Move over Paris – Prague appears to have replaced you in Ian’s affections. In mine, too, I think.

What an extraordinary city! Half the world must think so, because they’re all here too – on holiday like us.

Like millions before us, the plan was to start our visit by walking the Charles Bridge. Get up early in the morning and go. But out of sheer curiosity, on arrival we simply threw our bags into our hotel room and headed straight for the river. It was late evening and we’d been assured that the bridge would be quieter then. Oh, really??! It was still positively seething with mad buggers like us. Poor old bridge, what an indignity.

Next morning, we followed the hordes up the hill to Prague Castle, the third and final big castle for our trip. Established in the 9^th Century as a fort, the castle has been so over-built through the centuries that its original purpose is no longer visible, and it’s further dominated by the enormous hulk of St Vitus’ Cathedral smack in the middle of it. It’s the sight of the cathedral that impresses you from across the river, not the castle.

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On the way down from the castle, we visited outwardly austere 18^th Century St Nicholas’ Church. Inside it was a completely different story – exuberantly Baroque decoration festooned every possible surface, including the ceiling. It was as if someone had iced an enormous cake inside out.

Whilst we wandered around gawping at it all, the whiz-banger of a thunderstorm that had threatened all afternoon erupted outside. We were oblivious until we opened the Church’s enormous wooden doors to leave. The afternoon warmth had been dramatically replaced by a cold wind, rain, lightning, thunder – and hail. St Nicholas must have been almightily displeased with us for some reason! Along with drenched locals and visitors, we took refuge under an arched arcade and watched the cobbled road down the hill beside us turn into a torrent.

We’d already got the hang of Prague’s excellent trams which, in the circumstances, was just as well. It was quite cold, so once the rain eased a bit, we caught our trusty No. 22 tram to go home, across the other side of the river. Trouble was, half of Prague had the same idea. The tram was jam-packed full of wet Czechs – and us. The windows were completely fogged up, but we couldn’t see outside anyway through the mass of bedraggled, strap-hanging commuters. A bit of a challenge for Prague newbies. I’m pleased to say that we managed to get off at the right stop, closest to our hotel, entirely by consulting our sodden tourist map en route and counting the number of times we were swung violently either left or right, strap-hanging as the tram turned corners. Whoo-hoo!

The next morning, we took a deep breath and again fought the crowds, ticking off more of Prague’s must-see list. But then, we went a little off piste – and that was where the magic began, walking through street after street of beautiful buildings, many of them superb examples of art-nouveau. In my ignorance, I knew nothing of Prague’s serious art-nouveau credentials. The art-nouveau facades were utterly beautiful, and seemingly endless.  

Our destination was an art-nouveau building I’d read about. It has a really exciting name – Municipal House. Oh, how absolutely irrestistible, I hear you say. Well, sometimes the research I do before a trip really pays off. Beautifully restored in the 1990s after decades of neglect, Municipal House is gorgeous both inside and out. We had dinner in one of its three restaurants, sitting in a stunning room dripping with art-nouveau features, with a tinkly fountain and a combo playing music from the Thirties. It was like a dream.

On the way home, we completed an art-nouveau trifecta by briefly visiting the Alphonse Mucha Museum. This won’t mean much, except to my painting buddies, but Prague’s Alphonse Mucha was the artist and extraordinarily innovative graphic designer who epitomised art-nouveau design, particularly with his stunning posters of the actress Sarah Bernhardt and sensual Czech women.