A photo lab, a testing room, other labs, and their ventilation systems. All of this was needed here, and for now, it’s all on display...

Just about everyone who played with PIKO trains as a child is familiar with these little cars. They were built in the 1950s for the Deutsche Bahn (DB), which needed to modernize its passenger cars after the war. But there was nowhere else to turn, so they had to refurbish old Prussian cars dating back to before World War I. The conversion resulted in these three-axle second- and third-class cars, which remained in service until the 1980s. The surviving ones were supposed to be restored, likely for museum purposes, but that never quite happened, so you can see various stages of work on their interiors, including blueprints fluttering in the wind.

In terms of the scope of its production of computer technology equipment, the national enterprise was one of the most productive in Czechoslovakia. By 1975, it had supplied domestic and foreign users with the following range of main products: 18,000 punch card machines, 220 computers for information processing, 1,000 MEDA analog computers, and 160 single-purpose analog computers... And today it is no more. It disappeared at a dizzying pace to make way for a lucrative development project, so when Robert pointed out to me that it was being demolished, my friend and I didn't have much time left to do anything about it. On one side, equipment was flying out of the windows, on the other, an excavator was already gnawing away at the building.

This Baroque castle changed hands quite often, including among prominent families. One of them sold it to the dean of the law faculty, who had a new castle built in the English Gothic style and an English park added to the old castle. After his death, his widow transferred the castle to a relative, whose descendants unfortunately did not take care of it. The new owner repaired it in 1938. Another owner acquired it in 1945, but three years later the communists stole it, along with the estate, and in the 1950s turned it into a children's home. In the new millennium, it was abandoned, put up for sale, and is now happily falling into disrepair in the hands of a developer. It's a shame...

There used to be a private sanatorium for nervous and lung diseases here, but it was closed during World War II because of the Jewish origin of its owners. After nationalization by the communists in the 1950s, a pulmonology clinic was located here for a long time. Today, unfortunately, only homeless people live here, as evidenced by the neatly arranged shoes by one of the doors... Perhaps it will see better times now that the complex has a new owner.

...Maruna replies... The hum of lathes has been replaced by the cooing of pigeons, the rumbling of presses and the clanging of hydraulic sheet metal shears has been replaced by the clatter of shattering glass falling from skylights on the roof, and the roar of furnaces has been replaced by the wind rushing through the hall. Only the comradely commitment still hangs firmly in place.

A gym and hotel built in a former factory and the owners' villa. Considering that it was only completed a few years ago, it is in a rather poor condition, which says a lot about the quality of the work carried out...

"...they are very popular throughout the year, even in winter: people who need medical treatment, fresh air, peace and quiet, and beneficial winter sports come here; they ski, skate, toboggan, and sled in the park and in the woods. The most significant advantage of these spas is their coziness: they do not dazzle with splendor, but attract with their pleasant simplicity and modesty, replacing the family home for many patients. All guests gather in the common dining room, where, as well as in the park, they often organize informal family entertainment. They are equipped for treatment with peat mud, massage, Swedish gymnastics, water, sun, steam, carbon dioxide, and electricity. Treatment here is particularly successful for those who have suffered a serious illness or operation and need further care and rest, as well as for anemia, diabetes, gout, rheumatism, diseases of the lungs, liver, digestive system, spinal cord, nerves, etc. There is perhaps no illness that cannot be treated here. All this has been swept away by time, and only ruins remain of the once famous spa.

A simple castle was built at the end of the 18th century under the ownership of the Storchenfeld family. After 1948, like many others, the castle was stolen by the communists and became part of the collective farm. In a well-known comedy from the 1990s, we laugh at how a neglected village tries to get closer to the world, with the help of a partnership with Italy. However, Italian entrepreneurs did indeed buy up real estate and land in the Czech Republic en masse in the 1990s. This castle is no exception. Among the monuments, the infamous Mauro Piccinini owns almost everything here. He also owns the local listed castle with its farm. And as is often the case under his care, the castle is haunted by the wind, one roof after another is falling down... well, the partnership didn't really work out, would you say?

