As almost any Czech will tell you, it’s nearly impossible today to have an authentically “Czech” experience in Prague. A meal at the historic U Flek* pub? Today only the waiters are Czech. A walk across Charles Bridge? You’ll have to dodge packs of rowdy British 20-somethings clad in matching stag party T-shirts.

So when I decided recently to enroll in a Czech language course, I chose one not in Prague, the city where my mother was born, but in Brno, the Czech Republic’s second city, and a place so far off the beaten path that not a single company here advertises guided tours to English speakers.

What I discovered was an unpretentious city of 400,000 where the central institution of Czech life for centuries – the hospoda, or pub – has not yet been displaced by glitzy cocktail bars. The historic core is predominantly 19th- and 20th-century Jugendstil and modernist, making Brno look solid, handsome, and relatively new in contrast with Prague’s ancient beauty.

There are real rewards to Brno’s more modest virtues, including an eclectic collection of historic monuments and prices that can be as little as half of what the tourist generally pays in that Czech capital. With the addition this spring of a regular Ryanair link to Stansted Airport in London, Brno is emerging as a destination for lovers of castles and beer who have already taken in Prague and its surroundings or are looking for something more authentic.

The best place to start is in the small, crooked streets around the Gothic Petrov Cathedral and below Spilberky Castle. This part of town has the highest concentration of 16th- and 17thcentury houses, as well as a number of good restaurants, pubs, and wine cellars. During breaks from class, I frequently wandered over to Zelny trh (cabbage market), a square where weather-chewed peasants sell the staples of the Czech diet: potatoes, radishes, garlic, and, yes, cabbage.

The first building in Brno that really captivated me was Villa Tugendhat, a 1930 home designed by Mies van der Rohe that is now designated a UNESCO site. From the street it appears to be an undistinguished one-story windowless white box. Inside, however, is a minimalist masterpiece in sleek travertine and teak. Below street level, sumptuous living quarters look out over a gigantic lawn with the church spires of Brno and Spilberk y Castle forming the skyline to the west. Van der Rohe designed the home with few firm barriers, instead separating interior spaces with curtains, movable walls, and furniture.

The home was commissioned by Fritz Tugendhat, a Jewish industrialist; after seven years in the villa, the Tugendhats fled the Nazi takeover of their country, eventually settling in Venezuela. The home still bears some scars from the plunder and neglect of the Nazi and communist years.

Villa Tugendhat can only be viewed in the company of a tour guide. Tours last about an hour, and it is essential to reserve your spot a day or two in advance. (Cernopolnyi 45, 420-545-212-118, www.tugendhat-villa.cz, admission about $3.20.)

The place in Brno with the greatest historic significance for the rest of the world is undoubtedly the Augustinian Monastery of St. Thomas. In the 1850s and ’60s, the monk Gregor Mendel discovered the principles of genetics by breeding peas in the abbey’s garden. A portion of the still-active monastery now houses a museum of Mendel’s work and the rapidly developing (and not strictly creationist) field of genetics. There are specimens of the original pisum sativum on display in the Mendel Center, as well as Mendel’s glasses, a list of seeds to be ordered (in Mendel’s own hand), and an original sermon by Mendel. Unfortunately, the garden where Mendel did his research is today a shabby patch of weeds in dire need of restoration. (Mendlovo namestiy 1, 420-543-42-40-43, www.mendel-museum.org, admission about $3.20.)

To an American, it’s surprising that more is not made of Mendel’s work in his hometown. A museum worker told me the monk was held in low esteem during the country’s communist period, and that the work of resuscitating his reputation in the Czech Republic is only now beginning.

The other decisive event in Brno’s history took place 200 years ago some kilometers east of the city in the fields around the village of Slavkov, better known in German as Austerlitz. Here Napoleon established his primacy in Europe by defeating a much larger joint Austrio-Russian force. There is, of course, a steady stream of French visitors to Slavkov’s baroque chateau. Napoleon proclaimed victory to his troops from the chateau’s balcony after the battle, and the 25-minute train trip to Slavkov goes directly past the bucolic, gentle hills of the battlefield.

Military enthusiasts have planned a number of commemorative events for the summer and fall of 2005, culminating in a massive re-enactment of the battle in early December. The organizers expect 3,500 costumed participants to perform for up to 100,000 visitors, many of whom will arrive on a special train departing from Paris and making stops at other Napoleonic battle sites such as Leipzig, Waterloo, and Ulm. Check www.austerlitz2005.com/en/ for more information.

For a city of its size, Brno’s accommodation options are meager. The finest is the Royal Ricc, a sumptuous 12-room hotel with original Dutch ovens in every room (Starobrneynska 10, 420-542-219-262, www.romantichotels.cz/royalricc; standard doubles start at about $150). The Hotel Slavia mysteriously also has four stars, but is worth a visit only to experience pre-Velvet Revolution hospitality in the form of ugly Lucite chandeliers, mangy carpeting, and an unhelpful staff (Solnicyni 15/17, 420-226-201-911; about $85 for a standard double). A good compromise might be the Best Western’s Hotel International, which is a pretty successful marriage of bland American business culture 1165 1303 1278 1314and flamboyant socialist-era Czech architecture (Husova 16, 420-54-212-2111, www.bestwestern.cz; standard doubles start at around $185 a night).

In my last weeks in Brno, I discovered a form of experience dining impossible to replicate in New York, and which I miss dearly. Jidelna Uzeniny Obcerstveni’s name – roughly, “Dining Hall-Smoked Meat-Refreshments – plainly states what it is: A stand-up cafeteria serving Czech classics like roast pork, roast duck, sauerkraut, knedliky (white bread dumplings), and tall glasses of golden Pilsner beer. Located across from the train station and main tram hub, the place fills every day at lunch- and dinnertime with factory and office workers. Alone in the crowd, or with a friend, you feel as if you too might be an ordinary Czech on a meal break. How delicious.