Alas, Poor Yorick

March 9, 2013 (continued)
Walking through town, it felt very unique. All of the architecture still looked old and decorative as it did in Prague, but the buildings were much smaller. The first impressive building we came to was the Cathedral of Assumption of Our Lady and John the Baptist. Like the other cathedrals, the gothic style building towered over the town, with a single steeple in the back. We snapped a few photos before continuing down the block.

“Look,” Leo said, pointing off to the left. “A tourist center.”

“Oh cool,” I said. “We can come back there to find out what time the train back to Prague leaves.”

As we continued a few more yards down the road, we found the wall surrounding Kostnice Sedlci (which in English translates to “Sedlec Ossuary) and the cemetery around it. Outside of the cemetery was a large statue of some saints. On the wall, a large tourist sign was written in several languages.

“It has prices for all of the sites,” Thibaut said. The sign listed four attractions in Kutna (the Ossuary, the Cathedral of Assumption, St. Barbara’s Cathedral, and the Jesuit College.) The prices were bundled depending on which of them tourists wanted to see, however, only certain bundles were available. There was one that allowed for the Ossuary and the Cathedral of Assumption. The next allowed St. Barbra’s cathedral to be added to those two. The final was to see all of them.

Regardless of which combo we picked, we had to go back to the tourist center to purchase them. When we walked in, the man behind the counter was helping another couple.

“Oh that is spooky,” Leo said, pointing at the rack of souvenirs. It was covered with different sizes and shapes of plastic skulls. Some were missing their jaws; others were hollowed out as candle holders. None of them looked particularly frightening, but rather, they were quite decorative.

When the man had finished helping the other couple, he came over to us. “So sorry,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re interested in purchasing tickets,” I said.

“Ok,” he said. “Which one?”

We looked again at the list of options. It was a smaller version of the sign we’d seen, just printed on 8½x11 and laminated on the counter.

“I say we do all four,” I suggested.

“I don’t know what this one is,” Thibaut said pointing at The Jesuit College.

“The Jesuits were Catholics who were really big on education,” I said. “It might be unique to see the schooling they set up.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Okay.” The others agreed as well.

Again, we each covered different portions of the cost based on how much money we had. I covered part of Leo’s ticket to pay him back the 100 I owed him, and we passed around coins to get to an even amount.

“Ok,” the man said. “The Ossuary and the Assumption church are here and here,” He circled them on a map. “All of the other sites are in the town center. It’s about 5 kilometers that way.”

“5 kilometers?” Leo asked.

“Yes,” the man said. “You can take a bus, but on Saturdays is not very good.” He checked the schedule. “The next one is at 11:02. If you miss that one, is not till 13:10.”

“Yikes,” I said, not meaning to say anything out loud.

“Or,” he said. “You can take the city train back at the station. If you have a Mesto ticket, it is good for that train too.”

I showed him the ticket we had purchased. “This one?”

“Yes! Yes!” he said. “That ticket is good! The next train is also at 11:07. If you miss it, there is another one at 12:09. The 11:07 gives you a little over an hour to see these sites here before you go.”

We all agreed we’d probably take the train.

“Ok,” he said. “Make sure to wave at the conductor when he comes so he stops for you.”

We laughed, thanked him, and headed back to the ossuary.

As we walked through the cemetery, we took photos of all of the intricate and artistic grave stones. Most of them were made of marble, but there were some stone ones as well.

“Why are the dates funny?” Thibaut asked.

Looking at the stones, we realized they said things like “Born 4.½.1789 Died 16. ¹⁰/₁₁. 1844 .”

“I have no idea,” I said. “Maybe the date is unknown so they are guessing on the month?” Gonzalo and Leo didn’t know either.

Inside the small chapel, we pushed our way past a Chinese tour group in the entry way and gave our tickets to the woman at the front counter. She stamped them under the section for the Ossuary and handed them back to us.

