Prague: A City in the Present Tense
Beyond the spires, Prague is investing in circularity, cleaner mobility and a more responsible events industry
Prague has never struggled to make an impression. The skyline settles the matter within minutes. Yet for the planners, organisers and institutional decision-makers shaping the next generation of international business events, beauty is only the opening argument. The real test is whether a city feels workable, relevant and quietly assured; whether it can pair atmosphere with infrastructure, and heritage with a clear sense of direction. Prague can. More than that, it increasingly feels like a city that knows exactly what it is offering, and why.
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Sustain Europe has covered Prague before, particularly through the lens of green events and the city’s sustainability credentials. That story has moved on, and so has the city’s case for itself. What Prague is now offering the meetings market is harder to summarise than a green checklist, and more interesting.
So what, after all, does a city like Prague still need to prove? Its historic centre, built up between the 11th and 18th centuries, remains one of Europe’s most recognisable urban ensembles. The UNESCO designation reads less like a badge of honour than a statement of fact. But the meetings market has grown less forgiving of destinations that rely on exactly that kind of inherited advantage. Delegates are more selective about travel. Employers are watching cost, carbon and time. Associations have to justify physical attendance to members who have learned, however imperfectly, to meet on screens. A congress can no longer defend itself by putting people somewhere attractive and hoping the setting does the rest. The destination has to help the gathering earn its existence.
Prague’s stronger argument lies in what sits beneath the skyline: research institutions that complicate the visitor image, a climate agenda moving unevenly from aspiration into delivery, and a civic fabric being returned to use in ways that matter for how events actually feel. Crucially, much of this sits close together, allowing a congress to feel held by the city rather than scattered across it.
That is not a minor convenience. Conferences are shaped by what happens between the scheduled moments: the transfer that does or does not drain the morning, the walk after dinner, the conversation that continues outside a session room, the decision to stay in circulation rather than retreat to a hotel. They decide whether a city feels like scenery, a burden, or part of the programme’s intelligence.
Prague’s current relevance lies in being read more accurately. The view still opens the door. It simply can no longer close the case.
The Competitive Frame
Before the detail, a point of calibration. Prague sits in a crowded European field. Vienna, which has frequently ranked at or near the top of the ICCA congress rankings, offers comparable heritage, arguably stronger research infrastructure, and a congress centre of similar scale. Budapest competes hard on cost and character. Warsaw has invested heavily in modern venue capacity. Bratislava bids for price-sensitive overflow. The cities are not interchangeable, but they are comparable: and the meetings industry makes exactly those comparisons.
The comparison is not just theoretical. Prague has just placed sixth in the latest ICCA ranking of association meeting destinations, from a field of 4,728 evaluated cities. The city’s own 2025 figures tell a similar story at street level: more than 5,000 events, more than 850,000 delegates, and over fifty major congresses, conferences and corporate gatherings with more than 1,000 participants. Prague is not trying to force its way into the European meetings conversation. It is already there; the question now is how well it uses that position.
What Prague has, and what its direct competitors cannot easily replicate, is a particular combination: central European geography, immediate visual authority, a genuinely usable public transport network, institutional depth that its visitor image consistently undersells, and a sustainability record that is complicated enough to be credible. None of those advantages is unique on its own. Together they make a case that feels less assembled and more structural; less like a bid document and more like an actual city.
Short Distances, Real Consequences
In event planning, distance is never neutral. It becomes lateness, fatigue, missed receptions, and the slow erosion of delegate attention. A city can have impressive venues and strong hotel stock and still make a congress feel dispersed if every movement taxes the people it is trying to gather.
Prague’s practical strength is compactness. In 2025, Václav Havel Airport Prague handled 17,750,528 passengers, with connections to 194 destinations: broad enough that many European delegates can arrive without a connection, and that matters more than route maps suggest. Reassurance is a genuine procurement variable. A destination with complicated air access is a destination that requires extra justification. Prague is not peripheral to European event planning. It sits, quite literally and logistically, near the middle of the map.
On the ground, the city’s infrastructure carries the argument further. Three metro lines, 36 tram lines and 154 bus lines move nearly a billion passenger journeys a year, while a fourth metro line, the future Line D, is now under construction. Planned from Náměstí Míru towards Písnice, with Pankrác becoming an interchange with Line C, it strengthens the sense of a transport system still being expanded around the needs of a growing capital. This is not a visitor system. It is a working city’s daily circulatory system, and delegates can enter it without a tour guide or a taxi queue. The best event cities rarely feel as though they have been arranged only for events.
