Mid-April is an interesting time in Central Bohemia. And by “interesting,” I mean it is uncanny how virtually every element of the weather is identical to my native New England.

Cold, snow winters. Hot, humid summers. A refreshing autumn after the oppressive summer heat. And while spring is a welcome change from the seemingly eternal darkness and brutally bitter winter weather, Prague denizens are somehow caught in a weather limbo. In mid-April, it’s still too cold for t-shirts, and not yet hot enough to ditch even a light jacket. Thus, it’s either wear a jacket and sweat or brace the mild chill and put on a jacket anyway. Maybe that’s why Czechs, like many New Englanders, frequently complain about the weather: No matter the season, there’s a always a reason for some sort of discomfort.

And yet this is incongruous ever-changing weather sometimes leaves its mark–if only for a few hours. One such example was December 28th, 2024. T’was a few days after Christmas and all around Prague, the air was so cold and moist that all one could see was a cloud of ice fog.

To a casual observer, it looked like snow was all around, yet ice was everywhere, from the tops of the trees to the grass on the ground.

A few people from Prague braved the cold air, as the previous Christmas without snow was totally unfair. To see such a sight reminded one of years long ago, when every Christmas covered all of Bohemia in pristine white snow.

As we walked through the footpaths on the outskirts of the city, and admired the view so unique and so pretty; we couldn’t help but think that perhaps all this was a sign: Christmas without snow is a capital crime. And although this snowless Christmas didn’t result in any tears, it left us all hopeful that we’d enjoy better luck next year.

The summer heat, as many people reckon, is just as oppressive from a different direction. Here’s an amusing story from July 2022, when I needed escape from the heat island known as Holešovice (yes, I know it’s not literally an island, just a figure of speech for the scorching hot peninsula). Some locals had recommended that I make a day trip to Český Krumlov. This small town is a little over an hour away by bus, and sits just north of the Austrian border. I made a reservation at one of the local hotels, and set of for what I thought would be a relatively quick and painless procedure that would take my to this historic, picturesque village. Boy, was I wrong!

The bus ride itself was fine — until I arrived. The driver spoke to two American tourists as they stepped off the bus. I didn’t catch all of their conversation, but I distinctly heard the driver say, “the other bus stop is closer.” I wasn’t entirely sure if this was my stop, but I tried to get up from my seat and exit the bus anyway, since it seemed like I was close enough to my destination.

However, this simple feat proved impossible. The woman who was sitting next to me looked startled beyond belief when I tried to get up. “My stop,” I said. When I spoke to her, she looked utterly horrified. It wasn’t just a language barrier that was a problem–it seemed totally beyond her comprehension that someone would actually get off the bus at a popular tourist destination. No matter, I thought. The next stop is closer, right? Maybe those American tourists just wanted to go for a scenic walk on their way to Český Krumlov, right?

Wrong. My hopes quickly evaporated as the bus traversed along a mountainous rural road with no human structures in sight. To be fair, the evergreen trees that enveloped the landscape were very pretty, but I was in a bind. I really had no idea where this bus was going or how I would get back to Český Krumlov. And my Czech at this point was so nascent that I wasn’t really sure how I could communicate anything effectively to the person sitting next to me. Suddenly, I remember the magic word (or a magic word) “prominte” from my Duolingo lessons (this roughly translates to: me, you excuse please. Ironically, the word “perdon” means the exact same thing in Czech as it does in English. Obvously, I didn’t know that then. Oopsie).

Anyhow, after about twenty minutes, the bus pulled off the main road and made it’s way into a very small village that had about ten houses situated on each side of the one road of said small village. I looked right at the woman next to me and just said, “Prominte!” She finally got it that I needed to exit the bus, and exit I did. Once I stepped off the bus, I checked my phone to see if I still had reception in the remote mountain town. Sure enough, I did. Success!

My elation was short lived; however, as I quickly searched to see when the next bus would arrive in the opposite direction to take me back to Český Krumlov, only to find out that wouldn’t arrive until the next morning. I also had just enough service to discover that it was exactly ten miles (or 16 kilometers) to my original destination. I resisted the urge to scream into the wilderness and commenced walking. Hey, at least it was downhill!

I honestly can’t remember how long it took for me to walk, but I do remember that I was an absolute bucket of sweat by the time I finally arrived at my hotel. I quickly asked the receptionist if I could stay for an extra night and was relieved beyond words when he answered in the affirmative.

Once acclimated, I walked up the stairs to my room for the next two nights. The cool mountain air swept in through an open window. I took a few deep breaths, and let out a long sigh of relief. I had two days Český Krumlov to look forward to.

Thank god I paid for the second night.

But that is a story for another time . . .