Let me tell you something about the Czech Republic that nobody puts in the brochures: it will absolutely ruin you for other trips. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a way where you come home crying into your pillow. More in the way of getting back to your regular life, sit at your desk three weeks later, and suddenly find yourself staring out the window thinking, wait, why am I not still on that train?
That’s exactly what happened to me. I showed up to Praha hlavní nádraží — that’s Prague Main Station, and yes, I did practice saying it in the mirror the night before, and no, I still didn’t get it right — with a stuffed backpack, a rail pass, and what I generously called “a loose plan.” The plan was to take trains. Eat things. See stuff. Don’t rush. Simple. Glorious. Occasionally chaotic. And honestly? One of the best trips I’ve ever taken, full stop.
Here’s the thing most people do wrong with the Czech Republic. They fly into Prague, spend three days in the Old Town taking essentially the same photo of the Astronomical Clock that 47 million other people have taken, drink some excellent beer, and fly home. Then they say they’ve “done” the Czech Republic. I did this. I am not proud of it. It haunted me like an embarrassing text I couldn’t unsend. Because the Czech Republic is not a city-break destination. It’s a whole country — and when you move through it at train speed, window-seat pace, stopping at stations whose names look like someone fell asleep on a keyboard, you realize it’s one of the most layered, fascinating, genuinely weird (in the best sense) places on the continent.
So I went back. Seven days. Four cities. One rail pass. More svíčková than any single person should consume. A minor cobblestone incident in Český Krumlov that I’ll tell you about in full detail because I have no dignity left anyway. And enough train journeys to give me very strong opinions about window seats. This is that story — and it’s your complete guide to doing the Czech Republic properly, slowly, and by train.
Czechia — officially the Czech Republic, though Czechia has been the official short name since 2016, a fact that still makes people on the internet argue — is a landlocked country wedged right into the heart of Central Europe. Germany to the west. Poland to the north. Slovakia to the east. Austria to the south. No sea. No massive mountains. What it does have is an almost comedically high concentration of medieval castles, cobblestone streets, Gothic cathedrals, and beer — more beer per capita consumed than anywhere else on earth, a fact that the Czechs are both aware of and entirely comfortable with.
The country splits into two main regions: Bohemia in the west (where Prague lives) and Moravia in the east (where the wine is excellent and people are, by widely accepted reputation, a bit warmer and more relaxed). We’re going through both. Buckle up.
Here is a genuinely cheerful travel fact: the Czech Republic is in the EU but uses its own currency, the Czech Koruna (CZK), which means your euros and dollars go notably further here than in, say, Paris or Amsterdam. At current rates, roughly 25 CZK = 1 EUR and 23 CZK = 1 USD.
What does that mean in real life?
| What You’re Buying | Cost (CZK) | Cost (approx. USD) |
|---|---|---|
| A 0.5L beer in a pub | 40–60 CZK | ~$2–2.50 |
| Espresso | 50–80 CZK | ~$2–3.50 |
| Prague metro/tram ticket | 30 CZK | ~$1.30 |
| Lunch at a local jídelna (canteen) | 120–180 CZK | ~$5–8 |
| Dinner at a decent restaurant | 300–600 CZK | ~$13–26 |
| Train (Prague to Brno, 2.5 hrs) | 200–350 CZK | ~$9–15 |
| Hostel dorm bed per night | 400–600 CZK | ~$17–26 |
| 3-star hotel room per night | 1,500–2,500 CZK | ~$65–110 |
Daily budget breakdown:
Now. A crucial pro tip before we go any further: do not exchange cash at airport kiosks. I’m serious. Those exchange booths at arrivals are essentially a theater for parting you from your money at an alarming rate. Instead, get yourself a Revolut card and a Wise card before you leave home. Both give you near-interbank exchange rates, which means you’re paying close to what the actual rate is rather than some rate a bored kiosk employee invented. I used Revolut for every single transaction on this trip — tram tickets, restaurant bills, castle entry fees — and saved a meaningful amount versus using my regular bank card. Set them both up online before you go. It takes ten minutes, and future-you will send present-you a warm thank-you note.
