Location-based name time: ‘navrch’ is an adverb, meaning something is ‘on top’. Usually, an adverb derives from an adjective, but this seems to be the reverse – ‘navršní’ is the adjective, and the street is, yes, high up.
I quite like the fact that ‘navrch’ can also be translated as ‘to boot’ (Je hloupý a navrch drzý = He is stupid and cheeky to boot), but sadly this is not relevant to the street name.
Until 1935, Navršní was called Klostermannova, after Karel Klostermann (1848-1923), a German-Czech writer who wrote under the name ‘Faustin’. He’s still got a street named after him in Modřany.
I’m a little bit sceptical that the street was already named in 1920 – it’s not particularly usual for someone to have a street named after them during their lifetime, and my eyebrows have been similarly raised in other cases in the past.
‘Pruhy’ are ‘strips’, ‘bands’, or ‘lanes’. In this case, the street is named after the kind of strips that you will find in, or separating, individual fields.
A ‘planina’ is not too different from its English translation – it’s a plain – and this street is on one.
Na planině includes a secondary school, opened in 2009 – it’s named after Milada Horáková, and specialises in teaching modern history: https://www.gymh.cz/.
When Nová cesta was build in 1925, it was, quite literally, a New Road. It isn’t anymore (well, it *is* a road, credit where it’s due), but the name has stuck.
Those who think the name should have been updated might do well to remember that Prague’s New Town was founded in 1346.
Or that Newcastle’s New Castle was built in 1177 (go to Newcastle, by the way, it’s fab).
Or that Novi Sad (also recommended) was founded in 1694.
Descriptive street name time – ‘točitá’ means ‘spiral’, ‘winding’, or, if you’re trying to look a bit swish, ‘serpentine’.
If you want some vocab, a ‘točité schodiště’ is a ‘spiral staircase’.
And, given Communist Czechoslovakia’s propensity for cover versions, the more middle of the road, the better, how am I unable to find a Czech version of ‘The Long and Winding Road’ to end this post with? I mean, shouldn’t that not only exist but also be one of Karel’s all-time biggest hits? Humph.
Jaroslav Panuška was born in Hořovice, near Beroun, in 1872. By the age of ten, he had already painted his first watercolour. His family moved to Prague, and he attended secondary school in Smíchov.
In 1889, Panuška started studying painting at the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague. After several breaks, he finished his studies in 1898; in the same year, he married Marie Suková, with whom he would have three sons and a daughter.
Panuška’s signature style can be well described as ‘spooky’ – here’s Vodník (The Water Monster) from 1896.
And here’s Návštěva mrtvého (Visiting the dead) from 1897.
After graduating, Panuška painted all across Bohemia, and visited the Balkans several times. Exhibitions dedicated entirely to his work took place in both Mladá Boleslav and Hradec Králové in 1910.
There was also a large exhibition of his works, concerning ‘vast antiquity’, in Prague in 1917.
Settling in Kochánov, near Světlá nad Sázavou, in 1926, the focus of his paintings from this point on became Lipnice Castle.
A member of the Union of Fine Artists from 1900, Panuška died in Kochánov in 1958, and is buried in Světlá cemetery. An oak tree in Kochánov that he was fond of painting is now named after him.
In 1890, Kovařovic became director of the Pivoda Singing School; in 1895, he was the bandleader of the Czechoslovak ethnographic exhibition in Prague.
From 1890 to 1900 he was a teacher and director of the Pivoda Singing School, and in the 1894/1895 season he was also the choirmaster of the Hlahol in Vinohrady.
Then, in 1900, he became head of opera at the National Theatre, holding that role until his death. Before 1900, he had also made several compositions of his own, but, afterwards, his focus was on conducting and editing.
Kovařovic died in 1920, and is buried at Olšany Cemetery.
While his compositions are not necessarily that well-known compared to those of his contemporaries, he did compose several dozen songs for choirs, as well as piano works, chamber compositions, ballets, incidental music for plays and several operas.
If you do know one of his compositions well, you may have been a scout or worked with the scouts – his Skautská hymna (1912) is still sung by scouts at marches and official events.
The earliest written mention that we know of is from 1358. The name means that it was once the property of someone called Valtin, a shorter version of ‘Valentin’.
In the 1600s, a German name – Walterschlag (‘-schlag’ being a clearing) was derived from it; (it’s often the other way round, but Valtínov was almost certainly founded by Czech-speakers.
There haven’t been a huge number of key events in Valtínov, but we do know that, by 1921, it was, once again, exclusively Czech in ethnicity, which is not always the case for places round here (you’d only have to drive south for about twenty minutes to cross the present-day border with Austria).
That journey would probably take you through Slavonice, a case in point (0.4% Czech-speaking in 1910; 14% Czech-speaking in 1930), and also an excuse for me to post some photos of my trip there two months ago.
Two mildly dissatisfying statements to kick this one off: Ke Krčské stráni was ‘probably’ built ‘sometime in the 1940s’, and seems to not get its own street sign.
It’s nice and green round here, so much so that two maple trees in the street were declared ‘significant’ in 2025.
