Castle at Dawn, River at Dusk

Drop your bags at your hotel and get your bearings. The Old Town makes a practical base for both days — tram lines fan out from here in every direction.

Head up to the castle hill early, when tour groups are still finishing breakfast. Strahov Monastery rewards the early riser: its twin Baroque library halls — the Theological and the Philosophical — are among the most beautiful interior spaces in Central Europe, and the garden terrace gives a sweeping panorama over the city's red rooftops.

Descend from the hill and cross the Vltava on the city's most storied bridge. At this hour the 30 Baroque saints lining the parapet still cast long shadows eastward, and the river below carries tourist boats that look, from up here, pleasingly small. Cross slowly — there is no rush and the views both upstream and down are worth lingering over.

The medieval Orloj on the Old Town Hall tower has been marking the hours since 1410. The mechanism tracks solar time, lunar phases, and the positions of the zodiac simultaneously. Position yourself just before the hour for the procession of apostles — theatrical, yes, but genuinely impressive engineering for any century.

A short walk from the square, Kafka Bar & Restaurant sits in the Old Town with a menu and atmosphere that take their literary namesake seriously without being precious about it. A good spot to rest your feet and eat well before the afternoon stretch.

Alfons Mucha's sinuous, gold-infused Art Nouveau posters defined an entire visual era, and this compact museum — the world's largest permanent collection of his work — shows both the famous commercial prints and his more ambitious Slav Epic studies. The afternoon light through the skylights suits the work perfectly.

Jazz Republic in the Old Town is the natural end to a day spent among centuries of craft. The programme leans into proper jazz — live sets most nights — and the drinks list is serious without being showy. Pull up a seat, order something from the bar, and let the music do the talking.

More boulevard than square, Wenceslas has witnessed coronations, occupations, and velvet revolutions. Walk the full length from the equestrian statue of Saint Wenceslas down toward the lower end while the shopfronts are still pulling up their shutters — the grand early-20th-century architecture reads best before the day-trippers arrive.

The neo-Renaissance palace anchoring the top of Wenceslas Square reopened after a decade-long renovation and is now even more impressive inside than out. The Pantheon hall — ringed with busts and paintings of Czech luminaries — is a cinematic space, and the natural history and history collections beneath it are thoughtfully presented.

A brewery restaurant in the New Town, Pivovarský dům Benedict is the right place for an honest Czech lunch: tank-fresh lager, traditional dishes, and the kind of unhurried service that discourages eating in a rush. Order the lunch special and settle in.

A ten-minute walk along the river brings you to Frank Gehry and Vlado Milunić's famously undulating building on the Rašínovo nábřeží embankment. The rooftop bar offers one of the best unobstructed views of the Vltava and castle hill, and the building's warped glass-and-concrete silhouette is best photographed from the riverbank opposite.

Prague's most polarising structure — a 216-metre Communist-era transmitter tower crawling with David Černý's giant bronze babies — becomes something magnificent at dusk. Ride the lift to the observation deck as the city's lights begin to outnumber the daylight. The 360° view takes in everything you've walked over the past two days.

Come down from the tower and head back toward the Old Town for a proper sit-down dinner at U Červeného Páva — the Red Peacock. A well-regarded Czech restaurant with the kind of cooking that earns its reputation quietly, over years rather than press cycles.

End the trip in Žižkov, Prague's proudly unpolished beer quarter. Pivoteka ŽižkOFF is a craft tap room with an encyclopaedic rotating selection of Czech and European beers — the kind of place where the regulars know the names of the brewers. A fitting, unsentimental farewell to a city that takes its beer as seriously as its history.