Repressions and Redemption: Nazi & Communist Museums in Prague
Jan Žižka Statue
Here I review as part of my Prague Quintet Series:
The National Memorial to the Heroes of the Heydrich Terror at the crypt of St Cyril and St Methodius
National Memorial Prague: Bus 207
I took Bus 207 to - near - well not near really (thanks Gemini - ever been anywhere you know nothing bitch?) - the National Memorial on Vítkov Hill. Concrete, vast, Albert Speer-esque, built in the years prior to the Nazi takeover. Robbed by the communists post war and then repurposed after the Velvet Revolution of 1989. It’s seen some changes.
I took the bus there from Old Town as directed by AI. Bought a 30 minute ticket via my PID app. But I activated it too soon as the bus driver was having a - probably union inspired - break. He chomped on some gruesome meat sandwich with one hand, fag in the another, dick in the last as he hung out of the bus doorway giving some serious ‘don’t fucking ask me a question’ vibes to the queue waiting at the stop. A naive tourist asked him when the bus would leave in Japanese accented English. Taking a bite of his sandwich, and a drag on his fag, this civic employee gave the earnest enquiry the full Czech version of, ‘fuck off, I’m on my break, bitch’.
Anyway, it took thirty minutes by bus to pass through the mandated eight stops and negotiate the Prague traffic. I had twenty seconds left on my ticket. So, being young and fit, I decided instead to walk back to Náměstí Republiky. Which took me twenty minutes. Twenty-five with my hawk-like, fuck the data allowance, unnecessary, scrutiny of Google Maps on my phone. There’s a lesson to be learnt here, children. Remember it. I’ve preached this gospel before - read my Paris walk guides. Or my London walk guides. It’s often cheaper, quicker and more interesting to walk. Don’t be a sheep. And here in Prague, you get to walk off all the fucking beer and those heavy dishes they keep serving me. And I keep ordering. More sausages, vicar?
Should you go to the National Memorial? Yes, of course. The views over Prague are spectacular. It’s free and the statue of national hero Jan Žižka is vast and impressive. It’s a good anchoring point to the city and, being in the opposite direction, a quiet counterbalance to the tourist mandated Prague Castle. Best of all, it was completely empty. I had the place almost to myself. The park surrounding it is also beautiful.
Museum of Communism: The Once and Future State?
And onto the Museum of Communism. Bottom Line Up Front: These commies were evil, murderous soul-destroying bastards. Like the Nazis they are the (often forgot/forgiven) bad guys of recent history. Maybe if Stalin had a comical moustache and kept his murderous instincts to one racial group, our collective view would understand what a satanic bastard this guy was. But, Uncle Joe followed his egalitarian principles in all things; he - and his Czech fellow-travelling bitches - just killed anyone and everyone. Did you spill my pint? Look at my bird?
Control always leads to repression which leads to the gulag. Every time.
The museum was laid out - like the Oskar Schindler Factory in Krakow - in chronological order starting with the foundation of Czechoslovakia after WW1. I must admit, I was drawn to the subject so I read everything on display. Each panel, each exhibit was clearly labelled with explanatory notes in both Czech and English (sorry French! Germans; well, you know. You know.)
What I found interesting is that a) there always was a large communist movement in Czechoslovakia b) the economic conditions of the country weren’t great (an unhappy proletariat) c) the Brits (and the French) sold them out in Munich undermining their massive prepared defensive lines on the German border. This sell out ‘gave’ the Sudetenland and all those defences away leaving the rest of Czechoslovakia easy prey to Hitler’s later brutish expansions.
And then onto the communist era. Like Poland, out of the frying pan and into the fire. No wonder these ex-communist states leapt into the EU. There’s not much difference between the Nazis and Communists. The horseshoe meets with these two extremes. What was it that Orwell said about a boot stamping on the human face forever? A leadership cult combined with control of labour, industry, media, thought, family life, travel, money (the 1953 devaluation fucked any Czechs with money). Just a grim life with petty restrictions, pointless activities and savage repression. Fuck! The Czechs were butt-fucked in the 20th Century. Like the Poles and many others. You forget that living in God’s own sceptred isle.
