I’ve been traveling all day. All day. To say that I’m tired would be an understatement. To say that I’m sad would be an understatement. To say that I’m okay would be accurate.
Waking up this morning was easier than I thought it would be. I woke up. Got dressed. Put on my makeup and went to breakfast with Sarah and Crystal. It was like any other day. Except that it wasn’t.
It was our last day.
We went through the motions, acting like everything was normal. Grabbing bread and yogurt. Sitting at our table. Indulging in this breakfast for the last time. The breakfast that once repulsed us. Eating the boiled eggs we once wished were scrambled. Drinking the water we once thought tasted like mold/metal (gross, I know). But what was once a completely foreign and uncomfortable feat became our typical routine. And now we were engaging in it one last time. It’s bizarre.
After breakfast, Sarah and I parted ways with Crystal. She has become such a great friend, and it was sad saying goodbye. Thank God she goes to UNO…
We said our goodbyes, and Sarah and I checked out of the dorms (aka our home) and walked to the bus stop down the street. Towing luggage. Passing by our usual hangouts (Pod Loubím). Catching a glimpse of the #20 tram as it stopped at Dejvička. Memories. Everywhere you turn, there are memories.
We safely made it to the airport and said goodbye to the #119 bus. After printing our boarding passes and checking our luggage in, we went to look for our gates. Somehow we got lost and ended up at baggage claim. We actually ended up at the exact spot where we met up on the day we arrived in Prague. That brought back some memories. Instead of sitting sown and sobbing like we wanted to, we turned around and made our way to Terminal 2. After going through security, we found our gates.
Sarah was C2, and I was C12. It was weird separating. We both hated it, and we were both very nervous. As soon as our 5-minute hug ended (accompanied by “I LOVE YOU!”, of course) I turned away and searched for C12.
Immediately after parting ways with Sarah, I felt alone. I felt so alone, and I hated it. I just wanted someone or something familiar next to me. Something to turn to. But I knew I wouldn’t have that the entire day. I’m on my own today. Completely on my own.
It was a scary thought.
After sitting at my gate for hours (It’s better safe than sorry), I finally heard the words I had been waiting for. Flight to Munich is boarding.
I jumped up, sprinted to the line, and took out my boarding pass and passport. I was ready to get this show on the road. I boarded the plane, settled into my seat, and stared out of my window.
Goodbye, Prague.
As the plane took off, I felt the tears building up in my eyes. I was crying. It took me by surprise, because I haven’t cried in a long time.
Watching Prague become smaller and smaller was very difficult, but I couldn’t stop staring. As the plane got higher, clouds began covering the city. Every now and then, I’d catch a glimpse of a rooftop covered in burnt sienna shingles. I had a poetic moment and began comparing the clouds covering Prague to the clouds that would eventually cover my memory. Prague is the memory. The clouds are the constant.
Or something like that.
It was a sentimental moment, which resulted in an influx of tears. My sad, sobbing session was interrupted by the flight attendant.
“Chocolate?”
“Uh, sure. Thanks.”
Toblerone. Score.
As soon as the view from my window became solely clouds, I decided to redirect my attention to something else. So I chose to stare at the two men sitting across from me, both unwrapping their free chocolate like children opening presents on Christmas morning. Once the creamy chocolate was free of its wrapper, they looked at each other, and tapped their candy bars together while laughing. Did these people just cheers to Toblerone? They did.
I like it.
That small moment between two friends lifted my spirits. Prague was still in mind, but I knew I couldn’t dwell. I promised myself I wouldn’t. So I looked straight ahead and prepared myself for my next stop.
Munich.
Because of my previous experience with German airports, I was very nervous about arriving to Munich. I didn’t know what to expect at all, but I knew I’d find out soon enough.
There was a shuttle waiting for us outside of our plane, which brought us to a terminal. So far, so good. I walked inside and immediately spotted the sign advertising my gate. So I walked.
And I walked.
And I jogged. Kind of.
I finally made it to passport control, through security, and to my gate. H. As soon as I walked up, they were preparing to board the plane. I immediately thanked God for not letting me miss this flight. I was so happy that I made it to my second flight. I couldn’t stop smiling.
I took my seat on the plane (window!), and I began to settle in. Eight hours wouldn’t be so bad…. And it wasn’t. It went by a hell of a lot faster than it did going to Prague. I slept a lot of the way, while somehow dodging the Spanish woman’s arm who was sitting next to me. She liked to lounge. And eat excessive amounts of German brie. Disgusting.
