Hidden Afghanistan

From the apricot and walnut groves of the beautiful Panjshir valley, to the strips of cultivated green set against the dry pink and tan of the mountains in Bamyan, to the glittering sapphire blue lakes of Band-e Amir, I went in search of the real Afghanistan.

The country’s rich cultural history, rugged landscape, and the legendary generosity of Afghan people, have long been a draw for adventurers and travellers alike, but for now, still struggling with deep-rooted insurgency, Afghanistan remains firmly off the radar for most. Plagued by terrorism and war, the most recent cycle of bloodshed and instability has left the country with a reputation for violence and little good ever makes our TV screens in the West. For too many, our narrative around countries like Afghanistan has been reduced to a single story.

As part of my work on a book called Life in the Himalayas — looking at people’s everyday working lives throughout this diverse and magnificent mountain range, from the high plateau of Tibet to the foothills of Myanmar — I spent three weeks documenting the lives of agropastoralists in Afghanistan, and exploring this battered but beautiful country. I set out to focus on rural areas, everyday life and culture, going in search of the real Afghanistan, away from the vestiges of war and terror.

Kabul

I started off in the bustling markets in the country’s capital, Kabul, a chaotic little jungle of trinket shops, carpet sellers and giant chunks of Lapis filling windows. Occasionally I felt uneasy under the stares of watchful eyes as I poked my way through the dusty streets. Mostly it felt like any other vibrant bazaar in Asia, people going about their busy day.
 

I ate in smoke filled restaurants sitting cross-legged on cushions. Whole sheep carcasses are hung directly above the stove and the cook simply butchers off the bits he needs and throws them into a big black pot, along with fistfuls of fresh herbs and spices. Huge roundels of hot naan breads are piled high on the tables and you pay for what you eat. There is a genuine old-world feeling in Kabul that is rare to find these days.
 

Panjshir Valley

From Kabul I travelled to Istalif, a district famous for its distinctive blue pottery, and then by road to the stunning Panjshir Valley, one of the most celebrated places in Afghanistan, located in the heart of the Hindu Kush mountains. Its name means ‘Valley of the Five Lions,’ which according to local legend refers to five spiritual protectors or ‘wali’ who built a dam here during the early 11th century AD for Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni.
 

The Panjshir river starts from a narrow gorge where snowmelt turn the river into a torrent, rich with fish. It gradually widens into the valley to reveal carefully irrigated fields of wheat and maize dotted with walnut, apricot and mulberry groves. 90 percent of farmers in Panjshir Province practice subsistence agriculture, and the war has destroyed irrigation canals and orchards, making many aspects of farmers’ lives a challenge.
 

In recent years, however, international initiatives have assisted local and regional government leaders to introduce improved varieties of wheat and educate farmers on methods for improving yields and irrigation.
 

Bamiyan

In the heart of the Hazarajat, Bamiyan is surely one of the most beautiful parts of the whole country. It was a popular tourist destination during the 1970s, but a decade later became a symbol of resistance to the Soviets. Today, although the valley is still dominated by the gaping cavities in the cliff face, and the rubble is a constant reminder of the Taliban’s rage and destruction of the two ancient Buddha, there is far more to Bamiyan.
 

Guarding the entrance to Bamiyan valley, the ruins of Shahr-e Zohak form a dramatic citadel — perched high on the cliffs at the confluence of the Bamiyan and Kalu rivers. The towers here are some of the most imposing in all of Afghanistan, and are made of mud-brick on stone foundations, with intricate geometric patterns built into their walls. With no doors, they were accessed by ladders that the defenders pulled up behind them.
 

Looking down from the citadel, the views are incredible, with the thin strips of cultivated green in neighbouring valleys like Fulladi providing a striking contrast to the dry pink and tan of the Koh-i Baba mountains.
 

At first glance, the barren hills of the Bamiyan valley appear to promise little, but the snowmelt that issues from them each spring allows the farmers here to irrigate the valley floor and grow crops like potatoes.
 