Thank god we escaped this in Britain.
History: Not everything is a Munich sell-out. Except when it was
History is right there in front of you, if you’re prepared to look back just a tiny amount. But increasingly, we’re not. The Tudors have been au courant for so long now, perspective is lost. Even our modern obsession with the Nazis is superficial and one dimensional. Poland. Belgium. France. Russia. Dunkirk. Battle of Britain. Yeah. Yeah. GCSE syllabus. But what about Greece? Bulgaria? Yugoslavia? Czechoslovakia? Burma? Yeah, I’m reading Churchill's History of the Second World War so I’m newly educated (you can’t get enough autodidaction).
Hitler bad and, er, everything that isn’t total war is another Munich these days. But what, my friends, was the actual deal in that original Munich Agreement? A sell out, but of what? Does anyone know? A Czech sell out. The future of Czechoslovakia without anyone from that country being present. Thanks Chamberlain. Revisionism (ie, the game obscurantist historians play where everything you know is wrong) will applaud you for simplicity. But this plucky nation remembers.
I’m reminded of Tim, idiot-clever, going to Iceland years ago on a business trip and being schooled by my hosts about the British take-over in 1940. Who the fuck knows that? I didn’t. WW2 is not all Dunkirk and D-Day. It really was a world war and all these smaller nations remember and we, well, we don’t. Sideshows and footnotes in our Island Story.
Tim’s Mandated Histories - Brave Paratroopers
The National Memorial to the Heroes of the Heydrich Terror at the crypt of St Cyril and St Methodius (Operation Anthropoid)
Now if you have a couple of days in Prague, it’s mandated that you go to the Dancing House which is rather interesting architecturally. Good for a picture anyway and not much more. What you probably won’t do - but should - is visit the crypt of St Cyril and St Methodius Church which is about 200m up the hill away from the river. This is where the seven brave (British trained) Czech paratroopers made their final stand in 1942 after assassinating that Nazi scum Heydrich who ruled Czechoslovakia as Reich Protector.
It’s tastefully done. Again, panels are in Czech and English and explain the background, the plot, the botched but ultimately successful assassination. The brutal Nazi repressions that followed and the ultimate victory of the Czechoslovakians. Most moving is that having proven their resistance credibility with this act - an act which provoked the shocking Nazi response - Britain, in the form of Anthony Eden the Foreign Secretary recanted, followed by De Gaulle, their shameful Munich Agreement appeasement. Finally, the Brits did right by the Czechs and it’s gracious of them to acknowledge this in a moving panel. This small gesture on our part meant so much to this nation.
Into the creepy crypt itself where most of the paratroopers made their final stand (two others were shot in the church itself) after being sold out. It’s cold, claustrophobic and not much changed from the pictures. Wounded, caught and with no escape, they finally took their own lives rather than surrender to the Nazis. The Nazis then revenged themselves by wiping out their families, any acquaintances and frankly any fucker they chose. This is the nature of autocratic regimes.
What is somewhat heartbreaking to know - thanks to my earlier visit to the Museum of Communism - is that the brave Czech fighters who fought with the British and Americans and helped liberate Czechoslovakia were then persecuted by the Communists as not being sufficiently loyal to the new post war regime and Comrade Stalin. They’re honoured now as patriots and this small (free) museum tells their story. You should go. I took no pictures inside out of respect.
The Memorial to the Victims of Communism Petrin Hill
Quiet Reflection
Walk back on the other side of the river and choose your bridge - not Charles - to get back to Old Town. I found I prefer the opposite bank of Smíchov and Lesser Town. Tourists don’t really go here. It’s more peaceful, more normal; life is good and full of trees and happy families playing in parks and business people snatching a coffee and talking cheerfully together.
All is how it should be, not as once was. It’s best to remind ourselves of that every now and again.
Quotidian Notes / Further Reading
Part of my Prague Quintet Series of Articles about my recent (Sept 2026) trip to Prague. Read them all. I cover art, comedy, Bohemian Cafe Society and nights out on the town.
