Prague is regarded as one of Europe’s most beautiful cities. Its historic buildings survived the bombings of World War II, unlike nearby Dresden or Warsaw. There were some ugly Communist blocks added in certain neighborhoods, but the really cool older architecture is still in place where the tourists go. The monster statue of Stalin was torn down in 1962, though it would have been helpful to see it so we could forecast what Trump’s next monument will look like.
Prague is also known as the beer drinking capital of the world, with its heavy consumption of Pilsner Urquell with every meal and in between. In its summer season it is also a popular destination for young Brits on “holiday” or “stag dos”, excuses to get drunk somewhere outside their normal pubs. Our group was neither young, British, nor on a “stag do”, and we were not visiting during the peak period, but we were anticipating a bit of drinking nonetheless.
If you were hoping for another trip report filled with fighting between me and Sai or the antics of Teddy and Catherine, you will not find it here. Sai, Teddy and Catherine were not invited. No wives or children were allowed to interfere with our beer pursuits. Sai and I fought plenty beforehand, and I paid her handsomely to sign off on the old men’s trip.
My friend Dave recently turned 50. We’ve been friends since high school, many many years ago. Marc is a friend from college, not quite as many years ago, and he is nearing his 50th birthday next month. It was in recognition of their post-midlife milestone (none of us will reach a century) that we planned this trip. Fan (a old friend from work, two decades ago) was our fourth, like me along for the fun.
Normally the rule for a guys’ trip is that whatever happens stays unstated. But this wasn’t Vegas, Prague is too pretty not to share, and we’re too boring to have anything any more upsetting to the wives than what they are used to regularly anyway. To be safe, I have offered Dave, Marc and Fan opportunity to comment before publishing. Marc filled in at the end while they otherwise declined comment, pleading the fifth?
I had been to Prague once before in 2006, on a drunken stumble after losing the Vienna Marathon to my brother. I remembered little detail from that trip because I spent years trying to block out the painful memory of the defeat, but somewhere in mind I thought it was a cool town. Marc had been a few times with family and was a fan. From his Polish wife he had absorbed a lot of very similar language between the neighboring countries. Dobry den vs dzien dobry (hello); Na Zdravi vs Na zdrowie (cheers!); dekuji vs dziekuje (thank you); pivo vs piwo (beer); and nerozumim vs nie rozumiem (I don’t understand). Marc was practically a local! Dave had never been but he’s well-traveled and able to drink anywhere. Send him to a hardcore dry country and he’ll find some rubbing alcohol to ingest. Fan was a European virgin! Our oldest party member had never set foot on the continent previously and his initial reaction was that there were too many white people. (Fan is of Chinese origins). This was similar to my initial impression upon my first trip to Asia, when I was overwhelmed by so many Asian people (go figure). In the USA, there has traditionally been a better melting pot or mix of races, to which we’ve grown accustomed. This was pre-Trumpian 2.0 revolution and may prove an antiquated experience to future generations as MAGA works to whiten the makeup of America first, with more to follow.
Fan’s fears of overwhelming whities dissipated when he quickly recognized that everyone spoke English and no one seemed to find his presence problematic, as long as he was drinking beer to fit in like the rest of us.
The people of Prague were very friendly in our experience.
Rather than boring you with every detail, I’ll instead only bore you with the highlights. Too many details were likely lost in the haze of frothy brews over the course of my three days. I also realize that no one wants to read about how Dave spent hours crying each day about how old he is, or how Fan assumed that every European was a sex trafficker (he’s seen Taken too many times), or how Marc marked his territory, or how I needed Fan to help me up every time I sat down because I’m so out of shape…
Cheap Icelandair
I know, I’m supposed to skip extraneous information, but first I have to vent about the lack of service on Icelandair. For the international flights from IAD (Dulles) to Reykjavik and Reykjavik to Prague, they provided water, free of charge. And that’s about it. Headphones? Extra. Beverage besides water? Extra. Simplest snacks? Extra. Even after learning this on the initial six-hour flight, I was unable to do anything about it in between, because the connection was so tight (45 minutes to clear customs in Iceland before boarding the second plane) that there was no time to pick up a snack or beverage at the airport. When I wanted a break from my book, I watched a movie with subtitles since I’m too cheap to pay for headphones from the airline, but that made me read even closer. Iceland is great to visit (per my previous trip report), but Icelandair was very disappointing.