Donkeys are still the main source of transport in this rural province, and shepherds and their flocks are often compelled to walk long distances.
 

Band-e Amir

Meanwhile, the glittering sapphire blue lakes of Band-e Amir are one of Afghanistan’s most astounding natural sights. In April 2009, Band-e Amir was named the country’s first national park, 36 years after a previous attempt to do so was interrupted by decades of political strife and war.

Formed by the mineral-rich water that seeps out of faults and cracks in the rocky landscape, the six linked lakes of Band-e Amir sparkle like jewels against the dusty mountains that surround them.

Over time layers of hardened mineral deposits called travertine have built up on the shores, to create the dramatic sheer sides that now hold the lakes in place. Local lore tells a different story, asserting that these natural dams were thrown into place by Hazrat Ali, the prophet Muhammad’s son-in-law, during the reign of the infidel king Barbar.

Before gaining its status as a national park this region experienced significant habitat destruction for firewood and farmland, overgrazing and overhunting — the snow leopard has now vanished here — and also damaging fishing practices that involved using hand grenades. Today Band-e-Amir is protected by a small group of park rangers, and is still home to ibex (wild goats), urials (wild sheep), and wolves. Although numbers of visitors to the park remain small, it is hoped that in time, this region will become an important area for tourism in Afghanistan.
 

Herat

Finally in Herat, the country’s old cultural heart, I felt more welcome than anywhere else in the country. Chatting to passing nomads on the outskirts of the city, inside its little bazaars, visiting the Friday Mosque — one of Islam’s great buildings — I spoke openly with burqa sellers about the state of the country. Here I discovered an Afghanistan most people simply don’t know exists. Afghans are proud of their culture, they are welcoming, generous and have a sharp sense of humour.

On my last day, insurgents attacked one of the big hotels in Kabul. I could hear helicopters and sirens all day and was advised that it was best not to leave the house. The next morning a gunfight broke out beside the road on the way to the airport. Sand bags and gun turrets occupy every corner and the frequent security checks are a sobering reminder of how unstable and precarious daily life is for the people of Afghanistan, whose resilience remains under great strain in these troubled times.

Let us hope that one day, a lasting peace will come to this battered, but proud and ancient country, allowing travellers to experience its beauty and welcome, and to step onto the fabled silk route once more.
 

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON MAPTIA.

Driven by his passion for travel, the environment and remote cultures, Alex Treadway has travelled to dozens of countries around the world on assignment.

A Look at Germany’s Quirky but Quaint Ore Mountains

Germany’s Ore Mountains offer bucolic scenery and countless Christmas traditions, all wrapped up into one charming package.

Seiffen, Germany. abejorro34. CC BY-NC 2.0. 

Along the German-Czech border lie the Ore Mountains, one of nature’s grand masterpieces. Stretching over 100 miles, the Ore Mountains appear like a scene out of Narnia: long strips of deep woods sit sprinkled among patches of bright wildflowers, often blanketed in thick snow. The area’s splendid scenery presents itself as the ideal inspiration for painters in search of inspiration.

The history of the region is just as fascinating. Up until their expulsion after World War II, German miners worked the mountain range for its many minerals such as copper, silver and lead. Thus, the range gained its name: the Ore Mountains. After World War II, the small towns that peppered the range lost most of their German populations. These towns were later filled by Czech residents who developed uranium and coal mining. Now, the range’s travel industry has brought much attention to the quaint lifestyle found today in these small towns. 

For guests eager for a gorgeous view or photographers looking for the perfect shot, Fichtelberg Mountain stands as one of the Ore Mountains’ top stops. Fichtelberg Mountain is the second-tallest peak of the Ore Mountains; it sits in the middle of the range and stands nearly 4,000 feet tall. The icy conditions found in the winter attract throngs of alpine skiers, bobsledders and other snow sporters. When the weather warms toward summer, the crowds of snow sporters are replaced by hikers and photographers; trails through patches of woods make for calm hiking opportunities, while the peak itself provides a 360-degree view of the surrounding mountain range.