For a touristy type of further reading, start with Prague Castle - Is it Worth a Visit?.
The National Art Gallery Prague and a Baroque Concert is a good place to read up on high arts in Prague.
For more low brow Prague insights, try a Comedy Night and Tech Bro’s. Less serious. Apart from the comedy.
I mentioned Poland a few times. It’s almost a companion piece. Read my Krakow Trilogy which covers museums, history and Polish cafe life.
Bohemian Cafe Sketch Prague
A Laptop Friendly Cafe in Prague
Bohemian bar scene - Cafe Na Boršově - merely steps from my hotel (Naprstkova 272/10, 11000 Prague 1). Everyone has a laptop. Dr Google and his bratty know-all brother Gemini, said Prague wasn’t into the laptop scene. Wrong! This cafe is laptop heaven. Everyone is tapping away. And Tim? Hell yeah, balls deep in this place. The vibe? Studenty with chandeliers.
Who’s here? Let’s review…
Many of the clientele are women. No, don’t get excited. Not much makeup is being used here. Certainly not as much as the blue / green hair dye. And straight fringes. Not many smiles in my direction. It gets in the way of all the earnest conversations over endless coffees. ‘Nuff said. There are exceptions though.
The guy on the next table is attempting to be the gayest guy in Prague. He’s been in training for years, the dapper moustache, the floppy trousers, the striped t-shirt, the exaggerated manner as his etiolated limbs flop ceaselessly across his ostentatious handbag. He’s exasperated and performatively so, thirty years out of date, seeing every person as his disapproving father. He’s also got the best table in the fucking room, the table in the corner with the fully open window to which he rebelliously sticks one leg through out into the street. No rules, man!
I take the table next to him and type as he crunches through the ice in his empty cocktail. I type. He splits an ice cube. Cur-runch! Type. Curr-runch!
Co-Working and Claude
Two girls opposite pilot Claude for some mysterious project. Odd, non-male-pleasing, haircuts meet skater-boi fashion as they high five over some agreement in their plot to take over the world. Or finalise their manifesto for trans rights access to women’s bathrooms at Charles University. Or perhaps their nascent plan to subvert received opinion by setting up The Donald Trump Appreciation Society of Prague. Going on instinct, I’d say the former.
A serious guy in a tight white T-shirt rocks a Mac by the steps to the bar. He keeps the keyboard an arm’s length away so he can flex for the benefit of the room. He types deliberately and drinks coffee. He has the look of a jock who’s watched a video on the manosphere and has ‘thoughts’. Either he’s writing the definitive guide to having sex with seven women in one week or his dissertation towards his BSc in Generative AI. Probably the latter. His confused look at his screen suggests he’s unfamiliar with deep thoughts. He probably thinks this attitude and his flexing makes him look cool. Sadly, it probably does. Twat.
The co-working team in the other corner sit around a large table each wearing headphones. Together but so alone. I’m sure when they converse they do it via some WhatsApp group chat. So much easier than talking across the table, eh? What is their project though? Looking at them I think either plans to create Czechia’s Revolut or a group project on why my mummy hates me.
The Trouble with Maria Lounge Act
Over in another corner, a heartbreakingly beautiful woman recites biblical passages and rituals to a nun in full Sound of Music gear. Looks like a novice type interview. It’s that sort of place. I’m not even surprised. Obviously, I won’t put the novice off her potential course in life, but, if she’d like to test out the sins of the flesh before she takes the pledge, well… I’m here and my hotel is only two doors away. I offer these services for free. What’s free these days?
Well, what’s free is the annoying French guy languidly getting up from his table and playing schmaltz on the grand piano like he’s swallowed half of Richard Clayderman’s playbook. Not the good half either. It’s all a bit doodley, sub The Piano meandering arpeggios. Luckily, no one pays him the slightest bit of attention - the attention he seeks anyway - and he slams the lid down in a huff and goes back to his red wine. Philistines.
He’s now furiously scribbling into his leather notebook with a Montblanc pen. Game knows game.