Anyway, the flight wasn’t bad. I watched 30 Rock and Scrubs. Listened to Adele. The usual. At this point, Prague was even further back in my mind. My thoughts were on landing in Newark and dealing with customs.
I was informed that I’d have to pick up my luggage and re-check it in once I arrived in New Jersey. I hated this news. For starters, its one more thing to worry about. As if finding your gate and going through passport control isn’t time consuming as it is, let’s throw in luggage escapades while we’re at it! Secondly, I have wine and beer in my luggage. They can’t get taken. They’re souvenirs!
The process actually went a lot smoother than I thought it would. I walked directly to passport control. After verifying why I was in Prague and promising that I wasn’t smuggling snails or produce into the country, I made my way to baggage claim.
Damn you, baggage claim.
I waited for a good twenty minutes. No luggage. Blue suitcase, pink ribbon. Those were the words coursing through my mind. A voice came over the intercom stating that some bags had been placed in the middle of baggage claim on the ground.
“Maybe mine is in there,” I thought.
But I ignored my thoughts and continued waiting at the conveyor belt. At this point, I was getting worried. I had a plane to catch.
I finally decided to check the random pile of luggage to see if I could find mine. Doubtful, I just skimmed.
Tan. Metallic. Leopard. Red.
Blue?
Blue suitcase, pink ribbon?
Nope…. Wait……
My luggage. Laying there. All the way at the end of the mountain of suitcases. Of course it is.
I grabbed it and made a mad dash for baggage control.
Baggage control was a lot less…controlled than I thought it would be. I literally just walked through a gate, gave my luggage to a man, and headed toward Terminal C.
I had to take an AirTrain to my terminal. Normally, this would have made me nervous. But, because of Prague’s transportation system, I felt like a pro. As soon as the doors open, I hopped onto the tram, widened my stance, and held onto the railing. Yellow and warm. Just like Prague. I was smiling at this point. This was familiar to me. This was good. I also liked that no one understood why I was smiling and chuckling to myself. They had no idea where I was coming from or where I was going. It was like I had a secret.
And I did. Still do.
I found my gate in advance and had a little time to spare. I called my mom. Responded to texts. And treated myself to an iced Americano with vanilla and skim. It tasted like Prague and reminded me all too well of Gloria Jeans.
Once I got back to my gate, it was time to board. As I was walking onto the plane, I got a jolt of excitement.
I’m going home. I’m seeing Jacob.
I’m relieved that I’m finally feeling this way. I was worried. Although I miss Prague terribly, I’m excited to be home.
I know I’ll be thinking about Prague every single day for the rest of my life. Some memories will make me laugh. Some will make me cry.
All in all, this was the greatest experience I have ever had in my entire life. I went to a foreign country. I lived there for thirty days. I adapted. I changed. I become one of them, and it felt good.
I’ll always have these memories. I’ll hold onto them forever. I’m happy that I had my time in Prague, but now it’s time to go home.
It’s time to go home.
And that’s okay.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Farewell
This is it.
This is the end.
Tomorrow is August 6th. The day I've somewhat been dreading, while simultaneously looking forward to all this time. The day I go home.
Prague has changed my life. It's made me stronger, and that's what I needed to be. Stronger. Although I'm experiencing a moment of weakness, I know I'll be able to build myself up again. And I'll do it on a much sturdier foundation. A foundation of strength.
These memories.
What can I say about these memories?
I can't say anything. I don't have the words. People will ask me What was Prague like? But what can I say?
I don't have the words.
The answers are in my thoughts. My memory. The sparkle in my eyes. The beating of my heart.
The answers are on the soles of my shoes. The blisters on my feet. The bags under my eyes from lack of sleep.
That's where the answers are. They can't be explained. Only experienced.
You want to know what Prague is really like? Then ignore the postcard that you know I bought for you.
Ignore it.
If you want to know what Prague is like, then live there for a month.
Try the food.
Meet the people.
Learn the tram numbers and their stops.
Befriend the locals.
Bathe in the sunlight.
If you want to know Prague, don't ask me. I can't tell you. I wish I could. But I can't.
This past month spent in Prague was the most precious month of my life. The most precious month.
And I will miss it more than I can describe in words. More than my eyes can sparkle. And more than my heart can beat.
Prague has become my home away from home, and I'm far from ready to leave it behind.
This is the end.
Tomorrow is August 6th. The day I've somewhat been dreading, while simultaneously looking forward to all this time. The day I go home.
Prague has changed my life. It's made me stronger, and that's what I needed to be. Stronger. Although I'm experiencing a moment of weakness, I know I'll be able to build myself up again. And I'll do it on a much sturdier foundation. A foundation of strength.
