Oh, Prague. It was not a traditional choice for a first-time trip overseas, but I think this may be a part of what I learned about myself, and the people I met. Prague is a special place. It became clear to me, a week or so in, just how much the Soviet Occupation (which ended only forty years ago) impacts the behaviors of a society and its culture. Our program coordinator, a local, advised us not to smile at anyone, either on the street, or inside any shops or restaurants. I was a little put off by this at first, but I learned that it is not because Czech people are mean-spirited or unhappy; it is simply not how they live. Most explanations of cultural differences related back to their Soviet occupation, when people were so used to their every move being watched and reported.
“Ah, no one usually talks on the trams or metros.”
“Don’t wear anything too fancy; people generally don’t like any display of wealth.”
“If you smile at a stranger, they’ll panic and think they’re supposed to know you.”
Or, my favorite: “If you have a beer in your hand, it’s an open invitation for someone to approach you.”
Czech people do not operate in any way that is wrong (except maybe their food), and even though some of their behaviors were significantly different than what I experience in the United States, as time I went by, I found myself adjusting — and even preferring — some of their practices. The biggest takeaway I received was a modification of my “us” versus “them” mentality. It is not that I became ignorantly unaware of our cultural differences, just much more adept at melding to the crowd, allowing myself to observe rather than participate and, importantly, be less hyper-aware of every different thing people were doing. I learned firsthand how people live in dissimilar, sometimes contrasting, ways, and how that changes the way people think. I would sometimes be shocked by the forwardness of some Czechs until I truly understood that I have no right to be offended or shocked — that’s just how they are, and it was my fault for not understanding that. I was a visitor, and that humbled me, allowing me to take a step outside of myself and my American bubble.
Franz Kafka lived in Prague, and it makes sense that he was such an absurdist writer. Prague is romantic, but it is also eccentric and can be very odd (like the sculpture of two men peeing so elegantly entitled “Piss Sculpture”). This is to say: many odd situations taught me valuable lessons.
Our program coordinator took our small group of twelve to a hidden, members-only bar, where her son-in-law was playing American folk music with a ragtag band that met every week. Despite their expectations, and even with most of us being from the Midwest or South, no one knew any of the songs, so we snuck a peak at our phones so we could sing the lyrics right. Sometimes you just have to play along to make others happy, especially when they’re doing something for you.
And when we took a trip to Moravia and sang, with strict rehearsals from our program coordinator, a traditional Czech wine song to the family that hosted us for a wine tasting. The family bluntly told us that we butchered the Czech. I was slightly offended at first, but they were completely right, and there was no harm in admitting it. Czech humor is an acquired taste, and it mostly relies on crass, self-deprecating jokes. (And now, I see the appeal.)
Or, when a friend and I ordered beer cheese at a divey restaurant only for it to come with pickled herring. Our waiter was so excited for us to try it we had no choice but to eat. It was awful, but Czechs are particular about wasting food, and he was so happy we had ordered it. Sometimes, you have to steel yourself and just do it.
I did more than visit Prague. I saw Vienna, Budapest, Poprad, Smizany, Krakow, Venice, Bologna, Florence, Incisa, Pisa, Rome, and Illnau. I list all of these places because I learned something new in each of these cities. In Budapest, I learned how to respond to a crisis abroad. In Venice, I learned that traveling alone as a woman, while intimidating, is extremely freeing. Florence taught me physical adversity; how to persist despite the almost unbearable temperature of 112°F outside. Illnau showed me the kindness of strangers, and their willingness to talk for hours, exchanging life stories.
I kept a daily journal of my travels, telling myself what I did that day so I won’t forget even the little details, which can sometimes hold the most vital lessons. The adaptability, humility, and confidence I learned through my travels will be invaluable to my daily life, allowing me to be a leader among peers and a confidant for friends. I plan to go to law school, and these skills will make it much easier for me to persist and remain optimistic despite the rigorous course load I will have to undertake. The courses I took in Prague while simultaneously trying to explore the city solidified an intense “work hard, play hard” mentality within me. And Prague, of course, will never leave my heart.
