At the end of February, I moved to Kladno, a town just outside of Prague in the Czech Republic. It was a small town in which TripAdvisor wasn't so friendly. But I had found a good coffee shop and a good gym, so I was happy. It took over an hour via bus then metro to get from Kladno to Prague. It was a bit of a schlep, but I was buzzing to get to know the city better.
Although I had been to Prague before, it was still a bit of an adventure. Last time I visited, it was the second stop on the interrailing tour I did with some mates from university.
Having done a TEFL course, but still not sure if it was the job for me, I had volunteered to teach English for a month at a vocational Secondary School for Nurses (quite niche, right?). I was dipping my toes into a new career, in a new country.
----
The first couple of weeks was filled with the awkward excitement of facing new classes and being a ‘real’ English person in front of them. I never got tired of the students’ being shocked at when I told them I was 23. They insisted I looked so young. Part of my introduction to the class, I gave presentations about the UK, London and my hometown (Hull). It was quite surreal talking about such iconic or mundane British things and having a class stare at the images in amusement.
I would not describe myself as a ‘natural’ teacher. I had to put a lot of preparation time in and, even then, often got obvious things wrong. Teaching your native language inevitably leads to some awkward self-reflections. When a student asks what the grammatical rule for X situation (and you genuinely don’t know), it does inflict a strange sort of imposter syndrome: “Am I even English when I don’t know how I speak?”.
Talking to people of different nationalities, it is interesting what British personality traits leave a lasting impression. The Czech friends I met would mention stock British culture symbols like, ‘tea with milk’, snooker, darts etc. The way they parroted the phrases indicated the English education they had been given growing up. One student even asked me what a typical scene in the average British pub would look like. I took immense pleasure in narrating a classic Wetherspoons set-up.
Some of the students took me out a couple of times for coffee, or drinks, or even a day out in Prague. Both parties were nervous to talk to each other: me, being and anxious mess; them, apprehensive to speak English in fear of getting it wrong.
As I didn’t speak any Czech when I arrived, countless times the students tried to teach me some words. I ended up sounding like Joey from Friends trying to speak French. Not a good look.
Somewhat naively, I thought that the language barrier would not be a big issue. I was severely mistaken. The further out of Prague, people had either a smaller vocab range of English, or didn’t speak it at all. There were numerous occasions when I was shouted at in Czech and I resorted to a very helpless (Hugh Grant-esque) British stereotype: “I’m terribly sorry but I don’t speak Czech…”.
----
I’m a real history geek so the Czech Republic’s legacy of Communism was especially fascinating to me. After visiting the Museum of Communism on my first full day in Prague, I began to see the ripples of history over the country. The post-WWII harsh Socialism explained why there were so many tower flats in Kladno and the brutalist architecture. The repercussions of communism resonated amongst the living population (after all, it was only 1989 when the communist regime collapsed). Some of my fellow English teachers, Lenka and Ivan, both around 50 years old, remembered what Czech Republic was like under Communism. Lenka mentioned that, because of the intense Socialist upbringing, it was seen as selfish for an individual to buy something just for themselves, rather than sharing it with others. Ivan talked about the lack of career options he had growing up, so he fled to Canada in attempt to get a better life.
One of the most striking things for me, as a Christian, was that Czech is a very Atheist country. Of course, they have churches and cathedrals. But many of them are not in use and are merely used for tourism. My Czech friends, Simon and Tereza explained that they didn’t really know anyone religious, and this was quite a universal thing in Czech. I definitely suffered from the lack of a Christian community, but I am sure if/when I go back, I would be able to find something.
----
Not really knowing anyone in Czech Republic and desperate to explore, I did what most millennials do: downloaded a dating app. I wasn’t trying to find the next love of my life, I just wanted to meet people and do things. It’s one of the great annoyances of the 21st century that women cannot go out at night, carefree without an impending fear of doom. Going to cocktail bars or around Vystad castle at night would have been much sketchier and dangerous if I had not been on a date.
(It occurred to me that when women go on a date, it's not as simple as "it's either good or bad". Women go on dates with the possibility that 'this man might kill me'. It's either good, bad or death. Food for thought.)
I met an American guy (a New Yorker), who was also an English teacher, and we hit it off. I met his flatmates (who were also American) and we had a good night drinking wine (mostly me). Yana (from Chicago) had been on a bad date so it seemed only fair that she should join us to try and cheer her up.
Yana invited me for a club night at a mysterious place called Vzorkovna, or 'Dog Bar', which they all raved about. it was my first night ‘out out’ since the pandemic started. It was seemingly inconspicuous in going through a back door. The club had it all. An Alice-in-Wonderland type of place with nooks and crannies. It had a main bar, a coffee bar, a pizza place and snooker room. They had a stage with a live band performing a mix of music. Not like R&B dance anthems, but it made the night more authentic. Live singing and a guitarist, people dancing and having a good time. In Dog Bar, you were allowed to smoke, indoors. And it didn’t just have to be tobacco. I don’t hate the smell of marijuana so I was down to just be a bystander whilst everyone else got high. I thought it was all fine: until the next day all I could smell was weed (and I still felt intoxicated about 12hrs later).