Enough about Icelandair…
Fan and I arrived first on our synchronized flights from the frozen frontier airline, preceding Dave and Marc by a couple of hours. We located the airport express (AE bus) for cheap transport to the main train station (only 100 koruna, which works out to around $5 US). Cab or Uber would have been at least five times more.
From Hlavni nadrazi to our Air BnB location in Wenceslas Square (Vaclavske namesti)* was only a ten-minute walk on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. I was glad I hadn’t overpacked with warmer clothes or raingear for this November weekend.
*The Czech language uses all kinds of accents and diacritics that I have no intention of trying to find on my keyboard. Don’t rely on my misspellings for your own mispronunciations.
U Pinkasu
Fan and I stowed our limited luggage in a nearby locker before embarking on a triple distance journey to the nearby restaurant (restaurace in Czech) U Pinkasu. We were still feeling out the reading of maps in Prague, a challenge that would continue for the entirety of the trip. And by we, I mean Fan, Marc or Dave, because my phone was useless outside the apartment because my company did not actually approve roaming cellular service like they had promised. I could point in the general direction I thought we should head, and I was right almost a quarter of the time!
U Pinkasu is a hidden gem off a small side street right behind the main thoroughfare of Wenceslas. Wenceslas Square is like Times Square without so many homeless people or rude New Yorkers. There are restaurants, shops, clubs and pubs up and down three sides of the square, with a cool-looking museum at the other end. During periods of unrest, this is where the protesters gather to express their disdain for their Nazi / Communist / bad beer oppressors, via mass congregation or self-immolation. It’s also where late-night sketchy people try to coax you into the clubs (Free drinks! No cover! People much younger than you!), or even sketchier people offer you sex or drugs outside the clubs. “Sniff-sniff” is either code for coke or we misheard the guy saying “snyt snyt”, which is a weird Czech beer pour with half the glass foamed up. I didn’t see any kegs or mugs nearby… Pretending you don’t understand the language, no matter which language they try, is one way to get them to go away.
Pinkasu is an old restaurant that has been serving beer and sausage since 1843. We had beer and sausages. The idea was to eat light because we would go heavier for dinner a few hours later. It was a charming place that checked the box (see what I did there?) for local flavor without seeming too touristy.
Step Right Up and Up and Up…
Marc found a centrally located Air BnB that could comfortably accommodate all four of us on paper. In practice, it was not as comfortable as we’d hoped. Previous reviews mentioned that there were a lot of stairs because it was on the fifth floor, but we ignored those slackers. None of the reviews mentioned that the heat pump of the apartment needed to be reset hourly or it would click itself off, leaving no hot water for the faucets or showers, nor anything flowing through the radiators. The maximum temperature we were able to achieve in our time there was 16.7 degrees C, which is around 62 degrees F, which is darn cold for an indoor space in our weak American opinions.
The cold is not immediately apparent when you enter the apartment because everyone is sweating and gasping for air after the climb to the penthouse. What they call the fifth floor is really the sixth floor because they don’t count the ground floor as the first floor outside of America (must be a metric thing). And they have extra tall ceilings in their buildings, so the anticipated 52’ of climb (say 10’-6” floor to floor, from second to 5th Floor plus an extra 10’ for ground floor retail), is really more like 85’, effectively putting you on the 8th floor for a building in DC. I was not ready to climb to the 8th floor repeatedly to and from our place. Did I mention how old we are? After the initial 8 steps from exterior grade to ground floor landing, there were ten sets of 17 steps each to reach the top. That totals 178 steps each way if you’re doing the math. And what makes it more fun is that you hit the light switch at the top or bottom landing before descending or ascending, but if you are not quick enough, the lights will go out on you before you’ve gone more than two landings, leaving you in pitch black; you would have to scramble for an intermediary switch somewhere or use your phone to navigate the rest of the way.