The Prague Congress Centre makes the point especially clear. Set at Vyšehrad, on the metro and close to the centre, it has the practical clarity that many large venues lack. It offers space for events of up to 10,000 participants in more than 70 halls, lounges and meeting rooms. Its Congress Hall alone seats 2,766. Its next phase now gives that argument more force: a new exhibition hall, planned for 2029, will add 5,000 m2 of net exhibition space and take total exhibition capacity to more than 21,000 m2. None of this is especially glamorous to write about, perhaps, but it is exactly the sort of detail planners care about. A city that removes friction from the day tends to look better in every other respect as well.
O2 universum adds larger-scale capacity to the same equation. Large meetings can easily become detached from the destination that hosts them. Prague’s infrastructure works best when scale remains connected to the wider urban experience, when a major congress can be absorbed by the city rather than sealed off beside it.
“Conferences are shaped by what happens between the scheduled moments: the transfer that does or does not drain the morning, the walk after dinner, the conversation that continues outside a session room.”
Cubex Centrum Prague adds a more contemporary layer to the city’s meetings map. Set in Pankrác, beside the metro and within Prague’s business district, it does not depend on the atmosphere of the historic centre for its appeal. Its value is more practical: flexible halls, strong production infrastructure, immediate public transport access and enough capacity for conferences, exhibitions, gala evenings and hybrid formats that need precision rather than romance. The main hall can seat around 1,000 theatre-style, with a banquet capacity of roughly 650, while its location within a LEED Platinum-certified building gives organisers a sustainability credential that can be measured rather than merely claimed.
Its value lies in range. Alongside the Prague Congress Centre, O2 universum and the city’s heritage venues, Cubex fills the mid-sized corporate, association and technology space where logistics, AV, reporting and delegate movement need to function almost invisibly. It does not compete with Prague’s older identity. It helps release the city from relying on that identity too heavily.
There are honest limits. Barrier-free access across the metro has improved substantially, with 48 of 61 stations currently accessible, but the work is not complete. Airport transfers remain practical rather than glamorous, though this is one of the city’s more visible infrastructure gaps now being addressed. A new rail link is being built to connect the centre with Václav Havel Airport Prague, and parts of that wider upgrade are already changing movement within the city, including the new Praha-Výstaviště stop serving the Prague Exhibition Grounds. Peak-hour pressure exists. A compact capital still has to balance residents, commuters, visitors, suppliers and events.
Those caveats do not weaken the case. They make it more credible. Prague does not remove friction altogether; few living cities can. It reduces enough of it to alter behaviour. When the transfer is manageable, delegates accept the extra meeting. When the walk after dinner is possible, the conversation continues. When the city is legible, people stay in circulation rather than retreating to their rooms.
Heritage: The Lifestyle Gloss Problem
Prague’s historic fabric has always been admired. The sharper question, and the one worth pressing on, is what the city is prepared to do with it. Preservation can keep buildings beautiful and still leave them mute. A city becomes more interesting when old urban layers are returned to use.
That distinction is crucial for events. Historic settings can be oddly impractical: handsome rooms with awkward access, ceremonial spaces that photograph well but resist production, ornate halls that impose atmosphere without helping the work. Prague’s strongest examples are the ones where atmosphere and function are made to serve each other.
The restored Fanta building at Prague’s main railway station is the clearest example. Its Art Nouveau halls were not conceived as event décor. They belonged to the infrastructure of travel, part of a place of arrival, departure and encounter. A railway building designed around movement now gathers people again, with its original purpose still present in the walls.
Station 6 in Bubeneč works more quietly. A former suburban station has become a café, bistro, community venue and event space. It is not a grand gesture, and that is why it is useful. Prague’s inheritance is not only palaces, theatres and monumental rooms. It is also the modest architecture of daily life, the places that once organised neighbourhoods and can do so again if adaptation is handled with care.
Martinický Palace, on Hradčanské náměstí close to Prague Castle, serves a different purpose. A Renaissance palace available for receptions, banquets, concerts, conferences, exhibitions and private gatherings, it gives organisers access to a setting no contemporary fit-out can imitate: sgraffito, painted ceilings, courtyards and the quiet authority of a building shaped by centuries.
