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.
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.
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.
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.