Valtice

The fog lifted Sunday morning as we crossed the border from Bohemia to Moravia, another of the three "lands" that comprise the Czech Republic.  Acres of sunflower fields gone to seed failed to reflect their namesake.

Neither Victor nor our hotel was shy about emphasizing the quality of our delightful accommodations.

Although chilly water rendered the infinity pool useless, it provided a pleasant backdrop for rooftop cocktails and conversation at sunset.

Before World War II, Valtice belonged to Austria just a few kilometers to the south.  Borders in Central Europe have shifted constantly over time.

A movie shoot had shut down tours of the Baroque castle which dates from the 11th century.  We first glimpsed it at night.

You couldn't miss the signage for a local bike store.

Open restaurants were few and far between post-tourist season but we managed to find a couple during our three-night stay.  I ordered venison goulash with dumplings that resembled crustless white bread at one

. . . and a strawberry parfaits for all of us ended another meal.  Pavel, our wonderful innkeeper, shared his homemade goulash our final night--at no charge--when we were too exhausted to leave the hotel.  Now that's what I call service!

I also purchased some burcak from a roadside vendor.  Foodies describe it as a "young Moravian wine," partially fermented.  It's definitely fizzy as I learned back in Prague when I opened the two-liter bottle in Chris's apartment.  Pink foam spewed everywhere.