Look, I’ll be real with you: I’ve done road trips through the Czech Republic. They’re fine. But the trains are better for this particular trip, for a very specific reason — the distances between the cities on this itinerary are short enough that trains are just as fast as driving, but while you’re on a train, you can stare out the window at rolling Bohemian countryside with a coffee in hand rather than white-knuckling a right-hand bend in a rental car. The scenery wins. Every time.
The national operator is České dráhy (ČD), but the private operators — bright yellow RegioJet and sleek blue Leo Express — run the major routes and are often cheaper, more comfortable, and more fun. RegioJet has a hostess service that brings coffee to your seat on long-distance trains. A hostess who brings coffee to your train seat. For 200 CZK. I need you to understand how much I appreciate this.
Book all your train tickets through Trip.com — it aggregates multiple operators, lets you compare times and prices side by side, and is a far less confusing experience than the ČD website, which functions like it was designed by someone who had been briefly told what a website was but never actually seen one. Book 2–3 weeks ahead for the best fares, especially on the Prague–Brno and Olomouc–Prague routes.
And while you’re on Trip.com — grab a Czech eSIM. Trip.com’s eSIM store lets you activate mobile data before you even leave home, so you step off the plane in Prague with full connectivity, no SIM-card hunting, no roaming bill from your home carrier that makes you briefly question your life choices. Do it. It’s extremely worth it.
For this one-week, four-city itinerary: buy point-to-point tickets. The routes are short, and the fares are inexpensive, especially when booked ahead. A rail pass doesn’t give you meaningful savings here and adds a layer of reservation faff you don’t need.
Praha hlavní nádraží is a lovely station, and I genuinely mean that — it has an Art Nouveau upper hall with painted ceilings that most arriving passengers walk straight past because they’re staring at the arrivals board. Don’t do that. Look up. Prague starts rewarding you immediately if you pay attention.
Get yourself the Lítačka app (covers all Prague public transport) and buy a 24-hour pass for 120 CZK (~$5). The tram network in Prague is excellent — old-school, slightly rattly, runs everywhere — and you’ll use it constantly. Line 22 is the one you’ll probably ride most; it connects the main station to Malá Strana and passes Prague Castle on its way.
Where to stay:
Don’t automatically book in the Old Town. Yes, it’s central. It’s also expensive, loud at night, and full of people who’ve had eight beers walking past your window at 2 AM. Instead, consider:
Accommodation options in Prague:
Book through Booking.com — always filter for free cancellation, because train schedules sometimes have opinions of their own, and your plans may shift accordingly.
If you’re flying in, skip the airport bus stress and book a private transfer with Welcome Pickups. Fixed price, English-speaking driver, meets you at arrivals holding a sign with your name on it, like you’re a celebrity who happens to be arriving at a medium-sized European airport. It costs around 30–35 EUR, but it’s worth it if you land late, have heavy bags, or just want to start your trip without deciphering public transport.
Honest confession: I used to think I knew Prague because I’d done the tourist circuit. Old Town Square. Charles Bridge. Beer. Done. I was wrong, and I am delighted to report it.
The secret to Prague is timing. The Old Town is genuinely, historically magnificent — and between 9 AM and 9 PM, it’s so full of tourists that you’re essentially experiencing it through a crowd. The fix is embarrassingly simple: wake up early. Both mornings, I was out at 6:30 AM. The cobblestones of Staré Město were damp, almost empty. A single tram rattled past somewhere distant. Charles Bridge had maybe fifteen people on it. A man was fishing below in the Vltava. Prague, it turns out, is most itself very early in the morning, and it is absolutely worth setting an alarm for.
The things you genuinely should not miss:
The thing I’d quietly suggest skipping: The actual Astronomical Clock show on the hour. It lasts 45 seconds, involves some small figures moving in a circle, and you will watch it surrounded by a hundred phones held in the air. The clock itself is spectacular — go look at it up close, read about its three dials and what they track. The hourly performance, though, is a bit like waiting half an hour for a magic trick and getting a handkerchief pulled from a sleeve. You’ve been warned.
