A 'W' for Wenceslas Square

A Peek Inside the New Hotel Evropa

I took this photo years ago -- I always liked the warm, yellowish exterior, like a weathered piece of Habsburg gold. Not a whole let else appears to have changed. Photo by Mark Baker.
It's nice finally to be able to walk along the sidewalk of Wenceslas Square without having to side-step big piles of construction equipment. Photo by Mark Baker.
The big street-facing windows survived the renovation and offer a festive view into the cafe. Photo by Mark Baker.
This beautiful glass mosaic above the hotel entryway appears to be the original that's been there for decades. Photo by Mark Baker.

Ever since I first came to Prague in the 1980s, I’ve been fascinated by the Hotel Evropa. Part of the appeal was the hotel’s striking Art Nouveau exterior (and the plush interior of its street-level café). Though the building is not particularly large, its lyrical, rounded façade and signature design details always stood out on a square where the mix of grand architectural styles tend to compete with each other and cancel each other out. A few years ago, I tried to sort out the square’s architectural mish-mash in a post called “Understanding Wenceslas Square.

The bigger part of the appeal, though, was the building’s accessibility. A beautifully preserved piece of Art Nouveau design, the space where Franz Kafka held his only public reading (in 1912), a building originally sketched out by the architect (Josef Schulz) who conceived of the nearby, grand National Museum – and yet a beer or coffee in the café wouldn’t set you back more than a couple bucks. This everyman-friendly juxtaposition between affordability and shabby grandeur has always been one of the best parts of living here.

Naturally, recasting the Evropa as an upmarket Marriott property with the W branding was going to cut into this accessibility. Just for fun, I googled the rack rate for a double room in summer (during high season). One night will set you back about 13,000 Czech crowns ($500). To be fair, a glass of wine in the café still runs a relatively affordable 200 crowns ($9).

Whatever the price, though, I’m okay with it. The biggest threat to preserving historic buildings (not just in Prague, but everywhere) is to find sustainable new uses for the old structures. Historic renovations don’t come cheap and if restoring the Hotel Evropa as a high-end hotel was necessary in order to save it, then so be it. After all, the Evropa began life as a luxury property, so in a sense it's only returning to its roots.

A view from the gallery below to the dining room of the old cafe. By 2pm or so the smallish lunch crowd on my visit had cleared out. Photo by Mark Baker.
I remembered these evocative lanterns from the previous cafe. They look great hanging there. Photo by Mark Baker.
A table-level view of the cafe dining room. The chandeliers appear to be new -- the older ones were more classic cut-crystal. Photo by Mark Baker.
The photo from 2008 shows the Evropa's cafe before the renovation. You can see the old chandeliers and tables. The piano would have been off to the right. Photo credit: Ivo Blom.

My own memories of the hotel go back to early-1990s, when the hotel’s café was a popular spot to grab a late-afternoon or after-work coffee or glass of wine. For coffee, it might be a Turecká káva (hot water poured over ground coffee); for wine, a domestic red like Frankovka (Blaufränkisch) or Rulandské červené (Pinot noir). The quality of the drinks was poor, but that wasn’t the point. The vibe was great.

The room was small enough to feel intimate but not crowded. The ornate Art Nouveau details  – the chandeliers and light fixtures, the marbling and wood paneling on the walls, and beautiful center bar – lent a time-warp feel. One of the best features was a piano parked somewhere off to the side. If you were lucky, someone with a little talent might be plinking away in the corner in an unobtrusive way that heightened the overall intimacy.

Indeed, the piano plays an important role in my best recollection of the café from thirty years ago. I was sitting at one of the small, marbled-topped tables one evening (probably sometime in late-1991) with my then-girlfriend Jenny and we heard something that sounded like simple Moravian folk rhythms wafting over from the piano. I can’t remember the specific tune, but it may have sounded something like this. I turned to see who might be playing. I immediately recognized the man’s face but couldn’t quite place him. Did we go to college together? High school? And then it dawned on me – it was Fred Schneider of the B-52s. I have no idea what he might have been doing there (or even if it was really him – I was too shy to say hello). Many years later, I found a B-52s fan site on the web and wrote to ask if he might have been in Prague at that time, but I never heard back.

My memories of the actual hotel are not as fond. The hotel's guest list is filled with many luminaries over the ages, including Czechoslovakia’s first president, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk, and Sir Nicholas Winton, whose kindertransports prior to the Second World War are credited with saving the lives of some 669 children. The Australian band, INXS, stayed here in 1987 while filming their iconic Prague video for the song “Never Tear Us Apart.” Maybe Fred was a hotel guest too?

By the time I rolled into town in the late ‘80s and early-‘90s, though, the hotel had devolved into a shadow of its former self. I can’t remember the circumstances for why I stayed there or even the exact date (probably not long after the 1989 Velvet Revolution), but I can easily recall the musty smell and frayed carpets. On the positive side, like I mentioned above, it was dirt cheap.

The beautiful back bar of the old cafe is still intact. Photo by Mark Baker.
The hotel's main reception desk. Photo by Mark Baker.
One of a couple lobby bars on the hotel's main floor. Photo by Mark Baker.
They've dressed up this long corridor with a period-appropriate dark green color. Photo by Mark Baker.