These memories.
What can I say about these memories?
I can't say anything. I don't have the words. People will ask me What was Prague like? But what can I say?
I don't have the words.
The answers are in my thoughts. My memory. The sparkle in my eyes. The beating of my heart.
The answers are on the soles of my shoes. The blisters on my feet. The bags under my eyes from lack of sleep.
That's where the answers are. They can't be explained. Only experienced.
You want to know what Prague is really like? Then ignore the postcard that you know I bought for you.
Ignore it.
If you want to know what Prague is like, then live there for a month.
Try the food.
Meet the people.
Learn the tram numbers and their stops.
Befriend the locals.
Bathe in the sunlight.
If you want to know Prague, don't ask me. I can't tell you. I wish I could. But I can't.
This past month spent in Prague was the most precious month of my life. The most precious month.
And I will miss it more than I can describe in words. More than my eyes can sparkle. And more than my heart can beat.
Prague has become my home away from home, and I'm far from ready to leave it behind.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Taking Control - Travel Writing Essay #3
“You must yourself become the author of your environment. You cannot wait for a permit or an authority. Not only your clothes or your rooms, but the face of the building in which you live belongs to you.” – Friedensreich Hundertwasser
Reading this quote during a tour of the Hundertwasserhaus in Vienna, Austria, put my entire trip to Prague into perspective. I came to Prague for a purpose, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. I guess you can’t really explain what something means to you or why you’re there until you have time to adjust to your new surroundings. Time to expand. Time to attach yourself and free yourself of whatever it was that is holding you back. So here I am. In Prague. Figuring out the city and figuring out why I’m here. I’m being the author of my environment, and owning what is mine.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been emotional. I have a tendency to put my heart on the line and become far too attached to temporary things, like vacations or month-long stays in Prague for example. I find it kind of funny that I am the way I am, especially because I’m typically so protective of my emotions. I’m usually the one who is overly cautious about opening up to someone, anyone, for a fear that my “secrets” won’t stay confidential. I’m not just cautious about my feelings, I’ve come to realize. I’m cautious about absolutely everything. It’s a difficult habit to shake, even more so when you’re fully aware of what you’re doing. It wasn’t until recently that I began to break down all of the walls that used to keep me fenced in. It wasn’t until recently that I stepped outside of the box. It wasn’t until recently that I released my inhibitions, grabbed life by it’s throat and said, “I am in control.”
I am in control.
Deciding to spend a month in Prague at the tender age of nineteen will probably be one of the boldest moves I will ever make in my entire life. There is a slight chance that the courage I have built up over the past month while being in Prague will slip away once I return to America. Once I fall back into that monotonous, American routine. There is a slight chance. I know it won’t happen, though. I won’t let it happen.
I am in control.
My routine in New Orleans is, well, a routine. I wake up, I got to class, I study, and I sleep. Sure, I do other things like eat or occasionally blink (just to mix it up a bit), but other than that, it’s a pretty standard routine. Especially during school. One of the first things I associated with a month-long stay in Prague was a much-needed break in my normal routine. I was getting tired of waking up and having my usual breakfast, which consisted of hazelnut coffee and scrambled eggs. I was getting bored with being in my hometown. I was drowning in the familiar. Drowning. And I knew that I needed to do something about it. So I chose Prague, because it was the most unfamiliar to me.
My decision to study abroad in Prague wasn’t the most accepted idea that I’ve ever had, particularly amongst my family. I almost feel like my grandma would rather me get a tattoo of some sort than venture off, practically on my own, to a foreign country. It’s understandable, though. I understand. But sometimes I’d like for people to let me make decisions on my own and support them without hesitation. Let me fly. Let me be in control of my decisions.
I am in control.
Living in Prague these past few weeks has taught me so many things that will benefit me once I return home to New Orleans. One of the many lessons I have learned is the action of release, which was completely foreign to me in America. Release your inhibitions. Release your soul. Release your emotions. Release everything and mold into something new, something better. That’s exactly what I have done while in Prague.
I am in control.
For starters, I have embraced the drink of choice: beer. Pilsner, to be exact, which really is cheaper than water! For most of my life, I have always been anti-beer. I look at it as a “man’s beverage”. I associate beer with a cluster of unshaved men, huddled together on a tattered sofa, smelling of Lay’s original potato chips, and yelling “Go Saints!” Don’t get me wrong, I love Saints football and the occasional potato fried to a crisp in animal lard, but beer is something that I never knew I would love. Thanks to Prague for opening my eyes, and my taste buds, up to new experiences, such as the traditional, Czech “man’s beverage.”