Snow in the Ore Mountains. VicunaR. CC BY-SA 2.0. 

Another destination sure to pique anyone’s interest is the small town of Seiffen, Germany. Seiffen holds only around 3,000 people, but its influence as a stronghold of local culture makes up for it. The town is famous for its role in the toymaking industry, with over 100 craftsmen living in it alone. Seiffen often appears like something out of Christmastime folklore, as it is known for its top-notch toymaking and stellar artisan Christmas decorations. For the woodmakers of this town, their craft is far more than just a profession. It is common that the artisans of Seiffen pass their craft down from generation to generation, making their work not just a form of income, but a lifestyle. 

Although at first glance the Ore Mountains may appear to be just another mountain range, the wide variety of activities and rich history make it a fascinating spot to explore. 

Ella Nguyen

Ella is an undergraduate student at Vassar College pursuing a degree in Hispanic Studies. She wants to assist in the field of immigration law and hopes to utilize Spanish in her future projects. In her free time she enjoys cooking, writing poetry, and learning about cosmetics.

A Canvas of Colors: Chile’s Majestic Marble Caves

Mother Nature is often mentioned causing destructive hurricanes, explosive volcanic eruptions and other Earth-shattering natural disasters. Just as easily as she causes destruction, though, she creates unparalleled beauty. 

The Marble Caves in Chile. Javier Vieras. CC BY 2.0. 

In every region of the world lies some kind of cave system; they range from the awfully eerie such as Hellhole Cave in West Virginia to the wholly tantalizing psychedelic salt mines of Russia. Although all are beautiful in their own way, few turn heads quite like one such cave system in Chilean Patagonia. Situated along one lake is a particularly artistic cavern system called the Marble Caves. 

At the Argentina-Chile border lies the majestic General Carrera Lake. The lake is the largest in Chile, with a town called Chile Chico resting on its southern shore. Although the town itself is a quaint and quiet getaway, the treasures of the lake draw most visitors to the area; the massive lake boasts a dynamic palette of mesmerizing shades of sapphire and cobalt. The lake is an incredibly remote glacial lake, making it quite the journey to reach. The lake is surrounded by grand forestry, and enjoys a calm backdrop of snowcapped mountains against an expansive sky. In order to get to General Carrera Lake, visitors must depart from the city of Santiago, then embark on a string of drives totaling about 1,000 miles. From there, visitors can only visit the cave system by boat or kayak. 

General Carrera Lake. Dan Lundberg. CC BY-SA 2.0. 

Far from the coast of the lake stands a gargantuan block of calcium carbonate from which the caves formed. For over 6,000 years, the lapping waves of the lake eroded the calcium carbonate, slowly but gracefully constructing the Marble Caves. The mineral-rich location is protected from potential mining projects.

The caves earned their name from the masterfully striped walls; the reflection of the waters below create a cerulean painting on them, with complementary hints of yellow, turquoise, black and white. The caves house different cuts and textures due to the patterns of the eroding waves; some parts are rounded while other areas display sharp rocky points. In addition, the open layout of the cave serves it well, providing ample light for the various hues to stay in the spotlight. 

The vast range of the cave’s colors is ever changing. In spring, the lower water levels provide a sparkly turquoise-green shade, while the summertime gifts the walls a splendidly deep royal blue. 

Time and time again, travelers have found that Mother Nature can create just about any magnificent work of art. The local residents of the lake and any visitor bold enough to endure the journey to it can certainly attest that the Marble Caves are no exception. 

Ella Nguyen

Ella is an undergraduate student at Vassar College pursuing a degree in Hispanic Studies. She wants to assist in the field of immigration law and hopes to utilize Spanish in her future projects. In her free time she enjoys cooking, writing poetry, and learning about cosmetics.

5 Ways to Discover the Distinctive Landscapes of Madagascar

Travelers will surely appreciate the island’s unique biodiversity, but ought to also learn about ongoing social issues in the country.