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It used to be a station on the main line, not some forgotten local line. Yet the staccato of wheels has fallen silent, as have the radio announcements and the hustle and bustle of passengers. To this day, there is a water tower reminiscent of the steam era, when it supplied water to the iron horses, and a warehouse with a ramp, remembering when the railway still regularly carried piece goods. Yet today, its tracks end behind the station, the wiremen have rolled up the traction lines, the signals have gone out, and the express trains rush off in a completely different direction. What remains is an abandoned platform where no one waits anymore, a clock where time has stopped, a single abandoned train that has nowhere to go, and a bus stop that has been turned into a shelter for the homeless. Even the sign with the altitude has disappeared....

For 114 years there were huge cement plants that needed to be fed with raw materials. These were originally brought to the site by small rail, but also by cable car or underground conveyor belt, and eventually by normal gauge siding from the surrounding quarries. As the plant grew beyond the railway line, the construction of a transport bridge began in 1911 and 1912, replaced in the 1920s by a conveyor belt bridge. Here, limestone supplies flowed beyond the railway line to the clinker mills, bunkers and rotary kilns. Perhaps due to the previous backward regime, traces of all stages of transport have been preserved here. From the crusher of the local small-scale railway, through the tunnels of conveyors from the adjacent quarry, to the slag bins from the ironworks used for the associated production of slag bricks. The silhouette of the slag tipping ramp could be seen through the trees. For someone with local knowledge and an interest in the industrial history of the area, it is a charming place, although the new owner has dismantled all the technology and the cement works no longer exists apart from a few buildings.

In the courtyard of the small chateau with a farmyard there is a former fortress, to which a small brewery has been attached since at least 1620. With the construction of the chateau, the fortress was converted into a larger brewery, which operated between 1761 and 1874 and was subsequently converted into a cooperative distillery. Alcohol was still being produced here in the 1930s. Thereafter, only the decline of the whole area followed, culminating in the 'care' of the agricultural cooperative and post-revolutionary restitution.

What else to call the place of destruction, one of the three, where this strange association originally collected the jewels of our railway history destined to be saved, but instead of working on it, they let the tooth of time and the unwilling hands of Czechs suffering from the ideology that what cannot be stolen must at least be destroyed... From the massive collection today there remain the torsos of cattle cars, wagons that may still have helped solve the final question and one brewery cooler. The wreckage of the MUVka, the youngest construction machine abundantly represented here, presses up against the hurricane, probably because they both have Tatra engines in their ruined bowels. And the only thing that's left is the wind, whining through the radiator shutters that won't budge.

Few would recognize the castle in this ruin, although there have been some efforts at reconstruction. And if it weren't for the Mengele manure spreader, I wouldn't even put it here, but Mengele? Really?! I think everyone should know that name, but did you know that the Angel of Death's father founded the company that made these agri-machines for 140 years? I wouldn't have dreamed that until 2016, any products would bear the name of this creature...

One of the army's strategic circuit fuel depots, which in the past was an important logistics hub of the CSLA. It had a considerable capacity. There were to be around a hundred cylindrical tanks with a total capacity of 10 million litres. The site was connected to the railway network by a siding, the existence of which allowed for efficient fuel distribution and the prohibition of stopping in the vicinity of the station in the past, testified to the strategic importance of the site. The site was a heavily guarded area during the Cold War. After the reorganisation of the army, it lost its original significance and was not even taken over by the State Material Reserve Administration. However, it is still partly used for various purposes and guarded by the camaraderie to this day. I didn't stay there very long... Nevertheless, the discovery of a military box from 1931 with the marking of the Military Buildings Administration, or a garaged piggy bank, perhaps formerly working in a petrol depot, was interesting.