Another adjustment that had to be made was, not only what I ate, but how I ate it. In America, we eat a lot of “finger foods”, even at restaurants. I quickly learned that the Czechs expect a certain dining etiquette, even while eating an American classic, such as French fries (which are strangely common here).
When walking into a restaurant in America, you politely wait for the host who takes the number of your party, makes you wait thirty minutes, and then seats you next to a family of twelve, ten of which are crying infants. Here, in Prague, they are much more respectful. They realize that we’re mature enough to seat ourselves, so we do. Nearly four weeks into my stay in Prague, and I’m still adjusting to the whole “seat yourself” deal. The next few steps, such as ordering food and drinks, is almost identical to the process in America, except for when your silverware is personally delivered according to your meal of choice. Yes, that’s right. What you order determines the silverware that is provided for you. It’s quite a nice change from the standard knife and fork rolled up in an old, overused cloth napkin. You go about your meal in peace, enjoying every bite, especially if it’s dumplings and gravy you’re eating. Not once are you disturbed by the server with questions like, “How’s that steak for you, sir?” or “Is there anything else I can get you?” They leave you alone here in Prague. It’s so refreshing. Sometimes, while eating a bowl of soup, it becomes really frustrating when you have an overly enthusiastic waitress asking you every two seconds if you’d like more crackers with that lukewarm potato puree sprinkled with bacon bits. No, I don’t want anymore crackers. And for the record, this TOTALLY came out of a can from Wal-Mart.
Aside from indulging in cheap beer and soup that isn’t Campbells, I have also been indulging in the city itself. It’s absolutely beautiful here. Because I’m only here for a month, I’ve been trying to soak it all in as much as possible, making sure I don’t take a second of my time here for granted.
The Visual Prague
The most mundane tasks, such as riding the tram, have become the most sentimental to me. You could simply think of a tram ride as a means to get from one place to another. There’s a beginning, and there is an end. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t view a tram ride in that shallow manner, because I have, but as my days here become numbered, I view the process differently. The warm, yellow handlebars are no longer germ-infested posts that I’m forced to hold onto if there isn’t a seat available. They’re a constant. A steady device that assists me in maintaining my balance as the tram weaves in and out of the city, stopping and jerking, going around bends and curves. It finally reaches the curve that I anticipate every time I find myself on the number twenty. As the tram slows in speed and approaches the turn, I look to my right and find myself staring at the beautiful city of Prague. A panoramic view laden with burnt sienna and sea foam green roofs. Mesmerizing. I feel my grip tighten on the warm, yellow handlebar. My support. My constant. And as my knees weaken from the beauty of this city, I realize why the handlebars are really there. To hold you up. To keep you afloat as your eyes become exposed to the visual glory that is Prague. I take a deep breath. Fresh Prague air. So fresh that it stings my eyes. I catch one last glimpse of the city for the day, as the tram makes the curve. My emotions get the best of me, but I fight back with another deep breath.
I am in control.
There are so many different places to enjoy a view in Prague. Aside from the tram, I also have quite a lovely view from my English classroom. I remember the amount of excitement that coursed through my veins on the first day of class. I ran to the window and shouted, “THIS is our view?! Seriously?!” I immediately reached for my camera and snapped as many pictures as I could get away with before I became that obnoxious classmate that takes pictures of everything. From our classroom, you have a perfect view of the Charles Bridge. It’s enchanting. You can see people walking across the bridge, and I can only imagine what they’re thinking. If they’re anything like me, they were in awe, especially when they saw the paddleboats, some in the shape of swans, floating in the river. Creating a small wake, which drifts in multiple directions until it reaches shore. The water, catching the sun’s rays, sparkles unlike anything I have ever seen. The glistening of the river from the mild current created by paddleboats and families of swans reflecting the European sunlight is a more precious sparkle than any crystal could possibly be. And I get to see all of this from my classroom, which is even more charming than the swan-shaped boat made for two. I would assume your span of sight is limited while sitting in that boat, only having the ability to see what’s in front of you. Sometimes, seeing something from a distance is much more gratifying that witnessing it up close. On the second (or is it the third?) floor of Charles University, standing at the window farthest from the door, I am viewing Prague from a distance. And I find it to be charming.
The view of Prague may be breathtaking, but the memories I am creating while in Prague have more of an impact on me than any paddleboat or panoramic view could ever have.