The first chair I sat on in the apartment was broken (as if I wasn’t feeling fat enough after huffing and puffing up all those steps). Then the toilet in my bathroom stopped working until I Macgyvered it. The water pressure was weak. Most of the building seemed abandoned, or our neighbors were ghostly quiet with some boarded up windows. Otherwise, the place was great!
BBMA (Best Beer My Ass)
Once checked in, recovered from our climbing, and showered after two days, we were prepared to present our group to Prague properly.
The Pilsner Urquell Experience was blocks away from our place. A bit pricy at nearly $30 per ticket, you are given cheap headphones to talk you through the tour of beer history, starting with ancient gods and goddesses, through the middle ages of a bunch of Wencers (four different Wenceslases, from the 900s to the 1400s), on up to a beer revolution in the 1830s that led to the creation of what they proclaim to be the best, purest, most amazing beer ever, their very own Pilsner Urquell.
First of all, they pronounce it Ur-kwell. I always thought it was Ur-kell. Not to be confused with Steve Urkel, legend. The Bohemia region boasted great beers across the years until the early 1800s when some shills started passing swill made of less than the best pure ingredients, but at a lesser price. Think Natty Boh instead of Yuengling (suck it Baltimore). In 1838 or thereabouts, they dumped a bunch of barrels of cheap, nasty beer out in their drunken version of our Boston Tea Party, causing frat boys everywhere to cringe and cry. But afterwards a beer manifesto proclaimed better beer with real standards at reasonable prices, and in 1842 P.U. became that product (really poor choice of initials to define a less stinky beer).
They explained that the frosty heads on their pours helped to hold in the flavor and proved that all these years of being told I’m a poor pourer were unfair.
Then they gave us three tokens for pints of beer, which helps to justify the cost of the experience.
When Keith and I visited Prague back in ’06, I recall reading that they had the best beer in the world with their Budweiser Budvar (think nothing like our Budweiser). It was good beer then, and it still is! Pilsner Urquell, it’s okay in my opinion. I don’t buy their hype.
With Konviktion!
Restaurace Konvikt is an old pub and restaurant that looks like it was built hundreds of years ago because it is housed in a building from hundreds of years ago. It was featured in a fictional book I read about Prague as the place where old friends reconnected to eat, drink and discuss plot points, so we figured we’d try it for the first two. Our plotting is generally pointless.
Showing up without a reservation on a Friday night, we were escorted down to the dungeon level where we were seated beneath the frightening gaze of Lon Chaney, who had no connection with the place that I am aware of, but lined the wall with images from his famous horror films.
Beers were quickly brought and we had some amazing dishes (pork shank, ribs, goulash). It was all awesome, and my favorite meal from the trip. Very cool place and friendly service.
It would have been a great way to end our first day of Prague – drinking in the dungeon under the watchful eyes of century-old scary villains.
Instead, we stumbled through some other establishments, including a stop at the Oktoberfest Pub for liters of beer, but its ambiance was less local and their American music (despite the lead singer’s cute accent) was too much like what we would find back home. It felt neither German nor Czech. Too many tourists for us (hypocrites that we are).
At one place, Marc displayed one of the most acrobatic saves I’ve ever seen when he blindly missed the set of steps he was walking down, yet somehow managed to balance it out instead of breaking a leg or a hip or his neck. It really would have been a bummer of a way to start the trip had we lost a quarter of the crew on the first night.
Speaking of steps, we eventually ended the evening with a 178 step climb back to our icebox, with some late-night KFC* in hand, and got some well-needed rest.
*One downside to the end of communist control in 1989 is that it opened things up to every American chain restaurant you can imagine, including two KFCs along Wenc Sq, and Starbucks everywhere you can fit one, including within the Prague castle grounds, which kind of detracts from its storied history. I guess it’s better that people can now afford to eat horrible western food, but KFC is not the best sign of progress. Our group was able to resist the temptations of the touts and the tarts but couldn’t bypass the Colonel’s spices.