Book your Prague experiences through GetYourGuide — in particular, their skip-the-line Prague Castle tours and their Jewish Quarter walking experiences are genuinely worth the premium. The historical context you get from a good guide transforms what might otherwise be a “nice old building” into something that actually means something.
Český Krumlov doesn’t have a direct train from Prague, which, rather than being a problem, is actually just an excuse for a charming two-stage journey. Take RegioJet or ČD from Praha hlavní nádraží to České Budějovice — about 2.5 hours, roughly 200–280 CZK. Then hop on the regional train to Český Krumlov — 45 minutes, around 60 CZK.
The regional train is the kind where the seats are slightly worn, the windows open with a latch, and you share your compartment with an elderly man who has strong and apparently urgent opinions about something, a student from Brno who falls asleep before the train has even left the platform and begins snoring with impressive commitment, and possibly a large shopping bag that belongs to nobody. I mean all of this with complete affection. It is enormously charming.
Right. Let me try to describe Český Krumlov without resorting to the travel brochure adjectives I promised to avoid.
The Vltava River makes a dramatic horseshoe loop. Inside that loop sits the medieval old town. Above it all — on a rocky promontory, looking frankly smug — sits Český Krumlov Castle. The whole thing is compact, walkable, and so densely layered with history that you can’t turn a corner without bumping into something that’s been standing since the 1300s. Your brain will take a few minutes to compute it as a real place and not a very convincing film set.
It also gets busy. Very busy in high season (June–August). Here’s the move: the day-trippers clear out around 5 PM, and what’s left is a town that exhales and becomes something quieter and genuinely magical. Stay overnight. You’ll thank yourself.
What to do:
Now. The trdelník incident.
Trdelník is a spiral pastry cooked over a charcoal spit, rolled in cinnamon sugar, and sometimes filled with ice cream or a swirl of Nutella. It is sold at little kiosks throughout Czech tourist areas. It is — I want to be clear about this — genuinely delicious. The outside is slightly crispy, the inside still warm and doughy, and the cinnamon sugar catches in a specific way that makes you immediately want another one. (It’s technically Slovak in origin, not Czech. Nobody in Český Krumlov wants to hear this while you’re holding one, though, so keep it to yourself.)
I was walking out of a trdelník kiosk near the castle gate, pastry in one hand, phone in the other like a full tourist cliché, when my boot caught the edge of an uneven cobblestone — and I lurched forward in a stumble that I can only describe as deeply expressive. Arms windmilling. A small sound came out of my mouth. A woman nearby took a step back. A small child, maybe five years old, stared at me and then laughed with the kind of uninhibited delight that only children can produce.
The trdelník survived. It didn’t even lose a crumb.
My dignity did not survive.
I ate the pastry and kept walking because what else do you do.
Where to eat in Český Krumlov:
Head back to České Budějovice first (the same 45-minute regional line, same cast of characters), then pick up a connection heading east toward Brno. Total journey time is 3–3.5 hours with the change. Grab a window seat on the right side heading east if you can — the South Bohemian landscape shifts here, flatter and more agricultural, in a way that feels genuinely different from the wooded hills of the previous day.
Book the connection in advance through Trip.com and double-check the timing — regional trains run less frequently than long-distance ones, and missing a connection in České Budějovice means sitting in the station for an hour and a half staring at the departures board, which I can tell you from personal experience is less fun than it sounds.
Brno is the second-largest city in the Czech Republic, the capital of Moravia, and it carries this “second city” label with the particular energy of someone who’s been told all their life they’re not quite the main character and has decided that’s actually fine, actually great, and isn’t your loss really.
The result is a city that doesn’t try to be Prague and is therefore significantly more interesting than many places that do. It has 400,000 people, a large university, an excellent bar and food scene, a working-class warmth to its neighborhoods, medieval underground tunnels, a famous ossuary, a functionalist architectural masterpiece, and a dry, self-deprecating sense of humor about itself that I found immediately endearing.
