemia’s quieter roads, where getting stuck behind a tractor or a Czech caravan that looked like a prairie schooner on its last legs somehow only added to the charm. No rush — this leg was about soaking in the slower countryside. Telč, Czechia Hidden Gems: Telč and Třeboň We made time for a few more detours — stopping in Telč and Třeboň — both towns that seem like they’ve been bottled in time. If you're seeking hidden gems in Czechia or off-the-beaten-path Czech towns, these are two you'll want to pin. Picture Renaissance facades in Telč’s main square and lakeside serenity in Třeboň, once a royal fishing hub and still lined with historical fishponds that date back to the 14th century. Třeboň is also known for its traditional spa culture — including mud baths that promise to ease everything from arthritis to post-road trip fatigue. We didn’t try one this time, but it’s officially on the list for next round. Welcome to Wine Country: Mikulov Then we rolled into Mikulov, nestled right in the heart of South Moravian wine country. No castle sleepover this time, though the Baroque castle perched on the hill certainly begged for a moment of rubbernecking. We checked into Pension Baltazar, a cozy spot right in town, and spent the next few days sipping beer and wine, eating well, and climbing Svatý Kopeček (Holy Hill) — a grassy rise overlooking the town that rewards you with sweeping vineyard views and a peaceful little chapel at the summit. Mikulov has long been a cultural crossroads — once a key stop along trade routes between Brno and Vienna, and historically home to a vibrant Jewish community. That legacy still echoes through its cobbled lanes and quiet corners. But today, it’s all about good wine, slow afternoons, and the kind of views that make you want to press pause. Mikulov became our home base for exploring the region, and it turned out to be the perfect launchpad for a few wildly unexpected day trips. Muzeum Železné Opony, Valtice Czechia A Cold War Time Warp and a Surprise Border Hop On one of our day trips from Mikulov, we set out in search of the Kolonáda Reistna, a neoclassical monument we'd seen mentioned online, with directions that were roughly equivalent to, “Drive south until the vineyards run out or the road signs start speaking German.” As we cruised along a particularly empty stretch of road near Valtice, things took a turn. One minute we were admiring the landscape, the next we were squinting at a hulking, half-ruined building that looked like it had been plucked straight from a Cold War film set. Razor wire? Check. Creaky guard box beside the road? Check. Giant pole with no obvious purpose? Triple check. We stopped, puzzled, and peered into the eerily quiet open guard box — a perfect spot to imagine being interrogated by a ghostly border patrol officer with a penchant for rubber stamping paper visas. The building had no signs, no people, no hint of life. Just an air of abandonment and unease, as if everyone simply got up one day and never came back. It turns out we had accidentally stumbled upon the Muzeum Železné Opony — the Iron Curtain Museum — though nothing about it from the outside suggested it was anything other than a forgotten Cold War relic. It was closed (or hiding), and the whole place looked less like a museum and more like an accidental time portal. To make things even more surreal, in our dazed state of post-Cold-War confusion, we realized we had — without noticing — ever-so-slightly driven over the Austrian border. This is, as it happens, a big no-no in the world of car rental agreements. Cue a swift, slightly panicked U-turn, accompanied by a muttered apology to our car insurance policy, and a quick scan to make sure no Austrian customs agents were about to descend from the hills. Kolonáda Reistna, Valtice Czechia Kolonáda Reistna: A Monument, a March, and a Musical Surprise With TicTack safely back on Czech soil, we parked near the now clearly-abandoned border gate and found a crumbling old road leading uphill. Naturally, we followed it. After a short, quiet walk (interrupted only by the occasional rustle of wind through Iron Curtain ghosts), we reached the Kolonáda Reistna. This neoclassical colonnade sits dramatically on the border ridge flanked by trees on one side and a stunning rolling hills view on the other. Commissioned in the early 1800s by Prince Johann I of Liechtenstein as a memorial to his father and brothers, it’s all very Roman Empire meets Downton Abbey — grand, symmetrical, and inexplicably perched in what felt like the middle of nowhere. Fun fact: during the Cold War, the colonnade doubled as a military lookout for border patrol. Because nothing says “national defense” like posting guards beside a neoclassical monument meant to honour your family tree. But the real surprise came moments after we arrived. Out of nowhere, a group of Czech high school students bounded up the hill, plopped down a Bluetooth speaker, and — without warning — broke into a full choreographed routine to "We Go Together" from Grease . It was, without question, the strangest ambush we’ve ever experienced. There, under the watchful eyes of Liechtenstein marble busts, teens in Converse sneakers swung and shimmied across the grass in front of this ancient monument. One moment we were pondering war, peace, and the weight of history — the next, we were in a full-on 1950s musical finale. Pure magic. Lednice, Czechia Day Trip: Lednice, the Versailles of the East Another one of our favourite day trips from here was to Lednice, the Versailles of the East, because honestly? That’s exactly what it felt like. The sprawling estate at Lednice was once the Liechtenstein family’s summer playground, transformed over the centuries into an over-the-top Neo-Gothic wonder. You’ve got a riverside castle, extravagant gardens, a full-blown minaret tucked