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Prague's riches

On a whistlestop tour of the Czech capital, Patrick Freyne sampled some of the city's stunning architecture and rich culture but found that 48 hours is simply not long enough

The statue-lined Charles Bridge

The Old Town Hall

A Kempinski Hotel suite

Czech this out: Prague's old town square is beautiful and historic

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Every hour at the Old Town Hall Building in Prague a procession of colourful clockwork figures emerge from an archway above its old astronomical clock. When I go to Prague I missed this performance not once but three times, on the third occasion arriving in time to see the clockwork mechanism malfunction and grind to a halt.

When Jan Hus, the Prague-born religious reformer had a hot date he did not miss it. Indeed, in 1415, the founder of the Hussite religion was burnt at the stake by the Catholic Church and now his statue marks the centre of the old medieval square.

Prague has long been a battleground for warring ideologies – Hussite and Catholic, Democratic and Totalitarian, Communist and Capitalist. The city is marked by such legacies. The Tyn Church looms over the Old Square. A classically gothic building built in 1385, it was eventually reclaimed from the heretical Hussites by murderously pious Catholics. At the far diagonal corner stands St Nicholas's, a Hussite church built in the baroque era in which regular classical concerts are held for secular tourists.

The most recent ideological rift occurred with the fall of communism. Anna is the Slovakian PR manager of the Kempinski Hybernska Hotel (a beautiful renovated 17th-century building owned by Sean Mulryan's Ballymore Properties) and she's one of our hosts. She tells us that Czechoslovakia was always a bit more western in outlook than other soviet states, but she recalls being embarrassed during the fall of communism that all her friends were crossing the border to buy up the flashiest, most ridiculous western products they could find.

She seems stoical about the regime that once dominated the region. She jokes about a paper shortage that occurred when communist Czechoslovakia's one paper factory burnt down and when someone mentions visiting the 'House of Terror' in Hungary, that nation's museum of secret police atrocities, she says in a matter-of-fact voice: "Oh, we had that stuff here too."

Cold-war politics don't seem too far away when, on crossing Charles Bridge, we're joined by an elegant middle-aged lady in a fur hat and coat. She tells us that she's a representative of the Ukrainian government, sent to try and bypass Russia with a lucrative oil deal. "Would the Irish be interested?" she asks. "Would the Ukrainian government really try and arrange oil deals with strangers on a cold medieval bridge?" we wonder. ("They probably would," a political journalist tells me later).

Legend has it that Charles VI laid the foundation stone of the statue-lined bridge in 1357, 9 July at 5.31am. He did so in a fit of numerological superstition because he wanted the time and date to spell out 1-3-5-7-9-7-5-3-1. The bridge also features towering bridge-houses with shivering guards in period costume, and it's lined with 17th-century metal sculptures.

Prague Castle looks over the city from a hill on the far side of the Vltava. It's still the official seat of power. The first castle was built in the 9th century, but each successive administration has added another layer to the architecture. As you may remember from history class, it was the site of the 'Defenestration of Prague', which started the Thirty Year War and occurred in 1618, when two Catholic governors were thrown through a high window by rebellious Protestant aristocrats. The duo somehow survived, either by the intercession of the Virgin Mary or by landing in a big pile of poo (depending on which version of the story you believe).

The Basilica of St Vitus sits in the middle of the castle grounds. Started in 1344 but not completed until the 20th century, it's an awe-inspiring hodge-podge of saintly relics, gothic architecture, and occasional art-nouveau windows, jumbled together for the glory of God. Beneath the church, nine of us are shown a crypt containing nine ornate royal coffins. "That's a suspicious number of coffins," says one wag darkly, inducing some minor claustrophobic panic.

The next day begins with a slightly superfluous trip to the Pilsner Urquell brewery, but later, wandering aimlessly by myself, it's not hard to find cool stuff. The old medieval city gates are on the doorstep of the hotel, as is the stunning Municipal House, an art-nouveau masterpiece featuring a café, restaurant and concert hall.

Prague has been rethinking its approach to tourism over the past couple of years. At the end of the '90s, the city latched onto the stag party business in a short-sighted bid for easy tourism. The locals quickly resented the roaming bands of drunks, and now they're doing their best to rebrand the city around culture and heritage. It's succeeding, although there are still some tipsy stragglers with flimsy shirts and English accents.

Out on the streets, brightly-dressed brass and drum ensembles are wandering about playing vibrant, loud and slightly annoying versions of chart hits (I heard 'Womaniser' by Britney Spears twice). It's all part of a music festival called Eurocarnival, I'm told by a passing drummer (she's dressed in a combination of national dress and a gorilla costume). It's loud and confusing so I escape into the quiet of a gallery, this one devoted to art-nouveau poster-boy (he literally designed posters) Alfonse Mucha. Afterwards, soothed by culture, I take the bus back to the airport.

Forty-eight hours in Prague? You'd need longer, really.

Aer Lingus fly six times weekly from Dublin to Prague. Fares start from €48.99 one-way including taxes and charges. www.aerlingus.com