The girl. Alone. With a laptop. Heartbreakingly beautiful with tresses of long blonde hair. Mysterious, coy, reserved. But what does she write? Is it the mirror image of my own solipsistic tappings? Maybe, how she fantasises about the hot but slightly older mysterious English guy who fails to make eye contact with her but is unfailingly polite with the waiters? Possibly. One down tick though for the visible tattoo between her neck and bosom. This generation is lost. So very lost.
Ah, the 80s! Music
The music goes back on after the French interlude and it’s good. Bronski Beat plays. Smalltown Boy. I used to dance to this in the Crypt nightclub in Sussex University in the mid 80s. Fuck off granddad. Sade now. I watched her live at Live Aid, my Czech friends. Nathan from that bar on Újezd the other night would change the subject here. And I met Madonna. Sorry mate; I have baldness and memories and you have youth and callowness. I know, regretfully, which has better currency.
The attractive waitress brings me another beer and bends down to do so. I try (and fail) to avoid observing how her floppy top opens out to show her boobs. Luckily I’m not too lecherous - well being caught peeking is awful - and so turn away and smile innocently when she stands up. Not my style. I ask her, is it okay if I go outside to vape (I haven’t paid my bar bill yet) and she says those magical words - “It’s okay to vape inside”. Fuck! This is my new home and to drive this home the Cure comes on! This is my Prague BOHO bar! And it’s next door to my hotel. Ignoring the Thai massage parlour in between, of course.
Reflections
Another day, after a late afternoon spent listening to baroque music in a stunning Renaissance church, I return to the cafe to write up my thoughts. It’s my home-from-home in Prague. I walked to the bar with my laptop. Asked for a beer at the bar. Waiting, my musings on the foamy pour are distracted though when suddenly, from behind a curtain at the back of the room, came not one, not two, not ten but thirty oh so beautiful Czech ladies. What the fuck? But, thank you! What was going on behind that curtain?
They scattered around the place in fours and fives, their high pitched voices energised from whatever they were doing in private. Aperol was taking a serious beating. Me? I gathered my pilsner and held onto a table near the door observing. There’s an ornate wall length mirror on the other side of the room where I can stealthily scan the room from two perspectives. Next to me a youngish lady on her own dawdles through her cocktail seemingly bored. She orders something and a few minutes later the waitress - she knows me now and just brings beer when my glass looks empty - brought her an open sandwich.
Seizing the moment, I tried a line on the lady as she fiddled with her food. Asked her about her sandwich or something. Bold for me if slightly pathetic. Her response wasn’t fulsome nor encouraging of further conversation. Of course, I’d picked the only young Czech lady who doesn’t speak English.
Or did I?
Later. Back at the hotel. I’m looking at the surreptitious picture I took earlier of the room via the mirror at the other side of the room. It captures everyone in the bar, those in front, those at the side, me and her. In the picture, she’s looking at me intently, all alone, as I gaze at the mirror, phone in hand, laptop and beer laid before me. There’s a story there if I was clever enough to read it. She was too shy perhaps to engage? Possibly. It’s true I give off an unattainable Brad Pitt vibe. Must try and tone down the high-status sexual attractiveness. Make myself available to normal ladies.
Or did I fuck up again and miss the signs only to realise too late what was actually happening right next to me? Readers, here is the photo: you judge:
Mirror Image in Cafe Na Boršově
Don’t judge me too harshly.
Yeah. I fucked up didn’t I?
Bollocks.
Quotidian Notes / Further Reading
1) Food and drink. I ate here quite a lot of my time spent in Prague. The menu was more of your light bite variety which came with salad so made me feel slightly less piggy than the normal beef stew and dumpling fayre elsewhere. Pickled cheese was interesting! Beer. Yes, freshly poured Czech pilsner. I had many drafts of this.
2) Before I went to Prague I googled laptop friendly places and the results were pretty poor. Apparently, it’s not the done thing to sit in a cafe / bar in Prague and tap away on your laptop. So, imagine my surprise when right next door to me (skipping the Thai massage parlour) was this gem. It was lively, interesting and lots of work gets done here. It’s very close to Charles Bridge but in a side street so prices are reasonable and the staff, boho model types, very friendly. I definitely recommend this place.
