Žďár nad Sázavou

Rising from a rocky promontory above the Svratka River valley, Pernštejn is one of the Czech Republic’s most perfectly preserved medieval fortresses. Its silhouette of white walls, towers, and bastions, perched dramatically on a forested ridge, has barely changed since the 16th century. Inside, the castle’s labyrinthine corridors, grand halls, and intimate chapels reveal a layered history of noble dynasties, sieges, and Renaissance refinement. The famous “black kitchen,” with its soot-darkened vaults, and the richly decorated interiors offer a vivid picture of aristocratic life. The surrounding forests and river valleys add a wild, romantic backdrop, making Pernštejn not just a monument, but a complete landscape experience.

On the banks of the Jihlava River, the silhouette of St. Procopius Basilica — its twin Romanesque-Gothic towers and distinctive rose window — watches over a maze of narrow lanes, vaulted passages, and centuries-old houses that together form one of Europe’s best-preserved Jewish quarters. Founded in the 12th century as a Benedictine monastery, the basilica evolved into a masterpiece of transitional architecture: its soaring nave, ribbed vaults, and original 13th-century frescoes speak of a builder’s dialogue between East and West. Just steps away, the Zámostí quarter unfurls across 123 houses, two synagogues, a rabbinate, a hospital, a school, and a ceremonial hall — all confined within a compact district that once housed over 1,500 souls. The Rear Synagogue, restored to its 18th-century painted splendour, now serves as a museum of Jewish life; the Front Synagogue hosts cultural events. The Jewish cemetery, a short walk uphill, holds 3,000 weathered tombstones, the oldest legible from 1631, their Hebrew inscriptions leaning like exhausted prayers. Remarkably, the quarter survived the Holocaust largely intact — the community was deported, but the buildings were repurposed, not destroyed. UNESCO recognised this dual heritage in 2003, citing the “interchange of cultural values” between Christian and Jewish traditions. Today, walking the cobbled Lanové náměstí at twilight, with the basilica’s bells echoing off plastered walls, one senses a dialogue that transcends tragedy — a testament to coexistence etched in stone and memory.