It is not a large conference machine, and should not be treated as one. Its best use is selective: a leadership dinner, private reception, cultural evening, board-level gathering or formal moment within a wider congress programme. With published capacities of around 250 theatre-style, 150 banquet and 200 reception, it belongs to the realm of considered hospitality rather than mass delegate flow.
That restraint is part of its strength. Martinický Palace gives an event gravity, not scalability; memory, not efficiency. Used well, it can make a social programme feel genuinely attached to Prague’s civic and architectural inheritance, rather than simply placed inside a beautiful room.
At Výstaviště, the Prague Exhibition Grounds, the renewed Nová Spirála — now a technically ambitious multi-purpose venue with a 360-degree auditorium and revolving stage — and the upgrading of the Křižík Pavilions point to another form of continuity. So does the reconstructed Industrial Palace, the 1891 landmark whose long renovation is scheduled to return it to use in autumn 2026 after the rebuilding of the left wing destroyed by fire in 2008. Its interiors are being adapted for trade fairs, conferences, cultural events and social gatherings, bringing one of Prague’s great exhibition buildings back into contemporary circulation. Exhibition grounds have always been civic theatres: places where cities stage culture, industry, spectacle and public assembly. Renewal here is not simply a matter of adding venue capacity. It keeps an old urban function alive.
“Many destinations can build new event capacity on peripheral land. Fewer can keep adding capacity inside places that already mean something.”
The same pattern appears in more contemporary forms. Signal Space brings digital and immersive art into the renovated Old Town Market Hall. The Prague Planetarium, reopened after modernisation with advanced LED-dome technology, sits somewhere between science communication, cultural venue and event setting. Holešovice Market Hall, where the former Slaughterhouse Exchange has been transformed into Burza restaurant, shows older working places being remade without being erased.
Hotels tell their own version of the story. W Prague, in the former Grand Hotel Evropa on Wenceslas Square, carries early twentieth-century theatricality into a contemporary format. Fairmont Golden Prague, in the former InterContinental, returns a major modernist landmark to the city’s hospitality and conference economy. The Cloud One, near Masaryk Station, belongs to a newer wave of railway-adjacent redevelopment, linking accommodation and event space to a district shaped by movement and renewal.
There is an obvious danger here: adaptive reuse as lifestyle gloss. A converted hall, a rooftop, a restored façade, a few carefully lit interiors, and suddenly the city becomes a property supplement. Prague is trying, unevenly but visibly, to keep its accumulated city in circulation. These places do not merely provide organisers with better backdrops. They widen the number of settings where visitors and residents can occupy the same urban fabric.
Many destinations can build new event capacity on peripheral land. Fewer can keep adding capacity inside places that already mean something. Prague’s inheritance brings constraints, and old buildings rarely adapt without argument. Yet those constraints help prevent the results from feeling generic. When the past stops behaving like scenery and becomes part of the city’s present tense, the difference is more than semantic.
The Bohemian Spirit
The word bohemian has taken a long, occasionally undignified journey from its geographic origins to its current role as a soft cultural compliment. Bohemia is not a metaphor here. It is a historical fact. Prague was its capital, the point through which many of the currents of Central European intellectual and political life passed: sometimes violently, often productively. Over centuries, that crossroads character brought nationalities, religions, philosophical schools and craft traditions into collision within a bounded urban space, and left traces more durable than architecture. They settled into a particular civic disposition: sceptical, inventive, given to irony and experimentation.
That disposition has produced things. Contact lenses emerged from Czech research. So did silon, the ship propeller and nanofibres. The word “robot” was coined by Karel Čapek in Prague in 1920, for a play about manufactured beings that eventually tire of serving their creators. That particular invention says something useful about the local sensibility. Prague’s intellectual culture has always carried a slight unease with authority.
Prague is now making a formal claim on its original meaning, through the Convention Bureau’s new positioning, “Unconventional Conventions”. The argument is that a city historically defined by the collision of cultures, traditions and disciplines can offer business events something that efficiency and aesthetics alone cannot supply.
The claim is worth taking seriously, provided it is separated from the lifestyle branding it can too easily become. Unconventionality should not mean novelty for its own sake. A scientific congress does not need to pretend to be playful. A leadership forum does not need decorative eccentricity. But both can benefit from a city that allows seriousness to breathe, and gives the structure of an event enough character to keep people engaged after the formal business is done. A city that has historically produced independent thinkers, tolerated difficult arguments and rewarded conversations that do not settle too quickly tends to create conditions where delegates can take intellectual risks. Not every congress needs it, but it is present in the way a city’s identity is always present.