A scenic view in Madagascar. anmede. CC BY-SA 2.0

Located 250 miles from East Africa, the island nation of Madagascar is one of the most unique places on the planet. Interestingly, the Malagasy people are more closely related to Indonesians than East Africans; they have also developed cultural and linguistic ties with West Africa due to French colonialism. Madagascar is especially known for its incredible biodiversity. At least 80% of Madagascar’s flora and fauna cannot be found anywhere else on Earth, including many species of lemurs, chameleons and butterflies. 

Despite the island's idyllic landscapes, Madagascar’s recent history has been anything but peaceful. After gaining independence from France in 1960, political unrest, countless coups and widespread corruption have dominated the headlines. The most recent coup in Madagascar occurred in 2009 and resulted in massive social unrest and international sanctions, further crippling the country’s economy. Currently, Madagascar is the poorest country in the world that is not mired in conflict, with 92% of the country’s population living on less than $2 a day. 

Deforestation and environmental degradation remain pressing concerns as well. Many of Madagascar’s lush forests have been chopped down to make way for rice paddies and to harvest wood for export. Currently, significant forests only remain on the northern and eastern portions of the island. Southern Madagascar has been experiencing severe drought since 2014, which has left up to 1 million people without food. The country also continues to be ravaged by the COVID-19 pandemic with a  Level 4 (very high) level of transmission according to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. 

Despite Madagascar’s turbulent history, the country is one of the most beautiful in the world with stunning landscapes and kind people. Read on to learn about key sites to visit once Madagascar fully reopens. 

A mother ring-tailed lemur with her baby. Allan Hopkins. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

1. Lemurs

Starting with Madagascar’s furriest (and cutest) attraction, these primates cannot be found anywhere else on Earth. Although they are likely related to monkeys, the exact origin of the species is not known. There are over 100 species of lemurs in total, some of the most notable being the ring-tailed lemur with its long black-and-white striped tail, the sifaka and the elusive aye-aye. There are many national parks where visitors can observe these animals in their natural habitat, including Isalo and Zombitse-Vohibasia. 

Avenue of the Baobabs in Madagascar. Rod Waddington. CC BY-SA 2.0

2. Avenue of the Baobabs

Baobabs are some of the most distinctive trees found anywhere in the world. Six species of baobab grow in Madagascar. Also known as the “mother of the forest” in Malagasy, they have large, bulbous trunks that store water, allowing baobabs to survive in dry climates. Many of Madagascar’s giant baobabs can be found along the Avenue of the Baobabs, located roughly 12 miles from Morondava. Travelers will have the opportunity to walk among these magnificent trees, some of which are over 800 years old!

A beautiful beach in Madagascar. Tatogra. CC BY-SA 2.0

3. Nosy Be

Nosy Be is the largest of a dozen small islands off the northwestern coast of Madagascar. These islands are teeming with rich marine life and offer perfect opportunities for snorkeling, diving and kayaking. Known as Ambariobe, or “the great island” in the local language, Nosy Be is a perfect launching point for cruises traveling to the other islands. Other notable islands in the region include Nosy Komba, often known as lemur island, and Nosy Sakatia, which contains both winding forest trails and pristine dive sites. 

A humpback whale. Krishna Naudin. CC BY-SA 2.0

4. Humpback Whale Sightings 

Humpback whales can be spotted off the eastern coast of Madagascar annually from June to September. Recognized by their black backs and white bellies, humpback whales arrive in Madagascar for the mating season after traveling over 900 miles from the Antarctic coast. If you’re lucky, you may even see a mating dance or a live birth! Ecotourism organizations such as Cetamada allow travelers to view humpbacks up close in an ecologically responsible way. Popular destinations for whale sightings include Nosy Be, Ile Sainte-Marie and Antongil Bay. 

Tsingy formations in Madagascar. Oliver Lejade. CC BY-SA 2.0

5. Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park

Characterized by fossilized shell formations, these unique structures known as “tsingys” can be found in several regions of Madagascar. Tsingy de Bemaraha National Park is one of the best places to see these interesting structures and is located west of Madagascar’s capital, Antananarivo. The tsingy formations in the Melaky and Diana regions of Madagascar are both UNESCO World Heritage Sites and deserve a visit. 