What to do in Brno:
Where to eat and drink in Brno:
Where to stay in Brno:
From Brno, take a train (changing at Okříšky) to Telč — about 2 hours total, under 200 CZK return. This is not a route that appears on many people’s Czech Republic itineraries. This is precisely why you should do it.
Telč is a small Moravian town with a central square — Náměstí Zachariáše z Hradce — that is lined with Renaissance and Baroque façades in shades of cream, butter yellow, peach, and powder blue. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And unlike Český Krumlov, which has become quite polished with tourism over the years, Telč still functions as a real, small town that simply happens to have one of the most visually arresting main squares in all of Central Europe sitting in the middle of it. There are a few cafés, a castle at one end, fish ponds beyond the walls, and a quiet that settles over the place like something physical.
What to do in Telč:
You can return to Brno for the evening, or — even better — stay overnight in a small Telč pension (from ~700 CZK/night) and have the square almost entirely to yourself after the day visitors leave. The difference between Telč at 3 PM and Telč at 8 PM is significant and worth experiencing.
Brno to Olomouc is the smoothest leg of the whole itinerary. About 1 hour 20 minutes direct, trains run roughly every hour, and fares are around 150–200 CZK. RegioJet runs double-deckers on this route. Take the upper deck. The South Moravian countryside in this stretch is all rolling fields and church spires and the occasional village that looks like it hasn’t updated its aesthetic since 1820.
Put the phone down. Look out the window. I’m going to keep saying this, and I’m not going to apologize for it.
Olomouc (pronounced somewhere in the vicinity of OH-lo-moats, and don’t worry if you get it slightly wrong — locals find the attempt charming rather than irritating) was for centuries the capital of Moravia and is today a university city of about 100,000 people with an Old Town that comprehensively outpunches its weight class.
Here’s the stat that sets the tone: Olomouc has six Baroque fountains in its city center. Six. Each one depicts a different mythological figure. The Caesar Fountain is the largest bronze Caesar on horseback, with water arcing dramatically around him. There’s also Hercules, Jupiter, Neptune, Mercury, and Arion. Walking between them is a free, self-guided tour of the city that takes about an hour and covers most of the major sights along the way. It is the best city walk in Moravia, and it costs absolutely nothing.
What to do in Olomouc:
The Cheese Situation (Important):
Olomoucké tvarůžky is a soft, fermented Czech cheese. It is a regional specialty. It smells — and I want to be precise here — like someone stored gym socks in a warm dairy for an extended period. The flavour is sharp, intensely funky, and genuinely compelling in a way that makes you go back for a second bite while also slightly questioning yourself. Try it. At least once. Whether you enjoy it is entirely between you and your own taste receptors, but you can’t leave Olomouc without at least having the conversation with it.
Where to eat in Olomouc:
Where to stay in Olomouc:
Olomouc to Prague is one of the great train journeys in this country. About 2 hours 15 minutes direct on RegioJet or Leo Express, for around 200–350 CZK. The RegioJet service on this route is excellent — comfortable yellow double-decker carriages, a bistro car, a hostess who brings coffee to your seat with a cheerfulness that suggests she’s either genuinely happy in her work or has perfected the performance of it to an extraordinary degree. Either way: coffee. Seat. Moving train. Czech countryside. This is fine.
I took the 10:30 AM train, which got me into Prague just before 1 PM — enough time for a last lunch somewhere in Vinohrady, a slow walk along the Vltava, and one final beer somewhere that wasn’t trying to sell me a shot glass shaped like the Astronomical Clock.
Resist the Old Town. Instead:
I know. Nobody wants to think about travel insurance. It sounds like homework. But medical care in the Czech Republic, while good, is not free for non-EU visitors, and an unexpected hospital visit can generate costs that make your entire trip budget look like pocket change. I use VisitorsCoverage — it’s a comparison platform for travel insurance plans, takes about five minutes to get a quote, and typically costs $30–60 for a week depending on your age and coverage level. Just do it before you leave home. Future-you, sitting in a Brno hospital with a twisted ankle, will be profoundly grateful.