Managing Director Roman Muška has framed the Bureau’s rebrand carefully: heritage and free thinking in the same sentence, beauty and strategic reliability in the same pitch. That is the right pairing. A city can be visually extraordinary and professionally mediocre. Prague’s stronger claim is that it offers both the setting and the substance, and that these are connected by something older and more persistent than merely a campaign.
For the meetings market, that claim carries a specific relevance. The purpose of bringing people together is rarely just to transmit information. It is to create the conditions in which trust, argument, recognition and imagination can do their work. Prague’s Bohemian quality helps with that, not because it makes events informal, but because it prevents them from becoming merely procedural. It gives organisers room to design moments that feel specific to the city rather than pasted onto it.
The risk, as always, is cliché. Prague can be oversold as magical, romantic, mysterious, unconventional. None of those words is wrong, exactly; they simply stop at the surface. The Bohemian argument, made honestly, is not that Prague is bohemian in the lifestyle sense: it is that the city has a long habit of producing ideas under pressure, and of finding uses for old forms that newer cities cannot easily imitate. That is a different kind of pitch. Harder to illustrate in a brochure, but correspondingly harder to dismiss in a boardroom.
A Knowledge City Hiding in Plain Sight
Prague’s institutional depth is easier to miss than its architecture. The visitor image arrives quickly: river, castle, old town, skyline. The universities, laboratories, agencies, data projects and research networks take longer to register. That imbalance can make the city appear more like a stage for international knowledge exchange than a participant in it.
Strong association and scientific events need more than rooms, stages, hotels and receptions. They need a local context capable of adding credibility: researchers, policy actors, universities, specialist clusters, public agencies and ambassadors who can make a congress feel connected to place rather than merely booked into it. Prague has more of that substance than its visitor image suggests.
The European Union Agency for the Space Programme gives the city a role in fields close to Europe’s strategic anxieties: navigation, infrastructure, data, security, sovereignty and industrial capability. Not every congress needs a space agency nearby. But EUSPA places Prague inside a technical and political conversation larger than tourism or hospitality.
RICAIP, the Research and Innovation Centre on Advanced Industrial Production at CIIRC CTU, moves the argument into industry. Its work around advanced manufacturing, robotics, AI and testbeds speaks to one of Europe’s defining practical questions: how production modernises without losing its industrial base. This is not innovation as decoration. It is applied research, engineering and cross-border collaboration.
ELI Beamlines, in the Prague region, adds scientific weight of a different order. High-power laser research is not easily turned into destination copy, which is precisely why it matters here. It signals that the knowledge base around Prague reaches into advanced infrastructure with applications across physics, materials and life-science research.
The civic layer is just as important. The Prague Innovation Institute, founded by the city, sits at the junction of education, business, government, environment, infrastructure and research. Its relevance is connective. Cities that want to host serious events increasingly have to show they can convene across sectors, not merely accommodate guests.
The Prague City Data Conference gives that same seriousness an urban language. Climate, mobility, ageing, services and planning may sound less glamorous than gala dinners, but they are the subjects through which European cities now reveal their competence. Prague is not only offering its streets and venues to others. It is also examining its own systems in public.
The Prague Convention Bureau’s Ambassador Programme belongs in this context. At its best, an ambassador programme links congress acquisition to the people who give a city intellectual legitimacy: clinicians, researchers, academics, sector leaders and professional communities. It helps prevent international events from landing in a city without local roots.
Prague’s congress pipeline suggests that the strategy has substance. Major gatherings in psychiatry, endocrinology, ophthalmology, palliative care, information security, biotech and dentistry are not casual visitor segments. They are fields with professional standards, research cultures and institutional networks. Prague hosted the 34th European Congress of Psychiatry in March 2026, and is due to host the European Congress of Endocrinology in May, the World Ophthalmology Congress in June and the FDI World Dental Congress in September, the latter at O2 Arena and O2 universum. Their presence in the city’s calendar points to a meetings market where credibility is earned through more than capacity.
The danger would be to stack these institutions and congresses into a roll call. Their value is not numerical. They change what Prague can contribute: speakers, partnerships, site visits, specialist context, institutional credibility and a more serious intellectual atmosphere. They make the city more than a container for content.