3) Part of my Prague Quintet series detailing different aspects of Prague from a solo traveller point of view. Start with Prague Castle - Is it Worth it, and then follow the trail through Comedy Nights, Art Galleries and Baroque Music and my experience with a pimp on Charles Bridge (really Tim, you may be dramatising for cheap effect here).
4) There’s a certain voyeurism about taking mirror pictures is there not? No, no, no! It’s narcissism, my friend. The picture and the blog, ostensibly outward-looking is always, and forever, inward facing. I’m also beginning to realise it’s about missed connections.
Art, Music and Blogging in Prague
St Giles Church, Prague Old Town
Tim Reviews High Art in Prague:
National Art Museum - Veletržní Palác
A Baroque Concert in Church of St Giles (Kostel sv. Jiljí)
Morning Motivations
Did I tell you my hotel does breakfast thrown into the room price? So no matter how hungover I was from my comedy club / Alpha move excesses, there was no way I was going to miss this eat-all-you-can buffet. I piled the plate high with Czech sausages, refilled the coffee and drank copious juice. Heavy but satiated, I repaired straight back to bed. How did I get in this state? What happened the previous evening?
Tossing and turning as bright, jigsawing light escaped through my hastily pulled curtains, I realised this self-pity was a fucking criminal waste of time. Get your lazy arse up Tim and go and do something! Thus inspired, I chose art. Because, why not? I’m cultured. Tick. Here. Tick. Cultured and here. Tick-tock. Let’s go to an art gallery and gaze at some pictures.
Retrieving my shorts from where I’d thrown them at 2.30am, I finally made it out of the hotel and caught the 17 tram off to, well even I can’t remember. Somewhere in one of Prague’s non-touristy areas, anyway. My destination? The brutalist, post modern factory building that is the National Gallery Prague – Veletržní Palác.
And what a good museum it is.
Beauty and Brutalism
Picasso, Monet, Toulouse Lautrec, even Van Gogh. Lots of - surprise, surprise - Czech artists. Essentially the theme was the nineteenth century onwards. Plenty of good Impressionist art that segued, unfortunately, into a load of modernist, cubist abstracts. The 1920s and 30s certainly were a particular low point in the story of art.
In total I probably spent a couple of hours in the museum studying the pictures with an intensity reserved for hangovers. I even came to appreciate the art-for-the-proletariat factory setting. I must admit though, I skipped a lot of the modernist stuff. As the art critic T.E. Robson once said, “What a load of bollocks. Learn to paint.”
But there was plenty of good stuff. I’d call out Adolf Kosárek - Winter Night (1857), Antonín Waldhauser - Gothic Ruins (1870), Georges Seurat - Harbour in Honfleur (1886), Oskar Kokoschka - Prague Charles Bridge (1934).
My favourite - for personal reasons - was The Balcony by Czech artist Miloš Jiránek (1908). I was disappointed I couldn’t get a postcard of this picture but not doing so saved me around 10p.
The utilitarian communist brutalism of the building - a factory of art in fact - worked. The layout was crisp and followed a well defined path. I would have spent more time on the floor dedicated to post war architecture (shocking, rabbit hutch apartments presented in black and white photos and scale models with much sub-Corbusian contemporaneous intellectual bullshit about homes for the workers) but, well, I couldn’t linger long. The paracetamol was wearing off and the hangover was kicking back in.
I needed the 17 tram back again. Onboard I was lulled by its steady rhythm and missed my stop. But, serendipity is the key to solo travelling and I stayed onboard as we trundled alongside the Vltava River. Indeed, I’d paid £1 for 30 minutes. So I got my money’s worth. I got off at the Dancing House (been there, done that, got the photo) and walked back. Hangover messy, I overshot a second time and ended up in the Old Town again just in time for the lunchtime troughing of the tourist hordes as they ordered their pizzas and burgers, Aperol and beer.