into the grounds (no, really), and if you don’t want to walk to the minaret, you can take a lazy river cruise that floats you past landscaped lawns and romantic ruins. We wandered for hours — no crowds, no stress, just a pleasant kind of beauty around every corner. Lednice isn’t just for castle-chasers — it’s for anyone who wants to walk through a storybook and not be entirely sure where the pages end and real life begins. Farewell TicTack — and Czechia, For Now With a slightly heavy heart, we said goodbye to TicTack in Brno, Czechia’s second-largest city and our final stop — but only in a logistical sense. We didn’t linger in Brno, as we were catching a train straight to Vienna, but it served us well as the perfect point to wrap up our 10-day Czech road trip. And what a road trip it was. Before this journey, I’ll admit besides Prague and Český Krumlov, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. But what we did discover far exceeded our expectations. Driving in Czechia turned out to be a breeze — great roads, spectacular scenery, respectful drivers, and Google Maps that didn’t lead us astray once (not even down a goat path or through a farmer’s yard — looking at you, Crete). The highways are extremely well-maintained, and the scenic countryside routes made even our slowest, most meandering days feel like part of a grand adventure. What surprised us most, though, was just how underrated Czechia is as a travel destination once you step outside Prague’s postcard frame. This country is rich in history, dotted with fairytale towns, and filled with absolutely stunning landscapes— from spa cities to vineyard valleys to castle-dotted horizons. If you're even thinking about exploring Central Europe, Czechia deserves a spot on your list. I’d go back in a heartbeat. Up Next: The Full Itinerary Breakdown Ready to retrace our route or plan your own Czech adventure? In the final post of this series, I’ll break down our full 10-day Czechia road trip itinerary — complete with where we stayed, what we loved, what we’d do differently, and must-see stops in every region we visited. Whether you’re dreaming of castles, countryside drives, or slow afternoons in wine country, you’ll have everything you need to start planning your own unforgettable journey through Czechia. Plus, I’ll include a free downloadable PDF so you can save or share your trip inspiration anytime. See you in Part 3!

Cesky Krumlov (Yes, It’s More Than Just Prague) Let me start with this: Prague is as beautiful and atmospheric as everyone says — and as crowded. We’d been before, years ago, when our teenage son was still willing to travel with us (or at least tolerate our presence in public). We did the classics: gawked at the Astronomical Clock, shuffled across the Charles Bridge with the rest of humanity, and on a whim, climbed a massive staircase on the other side of the river, assuming it led to a peaceful public garden. It didn’t. It led us straight into the Prague Castle grounds via an accidentally unlocked gate. By the time we realized we were inside a UNESCO World Heritage Site, we’d basically given ourselves a self-guided palace tour — free of charge and entirely unintentional. Getting Lost (On Purpose) in Prague This time around, we skipped the climb and let ourselves get happily lost in the cobblestone lanes of Old Town Prague, surrounded by gothic spires, intricate stonework, and centuries-old buildings that practically dare you to look up. If you’re putting together a Prague itinerary, don’t worry about ticking off every must-see. Sometimes, the magic is just in letting the city happen to you — one crooked alleyway and surprise courtyard at a time. Meet TicTack, Our Noble Steed That was the name we gave our compact, blue-and-white rental — a tiny vehicle with the heart of a champion and the turning radius of a shopping cart. Armed with Google Maps and cautious optimism, we navigated Prague’s labyrinth of roads during rush hour and finally found the outskirts of the city, where traffic thinned and the Czech countryside opened up like a green fairytale. Into the Woods (and the 14th Century) Now, you might be wondering where we’re headed. Our first real stop? Karlovy Vary — also known by its old German name, Karlsbad, because this famous spa town in Czechia has been luring wealthy bathers and suspiciously enthusiastic physicians since the 14th century. Legend has it that Charles IV himself (yes, the Holy Roman Emperor, not your friend’s cousin from Brno) discovered the thermal springs while out hunting. The story goes that his injured hunting dog stumbled into a hot geyser and came out miraculously healed. Naturally, Charles did what any ruler with access to architects and gold would do: he built a spa empire around it. We stayed for two nights so we could explore the colonnades, try the famous spa experiences, and wander the forested walking trails that wrap around the hills. It’s the kind of place that rewards slow travel — and rewards your joints, too. Not Here for the Legends — Here for the Baths But me? I wasn’t here to soak in medieval legends. I was here for the baths, the colonnades, and the kind of mineral water that smells faintly like eggs and promises to fix everything from indigestion to heartbreak. From City Streets to Countryside Calm We didn’t expect much from the drive. Honestly, we figured it would just be a means to an end — get out of the city, find the spa town, maybe stop for coffee (maybe…yes, stop for coffee!). But then the landscape started doing that quiet, scenic thing that doesn’t shout “Look at me!”  — it just gently reminds you that green fields and sleepy villages are sometimes exactly what you need. The road was mostly flat and easygoing, like a nicely ironed shirt — smooth, neat, and oddly comforting. Small farms and compact villages popped up now and then, and the whole thing felt strangely meditative and calming. Then, just before we were lulled into a pastoral bucolic trance, the road dipped — dramatically — into a thick, forested gully. Trees tightened around us. Curves sharpened. And then, just beyond the bend, something magical started to happen: rooftops. Ornate, colourful, almost storybook-like. It was like entering a different century through a side door. Karlovy Vary: Fancy Water, Fancier Buildings Karlovy Vary is the kind of place where you half-expect a string quartet to start playing as you round a corner. It’s all pastel facades, elegant columns, and cobblestone promenades running alongside the Teplá River — like a postcard that somehow came to life. The town smells faintly of sulfur and pastries, and oddly, that works. Tiny Mugs and Thermal Sips One of the main activities here? Drinking warm mineral water from tiny spouted mugs that look like teapots made for dolls. Locals swear by the health benefits — everything from better digestion to eternal youth. We stuck to a few cautious sips and didn’t transform into spa zombies, so we’ll call that a win. Public drinking fountains offer the spa water for free and you’ll find them dotted throughout the town. Just grab one of those doll-sized mugs from a souvenir stand and sip like a local. When Hollywood Shows Up in a Bathrobe Film buffs might recognize Karlovy Vary from Casino Royale  — though it cheekily doubled as Montenegro. Every summer, the town trades its bathrobes for black-tie at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, where movie stars and spa-goers cross paths in a way that feels bizarrely natural. If your trip lines up with July, check their official schedule - I’m told it’s worth planning around. And if cinema isn’t your thing, there's also a Jazz Festival, food and wine events, and year-round spa escapes if you’re in the mood for a mud wrap and some questionable tea. Living the Fairytale at Hluboká nad Vltavou Leaving the lush green gully of Karlovy Vary, we set off towards our next fairytale experience: a castle stay at Hotel Štekl in Hluboká nad Vltavou. Pronouncing the town's name might be a challenge, but staying here is nothing short of magical. Our room was stunning, offering a panoramic view over the valley that made me feel like Rapunzel (sans the long hair). If you've ever dreamed of feeling like royalty, this is the place to do it. Not only is Hotel Štekl a castle in its own right, but it also neighbours the grand Hluboká Castle, to which we had complete access. Each evening, as day tourists departed, we took our wine glasses and bottle of wine, strolled over to the main castle grounds to watch the sun set over the valley, feeling every bit the lord and lady of the manor. A Brief History of Hluboká Castle Hluboká Castle's origins date back to the mid-13th century when it was established as a royal guard castle. Over the centuries, it underwent several transformations: from a Gothic fortress to a Renaissance chateau under the Lords of Hradec, and later to a Baroque residence. In the 19th century, inspired by England's Windsor Castle, Prince Johann Adolf II of Schwarzenberg commissioned a Romantic Neo-Gothic reconstruction, resulting in the castle's current fairy-tale appearance. Surrounded by a vast English-style park, Hluboká Castle is now considered one of the most beautiful castles in Czechia. A Day Trip to Český Krumlov: Where Fairytales Go to Retire From Hluboká, we made the easy day trip to Český Krumlov, another town that looks like it was built by set designers for a fantasy movie. We’d been before (shoutout to Rick Steves for the original tip), but it’s so charming that we couldn’t resist a return visit. And here’s a tip for you, if you’re driving, parking can be tricky in high season, so we recommend arriving early or staying overnight so you can enjoy the quiet mornings. Just when you think you’ve seen the most picturesque village possible, you drive 30 minutes and find yourself somewhere even more storybook-perfect. Český Krumlov is wrapped in the bends of the Vltava River, giving the whole town a natural moat. The 13th-century castle perched above the old town has its own bear moat (yes, really), and the colourful buildings, cobblestone streets, and cute little cafés are practically begging to be part of your photos — or your screensaver. In the summer, you can even float down the river in an inflatable raft, drink in hand, dragging your cooler behind you like a proper river pirate. And don’t worry, if you run out of beer or wine, just pull over to the banks of the river and you’ll find entrepreneurial locals have set up make-shift wooden bars to supply you with all the Czechvar beer, wine and ice cream you could possibly need to complete your rafting adventures.  It’s the kind of place where time slows down and your iPhone camera fills up way too quickly. A Little History on Český Krumlov First mentioned in 1253, Český Krumlov flourished under the Rosenberg family during the Renaissance. Its architecture is a patchwork of medieval, Baroque, and Renaissance styles, all remarkably preserved thanks to the town's designation as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The town remained relatively untouched during World War II, allowing its original charm to survive the 20th century intact. But the real surprise came in the second half of our trip — wine country. South Moravia’s rolling vineyards, baroque palaces, and medieval towns offered a totally different side of Czechia, and we fell in love all over again. What’s Next: Wine Country & Aristocratic Surprises Coming up in Part 2: We didn’t expect the Czech countryside to give us Versailles vibes, but South Moravia had other plans. Rolling vineyards, fairytale towns, and one aristocratic surprise after another — stay tuned for Part 2!