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Quick facts: A haunting chandelier suspended in the nave is assembled from every type of human bone, and the chapel's fittings include an intricately arranged coat of arms formed from skulls and femurs. Visitors often describe an uncanny hush and the flicker of candlelight across rows of skulls, turning the space into a strangely beautiful, macabre gallery.
Highlights: Step inside a tiny Gothic chapel and you are met by a chandelier made from at least one of every human bone, hanging above an arrangement of some 40,000 skeletons. Local legend says a 19th century woodcarver named František Rint organized the macabre display in 1870, carving a blackened wooden altar and arranging skulls into a family coat of arms that still creaks faintly when the winter wind presses through the stone.


Quick facts: Step inside and you feel surrounded by a forest of slender flying buttresses and lace-like ribbed vaulting, where slanted light paints the stone in warm, honeyed tones. Carved miner's tools and patron saints tucked into chapels quietly tell the story of a silver rush that paid for its ornate vaults, a tangible link between everyday labor and soaring Gothic ambition.
Highlights: If you stand under the soaring Gothic vaults you can almost hear the echo of pickaxes, because the whole project was funded by silver miners and construction began in 1388 and only finished in 1905. Peer at the carved stone and stained glass and you will spot tiny miner's tools tucked into the tracery and saints portrayed with hammers, a tactile reminder that the building grew out of a brutal, glittering silver economy.


Quick facts: Wandering through the vaulted rooms you can still picture minting halls where coin dies once struck regal currency, the atmosphere almost audible with imagined clinks. Guided tours reveal that at its peak the mint produced millions of coins, and the unexpected blend of Gothic and Renaissance details delights many visitors.
Highlights: Step into the vault where, beginning under King Wenceslaus II in the early 1300s, skilled moneyers hammered out the famous groschen by hand, the mint producing millions of those silver coins that financed royal wars and long-distance trade. A low stone stair still leads down to the original minting pit, where you can feel worn grooves in the flagstones and almost hear bellows and hammers as coiners worked and inspectors checked each piece for weight and edge marks.


Quick facts: Stepping into the cool, echoing nave you’re greeted by a macabre yet captivating display: thousands of human bones arranged into chandeliers, garlands, and a striking coat of arms. A medieval monastic aura lingers in carved stone and silent chapels, while the bold, artistic reuse of skeletons turns funerary tradition into a haunting, unforgettable spectacle.
Highlights: A chandelier and dozens of decorative garlands hanging inside the chapel are actually made from the bones of roughly 40,000 people, with skulls and femurs arranged into a crown-like central piece you can stare at until the surrounding silence feels loud. In 1870 woodcarver František Rint was commissioned to organize the remains and he fashioned a startling Schwarzenberg family coat of arms out of bone, a deliberate, surgical aesthetic that feels more like careful carpentry than chaos.


Quick facts: Step inside and you feel the scale instantly: soaring Gothic vaults and a forest of slender columns make even small whispers travel along the nave. A surprising amount of medieval funerary art and finely carved stonework rewards close inspection, revealing hidden initials, coats of arms, and weathered faces that hint at the town's prosperous mining past.
Highlights: Step inside and the air smells faintly of beeswax and old cedar, while sunlight slices across centuries-old stone and catches on tiny silver coins that miners once slipped into floor cracks as votive thanks. At the rear, a battered wooden door wears dozens of carved initials dated to the 1700s, a stubborn miners' tradition of etching a name before heading underground.


Quick facts: Granite-smooth stone cools your fingertips at the basin, where water once mirrored the glitter of nearby silver mines. Local legends whisper of secret passages under the square, while records show the fountain served as a vital communal water source and meeting spot.
Highlights: Press your ear to the cold, lichen-streaked stone and you might pick up the hollow ping of water running through a centuries-old channel, a faint metallic note locals call the 'stone heartbeat'. Every year on St. Barbara's feast day, December 4, a tiny procession still tosses three coins into the basin while whispering the names of miners, a quirk that traces back to the town's medieval silver trade.


Quick facts: Step into cool, dim tunnels and you’ll feel the crush of history as guides light authentic lanterns and point out original wooden supports and miners’ tools. A steep descent brings a hands-on saddle demonstration and unexpected stories about how medieval silver shaped regional trade and coinage.
Highlights: Guides lead you 40 meters below ground into narrow timbered galleries, where you can run your hand along 700-year-old wooden supports and taste the mineral tang of iron and damp earth as a flickering miner's lamp casts amber shadows. A quirky tradition keeps the past alive: groups pause to listen to a short medieval miners' chant and to view a tiny carved notch where 14th-century officials measured silver veins, and guides often show coins like Prague groschen from the 1300s wedged into rock crevices.


Quick facts: Approach the facade and you'll notice an oddly theatrical silhouette, where mismatched towers and ornate stonework give the building a tilted, storybook charm photographers adore. Inside, curious details emerge: a richly paneled council chamber, faint mural traces along the stairways, and atmospheric nooks that hint at centuries of lively municipal life.
Highlights: Step inside the façade and you’ll spot carved crossed miner’s hammers and a silver crown over the portal, a literal shout-out to the town’s 13th- to 15th-century silver boom that once made the place one of Europe’s richest cities. Local guides point out a soot-darkened council chamber where a 16th-century municipal bell still hangs above the hall, its clear ring once summoning citizens for emergency meetings and on quiet days carrying nearly 200 meters across the stone streets.


Quick facts: Step inside to feel cool stone underfoot and hear baroque echoes rebound off lavish frescoed walls, where illusionistic paintings trick the eye. Many visitors are surprised to discover a tucked-away courtyard and chapel whose vivid frescoes and ornate stucco draw attention away from the usual tourist trail.
Highlights: A candlelit refectory still smells faintly of wax and lemon polish, its baroque ceiling crowded with dozens of tiny painted cherubs and one deliberately blackened face that locals say was censored in 1698. On quiet afternoons you can press your ear to the cool stone by the south stairwell and hear a hollow rattle like coins from the silver-mining tunnels below, and if you look closely you will find carved initials such as 'J.K.' and 'M.R.' with dates from 1712 tucked into the window sills.


Quick facts: Sunlight gilds the statues so they glow, turning the column into a vertical theater of saints, angels and dramatic gestures. Wry local stories point out the densely packed figures and hidden votive marks, reminders that the monument served as a public vow of survival as much as a plea for mercy.
Highlights: On quiet mornings the warm limestone glows honey-gold and the carved cherubs seem to shift expression as sunlight slides across tiny tool marks. A surprising local habit sees dozens of people tuck tiny folded notes into a crevice at the base every year, a practice that dates back generations and leaves occasional scraps of handwritten Czech peeking out between moss and dust.
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Iconic Gothic castle set above the Berounka valley.
Google MapsRomantic chateau with gardens and Schwarzenberg history.
Google MapsRiverside medieval castle with scenic views.
Google MapsAutumn was unreal, colorful trees behind the cathedral and crisp walks. Layers recommended, wind picks up on the hill.
Food was surprisingly good, hearty Czech dishes and cheap beer. Avoid the busiest restaurants in the square though.
Take the regional train from Prague, about an hour and cheaper than tours. Buy tickets at the machine before boarding to avoid fines.
Went expecting a hidden gem, felt a bit staged and full of souvenir stalls. Still nice for architecture fans.
Carry small cash for cafés and market stalls, many places accept cards but lots of tiny vendors do not and ATMs add fees.
Regional lines to Kolín, Prague, Pardubice
Local line with direct connections toward Prague via Čáslav
From PRG: take airport bus to Praha hl.n., then direct train to Kutná Hora (≈1–1.5 hrs total).
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