After decades of political deep-freeze, divided East and West Europe thawed in autumn 1989, melting again into one.

Smart travellers had one destination in mind: the capital of old Bohemia, Prague.

Would the city on the River Vltava still be the town that Goethe called ‘the prettiest gem in the stone crown of the world’? Would it still be that middle-European dream of monasteries and marionettes?

They needn’t have worried. Preserved in the amber of history and isolated by Communism, Prague has been saved from the commercial development you see in great Western capitals. Here, ‘You can still smell the powder in Mozart’s wig’, as one writer put it. The cityscape remains a mix of medieval, Baroque and Neoclassical architecture, all jumbled harmoniously together.

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With the influx of money, the Prague social scene has become again what it was half a millennium ago – a place of innovation and experiment. Nightlife verges on the decadent: this is a city of lyrical S&M clubs and spontaneous poetry gigs, of heavy-metal bacchanals married with impromptu street theatre.

As with every tourist hub, there are downsides: taxis can be a rip-off, the hotels pricey, and the chefs have a strange desire to put synthetic whipped cream (or is it butter?) on every steak. And when you walk the lonelier backstreets, it’s hard to forget the tragic side of Czech history: the disappearance of the Jews, the emotional and intellectual ravages of Marxism.

But these dark reminders are just the sombre bass notes in the hypnotic perfume of ‘Golden Prague’. Whether you are a lusty Bourgeois or a dreamy Bohemian, this is a city of enchantment. Just make sure your cab driver turns his meter on.

FOR THE BOURGEOIS

Zizkov is the Hoxton of Prague, a gritty, funky, up-and-coming area chocker with nightclubs, pawn shops, gypsies, transvestites and itinerant Ukrainian jugglers (Ceskomoravska Stop, yellow Metro line). The district is also known for its TV tower – mainly because David Cerný, the country’s most notorious artistic radical, has sculpted 10 ‘babies’, who now climb up the lofty transmitter. Peculiar yet uplifting.

l If you like watching men in shoulder pads clubbing each other with sticks, then head for the national Ice Hockey Stadium (Sazka Arena, Prague 8, Vysocany; 00 420 2 2612 1122, from £3.50). Czechs are world-champion puck-whackers: the matches are fast and fantastic fun. The best team is HC Sparta Prague, but don’t say that to supporters of rival Spartia, unless you want a glass of Staropramen lager poured over your head.

Czech beer is superb. (It should be, they’ve been brewing it since 859AD.) Virtually any bar will serve a first-class half-litre – try some of the more exotic types: ‘breakfast beer’ – (yes, that’s beer you drink with your bacon and eggs), or unpasteurised Pilsener Urquell (only available in its homeland). Slavic lager-boffins reckon a truly fine beverage should have a thick creamy head, and taste a little like horseradish. Try La Fabrique, Uhelny Trh 2, in Prague 1, just off Wenceslas Square.

For a small sum you can rent a rowboat or pedalo, and splash about on the River Vltava. The Vltava has an important place in Czech culture: one of the country’s greatest composers, Bedrich Smetana, was inspired to write the country’s famous tune Moldau (the German name for the river) after a day messing about on the waters (£2.50 per hour; open Mar-Oct).

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