Second Impressions

I would write more about my first impressions of Prague, but I really didn’t have time for them. We arrived at night, and the next day the weather was cold and drizzly. I learned to use the trams (trolleys) and the metro (subway). I learned that restaurants refuse to serve tap water here and that beer is, in fact, cheaper than water. I learned that “Almost everyone speaks English there” is bullshit. I suppose I learned much more, but my impressions of the city would have to wait: I was focused on meeting people, getting dry, and getting warm.

The little Czech that I’d learned before arriving proved invaluable. Even, “Pardon me, where is…” followed by a pantomime is better than just the pantomime. My prior learning also helped me to match the static-infused tram stop names read over the loudspeaker to the names written on the map above the window.

For the sake of brevity, I must gloss over a few of my first trials and tribulations of life in a foreign country. Suffice it to say I’m bringing my backpacker’s backpack with me next time I grocery shop and I will never again use a frigid tram stop as a meeting place.

The weather here is indescribably cold. Today I wore a T-shirt, a long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a fleece, and a shell (I also wore long underwear and a wool hat). My five layers were barely able to combat the five degrees of heat outside (Fahrenheit). 5°F is gelid no matter how you look at it, but with a humid breeze, it soaks into your bone marrow.

Despite the cold, I noticed for the first time how truly beautiful Prague is. The arctic sun beamed down on the city as I walked out of class to a magnificent view. At Will’s suggestion, we walked to the AIFS office by way of Staré Město (a.k.a. old town). This was the Prague I’d seen in guidebooks. There in front of me was a giant Jan Hus, who protested the Catholic Church in 1412 and began an endless struggle between Catholics and “Hussites.” If countries had a national martyr in the way states have state flowers and state birds, Jan Hus would represent the Czech Republic.

Prague is beautiful from the ground up. In Zones 1 and 2 (central Prague), there is no asphalt or concrete to be found. The roads are of chiseled stone, laid in fanning patterns. Even parking lots are made of patterns of bricks. Every sidewalk is its own mosaic, lending each corridor of painted buildings its own feel.

The buildings themselves form a mélange of architectural styles and pastel colors. Archways leap from building to building. Balconies look intently over the cobblestone roads shared politely by cars, trams, and pedestrians. Towers gawk over the beautiful city that they are a part of.

The city is frozen, but, undaunted, it remains alive.

Do Praha (To Prague)

My head rested against the cold window as the fog-blanketed trees sped by, broken by the occasional cultivated clearing. I looked back at Andy, who was grooving to my mp3 player. Apparently he liked The Fray. “I like them,” he said, handing it back to me. Musical preference was not all that we had in common. Josh and Andy were quickly becoming my two best friends. All three of us have girlfriends abroad and none of us are big partiers.

The Czech border was uninteresting—snowy, foggy pines blanketed the scenery on either side of the border; it was easy to see why no one took notice when Hitler annexed the Sudetenland.

When we arrived at the Pilsner Urquell factory in Plzen, I purposefully sat next to Zdeněk (ZDEN-yek). Zdeněk looks to be in his mid 70’s with a thin red face masked by a white beard and glasses. I would later learn that he planned all our cultural activities and was by far the most interesting of the AIFS personnel.

My ears perked when someone asked Zdeněk what Czechs think of Americans. From the long discussion that followed, I gathered that after the Habsburgs invading with their mounted cavalry, the Nazis invading with their tanks, and Russia invading with its years of darkness, Americans invading with their Sony digital cameras is not so bad. He explained that Russians were always telling Czechs that the Russian way is the correct way to do things. He said Americans are generally compassionate and at least do not act like they come from a superpower.

It was dark long before we arrived at the Kolej Komenskěho (KOH-lay KOH-men-skyeh-ho) dormitory. It is a large concrete building that oozes with socialism. My rationale for stating this is that certain items were not thought out all the way through, but without competition between companies, there was no need for innovation. Here are a few examples:

• The hall light conveniently has two switches, but both must be up for it to be turned on.
• The coat rack in my closet runs away from the user instead of from side to side, so one can only see the front shirt.
• The windows do not close unless you completely disassemble the fixtures able to hold them open.

The dorm inside is not pretty—the walls are covered in drywall spots from years of poster removal. My chair lacks wood glue, and initially I thought that sitting down on it was taking my life into my own hands. The hot plate only partially works. You can imagine my disappointment in my accommodations at this point. I should point out that I was thrilled at the length of the bed, the height of the shower head, and the large windows (even if they didn’t have a view). My happiness with the bed was later offset by the blanket, which was altogether too short for me. It would be several days until I was able to buy a new one.

The layout of the dorm is two doubles that share a common area with a coat rack, a kitchen*, a room with a toilet, and a room with a shower and sink.

I was extremely nervous upon hearing that roommates were chosen at random. Many of the students seem to have come to Prague for the beer, and are not the kind of people I like to be around. I lucked out and landed a room with Will from Atlanta. He has an Icelandic look to him; he has a furry red beard and looks at you with his right eye. He’s very mellow and is easy to get along with. He enjoys his beer but there’s more to him than that; he didn’t come here just to party.

*kitchen = counter/sink, cabinets, mini-refrigerator, and two hotplates.