Prague

We arrived in Prague in the evening after a long day of travel from Kraków. The sun was just starting to dip as we made our way into the city, and the streets were slowly filling with that early evening hum — locals heading home, tourists spilling out of hostels, trams rattling by.

That night, we set out on a walking tour of the Old Town. The first stop was the Astronomical Clock, where a small crowd had gathered to watch its hourly performance. From there, we wove our way through narrow cobbled alleys, past Gothic spires and postcard-perfect squares.

Then came the Charles Bridge — lined with statues, buskers, and artists, all set against the backdrop of the Vltava River. The sun was setting as we crossed, and for a moment, everything felt golden.

After the tour, we wandered over to a riverside food market. It was buzzing with locals and travellers alike, string lights crisscrossed overhead, and a live band played in the background. We grabbed cold drinks, found a spot near the edge, and just soaked it in. There was grilled food, laughter, heat still lingering in the air — one of those evenings that feels both easy and unforgettable.

To wrap up the night, we ended up at Absintheries, a tucked-away bar lit in moody green. None of us were seasoned absinthe drinkers, but we gave it a go. It was intense and herbal and very, very strong. Not something I’d rush back to, but a perfect Prague memory all the same.

The next morning, we made our way up to Prague Castle. The climb was steep — but the payoff was huge. The sprawling complex holds centuries of stories, and the St. Vitus Cathedral, with its dramatic Gothic towers, stops you in your tracks. We explored slowly, caught our breath on the terraces, and looked out over a sea of red rooftops and copper domes.

On the way down, we ducked into Vrtba Garden, a baroque hillside garden that’s surprisingly hidden, given its beauty. With carved hedges, winding stairs, and views stretching out over Mala Strana, it felt like a secret. In the blinding heat, we managed to make our way up to a viewpoint that looked out over St. Nicholas Church— the green dome set against the stacked rooftops of the Lesser Town below. It was one of those views that you can’t quite capture in photos, no matter how hard you try.

While in Prague, we also made a quick stop by one of Prague’s most bizarre art installations: the giant crawling baby statues by Czech artist David Černý. Towering, faceless, and slightly unsettling, they’re somehow both creepy and hilarious. We couldn’t help but take photos with them — one of those “only in Prague” moments that sticks in your brain.

This stop on the trip carried something more personal for me. Just before leaving New Zealand, I found out that my great-great-great-grandparents were from Frenštát, in Nový Jičín — a small town about four hours east of Prague. I’d gone my whole life not knowing we had Czech ancestry, and suddenly, I was walking through streets where people spoke the same language they once did. It’s hard to explain what that feels like — not quite home, but not completely foreign either. Just… connected. Like the roots you never knew you had finally touched soil.

Prague surprised me. It’s elegant but lived-in, historic without being showy, and full of moments that sneak up on you — a rooftop view, a street performance, a quiet church. I can’t wait to go back one day.