Although Madagascar faces many environmental and social dilemmas, the country has strong potential and an undeniable natural beauty. 

Megan Gürer

Solidified in Salt: Tanzania’s Lake Natron

Miracles of nature are usually praised for their wondrous beauty, often worked into songs or captured in paintings. However, some miracles of nature harbor an equally eerie side. In Tanzania lies a daunting monster that preys viciously in sinister silence. 

Sunlight over Lake Natron. blieusong. CC BY-SA 2.0.

In nearly any social studies class, bodies of water are framed as life-giving and as focal points for the world’s nations. Lakes and rivers are often credited in many civilizations’ lengthy histories for providing a means of transportation and crucial food security. Water itself stands as a symbol of life; ancient Egypt thrived due to fertile soil that would have been absent had it not been for the Nile River. Nonetheless, the complexity of nature has created exceptions to this rule. For instance, in the East African nation of Tanzania lies the deadly Lake Natron. 

Lake Natron sits along the East African Rift System in northern Tanzania, and is 35 miles long and about half as wide. Although often photographed for its location under sunlit clouds and for its serene backdrop, the lake is an abyss for almost all wildlife. 

Lake Natron is a salt lake, meaning it is incredibly alkaline. The deposits of natron, a chemical salt, flow in from the surrounding hills. This causes the lake’s pH level to be a very basic 10.5; this pH level falls only a bit short of that of ammonia and bleach. The water in this lake only flows inward, so evaporation leaves behind hefty salt deposits. Lake Natron can also reach a steamy state, with the water’s temperature recorded to reach 140 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Flamingos on Lake Natron at sunset. virtualwayfarer. CC BY-NC 2.0. 

In addition, a peculiar site is found at the shores of the lake. Long lines of dead birds and bats cover the shoreline, with each specimen preserved in a stonelike state. Scientists explain that the high salinity of the lake “freezes” the animals, perfectly preserving them with all of their wings and feathers in place. Nature photographer Nick Brandt chose to turn this site into a fascinating art project. He perches the birds on branches and poses the bats in order to make them look “alive.” With the help of locals, Brandt collected the best specimens and masterfully crafted chilling portraits of the fallen animals. Brandt suspects that the reflective surface of the lake tricks birds into believing it’s open air, leading the birds to drown in the deadly water. 

However, to say that the lake is completely absent of life is an act of injustice toward the flocks of flamingos that call the lake their home. Nearly 2.5 million flamingos use the lake’s shores as breeding grounds each year, accompanied by thriving algae and a single resilient species of fish. Although a nontraditional ecosystem, Lake Natron’s niche wildlife web requires balance like any other. Threats to divert nearby rivers into Lake Natron would change its water composition, thereby putting the lake’s wildlife at high risk. 

At first glance, Lake Natron appears to be both an example of life imitating art and life imitating horror. Regardless, Lake Natron is the foundation for both important species and scientific study, so there is much to lose if people begin to mistreat it.

Ella Nguyen

Ella is an undergraduate student at Vassar College pursuing a degree in Hispanic Studies. She wants to assist in the field of immigration law and hopes to utilize Spanish in her future projects. In her free time she enjoys cooking, writing poetry, and learning about cosmetics.

Zimbabwe’s All Women Anti-Poaching Unit

Conservation becomes a community enriching project.

Photo of Zimbabwe’s Hwange National Park by Christine Donaldson on Unsplash.

The unit is called Akashinga, Shona for The Brave Ones, and it could not be more aptly named.

Founded by Damien Mander, an Austrailian former special forces soldier, Akashinga is a part of the International Anti-Poaching Foundation, a non-profit dedicated to preserving the Phundundu Wildlife Area. 

Phundundu is a 115-square-mile area in the Zambezi Valley ecosystem which is home to 11,000 elephants and other endangered wildlife. In the past 20 years, frequent poaching has taken its toll on the reserve, resulting in the loss of thousands of elephants. While killing wildlife without a permit is illegal, animal trophies such as bones, tusks, and teeth can be sold on the black market for an amount equivalent to a month’s salary.

