What a Cesky Krumlov Bar Owner Thinks About 2 Million Tourists a Year
Tomas Novak has run a small beer bar on Latran Street in Cesky Krumlov for 11 years. He grew up in the town, left for Prague, and came back because — his words — "Prague has ten thousand bars. Krumlov needed one more good one."
Q: Two million tourists a year in a town of 13,000. How does that feel?
Honest answer? Between 10 AM and 4 PM from June to September, it feels like an invasion. The old town streets are literally shoulder to shoulder. People stop in the middle of the narrowest lane to take photos. Tour groups of 40 block the bridge. It's chaos.
But at 6:30 PM, they all get on buses back to Prague. And then my town comes back. The locals emerge. The bar fills with people who actually live here. The castle lights up. The river gets quiet. That's the Krumlov I love.
Q: Should tourists feel guilty about coming?
No. Tourism keeps this town alive. My bar exists because of tourists. The castle restoration is funded by tourism. The brewery survives partly on tour money. But I wish people would stay overnight instead of day-tripping. An overnight visitor spends 5-10 times more than a day-tripper and causes half the congestion because they're here during the quiet hours.
Q: What do tourists get wrong?
Three things. First: trdelník. It's everywhere. Tourists think it's a traditional Czech food. It's not. It has Slovak-Hungarian origins and it was commercialized for tourism in the 2000s. It's fine as a snack but calling it Czech cuisine makes me cringe. Order svíčková. That's Czech.
Second: the exchange booths. Those places on the main square advertising "0% commission" are lying. They make their money on terrible exchange rates. Use an ATM. Any ATM.
Third: rushing through. Most day-trippers do the castle tower, take a photo from the bridge, eat a trdelník, and leave. They miss the castle gardens, the Egon Schiele gallery, the view from the river path at night. They see the postcard, not the place.
Q: Where should visitors eat?
Eggenberg Brewery restaurant. Not because the food is the best in town — it's good, solid Bohemian cooking — but because the tank beer is different from anything you'll get in a bottle. The dark lager from the tank is smoother, sweeter, and has been brewed in that same building since 1560.
For something different, Nonna Gina does surprisingly good Italian near the river. And Hospoda Na Louži is the most local pub in the old town — unfancy, cheap, and the regulars will buy you a beer if you speak even one word of Czech.
Q: Best spot for a drink?
My bar, obviously. [Laughs.] But honestly, any of the small pubs on the side streets off Latran. Avoid the places on the main square — they charge 30% more for the same beer. A half-liter of decent Czech lager should cost 40-60 CZK. If someone charges you 90, walk away.
Q: What about the castle?
The tower is the must-do for the view. But the baroque theatre — Tour II — is the thing that surprises everyone. Original 18th-century stage machinery that still works. It's genuinely remarkable. And the castle gardens are free and beautiful and most tourists walk right past them.
Q: Vltava rafting — touristy or authentic?
Both. The river itself is beautiful — gentle rapids, forested banks, herons on the rocks. The experience is genuinely fun. But on a Saturday in July, you'll be in a flotilla of 200 canoes, some piloted by people who've been drinking since breakfast. Weekdays are much better.
Q: When's the best time to visit?
May or September. Warm enough for everything, rafting season is on, but the worst of the crowds haven't arrived or have left. Or — and this is my real answer — a Tuesday in winter. The old town in snow, with the castle lit up and maybe 50 tourists in the entire town, is the most beautiful version of Cesky Krumlov. You'll need a heavy coat but you'll have the place to yourself.
Q: After 11 years, do you still love it?
Every night when the last bus leaves and I can hear the river instead of tour groups. Every morning in January when I walk to the bar through empty cobblestone streets and the castle is frosted white. Every summer night when someone visiting from Prague or Berlin or Tokyo sits at my bar, tries the dark lager, and says something like, "This town is unbelievable."
Because it is. Even after 2 million visitors, it still is.