A perception gap remains. Prague’s research identity is not as immediate as its architecture. Many delegates will still arrive thinking first of river, castle and old town. That may now work in the city’s favour. Familiarity lowers the guard; depth supplies the surprise. The skyline may dominate the first impression, but the quieter institutional city is what allows serious congresses to feel properly placed rather than merely well housed.
Sustainability: The Hard Version
Prague’s sustainability case is strongest when it remains complicated—and to its credit, it does.
There is measurable progress. The city’s latest climate update reports that total carbon dioxide emissions have fallen by almost 30% compared with 2010, from 8.85 million tonnes to 6.22 million tonnes. It also states plainly that transport remains the biggest challenge, with emissions in that segment not yet declining. There is something reassuring about that. A city that acknowledges where progress is uneven tends to sound more credible than one presenting sustainability as a neatly completed picture.
The Prague Congress Centre’s solar installation is useful because it is concrete: 2,080 panels, 936 kWp of installed capacity, supplying around ten per cent of the venue’s electricity. It does not turn a large congress centre into a carbon-neutral fantasy. It shows a major venue reducing part of its operational load in a way that can be measured.
The hotel sector is moving in the same direction, though unevenly. Green Key certifications at properties such as Marriott Prague, Augustine, The Julius and Botanique show that sustainability expectations are no longer confined to specialist suppliers. Certification is not a moral guarantee. It is a procurement tool. It helps organisers separate vague environmental language from properties prepared to meet external standards. Associations and corporate clients increasingly arrive with reporting obligations of their own; warmth is no substitute for evidence.
Prague’s policy on supported events using reusable cups, plates and dishes belongs to the same practical world. It is not glamorous, which is why it has weight. Waste reduction at events is often dressed in inflated language, but much of the work is ordinary: what is served, how it is served, what is thrown away, who measures it, who is responsible. A city that makes those details part of event culture is doing something more useful than adding a green paragraph to a bid.
The Prague Convention Bureau’s sustainability role is important because the meetings industry fragments easily. One venue has solar panels, one hotel has certification, one caterer has a policy, and one organiser has a reporting template. The Bureau’s work in collecting and promoting sustainability data among members gives the sector a mechanism for comparison. It is not a complete system, but it is better than scattered good intentions. It makes better choices easier to identify under the pressure of real planning.
“Prague’s sustainability case is not tidy enough for a slogan, and that is partly why it works.”
The hard part is transport. Prague’s public transport system is one of the city’s strengths, yet transport emissions have not followed the same downward path as the city’s overall carbon figures. Car traffic remains the largest source of emissions. It is the unresolved problem that gives the climate story its seriousness. European cities are full of ambitious plans colliding with daily movement: commuters, deliveries, taxis, private cars, event traffic, visitor flows, politics and habit.
For Prague, the tension gives the sustainability case more authority, not less. The city can point to strong public transport, but not pretend mobility has been solved. It can encourage lower-impact event choices, but not claim every delegate journey is clean. It can plant trees, expand green infrastructure and maintain a city where more than half the area is greenery, while still confronting the stubborn carbon logic of road traffic.
Green infrastructure should be understood as liveability work, not a convenient offset narrative. Prague’s target of planting one million trees by 2026, with hundreds of thousands already in the ground, belongs to the physical experience of climate adaptation: shade, cooling, biodiversity, water retention and access to open space. For events, this is not merely scenery. A city investing in liveability for residents also creates a more humane setting for visitors.
Prague’s sustainability case is not tidy enough for a slogan, and that is partly why it works. Serious organisers do not need perfection. They need evidence, honesty and enough visible progress to trust that the city knows where the difficult work still lies. In a market tired of green polish, that kind of accountability carries more weight.
After the Plenary
The informal life of a congress is where much of the value of physical gathering is actually recovered. People travel for the programme, but what often stays with them is the dinner where professional exchange became less guarded, the walk that changed the mood of the day, or the moment when a city stopped feeling like a venue choice and started feeling like a place.
Prague’s advantage here is not that it has good restaurants and interesting venues; many cities do. It is that the informal register is already woven into the urban texture, so that moving from the congress hall to the evening does not require a gear change or forcing the event into theatre. The city has enough cultural weight to absorb delegates without making every experience feel packaged.
