We arrived in Prague by train from Vienna in the mid-afternoon, the city unfolding slowly beyond the windows as we pulled in. After dropping our bags at RoadHouse Hostel, the quieter sister hostel to the more party-oriented Madhouse, we set out almost immediately. Run by two Canadians, Craig and Rod, the hostel felt relaxed and social without being overwhelming, a good base for the days ahead.
With no real plan, we walked toward the historic centre to get my bearings, as Bruno had spent time here before. The route carried us through Betlémský obvod (Bethlehem Quarter) and onward into Staroměstské náměstí (Old Town Square), where pastel façades, Gothic spires, and the steady movement of people gave the space a lived-in energy despite its postcard familiarity. Nearby, the Astronomical Clock (Orloj) drew a small crowd, but it was the surrounding space that held attention more than the spectacle itself. The square felt alive in layers, conversations, footsteps, and centuries overlapping rather than competing.
From there, we continued toward Můstek, watching the city shift subtly from medieval lanes to busier streets as evening settled in.
We circled back toward the hostel for an early dinner before heading out again, drawn by Prague’s reputation for nightlife. The evening blurred into a series of bars and underground spaces, eventually ending at Vzorkovna Dog Bar, a sprawling, multi-level venue that seemed to descend endlessly below street level. Low ceilings, side rooms branching off unexpectedly, and the hum of late-night conversation made it feel like a maze more than a bar. We did not make it back until the early morning hours.
The following day began slowly. After resting, we headed back out, this time toward the river. Walking through Nové Město (New Town), we stopped by the Hockey Hall of Fame and Card Museum, a small but unexpectedly fun stop. We passed the rotating Franz Kafka Museum Head, its mirrored panels shifting and reassembling as people gathered to watch.
From there, we continued toward Karlův most (Charles Bridge), crossing the Vltava beneath heavy stone arches lined with statues darkened by age and weather. Gold and silver details embedded in the figures caught the light, blending into the city’s medieval palette rather than standing apart from it.
On the far side of the bridge, we walked beneath Malostranské mostecké věže (Lesser Town Bridge Towers), their sculpted figures watching over the passage below. The sense of history here felt physical, stone worn smooth by centuries of movement. We continued uphill toward the Castle district, where the grounds around St. Vitus Cathedral (Katedrála svatého Víta) carried weight without feeling oppressive. The scale was immense, but the atmosphere remained restrained. Standing there, it was easy to feel how central this place had been across centuries of rule, religion, and shifting power.
We wandered through the surrounding Castle complex before descending again, crossing back over Čechův most, following the curve of the river as the city opened up once more.
That evening led to another late night, again underground, this time at U Sudu, a vast cellar-style bar with rooms stacked below one another, each level louder and more crowded than the last. By the time we returned to the hostel, it was clear the next day would need a gentler pace.
The following morning, we headed early to O2 Arena Prague for the NHL Global Series game, Devils vs Sabres, marking the opening of the league’s season. I had booked my ticket after Bruno and we sat separately, but met between periods for drinks and to take in the atmosphere together. European hockey crowds brought a different energy, louder, more constant, and deeply engaged from start to finish. The arena buzzed in a way that felt distinct from North American games.
After the game, we waited out the crowds at a nearby brewery before making our way back toward the centre. That night, we wandered through Old Town Square again, this time after dark. The buildings glowed under warm lights, the space quieter but no less striking, offering a completely different experience from the daytime crowds.
On my final day in Prague, we took things slowly. We crossed to the north side of the river to explore neighbourhoods Bruno was curious about, imagining what it might be like to live there. We climbed up to Letná Park, sitting briefly among locals and passing dogs, taking in views across the city without any urgency to move on. Eventually, we looped back toward the hostel, stopping again in the main square for a few last photos.
That evening ended quietly with one final drink at a small local bar before turning in early. The next day would carry me out of Europe via Frankfurt and back to Vancouver.
Prague felt like a fitting place to end the journey. Dark, intricate, and deeply textured, it carried a gothic beauty that lingered long after leaving. After weeks of movement across borders and cities, it offered both intensity and stillness, a city that reveals itself slowly and rewards those willing to look closely.
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