The Ghost of Maříž, Slavonice, Day #3
Abandoned house in Maříž
Sunday, 7. April 2019-- (excerpts from my journal The Euro Traveller, vol. 2 and a travel notebook)
I’m really glad we decided to stay till Monday. I couldn’t face another seven-hour bus and train ride today. I wrote to my students and canceled Monday’s lessons.
Initially, we were thinking of going to Telč (‘Teltch’) to see that medieval city, but it’s an hour away with rather sporadic local trains, and then we’d have just four hours to do and see anything before having to get back to Slavonice for the night. It’s probably best saved as a separate trip in the future. Instead, Zuza suggested walking to the village of Maříž, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from here, right on the Czech-Austrian border. After breakfast and a stop at a local shop selling colourful pottery and ceramics, we walked to Maříž (say ‘MAHR-zheesh’), which was about 3.5 kilometers from our pension at Slavonice. It was cool and overcast, but there was no threat of rain. Maříž is home to a style of pottery called Maříž pottery, imitations of which are sold in the shop we visited in Slavonice. This style of pottery is known for its use of bright colours, almost like Italian or Spanish pottery. The whole thing was started by artist Kryštof Trubáček (1958-2000).
The ceramics shop
The village itself is a virtual ghost town. It was cleaned out after World War II when newly reunified Czechoslovakia expelled all German-speaking residents from its border regions. After the Communists took over (in 1948), no Czechoslovak citizen was allowed to settle there because it was too close to the border. I guess the authorities didn’t want anyone getting ideas of potential freedom by jumping over the border to the Austrian side. We didn’t walk to the actual border ourselves to confirm whether there were any remains of the “Iron Curtain”, which survive in many places in both the Czech and Slovak Republics along the frontiers with western nations. However, once we entered the remains of the village, we saw many old abandoned houses and barns. Everything was eerily still and quiet. Only a small church had been resurrected, as were two or three houses and other buildings. The only real signs of life were the ceramics shop, the town’s only restaurant immediately next door, and a “farmhouse”, as we called it, which featured several quits and patchwork items for sale. We visited the ceramic shop briefly. Here, genuine articles of Maříž pottery are for sale: plates, bowls, cups, candle holders, coffee mugs, and so forth. You can also use their workshop to make your pottery, glaze it, then the staff will fire it in their kiln and send it back to you.
We walked down one street (after deciding not to walk to the border). There were lots of still good but otherwise abandoned houses. Some looked as if they were just waiting for their owners to return. Still others were in varying stages of decay; vines and decades of plant and tree growth slowly claiming them. At least one house had been completely rebuilt in a modern style, yet one simple enough to fit the feel of the place. This is an artists’ community, and apparently the population of full-time residents is about 5.
From this “house street”, we went through a sort of park to see the remains of Maříž “castle”. It seems to have been more of a manor house than a real castle, although its foundation dates to 1372. It had been continually added to over the centuries and then rebuilt in 1717, and reached its final form in 1908. But after World War II, there were no heirs-apparent to the property, and as the village was abandoned, the castle was looted and eventually fell into ruin.
Maříž "castle" ruins
Maříž "castle" back in its heydey
We were getting hungry now. We walked back up to the restaurant and went in. The place wasn’t very big, maybe six tables, but all of them were full. I think Zuza and I were the only non-German-speaking patrons. We were forced to share the end of one table with a pair of two older Austrian men. Initially, I had a difficult time following their conversation. They clearly spoke a regional dialect; not at all the standard German I learned in high school! Eventually, one of the men turned to us and asked, “Könnt ihr deutsch sprechen?“ I replied that I could, so I started a conversation with them, translating here and there for Zuza. Now it seemed easier to understand them. I supposed they were speaking more or less standard, especially after I told them I didn’t understand the Austrian dialects very well. They asked us a lot of questions, where we were from, and so on. They had biked over from Austria and said they frequently bike across the border for lunch. They were rather surprised to meet an American from Oregon in this remote corner of Europe. We even got to cracking jokes about the American president. "Er ist ein Trottel!" one of the men said, basically calling him an idiot. Even Zuza understood it without me having translate! We laughed a lot. It’s fun to meet people like this and have totally spontaneous conversations.
Lunch was really good. Zuza had baked eggplant with mozzarella on top, and I had Svíčková na smetaně with Karlovy Vary-style dumplings—basically boiled beef tenderloin with a creamy root vegetable sauce, whipped cream and cranberry sauce, served with bread and onion dumplings. It’s a Czech speciality.
The restored farmhouse
Finally we began a slow walk back to Slavonice. My feet hurt and we were both a little tired and ready to go „home“ and relax. The distance for the walk to Maříž, around, and back was about 10 kilometers in total.
Long live Maříž