Gastronomy now has more international recognition. The MICHELIN Guide’s first countrywide Czechia edition in December 2025 formalised something that had been bubbling for some time. The guide includes one two-star restaurant, eight one-star restaurants, four Green Star restaurants, 18 Bib Gourmand selections and 52 recommended restaurants across the country, with Prague central to that map. For leadership dinners, incentives and association gatherings, that has practical use. But food is most valuable when it stops performing and lets the conversation continue. Prague can do formal, experimental, discreet, local and celebratory without making dinner feel like a staged proof of destination quality.
Some of the strongest after-hours settings avoid the obvious. Prague Zoo, with its open-air theatre and event spaces, sits outside the standard hotel-conference circuit. It offers guided tours and private evening visits after closing hours, giving organisers a side programme with genuine conservation and educational substance rather than novelty alone. The Botanical Garden, with Fata Morgana greenhouse, the Japanese Garden and the adjacent Troja vineyard, shifts the mood towards landscape, cultivation and quiet spectacle. Grébovka, with its vineyard setting in Havlíčkovy sady, offers a softer civic atmosphere than any ballroom can easily supply.
These settings change the room without breaking the thread: gardens, renewed halls, cultural venues, riverbanks, cafés, galleries and public spaces that feel lived in rather than assembled for visitors. A medical congress or technology summit may require precision during the day, but relationships often develop in looser conditions.
Signal Space gives the cultural offer a contemporary edge, placing digital and immersive art inside a historic setting. The Planetarium, reopened with advanced LED-dome technology, has a related usefulness, sitting between science, culture and spectacle. Used intelligently, these places can extend an event’s themes rather than distract from them.
Prague’s familiar visitor image makes lazy programming easy: a historic dinner, a castle view, a guided stroll, a beer hall. The better opportunity is subtler. A reception in a renewed market space, dinner in a revived hotel, an evening in a garden or planetarium, a cultural encounter in a digital art venue. Each shifts the emotional register while remaining attached to the city’s wider story of reuse, knowledge, liveability and public life.
Delegates quickly sense when the social programme has been bolted onto the conference as compensation for the day’s seriousness. Prague’s stronger offer is that the formal and informal parts of an event can feel connected by the city itself. The best conversations may begin in the congress hall, but they often settle elsewhere, once the lanyards matter less and attendance begins to feel like participation.
“[Prague] does not have to pretend to be undiscovered, reinvented or suddenly transformed. Its advantage is more interesting than that.”
Why Prague Is Timely
The meetings market has lost some of its old automatic habits. Annual congresses, familiar rotations and default attendance no longer carry quite the same authority. Delegates ask more of the journey. Employers ask more of the budget. Institutions ask more of the carbon case. Sponsors ask more of the audience. Cities are being judged less by how attractively they present themselves and more by whether they make gathering worth the trouble.
That is why Prague feels newly relevant. It does not have to pretend to be undiscovered, reinvented or suddenly transformed. Its advantage is more interesting than that. Older strengths have become newly useful. Compactness now speaks to time, cost and carbon. Heritage now matters when it can be used intelligently rather than merely admired. Public transport has become part of the event proposition. Local institutions give congresses more than a rented stage. Cultural depth helps justify the journey without overwhelming the work.
The tired destination pitch is wearing thin. Too many cities still sell business events through the same polished sequence: skyline, airport, hotel stock, gala dinner, sustainability paragraph, testimonial. Prague has those ingredients, but its better case is not additive. It is connective. The city’s value lies in how those pieces sit together, close enough for the event to feel less manufactured and more naturally held.
The future of meetings will not belong to cities that are merely pleasant. Nor will it belong to cities that are efficient but empty. The strongest destinations will make travel feel proportionate: movement that does not exhaust the programme, settings that add meaning without swallowing the content, sustainability claims that survive scrutiny, and institutions capable of contributing to the conversation rather than simply hosting it.
Prague’s edge lies in that compression. It can offer scale without losing its human grain. It can let its inheritance support the event without becoming trapped by it. It can place modern congresses inside older civic fabric without turning the city into an event set. It can speak about sustainability with enough evidence to be credible and enough unfinished work to remain believable.
Cities do not win serious meetings because they are lovely to look at. They win them because they reduce friction, sharpen purpose and make the time between sessions feel as though it belongs to the same argument. Prague, increasingly, does exactly that.
Discover how Prague Convention Bureau can help you bring your next meeting, congress or incentive to a city where history, knowledge and modern event infrastructure meet: pragueconvention.cz