Waking up alone in a big queen bed after hours of uninterrupted sleep, I couldn’t help but think about how much I missed sharing the bed with a snoring wife and two kids who climb in every night to kick me and smack me with their flailing limbs, as well as a dog who joins the fun to jump on top of me during the night. Maybe the Air BnB wasn’t so bad.
Mala Strana
Saturday afternoon took us to the other side of the river. The lesser town (Mala Strana) has its own list of things to do outside those we did in old town. First we had lunch at a local place next to U Parlamentu which had a line out the door. Door No. 2, whose name I could not pronounce nor remember, offered some delicious goulash washed down with dark lager.
We took pictures of Jan Palach Square, the Charles University Arts Building, the House of the Suicide and the House of the Mother of the Suicide. Jan Palach was the student who set himself on fire in 1969 to protest the miserable living conditions at that time. He performed his sacrificial suicide on Wenceslas Square but he has his own square here, before the Arts Building for the school he attended. The Suicide houses are funky steel sculptures a short distance away that I had read about, dedicated to Palach’s efforts to draw attention to Prague’s suffering. The houses have also been compared to pineapples by at least by one person who had never been to Europe before this trip.
The Manes Bridge is one of many ways to cross the Vltava River that bisects the city. Manes is not the main bridge that everyone talks about but is next up north of the Charles Bridge (Karluv Most).
There are some great views of the castle beyond as well as the river itself with Charles in the distance. While the Charles is much more ornate with sculptures of Christ, it is more heavily trafficked than Epstein Island (sorry), with a mass of humanity making it hard to move. And this was the less busy season.
In ancient times such as the 9th Century, castle planners recognized that the best way to discourage future American tourists was to take the high ground and make us climb more steps (220) to get to the gates. Buoyed by the parade of people, we nonetheless worked our way to the top to enter the castle grounds where we could snap pictures of the gothic St. Vitus Cathedral and the latest Starbucks. Vitus is more impressive architecturally.
Climbing the south tower of St. Vitus adds 287 more steps to the tally, in a concrete spiral without intermediate relief. Between the steps outside and the ones inside, we ventured over 500 ascents sans a single break for beer! Someday they may dedicate monuments to our sacrifice.
The view from Vitus is spectacular. Ringing the tower top you have a panoramic vista of Prague’s red rooftops. Far off in the distance you can see the modern towers of their business district, which is an area we had no need to visit. Tourism can be confined to old town and lesser town if limited to a few days. I can only assume that the office buildings similarly lacked working elevators and would require more climbing.
We recovered from our unwelcome exercise by walking to the Strahov Monastery for some spiritual… spirits? We went for some beers. The monastery itself has a nice history and some impressive grounds, but we settled for a table at the brewery to pass the time before our dinner reservation. The monks have been brewing beer for some six hundred years, during which time they’ve developed IPAs and Brown Ales that were much tastier than the trademark P.U. pushed on us seemingly everywhere else.
The bartenders and waitresses did not appear very monastic but I am not one to judge. I was once horrified by seeing a Thai monk holding an iPhone and pondered what would Buddha do? Smack the phone out of his hand before walking away, most likely. But I also know that most Thai monks know more muay thai than I and would probably kick my ass if I touched their phones, so I usually opt for a more pacifistic acceptance of their ascetic indiscretions. Live and let livers do their thing.
Rejuvenated and rehydrated, we opted for the tram to get us back across the river rather than relying on old legs. There is a PID pass (24 or 72 hours) that can be used for unlimited travel on the extensive public transportation system throughout the city (bus, tram, metro). It is reasonably priced at 120 kc per day or 330 kc for three days. But if you only use the tram once or twice a day, it’s 30 kc per ride (about $1.5). Most places are walkable in the aforementioned hotspots, as long as you drink enough.
Restaurace Mincovna and the undisclosed speakeasy
Mincovna was a fancier, more modern place near the Astronomical Clock and Jan Hus Monument in Old Town Square. Jan Hus was burned at the stake after fighting corruption in the 1400s. His lasting legacy is one that the modern Republican leaders have taken to heart. Fighting corruption is not worth it. You won’t be seeing any statues of Mike Johnson or Ted Cruz six hundred years from now.