Sidebar: Overheard dialogue in Old Town
“Where shall we go?” a British Northern accent asked her rotund husband in his football top holiday attire. “There’s a Popeyes over there,” he responded and they gleefully crossed the road, the desire for empty calories strong even here in Prague.
I flock. They flock. We all flock.
Listen dumplings, Czech dumplings will fill you up better, for cheaper and, I dunno, you’ll try something new, something local. Why are you here again? Nah. Fuck that. Irish bar later? They serve Stella. Can we get a tram to the Prague Castle? Avoid the Old Town unless you like being herded from overpriced, insincere, anywhere, nowhere, fodder.
I know. I know what you’re thinking: You’re the guy with a laptop who can’t handle real interactions that aren’t on a barstool with conversations that rise and fall depending on the drink you’re ordering. And what about your myriad failures to read people? Women in particular? Okay. Good points, all. I get that... Bitch. But we all come out swinging somewhere and find our level. I just write mine down.
Yes, I’m a snobbish twat. Read my stuff - I own it. I’m the mayor of this town. Finding interactions with humans, observing them in foreign places, is what I do. But these random diversions helped in one way: It delayed my first beer today: 16:00; a new self-denying record! Onto the music.
Baroque Interlude
Not sure when I first heard Ave Maria. As a non Catholic, it didn’t really cross my musical horizon that much. Perhaps the Liverpool film ‘No Surrender’ (anyone remember that one?). But today, in a beautiful church, first with a powerful organ and secondly, with a string quintet and soloist, it was moving. Very moving.
The formal church setting, perhaps? The professionalism of the musicians, maybe? Hard to say but it got me both times. Dust in my eyes and all that. Twice. I was there for Vivaldi. Mozart. Handel. Albinoni. All my baroque favs. The musicians went Route One with us €30 tourists; playing the heavy hitters, the Classic FM (or whatever the equivalent in the US is) top ten. Popular classics. Chuck in local boy Dvořák and you have a cosy hour of Western cultural brilliance.
The Church of St Giles (Kostel sv. Jiljí) setting was perfect. These pieces were composed with religion in mind, in praise of God in an era when that meant something, when people gave a toss. And so hearing these excellent musicians play these excerpts from The Greats here was, cynicism aside, moving.
The audience. Well, pretty much 100% tourists. American mainly (who says they’re dumb, they certainly aren’t - I don’t endorse that stereotype), Japanese, probably some other mixed Europeans as well. The solemnity of a magnificent church didn’t really create a chatty-chat, where you from, environment. This wasn’t a boozer so I traded my normal barstool for a pew. On either side I had Americans and I guess they were religious. They bowed their heads and clapped at the end of each piece ever so politely. As though doing so was a bit profane in a church, you see. I guess.
Tim Has Thoughts
Me? Well, you know me. Laptop guy. Getting pissed in a bar writing shit about everyone, soooo; I thought I’d mix it up here in Prague. I love classical music. I love baroque and, outside of Venice and watching a Vivaldi recital at an historic church in San Marco, this was grazing the ceiling of the best experience you can get. I took a couple of short 5 second videos but - to be honest - felt a bit guilty doing so. Does anyone live in the moment anymore?
Yeah, yeah. We’re all victims of Insta culture, #somoved_prague. I get that but, but, I’m an artist. I paint word pictures of foreign cities for your benefit. You know, the bits that other quotidian, top 10 sights wank merchants miss. So, the odd video helps jog the already-had-four-pints-before-I-arrived memory.
Yeah, I needed a piss halfway through. I suffered for my art and you, my dear readers.
Talking of click bait bitches. I met some famous Prague YouTube vlogger I’ve been following in the lead up to this holiday on my way back from the church. His videos gave me some useful insights into what to see in the city whilst I’m here. Actually, it was he who recommended going to the National Monument at Vítkov. Good videos. Cool guy. I went over and shook his hand and said I watch all his videos. He kinda blanked me with a ‘thanks for watching’ before immediately looking away. Wanker. 2 million subscribers? I get better numbers from my bot attacks.
And with that, we head to the bar.
