They say home is where the heart is – well the heart of The Klobasa currently resides in Policka. Policka (‘shelf’, in English), is a charming town nestled on the Bohemia/Moravia border, and is home to arguably the best pint of lager in the Czech Republic, accessible at the incredible price of 14kc. Need any further convincing to visit? You might be reading the wrong blog in that case, but stick with us and we’ll see what we can do.
Before we sprinted off to Policka we had a certain goal in mind. Close to Policka lies the town of Svitavy, not only famous for its importance to the Czech Esperanto movement (your guess is as good as mine), but also as the birthplace of Oskar Schindler. We arrived and meandered through the town, looking for signs of the aforementioned German industrialist’s home. Typically of Czech tourist information, it was quite hard work to find anything, and Svitavy had done as good a job at shielding his birthplace as he did his Jewish factory workers. So onwards we journied with little assistance in the way of navigation, passing a signpost to inform us we were exiting Svitavy and entering the middle of nowhere. We did not falter. Instead we enjoyed a long, scenic walk through a forest that felt a little more than sinister, stumbling only upon a hotel presumably making a killing out of Oskar’s name. Without luck, and without much time remaining, we trekked back on our footsteps, had a beer and some garlic soup in a moto-rest, and waited at the tiny station for the next train to Policka.
Last time we visited Policka temperatures were so low we were forced to seek warmth in the shelter of every bar we could find with a Policka pivo sign hanging above the door. For our return we didn’t have this excuse, but quite frankly we didn’t need it, and so our first stop was merely a few steps from the station to our favourite ‘pajzl’ (loosely translates as ‘pub with atmosphere’ or ‘boozer’). The smoked swirled around us as we entered the pub to the brief glances of sozzled locals. We took our place beneath one of the many Jawa motorcylces that hang upon the yellow walls and looked admiringly at the drinks menu. Yep, it was still 14kc for a beer. We waited with anticipation before finally getting our hands on that beer of all beers and sinking it mercilessly.
We edged closer towards the football ground, stopping in at another familiar bar where the price of a Policka reaches the heady heights of 18kc. The main square, with it’s impressive town hall, is a welcome site and gives the centre an attraction which goes beyond the simple delights of its lager. The same can be said for the old 14th century town walls which encircle the core of the town. We moved onwards, taking a snap of the brewery itself, and headed to the ground nearby.
Well from the stadion you can see the brewery through the trees, and like every good football ground should do, this one serves up the local alcoholic beverage. As we sank our first and watched the kick-off result in some cloud-searching of a right-foot, we knew this was to be a cracking game. After another one or two lagers, and a pretty decent klobasa, we found we were not wrong as the game ended in thrilling fashion… although the score escapes me now, like much of that day in Policka.
Brimming with merriment and rushed on by the encroaching cold we headed back in to Policka to find warmth in one or two bars around the town, the names of which have since disappeared in to the haze of the cold night. But what will stay with me is the falling off of ludicrously high barstalls, finding picture perfect locations for klobasa stickers, finishing the night with a 5 minute, 14kc, final Policka and waking up to find one too many pieces of beer paraphernalia stuffed in to my bag…