There is something cave-like about this bar. The ceiling is not vaulted per se, it's more of an arch from the floor, and it feels like a cave. This is comforting and sheltering. St. Nick's is the kind of bar I imagine having existed in some similar form for centuries. Man has always been drinking; man has always been in Prague; this cellar has always been here too; I wonder if this was a local hangout in the 13th century.
Fantasy aside, one of the more memorable nights I've had in Prague happened inside St. Nick's. There I was with Henny, my testosterone-filled half German half Czechoslovak woman friend, it was a dull evening all around, and we had nothing better to do than to make fun of the other patrons of this bar, who were obviously as dull at that moment as we were. Then some man opened the lid of the piano and murdered it. In the span of one minute the bar went from a bunch of tired old fogies to Paris in the 'twenties.
The man at the piano, and Israeli called Giora Kukui, became our good friend, and has since gone on to murder pianos all over the Czech Republic, making people cry with pleasure on more than one occasion.
If you go to St. Nick's, this will probably not happen to you. But, they do have a piano...
