Wal-Mart is a massive monolithic force that squashes communities and cultures until all the individuality bleeds out. At least, that's the gist of a complaint I overheard while sipping a beer one day last week.

Hey, who am I to disagree with tourists soaking in Czech culture on Old Town Square?

It's debatable whether the proliferation of Wal-Mart and McDonald's and TGI Friday's turns places like Farmington or Lock Haven into homogenous Anytowns. But trying to gain a little cultural perspective by hanging out in Old Town definitely seems futile. Not many Praguers are willing, as I did on this occasion, to shell out 90 Kč ($4) for a Czech beer and 290 Kč for "authentic" Czech goulash in a tourist-zone trap.

Yep, 90 Kč for one Krušovice.

There's no reason to pay that much for Bohemian lite and a dish of tepid brown mucous when you can find the same stuff, and perhaps better, at much cheaper prices nearby. The trick is to venture into the less crowded parts of Prague and experience Czech cuisine at Czech prices. And you need not dodge the organic mounds littering Žižkov's sidewalks or wander the charming streets of Nusle.

Instead, how about a 10-minute walk to Hloupý Honza in New Town? It's a comfortable, clean establishment dolling out not-so-nauseating dishes like stuffed dumplings (overlooking the quick reheating, which toughened my order into large, savory Gummi Bears) and two beers for 169 Kč.

Don't be put off by tacky dumplings or overcooked meat. Depending on which pub you happen upon, the same dish can be dry, greasy, heavy, bland or weighed down with heart-stopping amounts of salt. Rarely does any of it approach sublime. Whether you dine in a tourist trap or a neighborhood joint, this adage holds true: Traditional Czech food may not be great, but at least they give you a lot of it.

Five minutes from Old Town Square, there's a little place called XXX, a name that seems certain to attract whooping throngs of Brits. Really, though, it's just a plain old Czech pub where a couple rounds of Gambrinus and a plate of goulash will set you back a mere 127 Kč. Of course, the server doesn't acknowledge your arrival or gush with false enthusiasm when you order. She's likely to puff away on a cigarette in between tentative strolls through the dining area, which adds character and authenticity.

And the food? Well, to borrow a line from Marge Simpson, you might say the secret ingredient is salt.

If while filling up on salty staples you wish to catch a glimpse of something more residential, try Na Staré Kovarně, across the river near Letná Park, or U Palečka in Vinohrady. Both occupy spots along fairly typical streets with enough of an expat population to justify English-language menus. The former is an eclectic joint serving Tex-Mex, pasta, and (with enough advance notice) whole roast lamb or turkey. Something resembling a potato pancake rolled over flavorless ham and slathered in rather good cabbage runs 119 Kč. Tack on 20 Kč each for the beers necessary to wash away the taste.

U Palečka is better — half a block from the Jiřího z Poděbrad metro stop with an outdoor seating area shaded by trees. The restaurant serves a version of the potato pancake, studded with herbs, folded and filled with chewy but otherwise flavorful beef, sweet onions and peppers scored of seeds so only a vague memory of heat remains. It will set you back a bit more than the others: 160 Kč, plus 29 Kč for each beer.