Quotidian Notes / Further Reading
Part 4 of my Prague Quintet series of articles about my recent trip to Prague. This is the morning after the night before, detailed in my Comedy Night in Prague blog.
And who is that vlogger? Not hard to work out. Perhaps I was being a touch unfair and maybe he was filming. Nah. He’s a nob.
I separated art (pictures & music) from museums. The weighty history of Prague in the 20th Century deserves its own blogpost. Fuck! This Quintet of articles is turning into a full bloody orchestra. Did I actually do anything in Prague apart from write? Weeeellll. Yes, see above for example. Where I wrote, well that in itself is another blog. FFS.
Read more City Tours in Scabrous adventures series. Try The Darkness of Bruges or, for perhaps The Do’s and Don’ts of Krakow? My wanderings around the sights (bars) of Breda is criminally under-rated. Along with the video of me on stage in that town.
Prague Castle Review
Prague Castle: Is it worth it?
Whatever they say do, don’t do. Whatever they recommend, treat with caution.
I overheard a guide today at Prague Castle tell the flock gathered around her umbrella: “You’ve seen many magnificent sites today. Food for the soul. But what you now need is food for the body. I will show you an excellent cafe around the corner that serves the best coffee and cakes in all Prague. I will take you there.”
ABC: Always be closing.
Pro Tip: Based on five days of on-the-ground research, my "beat the crowds and feel smug" route appears at the end of this post.
Route 1: Up the Hill
I walked up the hill from the Lesser Town (Malá Strana) relatively early to beat the crowds. And yes, to get to Prague Castle (Pražský hrad) you will have to make the short but steep climb up either the Old Castle Stairs or The New Castle Stairs.
It’s certainly an investment in your calf muscles this excursion up the hill to Prague Castle. But, like, you have to do it. Don’t you? I mean, that’s what all the guides say; come to Prague, see the castle, cross Charles Bridge, rub a statue, blah, blah.
BTW: There is another way to get to the top. You can hire a ridiculously extended vintage car costing, in Czech Koruna, probably something like half this country’s GDP, and be driven past the sweating tourists all cursing you. This option is mainly taken by tourists who wear masks a lot. Even in an open-air car with your own family. Fuckwits.
And yes, I know there’s also a tram but, this blog supports walking wherever possible.
So, who else was also making this morning trek?
Fat Americans, stopping every few steps, sweating profusely, caught twixt and between McDonald's and Starbucks (yes, there’s even a Starbucks here at Prague Castle along with authentic Czech kebab and weed shops).
Koreans, also pausing every ten steps - this time for the obligatory selfie.
Determined families, pushing their reluctant teenagers up the hill to get that parentally mandated culture fix, all whilst laden down with bread rolls and apples stolen from the hotel breakfast buffet.
Me? Walking steadily but faster than this lot. Getting those steps in to negate the previous night’s beer and dumplings overload. 20,000 steps here we come!
You Made It!
And if you make the journey to the top - and you’re not too tired to rock when you get there - you’ll be glad you did. It's certainly pretty and boasts a great view over Prague spread out below you. Ornate palaces and churches sit randomly on a large site; it’s less a castle and more a collection of stately buildings on a hill - the entire district is called Hradčany. A bit like Wawel Castle in Kraków to be honest; there’s no real ‘there’, there.
I like history. I love architecture. But the rehearsed ‘pretend you give a fuckness’ I found up there leaves me colder than a foamy beer poured from an Old Town cellar bar into a refrigerated glass. But I won’t say it’s crap because it’s unique, historical, and hovers over the city like a sinister bat ready to swoop down and devour its tourist ant hordes below on Charles Bridge. You have to visit.
Without a guidebook or any research though, it’s probably a baffling trip; Karel this, Leopold that, palace of the beer vat, palace of the dumpling, Church of St. Beardy Guy… Yeah, okay, I admit it: I did fuck all research and I’m too cheap to pay for the ticket to see the interiors or get a guide. I guess I’ll carry that regret, that disappointment. But lightly.