As I turned around and looked into the room, what I saw was amazing! There was a small stairway leading down into the main prayer room. The archway overhead had bones of various sizes and shapes hanging from the ceiling. In the main prayer room, there were bones strung together and artfully hung—like banners—across the ceiling. In each of the side wings, skulls, femurs, and other bones were piled easily 12 feet high.

The real gem of the room however was the chandelier. It was made from every bone in the human body and decorated with skulls. It was massive, and so stunning to look at. We took pictures of everything and traded off cameras to get pictures of each other. We asked a few people to take some group shots. It was such a fascinating site to see.

When the Chinese group came in, they made quite a bit of noise. Their guide was explaining everything in Chinese and took them around to each nook of the small building. When they were standing in front of one display that housed some cracked skulls, Leo started to listen.

“She is saying that the skulls in that case were of warriors. They are thought to have been killed in battle.” Thibaut and I smiled as he translated. We got our own personal tour! But I couldn’t help love the irony: we were getting a tour of a Czech church, from a Chinese guide, translated into English and understood by a Frenchman, an Argentinian, and an American.

While photography was allowed in the ossuary, touching strictly was not. There were cameras and infrared sensors everywhere and when someone got too close to the bones, alarms would blare until they backed up. They went off three times while we were in there, all of which caused embarrassed tourists to jump back immediately!

There was a box to donate coins and light a candle in memory of our personal loved ones. Thibaut and I each lit one. I said a small prayer as I touched the wick of my camera to that of one that was already burning. After a few moments of silence, we headed out.

Our next stop was the Cathedral of the Assumption. Once again, inside the woman at the front desk punched the spot for this cathedral on our ticket. Leo pointed out in the gift shop rack behind her that various wines were available for purchase.

“A church that sells alcohol,” he joked.

They gave us paper guides in English, Spanish, French, and Chinese so we could understand more about the church. The English on the sheet must not have been translated by a native speaker because most of the sentences were incoherent.

It didn’t matter though. The church was of course beautiful. It was a very plain looking room with very few pews. The windows were normal glass with just a faint tint of stain around the edges. Pink, green, and purple were the most prominent colors, but there may have been others.

Hung around the sanctuary was a series of portraits and paintings. While they were beautiful and depicted a number of events from the life of Christ, they were all very dark and hard to make out. Some of them actually showed up better on my camera than they did in person, while others appeared to be just black paint on a canvas.

The baroque style confession boxes are quickly becoming my favorite feature of these old churches. They are so artistic and so beautifully carved. I think of all the desperate souls and timeless tears that have passed through those tiny rooms.

There were two glass coffins near the front by the altars that housed odd looking manikins. “Those aren’t people are they?” I asked staring at the realistic, waxy bodies. The bones had been cool, but dead bodies in a church were not quite the same.

“No,” Thibaut laughed. “They are wearing relics of the people they represent.”

That was a lot less creepy.

As we were photographing the altar, Thibaut’s camera died.

“My batteries are out,” he said.

“Here,” I said, reaching into my camera case and pulling out my extras. “I have spares.”

“And your camera has enough?” he asked.

“We’ll find out,” I smiled, and hand him the AAs.

In the back corner of the sanctuary was a tall wooden stair case leading to the second story. While we couldn’t get over to the organ, we could walk around the choir area and balcony seating. One of the balconies housed a life size crucifix. The body of Christ looked very emaciated with visible ribs and sunken eyes. It was powerful to stand next to it.

In another back corner of the balcony, was a long dark tunnel. It looked like it was still under construction with a few boards leading across loose rafters, but I think that was actually the design. When we emerged on the other side, we had a great view of the entire sanctuary.

After taking pictures of every shrine, pew, staircase, and cross in the cathedral, we headed outside to take the train back to the town center. We walked back down the street we’d come in on, passed little cottages and artful walls. This was when I first noticed the nice contrast between Prague and this small town. While both felt like a foreign kingdom, and both were strikingly different from life back in the States, the small town felt far lest westernized and more mysterious than life in the big city.