Still giddy after last night’s shenanigans, I took myself out for brunch at Kavárna Místo, a coffee shop I had been wanting to go to. When I got home (after an arduous journey back), I realised I had remnants of the night before still visible. On my neck. No wonder I was getting some smirks.
Note to self: as much as you don’t want to, please look carefully in the mirror after a night out.
----
Czech people are very romantic. Most of the students had a boyfriend/girlfriend and they were always interested to know if I had one. The family friends I met both had long-term girlfriends and that seemed standard. I watched an old Czech Comedy on Netflix (recommended to me by Ivan as an insight into Czech humour) called 'Vrchní, prchni!' (1981), or 'Run, waiter, run!'. It was clear that Czech gender ideals were sexist- conservative to say the least. The male protagonist was a loveable rogue who kept having affairs with beautiful women and getting them pregnant. His wife and his homeless was a vicious domestic blackhole, sucking the joy out of everything. Oh how original.
----
I went back to my favourite wine bar, Bistro Špejle, in the centre of Prague on my final Saturday in the city. I took a seat at the bar and read my Margaret Atwood book (classic) with a glass of wine. I got chatting to the head waitress as she had previously served me. It turns out that waitressing was her hobby- she actually had another full-time job. Baking was another leisure activity; she said she hoped she could interest one of the guys in the office with her cakes. A very endearing fairy-tale situation. We shared a glass of wine (which she gave me on the house) after she had finished her shift). She explained she loved her bar job for the social side, and it was good to meet people, better than being home alone in a Saturday night. She talked about her friends who had to ask permission from their husbands/partners if they could go out. She was clearly outraged by that suggestion and really enjoyed her freedom- but missed having someone waiting for her at the end when she completed a 10k. Sis, I think you’re doing just fine.
----
Czech Republic is renowned for their beer. It’s produced locally, to a great standard and cheap. I don’t drink beer; to which many a Czech has replied "you have come to the wrong place!". After living there for 3 weeks, and still not having any, the people I spoke to were getting more and more shocked that I hadn’t tried any yet. I hate to disappoint people.
After asking Ivan (again) where to go for a pint, he recommended me this place in the Old Town called Tygers Bar (U Zlatého tygra). It's famous because, back in 1994, the President of the new Czech Republic, after the fall of Communism, Havel, shared a pint with U.S. President Clinton. So, on my final Sunday, excusing myself with hair of the dog, I went.
Nearly choking on the testosterone, I wandered inside a raucous room with warm colours. The room was laid out with benches and groups of people, mostly men but also some women, outlining the room. There was the counter and a beer tap, with a humongous man behind it.
Anxious what to do (there wasn’t a seat) I hung around awkwardly and let my thoughts run wild. After aggressively telling myself to decide something, anything, I quickly googled what beer to drink so I could save myself some embarrassment when I ordered. The waiter forcefully showed me to a seat at the end of a table with a group of lads. The man behind the bar turned on the beer tap and poured a stein, slammed it down and thrust it towards a robust guy in a serving apron, then throwing it down in front of me. Proceeding to destroy the patriarchy, I continued to read Oryx and Crake until I had finished my drink.
-----
I learned a lot of things whilst I was living in Prague. I discovered more about the history and the national character of the country, and like so many of us, many people are still scarred by their country’s past. I found the absence of religion was rather deafening, but it didn’t stop people being kind. Tereza, the family friend who got me the position, offered me nothing but support and compassion through the entire experience. I realised I enjoyed working with adolescents, much more than I thought I would. Lord forbid I ever deal with British teens- but the kids on the Continent are pretty cool.
Still, I also learned a lot of things about myself and the travelling experience whilst I was away: just because you can do everything doesn’t mean you should. I wanted to grab Prague by the lapels and make the most out of every experience. That wasn't a wrong inclination, but it wasn’t always the best one.
So yes, travelling is about taking advantage of every opportunity. But occasionally I did throw myself into the abyss of misfortune: I didn’t have to do everything for a good story.
I don’t want to put a negative spin on an invaluable experience. But when I think about what I learned -besides affirming how much I LOVE meeting people and hearing about their lives- it was a bit of a free -fall moment.
I play the role given to me. Off on my own in a different country, I felt I had reclaimed some of my independence. I felt liberated. But, I didn’t need to go hell for leather about getting as much experience out of living on my own abroad.
Deep down, I think I was still trying to play the ‘cool girl’ role. The “I’ll meet anybody, anywhere and talk to them about anything” type of person. I’m 23 and I want to just do things because life is really just too short. But, I think I was so driven on trying to experience things that I was living out a character’s life that just wasn’t me. Travel is not about becoming someone else, it is, as the cliché goes ‘finding yourself’. I didn’t find myself in Prague, and nor did I want to. But I found someone I don’t really want to be.
I’m still young and I’m still learning. Maybe one day I’ll actually get the hang of it.
Comments