You would think that with all the monuments to commemorate those who either willingly (Jan P) or unwillingly (Jan H) combusted, the people of Prague wouldn’t smoke so much. Clearly they are flammable people. At least they should stop naming their sons Jan.
The Astronomical Clock is cool on the outside and has some nifty internal contraptions that pop out on the hour during the day. Sorry to say we did not time our visit appropriately to experience the show.
The food at Mincovna was good but not as rich as the traditional meals at the ancient places. For more than double the price, I would not put it at the top of the list.
I also wouldn’t recommend the top secret cocktail bar nearby that forbids pictures inside. Walking in, another patron warned us that we were entering the depths of pretentiousness, but he couldn’t stop us. We were seated in a secluded corner under the steps where we waited a long time for fancy drinks at fancier prices. No idea why they were trying to be so esoteric. It was just another basement bar. Out of respect for their privacy, I am intentionally not naming them here. Your secret is safe with me.
Prague after dark has some impressive structures to observe. It feels like something out of a movie, at least in the old town area. In the words of Harry (In Bruges): “It’s a fairy tale town, isn’t it? How’s a fairy tale town not somebody’s fucking thing? How can all those canals and bridges and cobbled streets and those churches, all that beautiful fucking fairy tale stuff, how can that not be somebody’s fucking thing, eh?” Though Prague lacks canals from what I saw.
We woke up Sunday ready to repeat the drill of walking, eating, drinking, etc. Lokal Dlouhaaa (I haven’t seen that many A’s since my middle school report card; it was all downhill from there) is another notable eatery in the area. It is fashioned as a really old establishment that belies the fact that it only opened in 2009. It advertises itself as the longest restaurant in the city, which is something, and it was packed when we arrived for lunch, which was even more impressive (length isn’t everything, am I right?). We dutifully waited, having been unable to secure a reservation the day before and were rewarded with a mocking waiter who couldn’t believe that only Fan had the fortitude to start drinking already. Praguers (Prazan) work hard to keep their rankings as a top beer-drinking city. More traditional offerings (sausage, goulash, schnitzel, etc.), tasty, hearty food to warm us after the fifteen-minute walk through the cold, wet streets on our first rainy day.
We tried to check out the Speculum Alchemiae afterwards but apparently reservations are the way to go for this small shop as well. Our plan of leaving plans up in the air rather than nailing down reservations everywhere had its occasional flaws. We also had a hard deadline with the afternoon soccer game that was one of the few fixed constraints on our calendars, leaving only a little time to waste after lunch.
The Basilica of St. James the Greater was an option for those who wanted to see a mummified thief’s arm that’s been hanging up for several centuries, but we cheaped out on admission fees. It looks unimpressive from the outside but is apparently pretty nice inside, particularly if you like hanging limbs.
Instead we found a beer bar to catch up to Fan and the daily quota of hops required of visitors and citizens alike.
epet can make your hands clap
We Bolted over to the epet ARENA, home of the AC Sparta Praha football club, where the century-old stadium holds approximately 18,000 local fans, 353 opposing team fans, and four American tourists. Watching Sunday afternoon football is like an American tradition. Except this was that other kind of football, with the round ball and nets and without all the play stoppages. The wet weather persisted throughout most of the game, yet it failed to dampen the spirit of the fanbase.
In the south endzone (for lack of a better frame of reference), a group of black-clad fans have a coordinated routine of drums and songs with syncopated clapping paced to the match. The bulk of the attendees all know the score and join the chorus or the clapping as appropriate. We clapped along but failed to join the song because the lyrics were hard to follow without the accompanying hymnals in hand, though if we held the song books to see the words, we would not have had the free hands to clap, and it’s not like we could have pronounced anything anyway. Except for Marc who might have sounded like an American Pole.
For the first few minutes the visitors from Teplice (a town approximately 90 km northwest of Prague) seemed to control the ball while the homers acclimated to the music. After this initial sign of worry, Sparta scored first on a corner kick, causing the crowd to go wild. Scarves were flying! The Teplicans then evened it on a corner of their own a dozen minutes later, and we went into the half even again.