And the trees around here certainly are: one was planted in 1985 by the American writer Kurt Vonnegut Jr., and the second was planted a year later by his countryman fellow author, John Updike. Why here?
Well, Ke Krčské stráni, now decidedly residential, was, from 1976 to 1986, the home of the Jazz Section of the Musicians’ Union. In 1985, they planted trees and bushes around here, hoping to form a green belt.
1985 was also the 40th anniversary of the founding of the United Nations, so the Jazz Section asked UN headquarters in New York if they could build something to commemorate that. Permission was granted, and a plaque was created (also celebrating the anniversary of the end of WW2).
Vonnegut happened to be visiting Prague at the time, and came here to plant his tree. Others would turn up, often in secret, in later years, to plant their own trees – including one Smíchov-born Madeleine Albright.
Here is a picture of Vonnegut visting the Jazz Section on Ke Krčské stráni (credit to Jiří Kučera; photo taken from the Jazz Section’s Facebook page).
This was all a bit too Western for 1985/6, so, in the latter year, the authorities got rid of the plaque and messed around with the greenery so that the problematic American jazz trees were unrecognisable.
The leaders of the Jazz Section were also thrown into prison, being released in January 1987, with a huge effect on the health of many of them.
It lies on the historical border between Bohemia and Moravia, meaning its inhabitants must spend an awful lot of time talking about how they are so different from each other.
The earliest written mention is from 1288, and the village was previously dominated by German speakers – Kunžak is derived from the German name, Königseck, which means ‘King’s District’.
It functioned as a market village, owned by the lords of Jindřichův Hradec; it suffered badly in the Thirty Years’ War, after which it wasn’t properly restored until the 1670s.
Then, in 1808, the village was almost entirely destroyed by a fire. It bounced back due to the industrial revolution, and, by 1880, it had 2,400 inhabitants (almost all Czech speakers). It’s got slightly fewer now (about 1,500).
Kunžak’s influence has made itself felt remarkably far away for a Czech village – it’s given its name to a small planet, number 11167 if we’re being precise, which was founded in 1998.
It was discovered by Czech astronomer Petr Pravec, who has discovered 350 of these objects, and even has an asteroid named after him.
It’s not unusual for places which we think of as single units to have once been two separate places, with ‘upper’ (horní) and ‘lower’ (dolní) in their names to distinguish them.
For example, there used to be a Horní Nusle and a Dolní Nusle, both with residential farmhouses and both in existence before getting treated quite badly in the Hussite Wars around 1420.
And, as this street name (partially) indicates, we once had villages called Horní Krč and Dolní Krč. The former, in 1900, had 823 inhabitants, whereas present-day Krč has about 27,000.
A ‘stráň’ is a hillside, or a slope, and this street is quite literally on one in Krč.
I’m quite glad that my mental block/conviction that ‘stráň’ means ‘border’ turned out not to be true, because Na krčské stráni is in no way on the border of Krč, and I’d have struggled to explain its name at all if I’d been right.
It’s a damn shame that there was never a soap opera called ‘Krčenders’ or ‘Krčsiders’, though. Guess there’s still time?
For something that had so many streets named after it, the Krč Waterworks are surprisingly hard to get information about. We know they were built in 1912; the water tower was fourteen metres tall and looked like this: https://krc-historie.cz/image/1235.
A newspaper article gives us confidence that it was still operating in 1926; it also appears on a map (not necessarily bang up-to-date) from 1938.
Until 1935, it was called Kozinova, after Jan Sladký-Kozina (1652–1695), leader of the Chod peasant rebellion. He’s still got a street in Hostivař, but the uprising is covered a little on https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/01/30/prague-2-day-25-chodska/ (and do check out the Chods – interesting people).
Meanwhile, the first mention of Krč that we know of – or, being accurate, Carrium, because that text was in Latin – dates from 1222. Mentions were few and far between, clearly, as the second-oldest is from 1273.
During the Hussite Wars (1419-1434), the Prague Hussites took over the villages of Upper Krč and Lower Krč. They were confiscated from them in 1547, but then purchased by Prague’s Old Town in 1586.
In 1628, during a decade in which Hussites were stripped of most of their property post-Bílá Hora, Krč x 2 was given to the Havel Monastery – itself confiscated from Hussites and given to the Carmelite Order a year earlier (https://whatsinapraguestreetname.com/2024/10/08/prague-1-day-175-havelska/).
By 1900, Lower Krč had about 1,350 inhabitants, and was part of Nusle; Upper Krč was smaller, with about 820 inhabitants, and was part of Královské Vinohrady.
By 1922, the villages had a combined population of 3,700; on 1 January of that year, they, like so many other districts, became part of Greater Prague.
Obviously, there are things to look at all over Krč, but, as this series is currently a good way into the district – with a long way to go – I’ll try to show those whenever we get to the streets they’re in.
This was presumably named after ‘habr’, or hornbeam, i.e. a hardwood tree in the plant genus Carpinus (there are 45 accepted species, of which three exist in Europe).
Hear ‘Habrovka’ these days, and you might think of its annual music and theatre festival. This post is very well-timed, as that’s on in a couple of weeks and looks very interesting indeed: https://www.habrovka.cz/.
What's in a Prague street name 
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