Impressions: Cobblestones & Trucks
On the hour, every hour, a bell chimes to command the strolling tourist monks to the high mass of the changing of the guard. It summons them to the service of a higher power - those “I was in Prague’ Insta shots. Probably later scrubbed of the crowds. Yeah, it was just you there and the fancy soldier boys.
The constant pitter-patter of manic delivery trucks on the cobblestones was the pleasing soundtrack to my visit. If you get here early enough, your aimless wandering can be enhanced by the friendly “Get out of the fucking way, tourist” yell from tattooed drivers counting down that angst-filled hour before their first comforting beer of the day.
Observation: What is it with solo female travellers? They all seem to cradle large, extendable cameras around their necks. One watches as their hands play lovingly with the retractable lens - extending it, shrinking it, twisting it as they try to coax a perfect shot.
Groan. Yes readers, another poor sex metaphor. You love it.
Explore the whole complex slowly and at your own pace. There are many fine, lesser palaces in various styles and covered archways as you move around. It’s not all about the castle proper. If you absorb the vibe rather than hurrying around to get in the next queue, I think you’ll have a richer and less stressful time
The Descent: Some Marriage Advice
I walked back a different way (there are two main walking routes to and from the Lesser Town below). Interestingly, I was stopped on my way back down by a sweating and overweight American couple, pausing to catch their breath on their way up. The lady asked me: “Have you been to the Castle? Is it worth this climb?”
Now, the bastard, impish Tim would have said: “No, it’s a waste of time. Just stop here at this cafe - highly recommended I’ve heard - and have a couple too many beers each and discuss your secret S&M fantasy with your husband. To me, it looks like he secretly wants you to peg his arse vigorously. Y’all have a good day now!”
But I didn’t. I chickened out and said something safe like, “It’s not too much further, I think you’ll like it when you get there. There’s plenty of level ground. And a Starbucks.”
You see, I can be nice. IRL as the kids say. Master of the keyboard, I’m Vlad the Impaler crossed with Genghis Khan. With a touch of Amis, Hemingway, Wilde and Fitzgerald, of course. In person, well... I’m a Director at a fintech company.
And onward Tim marched downhill, across the river, off to his next stop. Unlike the castle delivery drivers, today I put in place a no-beer-before-1pm rule. I’m a man of resolute will and once I set my mind on something no pilsner pleasures can distract me. Okay, the first one was at 12:55pm. I break rules. Even my own.
Pro Tip: The Petřín Park Back Door!
I said at the start I have a good tip for you. Instead of marching straight up from Lesser Town like everyone else, make a proper walk of it and go via some of Prague’s hidden treasures.
Warning: If you’re a fat fuck, don’t bother as it is again a long, windy trek and the complete walk is around 5km or so. If that’s you, stick to those touristy Trdelník snacks and guide-recommended cafes that always seem just that little bit underwhelming and overpriced.
This route starts via the Legion Bridge (Most Legií) and leads up through Petřín Park. You come to the Castle from the opposite direction by walking through miles of beautiful, quiet parkland. Hardly anyone is there and you get vastly superior views of the city and the castle complex. That is because the expansive park sits high on the ridge, providing dozens of uncrowded vantage points as you progress over toward Hradčany.
You even pass through St. Wenceslas' Vineyard (Svatováclavská vinice) and copious orchards. You could almost be out in the rolling countryside, so peaceful is this route. No Starbucks in sight.
It’s a great walk. Nobody does it. Feel smug. You’re welcome.
Quotidian Notes
Trip was early Sept and the temperature was 22-27C.
Part of Prague Quintet series of articles. I thought I’d start with a nice touristy click-bait one first. Reel you in before I hit you with the bars, people, music, art and history diatribes. You’ve been warned!
Part 2: Beer and Loathing: Missed Connections and Pimps is now up on the website. Reader caution advised!
Part 3: The Comedy Club and the Crypto Guy. Going all Alpha in central Prague…
To read about Krakow - and a similarly insightful Wawel Castle review - check out my Krakow Trilogy
I’m often reviewing citys. My Scabrous City Tours - Antwerp, Bruges, Mons, Breda etc - should be read, well, now.