Nineteen minutes after the break, despite the sustained pressure by Sparta, a speedster from Teplice broke loose and beat the goalie to take the lead. The visiting fans were quarantined to a small, upper deck section in the north end zone, though they did their best to fill the silence of the rest of the stadium each time they scored.
I worried about their prospects of surviving the match until Sparta evened things again in the 76th minute. I worried more about overtime because it was damn chilly in the wet stands and I didn’t really care that much about the outcome of the game. As the clock wound down toward extra time, Sparta continued to press while Teplice seemed content to delay the action. Each time a visiting player would fall or drag their feet in moving the ball, the locals would whistle their disapproval and yell some vile profanities at the referee. (I’m only speculating at what they may have been saying because it was Czech to me, but the tone in which they said it did not sound nice).
For whatever reason, the game ended in a draw without OT, which again was fine by me even if it did leave 18,000 others disappointed.
We walked with the mass exodus of fans for a kilometer or more before we found a less-crowded tram that would take us back to base.
Flek me? No, Fleku.
Our final full group meal was at the classic U Fleku, another old town staple in place since around the time that Columbus was first terrorizing native tribes in the new world. The place has multiple rooms and did not put us in a basement! They even had accordion players to polkafy the air around us. Servers regularly rounded the large room we were in holding loaded trays of light and dark beer, waving them in your face if you were empty. They kept a scorecard on the table that would be checked off every time a beer was taken, which was not infrequent.
On the flight to Prague I had overheard a local telling another tourist that this place was a must-see, which was nice reassurance since it was already on the list to visit. The ribs served here were not as good as Konvikt, though the “Moravian sparrow” (pork pieces) were delicious.
And the Fleku beer (light and dark) were both better than Urquell’s overrated offering. Good stuff, na zdravi!
Not The End!
Our Sunday night ended earlier than the Friday and Saturday outings because the town was more tame from the rain and the end of the weekend, and because we had early departure plans for Monday morning. Fan and I had to head home while Dave and Marc excursed out of town to see another part of Czechia.
Aside from Icelandair continuing its bare-bones offerings (clearly ignoring my comments on the survey I’d filled out the day before), there was no drama on the return journey.
To the group, thank you for the opportunity to travel to a beautiful city with lots of beer without the family. We should do it again in fifty years!
More From Marc!
Ben has tasked us with providing a history of our final days in Prague. Here’s my best attempt at documenting that time but my memory isn’t what it used to be.
After we said our fond farewells to our compatriots, Ben and Fan, Dave and I headed out to Andel metro station (Na Knizeci Bus Stop) to catch RegioJet bus for our trip to Cesky Krumlov. Naturally, after rushing to navigate the metro and find the stop, we had a 35-minute delay. The bus trip to Cesky Krumlov is roughly a two hour forty-five minute trip, with a number of roundabouts, but nothing too rough. The bus has comfortable, reclining seats and wifi. There are a couple of stops along the way, at least one was in Ceske Budejovice.
Upon arrival at Cesky Krumlov, Dave and I managed to leave the bus and left some of our stuff. Perhaps it was our excitement at the new town? Well, more on that later.
From the drop-off, it’s roughly a 10-minute walk into town. First impression – very picturesque, what you think of medieval Europe: a castle, red-tiled roofs, and a river wrapping around the town.
First stop was lunch at Papa’s Living Restaurant. Lasagna for me and duck breast for Dave, made for inarguably, a very good meal. Aside from the meal, we did note that Papa’s is very popular with the Asian crowd. Later we found out that this extends to the entire town. Fan, you would’ve been impressed. 🙂 It did signal to me this town is not quite off the beaten path. I suppose I thought we were big time travelers leaving Prague, but word is out on Cesky Krumlov.
After lunch, we checked into Castle View Apartments. It was perfectly located steps from the town square. Highly-recommended – we walked up just a single flight and actually had heat! Great views of the castle, as the name indicated, from our living room and one of the bedrooms.
