I’ve come to Prague at different chapters of my life. Once with a friend to nurse a broken heart, once for a first romantic weekend away with a new partner, and later with my children, tracing the city’s bridges and bookshops together. It’s a place that seems to adapt to what you need from it, where getting lost feels like part of the point.

Its beauty reveals itself slowly: in the stone saints watching over Charles Bridge, the cold sweep of the Vltava below, and the worn cobblestones of Nerudova Street. Prague has lived through empires and revolutions, each leaving its mark — from its time as the seat of the Holy Roman Empire to the long shadow of Communist rule and, finally, the Velvet Revolution in 1989. What remains is a place that feels both historic and completely alive.

I always start at Café Slavia, the Art Deco landmark opposite the National Theatre, where Václav Havel once sat beneath Viktor Oliva’s Absinthe Drinker, thinking about life, politics and freedom. I order a Vídenská káva — strong coffee with whipped cream in the Viennese style — and watch the trams move along the river. From there, I walk the embankment to Charles Bridge, its towers standing guard over the city, and cross into Malá Strana, where steep streets wind past Baroque façades and courtyard gardens.

I like to stay at Meliá Prague Old Town — a calm, contemporary base with views across the spires. The restaurant serves modern Czech dishes with a Spanish touch — try the Moravian Pinot Noir and the chips with shredded beef. The minibar is restocked daily with wine, Czech beer and Haribo, which makes it all too easy to settle in. The streets around here are full of small Thai massage places, where you can get a deep tissue pummelling after a day of walking — exactly what you need. From here, it’s a short walk to the Old Town Square and the river.

Prague’s charm lies in its mix of the grand and the everyday. There are tucked-away wine bars, ateliers selling handmade stationery, and Havlík Apotéka — a family-run apothecary where creams are still mixed by hand.

It’s easy to see why writers are drawn here — a city of riddles and spires that feels as though it could have stepped straight out of a Dan Brown novel. A place shaped by history and reinvention, and one that helps you do the same — whatever chapter you’re in.