Trains cover this itinerary beautifully. But if you want a day in Southern Moravia’s wine country (Pálava Hills, Mikulov) or the Šumava forest region, a car for one day opens up a lot. I used GetRentacar for a one-day hire out of Brno and found the booking process transparent and simple — no surprise fees at pickup, which is more than I can say for some other platforms I’ve used. Compare options there before booking elsewhere.
Most travelers fly into Prague — it’s well-connected to European hubs and has reasonable transatlantic options. For the best fares, use CheapOair, which aggregates prices across multiple carriers and often surfaces deals that airline websites don’t prominently feature. Book early for summer travel.
The Czech Republic’s most popular spots — particularly Prague’s Old Town and Český Krumlov — deal with real overtourism pressures. Here’s how to be a good visitor:
| Day | Where | Key Things | Sleep |
|---|---|---|---|
| Day 1 | Prague | Arrive, Žižkov wander, Lokál pub | Prague hostel or hotel |
| Day 2 | Prague | 6 AM Charles Bridge, Prague Castle, Josefov | Prague — same |
| Day 3 | Český Krumlov | Castle, Vltava raft, trdelník incident | Český Krumlov pension |
| Day 4 | Brno | Špilberk, Ossuary, Villa Tugendhat, Moravian wine | Brno hostel or hotel |
| Day 5 | Telč (day trip) | Renaissance square, château, heron | Telč pension or back to Brno |
| Day 6 | Olomouc | Six fountains, Holy Trinity Column, cheese reckoning | Olomouc hostel or hotel |
| Day 7 | Prague (return) | Petřín Hill, Malá Strana, farewell beer | Depart or final Prague night |
Bring these:
Leave these at home:
✅ Book flights → CheapOair
✅ Sort accommodation → Booking.com (free cancellation where possible)
✅ Book trains ahead → Trip.com
✅ Get Czech eSIM → Trip.com eSIM (before you leave home)
✅ Book airport transfer → Welcome Pickups
✅ Sort travel insurance → VisitorsCoverage
✅ Set up Revolut → revolut.com
✅ Set up Wise → wise.com
✅ Book tours + experiences → GetYourGuide
✅ Compare car hire (if needed) → GetRentacar
My train back to the airport was at 2:14 PM. I know this because I checked my phone seven times in the forty-five minutes between 1 PM and my taxi. I was sitting outside a café in Malá Strana with the dregs of a coffee and a notebook in which I had written, in total, six sentences and three partial thoughts — all of which trailed off because I kept putting the pen down to look up at something.
A woman was hanging laundry from a third-floor window on a narrow street so old the stones had worn smooth and shiny in the middle. The tram along the embankment made a sound like a question no one needed to answer. Somewhere beyond the castle, a bell was ringing for no apparent reason — not on the hour, not for anything scheduled — just because it felt like something should mark the moment.
That’s Prague on a slow afternoon in the tail end of a week spent moving through a country at the right speed. It doesn’t shout at you. It doesn’t perform. It just continues being exactly what it has been, in this particular spot in Central Europe, for longer than most countries have existed — and it trusts you to notice.
I missed my train by four minutes. This is technically not the Czech Republic’s fault.
I am going back.
Alright, friend — if you read all the way here, you’ve officially graduated from “curious about the Czech Republic” to “dangerously likely to book a ticket.” Welcome to the club. It’s a great club. The beer is excellent.
A Tiny Traveler exists because I genuinely believe that slow travel — trains, local pubs, towns whose names require a second attempt, mornings on empty cobblestone streets — is one of the most restorative things a human being can still do in a world moving at approximately the wrong speed.
And there is so much more on the way. Southern Moravia by bicycle. The sandstone formations of Bohemian Switzerland. A week in Slovakia by train. Northern Bohemia and its borderland strangeness. The wine routes of Znojmo and Mikulov. All of it is coming, and all of it will be written the same way: honestly, with full prices, with the parts that went sideways included, and with zero sentences about places being “nestled” or “vibrant.”
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The Czech Republic is waiting. The trains run on time, mostly. The trdelník is worth the risk. The cobblestones will definitely try to humble you.
Go.
Frank
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