And yeah, I really did break form and write to the hotel’s marketing director to request a free room for a night. She quickly shut me down: “At the moment, we’re not offering any complimentary nights.”

That’s perfectly fine with me. As a travel writer, I know how fraught these requests can be. Receiving an in-kind benefit like a free room (or a free meal at a restaurant) creates an instant potential conflict of interest, where the hotel (or restaurant) might reasonably expect to receive favorable coverage in return for the benefit. To see how widespread the problem is, you only need to flick through any influencer account on Instagram, where the poster is flogging his or her new favorite line of cosmetics or clothing. It’s a minefield out there.

The marketing director did, however, dangle the prospect of possibly snagging a “media” rate (whatever that means). I’m not sure if I’ll go down that route. I now have a request in with her to take a tour of the hotel. As of this writing, I’m still waiting to hear back.

Undeterred, I decided to check out the hotel’s new ground-floor restaurant, occupying the same space as the old café. It’s now a kind of Art Nouveau steakhouse, called the “Le Petit Beefbar.” According to the website, it’s run by a Monaco-based restaurateur named Riccardo Giraudi.

In mid-January I stopped by for lunch with my friend, Jennifer, and was pleasantly surprised. The business lunch – steak, frites and either a soup or salad – was good value at 550Kc ($22). The steak was a small cut, but high-quality, the ambience low-key, and the staff welcoming. The waiter screwed up our order, so we both ended up with soup and salad (enough food for the whole day). Wenceslas Square desperately needs decent lunch options, and I’d be happy to go back any time.

As we ate, I looked around the room for clues to how the new owners may have altered the old interior. The major fear with these long-term, historic renovations, of course, is that timeless, original pieces of décor are stripped out and replaced by cheaper reproductions. My memory of the old interior is hazy and my eye probably isn’t sharp enough anyway, but the renovation appeared to be faithful to the original. The only obvious change was that the old cut-glass chandeliers had been swapped out for a beaded type of chandelier, where strands of glass encircle the light like a flapper’s hat from the 1920s. The piano, alas, was gone.

One of the main sitting rooms, just off the hotel reception area. Photo by Mark Baker.
I'm lousy at taking food photos. This was my steak once I finally remembered to take a photo. Photo by Mark Baker.
A very rich split-pea soup. Honestly, this plus the salad would have been enough for lunch. Photo by Mark Baker.
These very pretty glasses (www.klimchi.cz) served in the cafe are available for purchase from a small gift shop off the lobby. Photo by Mark Baker.

After lunch, Jennifer and I took a stroll through the hotel lobby and public areas. The reconstruction was led by the international architectural firm, Chapman Taylor. The company is probably best known in Prague for its futuristic-looking “Flow Building,” just up a few blocks up on Wenceslas Square.

According the website, the interior design incorporates an “elixir” theme. I guess that’s a fancy way of saying the designers were looking to fuse the inherent whimsy of Art Nouveau with the contemporary upmarket glam W clients have come to expect. From the website:

“The hotel’s entrance flows effortlessly into the reception area, where modern brass metal mesh desks contrast elegantly with Art Nouveau light fixtures. The adjacent atrium, featuring original stucco detailing from 1905 and restored illustrations from 1925, now includes a striking glass installation highlighting the past and present blend.”

It was comforting to see the lead designer was a Czech architect, Pavla Doležalová. According to the website, she oversaw the restoration and was important in designing new features to complement the original interiors. These included a four-meter-high chandelier inspired by Bohemia’s glass traditions.

Based on a cursory look, I think they got it right. The narrow hotel space flows deeply toward the back past several contemporary bars and along an outdoor garden that’s certain to be popular in nice weather. The older design elements mesh with the new in a way that they don’t feel fusty or outdated. I’ll learn more on future visits – and report back if my overall impression changes.

Did you like the story and want to add your own experiences? Or maybe help me to correct something I didn’t get right? Write me at bakermark@fastmail.fm.

The plates in the cafe have an updated 'emoji' theme. Somehow I ended up with the 'eggplant emoji' plate. Photo by Mark Baker.
Photo of Mark Baker
About the author

Mark Baker

I’m an independent journalist, travel writer and author who’s lived in Central Europe for nearly three decades. I love the history, literature, culture and mystery of this often-overlooked corner of Europe, and I make my living writing articles and guidebooks about the region. Much of what I write eventually finds its way into commercial print or digital outlets, but a lot of it does not.

And that’s my aim with this website: to find a space for stories and experiences that fall outside the publishing mainstream.

My Book: ‘Čas Proměn’

In 2021, I published “Čas Proměn” (“Time of Changes”), my first book of historical nonfiction. The book, written in Czech, is a collection of stories about Central and Eastern Europe in the 1980s and early ‘90s, including memories of the thrilling anti-communist revolutions of 1989. The idea for the book and many of the tales I tell there were directly inspired by this blog. Czech readers, find a link to purchase the book here. I hope you enjoy.

Tales of Travel & Adventure in Central Europe
Mark Baker