According to Akashinga’s website, anti-poaching initiatives often close off “traditional grazing areas, places of burial, worship, water points, food sources and traditional medicine,” making communities feel that endangered plants and animals are more important than their humanity. This resentment can fuel poaching attempts for which offenders can be arrested and sometimes killed. These experiences then reinforce the idea that endangered flora and fauna are of greater importance than the community, creating a cycle of resentment and violence.

To address this phenomenon, Akashinga takes a community-first approach to conservation. By recruiting women from the communities surrounding the Phundundu to serve on the unit, the organization is able to use conservation initiatives to enrich communities. Akashinga’s website describes the effort as having a “community-driven interpersonal focus, working with rather than against the local population for the long-term benefits of their own communities and nature.” To this end, 62% of operational costs are returned to local communities.

In this light, it is significant that the unit is made up entirely of women. According to National Geographic, research shows that in developing countries, women invest 90% of their income in their families, while men only invest 35%. Women are at the grassroots of community life, and when their wages are invested in their families, the entire community proffits.

But this is not the only reason that women are so right for the job. Mander had formerly trained male rangers for years before changing to an all-female model. He said that women are far better rangers; they are less likely to take bribes from poachers, and are skilled at de-escalating high tension situations. In National Geographic he commented that a gun in the hands of a man is a toy, but with a woman it is a tool.

Women also prove to be more resilient. Only three women quit the army-style training necessary to become part of the unit. When Mander was training men, all but three recruits quit after the first day. In National Geographic Mander said that, “we thought we were putting [the women] through hell, but it turns out, they’ve already been through it.”

This resilience is not without cause. Many of the women of Akashinga are victims of abuse, and have experienced their own trauma and exploitation. The BBC writes that Kelly Lyee Chgumbura, a unit member, was raped at seventeen and forced to drop out of school, abandoning her dream of becoming a nurse. She then had to give her baby to her rapist's mother, in accordance with Shona norms where if a mother is unable to provide for her child, the father’s parents become its guardians.

“My goals had been shattered,” she told the BBC, “It was like I couldn’t do anything more with my life.” A few years later, Chgumbura was recruited by her village head to try out for a ranger position. She was selected for the unit, and with a steady career now has a chance to win back custody of her daughter.

Being a ranger provides a sense of purpose as well as an income. “When I manage to stop poachers, I feel accomplished,” Chgumbura told the BBC, “I want to spend my whole life here on this job, arresting poachers and protecting animals.”

Like Chgumbura, most of the unit have faced traumatic experiences and lacked the agency and resources to protect themselves. “Who better to task with protecting exploited animals,” Mander told National Geographic, “than women who had suffered from exploitation?”

Phundundu is the first reserve worldwide to be managed entirely by women, but it will not be the only one for long. According to its website, Akashinga plans to welcome 1,000 new recruits who will protect 20 reserves. They aim to accomplish this by 2025. 






EMMA BRUCE is an undergraduate student studying English and marketing at Emerson College in Boston. While not writing she explores the nearest museums, reads poetry, and takes classes at her local dance studio. She is passionate about sustainable travel and can't wait to see where life will take her. 



In the Czech Countryside, a City Eaten Alive by Its Own Beauty

Since the fall of communism, Český Krumlov has transformed from relic to hotspot—but has it lost its authentic appeal along the way?

Český Krumlov. Alan Bloom. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The Czech capital of Prague is known the world over for its storybook beauty, manifesting most dramatically in the towering gothic facade of the St. Vitus Cathedral and the sprawling tableau of red rooftops visible from atop Petřín Hill. Yet just over 100 miles away is another sparkling jewel in the Czech Republic’s crown: Český Krumlov, a city of only 13,000 residents whose 13th-century castle and picturesque riverbanks have brought it not only recognition as a UNESCO World Heritage site but also an increasing influx of tourists that now threatens its very identity. 

