Beer And Loathing: A Night in Prague Bars
Charles Bridge, Prague.
Russian Barman: A Confession
The barman was friendly. From Russia, he told me, though brought up in Prague by way of a couple of years in Dublin. He wanted to go back there; he had an Irish girlfriend. I mentioned it seemed somewhat empty tonight in Prague - all my YouTube research warned me about the nightmare of overcrowding caused by the tourist hordes in summertime. He observed that maybe this out of the way place I’d chosen on Újezd - away from the tourist cattle ‘must-see’ haunts in the Old Town - was always going to be a bit quiet on a Monday night.
He went on to overshare. Warming to his theme, he said that he used to work in busy Old Town places, techno clubs and that sort of thing. I asked him, why he’d switched jobs to this out of the way place? Well, he got caught selling drugs he replied with a smile whilst helping himself to another gratis refill of his beer.
Blur v Oasis: Dick Measuring
The guy on the bar stool to my right - Nathan, American I guess – heard my accent and started on a riff about music and Britpop. How he preferred Blur over Oasis and that Damon Albarn was a genius. But this was like a Gen Z teenager holding forth on the Beatles to someone who’d watched them play Get Back live on the rooftop. He clammed up when I bitch-slapped him with my observation that I’d seen Blur many times in the early 90’s as far back as their Modern Life is Rubbish Tour. Oh! Music snobs don’t like it when, in the dick measuring contest of their wankery, the guy next to them is sporting a ten-inch compared to their meagre six.
But he was nice enough and we talked about New York and Chicago and New Orleans and Brighton versus Brighton Beach. The sort of ‘anywhere & everywhere’ conversation one has internationally. Perish the thought you’re parochial. Me? I visit Belgium regularly and voted for Brexit. Life isn’t simple.
I pulled the old guy routine again when I said my last trip to New York was probably a quarter of a century ago and that I used to party in the Windows on the World. You know, that bar at the top of the World Trade Centre.
“Fuck man! There was a bar there?”
A Beer Too Far?
Mmm. This wasn’t my first set of beers tonight. But, prompted by my Russian friend who needed to make up for his larceny - I ordered one more. Too soon I made my excuses with some Pilsner still left in the glass. The shame. That’s, like, sacrilegious in my culture. But, with pissed bonhomie, I shook hands with Nathan, the barman and his newly arrived Irish girlfriend (also drinking for free). Back out into the Prague night.
Age. Longevity. Memory. There has to be a trade-off, doesn't there? You lose your looks; you lose your hair. You battle to stay thin. But inside - confused, commingled and somewhat capricious - we have memories, memories that make us human, that shyly reveal us as a bit player in a once popular drama that doesn’t run anymore beyond highlight reels or Youtube shorts.
The Girl by the Riverside Earlier
Before that bar, there were – of course - a few others. I’d started earlier, by the river, on the Lesser Town side. There was a joyful noise coming up from a bar in the Kampa region whilst crossing the Legion Bridge (Most Legií). People having fun. Live music. So, I went down to investigate and caught the last few songs of a local band playing outside the Jazz Dock watched by a large, enthusiastic Czech crowd. I only caught the last three songs. They were good. Sorta like The Cardigans (who they, granddad?).
Walking back to the bridge along the waterfront I was followed, and then led, by an attractive, single lady, thirty something who was on her own. I smiled. She smiled. She paused in her walk, I overtook her. I stopped, and she passed me slowly. Synchronicity is a good sign of attraction, I’ve found. Our paths collided when we reached the bridge.
She went left and I went right.
That’s okay: I needed a piss anyway.
What are the Signs and how to Miss Them
Another night. Before or after, not sure.
The woman at Stage Bar on Střelecký Ostrov island. A band was playing, so - as I was crossing anyway, I followed the noise and took the lift down from Legion Bridge (Most Legií). I stood at the back, watching the band, watching the crowd. The most gorgeous woman of indeterminate age, in a tight lime suit was next to me. She was getting into the music, arms in the air, swaying and constantly filling her glass from premixed cans stashed in her bag. She was beautiful; high cheek bones, prominent nose, curvaceous.
Readers, if I had to design, or wish for, a perfect woman, this was she. Alarmingly close, she wiggled, she lifted her jacket to show her ass, bent over on the table in front of me provocatively. She unbound her hair and shook it sensuously. I mean, all the signs! She did literally everything to entice me apart from drop down to her knees and fumble around in my trousers.
I, of course, faced with Yoda’s choice to do or not to do, chose nothing. I gave nothing, encouraged nothing. As she was putting on her show, I could see her stage whisper her friend seemingly asking, is he looking? I know this because the friend would obviously appraise me and the two would then giggle performatively. But I was frozen. Real life and real decisions. Not for me. Eventually the music stopped, as did her actions. Was I dreaming? Did I imagine a come-on? How would I, an observer but unobservant, even know?
I left as she pulled a bottle of prosecco out of her bag. If I was a certain type of guy, maybe I would have stuck around at this point, let nature and bubbles take their course and ride this tram to the next stop. But I’m not and I didn’t.
“You looking at my bird?”
The Pimp on Charles Bridge?
Disgusted with myself, all the beer I’d been drinking and the carby meals I’d been eating, I walked back through Lesser Town slowly and made my way to Charles Bridge. I pinballed drunkenly from side to side, seemingly always against the flow. It’s what I do. Usual crowd. Couples strolling arm-in-arm before heading to their hotel for perfunctory holiday sex. Youngish girls high on life and a couple of cocktails being silly. Guys being loud, annoying and drunk. Amidst this, a gorgeous, oh so beautiful lady, curvaceous in that modern way, smiled at me and I smiled back. Then I noticed a mean-looking guy nearby in jeans with a short hair cut and jacket fully done up. He was slowly walking in front and then behind her.
I paused. The girls didn’t move much. The guy didn’t move much. I walked on and they kept pace with me. I stopped and they seemed to stop. Wherever I was and whatever pace I walked, the guy seemed to be not that far away and kind of looking at me. His gaze wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t even a case now of him being a pimp watching his charges. I felt like a mark and hunted.
And, like a paranoid little bitch who’d watched too many ‘scams in Prague’ or ‘Be careful in Prague’ videos on YouTube, I picked up my skirts and fled the bridge back to the safety of my hotel. No more beers tonight.
Paranoia and missed opportunities. Is anything real? What is the truth? Am I sinking into the abyss or just drunk? Drunk and alone in Prague.
But there’s always tomorrow. I’m going to a comedy club. I feel like a fucking clown anyway. Based on tonight (last night, whatever; recently) I should be on stage and share my dating tips. Mic drop.
That though, dear readers, is another, and my next, story (to be overshared, of course).
Quotidian Notes / Read On
1) This is part of my Prague Quintet series of articles about the Czech capital covering art, music, museums, beer, bar escapades, trams, You know, the full Goulash with bread dumplings. Read part 1 Prague Castle Guide - Is it worth it?
2) I’m liking this In Media Res style of writing. Keeps you guessing, no? Guessing whether I’m a wanker probably but a literary wanker at that. Literary discussion from a bar in Delft: F.Scott Fitzgerald - What a Bitch!
3) The comedy club night is a scorcher. You’ll love it! Just writing up my notes.
4) I went to Prague first week in September 2026. It was warm.
5) What about reading my Krakow Bar Stories or maybe some Antwerp bar stories?
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.
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.