After settling in, we headed over to the castle, crossing the Lazebnicky Bridge, while we still had daylight. Maybe because it was Monday or because it was getting late, the museum and castle were closed but we still hoped to catch sight of the bears. My research was lacking – I didn’t even know they were there. The deal with the bears: they’ve been on the castle grounds since the 16th century, and the current ones are rescues from Russian animal smugglers. That said, seems animal welfare groups aren’t too impressed with this tradition of housing wild animals at the castle, leaving the future of the Cesky Krumlov bears up in the air.
We explored the grounds which aren’t so large and can be covered in an hour. Definitely some amazing town views from that vantage point.
Dave and I took the scenic route back to home base, walking along the river and heading to town square. We stopped at Hospoda Na Louzi for a well-deserved respite.
Its description as a wood-paneled pub that feels centuries old is accurate. Just glad we didn’t hear any American music. We enjoyed grog and beer. Dave knew what grog was but it was unfamiliar to me – hot rum, water, sugar, and lemon or lime juice. Hit the spot but not something to drink all night. We returned to our apartment to chill before dinner at Krcma v Satlavske ulici (say that 5 times fast). Reservation to this medieval tavern is recommended. Dave and I split a large meat platter (chicken, pork, and yes, steak) and enjoyed the local beer.
After dinner we prepped ourselves for what promised to be a wild night at Cesky Krumlov’s #1 rated bar for nightlife, “Zapa Bar”. We crossed over the bridge and noted the relative quiet of the town. And by quiet, I mean deserted. Streets were largely empty with just a smattering of tourists.
Zapa Bar, a bar dug into the rock, had that cave-like feel we’d come to expect. Just one gentleman at the bar, and a couple having drinks at a table. That was it. For our part, Dave and I found a table and began our evening of pounding beers. Our bartender was a sociable and attentive fellow who kept us well-hydrated. He noted that during the busy months, it can be quite overwhelming in the streets.
Next morning, Dave asked me if I knew anything about RegioJet’s lost and found. He realized he had left his pricy earbuds, his book, and a water bottle in the seat pocket of the bus. I then realized I, too, left my headphones in the seat pocket. What are the chances? We filled out the online lost & found forms, without much hope.
After checking out, we had breakfast at Kolektiv Cafe. A nice spot to hit up with plenty of options with eggs if that’s your thing.
Afterward, back to the castle. On the way to get tickets to the museum and tower, we were lucky enough to see the bears in their courtyard from the bridge. They were just chilling eating carrots. They looked reasonably content and nice to see at least someone had some vegetables on this trip.
The castle tower is definitely worth the price of admission. Not nearly as many steps as St. Vitus, but you still get those postcard views of the town. The museum was most notable for housing the displayed remains of Saint Reparatus. Have to admit, it was quite something to see a skeleton just relaxing there, in his fancy garb.
It was time to head back and catch our bus back to Prague. Surprisingly, Dave and I received emails from RegioJet informing us our items had been recovered. The email was cryptic, informing us we could pick them up on one of three different buses, in Cesky Krumlov and Prague. Our first attempt was with our driver on our return trip. No dice there as he said to try in Prague. Upon arrival, we settled in for, you guessed it, a beer, and circled back to the station. Praise be, they had our items. Thank you, RegioJet!
Our final evening in Prague included a quick trip to the Astronomical Clock. Is the show that great? Not especially. Is it something you have to do while in Prague? Not really. But, it was a fun, cheesy couple of minutes to hang with the other tourists. When it debuted 600 years ago, I’m sure it was a big deal. Per recommendations by our travel buddies, Dave and I enjoyed our final meal at U Pinkasu. Terrific meal and great vibe, and didn’t feel too touristy for being right off Wenceslas. If I ever make it back, it’ll be on the itinerary.
Dave and I finished up our last few beers in Czechia at Zombie Bar off Wenceslas. Just a good dive bar to wind down the evening. Could’ve stayed for a few more but trying to catch the 7am Airport Express meant calling it an early night.
Return trip was uneventful. Side note: SAS airlines will get you where you need to go and on time but it’s definitely a no frills airline. Meals and entertainment are pretty mid as the kids say.
Thanks guys for making this trip happen! Good times all around.
Traipse Reports - Trips and Races 
Nice trip and write up!
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