Prague, Czech Republic
There’s something special about Prague. In fact, there are lots of “something special”s about Prague. It’s got a charm that hard to explain - it’s a city with an incredibly rich history and feels like somewhere along the way it got stuck. Or rather, decided to stay… because to insinuate that it was an accident would be a huge mischaracterization of this city, culture, and people.
Prague felt both the most foreign to Brandi and I while at the same time feeling among the most comfortable. We were staying in the basement of a hostel southeast of city centre, the World Cup was underway, and there were colorfully painted, shirtless fans all over the place. We exchanged some cash and went out in search of ice cream - what by this point had become tradition when visiting a new country. Side note - for those who don’t know (because I had no idea), the Good Humor brand of ice cream changes its name in nearly every country it’s served. The logo, orientation, and typography stay the same, but they name changes completely. A very interesting strategic move. Useless fact of the day. So, we walked to a convenience store directly across from the hostel as a first stop on the ice cream journey and were immediately successful. We went to the counter and out of habit, let the attendant know that the ice cream was all we had come for. I think we ask said something to the effect of being excited about our find. This is where we learned something else interesting, and for us unique, about Prague. Through Ireland, England, and the Netherlands, we had become fairly comfortable communicating in English (not that we had a choice of course). It had seemed that up until this point, everyone we had run into, young and old, spoke English close to, or just as fluently as well did. This was not the case in Prague. The lady behind the counter hadn’t the vaguest idea what we were saying, so we all three resorted to the universal and instinctual “smile and nod”. Again, on the way out of the store, there was a younger girl, a few years shy of our age, that we asked a question of. Second incorrect assumption of the day - “the younger generation speaks English”. This interaction too ended with a smile and nod. This pattern continued for much of our time in Prague, and it was incredibly humbling. I had never before been in a situation where I was the one who couldn’t be understood. It’s a phenomenally eye opening experience that I hope to have more often.
Prague. The architecture is incredible, the history is wild, the language is indecipherable, yet it became a city that felt like a home away from home.