Former Czechoslovakia’s communist regime, which lasted from 1948 to 1989 before it was ushered out by the Velvet Revolution, left much of Český Krumlov in disrepair. Yet the city’s neglected state lent it a sense of mystery and charm. In the years since, Krumlov—much like the country’s capital, Prague—has been transformed into a tourist wonderland, with historic buildings being renovated and revitalized and ensuing increases in tourist income bolstering the city’s economy.

City streets. Hindol Bhattacharya. CC BY-SA 2.0

As the city has changed, so have the demographics of its visitors. In an interview with Radio Praha, Krumlov’s mayor, Dalibor Carda, explained that an initial boom of Austrian and German tourists after 1989 gave way to an influx of Americans, many of whom settled in the city indefinitely. Today, for locals—whether native-born or transplants—the off-season is a thing of the past, with tour groups flooding the city on a year-round basis. “[I]f you want to have a pristine Krumlov,” writes Jan Velinger in a piece for Radio Praha, “you have to get up very early to ever have its romantic streets, or overlooking castle, ramparts to yourself.” Fed up with the unrelenting crowds, locals have largely migrated to the outskirts of the city, resulting in an exodus of local businesses: Bakeries, hardware stores, and family-owned shops are now difficult to find, having been replaced with bars, restaurants, and hostels catering to short-term visitors.

One of Český Krumlov’s bars, popular among tourists. kellerabteil. CC BY-NC 2.0

In some respects, Český Krumlov has moved to mitigate the encroaching tendrils of tourism, notes reporter Chris Johnstone, pointing to a ban on advertising and the exclusion of cars and buses from the city center. Moreover, just this June, the city established a tariff on buses in an effort to regulate the influx—up to 20,000—arriving each year. The plan is the first of its kind in the Czech Republic, although Salzburg and other Austrian cities have imposed similar measures. Now, all buses rolling into Krumlov must book in advance, navigate to one of two designated stops, and pay the toll of CZK 625, approximately $28.

Tourism has inspired not only legislative changes, but also works of art—as in the case of “UNES-CO,” a 2018 project by renowned conceptual artist Kateřina Šedá. Responding to the profound impact of visitors on the distribution of local populations, Šedá conceived of a work that involved relocating a group of individuals and families to the heart of Český Krumlov for three months at the height of the tourist season. The participants were provided with starter apartments and jobs “on the basis of what Krumlov most needs,” which Šedá deemed to be “the pursuit of normal life.” The title played on the city’s status as a UNESCO World Heritage site and on the Czech words “unést” and “co,” meaning “take away” and “what,” as in “What do visitors get out of this place?” Šedá, whose work often involves social themes and who is famed for relocating an entire Czech village to London’s Tate Modern in 2011, stressed that the project was not intended to be a show for tourists, but rather a social experiment.

Houses along the banks of the Vltava River. P. N. CC BY-SA 2.0

On the opposite side of the artistic spectrum, Huawei—the Chinese electronics behemoth currently facing scrutiny from the U.S. for potential security issues—announced in January that it would build an exact facsimile of Český Krumlov at its headquarters. The Huawei campus, which lies just outside of Shenzhen in the city of Dongguan, will also count Granada, Verona, Paris, Budapest, and Bruges among its plethora of reconstructed European cities. “I heard about it when they started preparing it,” commented Cardo. “The fact that they [are] building it without at least contacting the city does not sit well with me.”

The Krumlov replica may well draw more Chinese tourists, who already represent the largest segment of visitors to the historic city. Yet for embittered locals, the mini-city could be a grimly apt representation of what their home has become: a mere palimpsest of its original iteration, and a cautionary tale depicting how capitalism and tourism can spur unwelcome transformation.






TALYA PHELPS hails from the wilds of upstate New York, but dreams of exploring the globe. As former editor-in-chief at the student newspaper of her alma mater, Vassar College, and the daughter of a journalist, she hopes to follow her passion for writing and editing for many years to come. Contact her if you're looking for a spirited debate on the merits of the em dash vs. the hyphen.