The Emotional Prague
There’s a difference between seeing something and feeling something. I prefer the latter. Always. My ability to feel has always been prominent. I am driven by my emotions. I am not surprised at the level of emotional weight I have been experiencing since arriving in Prague. I’m actually relieved that Prague is affecting me in this manner, because, ultimately, it’s allowing me to better appreciate this experience.
My mom always makes jokes about how sentimental and emotional I can be at times. She tells me that she always knows when I had a good time somewhere, because I always say, “I wish I could go back to the first day I got there.” She’s right, though. Mother knows best. I’ve trained myself over the years to appreciate what I have and not to take anything for granted. I made a promise to myself that, while in Prague, I would appreciate everything, even if it seemed insignificant. So far, I have stuck to that promise.
Some of my fondest memories of Prague haven’t been the group activities, or even visiting numerous castles and cathedrals. Some of my fondest memories have simply been having dinner with a couple of good friends, or sitting in the courtyard during our lunch break at school. The intimate occasions strike me the most. The moments where there is no silence, just laughter. The moments where everyone is in perfect harmony. Simply enjoying one another’s company. Those are the moments that I adore the most.
Every night, around dinnertime, there is a certain routine.
“Where should we go for dinner tonight?”
That is the question that always lingers.
“They have that little Czech place around the corner…. Or the pub across the street from the dorms.”
Every night, those exact words are spoken. Oftentimes, that statement is followed by the infamous line,
“Shouldn’t we try something new?”
My friends and I are as indecisive as they come. We can barely get dressed in the morning without asking one another what they’re wearing, much less choose a restaurant for a meal. We usually settle for this place called Old Prague, which is located in a quaint part of town or, in fact, the pub across the street from the dorms, Pod Loubím. Both of these restaurants offer the traditional Czech cuisine as well as a variety of cuisine, which falls into the “Italian/American” category (risotto con pollo/“hamburger”). After many dining experiences at both restaurants, we’ve come to realize that if you want goulash and dumplings, Old Prague is the restaurant for you. If you want cheap(er) beer and a beef dish that resembles a banana split, venturing off to Pod Loubím would be the proper choice.
One dinner occasion that sticks out to me the most actually took place at Heuringer Welser, which is a winery in Vienna, Austria (we were there for a weekend trip). The winery was one of the coziest restaurants I have ever had the pleasure of dining at. It was dimly lit, but not too dark. There were grapes suspended from the trellis, and decanters of red and white wine placed on every table. There were dogs roaming around the restaurant, too. Normally, this would have disgusted me, but I was at a winery. In Vienna. I had no reason to complain. Besides, we had live entertainment that night. An older couple. They were singing Austrian songs and playing their instruments. Their faces never broke from a genuine smile all night. Not once.
Aside from the beautiful scenery and a meal that would have put Colonel Sanders’ chicken recipe to shame, it was the company I shared this experience with that really made the night special. Sitting at a table with great friends, old and new, drinking wine, and never letting the fact that we were in Austria fade from our one-track minds, was a night that I will never forget. It reassured the fact that these were the people that made my trip special. As usual, it was an emotional experience for me. I felt my heart expanding, which is somewhat of a rare occurrence for me, being that I am so closed off. It’s still very strange to admit that, because I am a person who is full of love. Love to give. Love to receive. It’s just a matter of time.
I am in control.
I gave love that night. I received love that night. I could feel it as easily as I felt the smooth, Austrian wine slide down my throat. As easily as I felt the delight of the couple performing for us. As easily as I felt the joy radiating from everyone. Everyone. Despite all of our differences, we were all connected that night, even if it was short lived. Even if it wasn’t. I’m positive the fact that we were dining at a winery in the beautiful country of Austria aided in our overall joy, but I firmly believe in the saying, “It’s not where you are but who you’re with.”
It wasn’t where I was. It was who I was with.
We’ve had excellent meals, and we’ve had mediocre meals (shout out to the fried bleu cheese at our beloved Pod Loubím), but one thing that remains constant is the company. It doesn’t matter where you go, or what you’re eating, it’s the company that makes the meal worthwhile. Chances are, I won’t go home remembering stories of the delicious beef on garlic with spinach and potato dumplings from Old Prague(which was delicious, and will, in fact, never be forgotten), but instead, I’ll go home remembering the jokes we told at dinner that night. I’ll go home remembering the stares we got as we laughed way too loudly or requested, for the millionth time, water. No bubbles.
“No bubbles?”
“…. No bubbles.”
“Okay. Water. No bubbles.”
I am in control.
I never would have imagined that a city so far from home would actually be where I began discovering my true self and releasing my inhibitions. Being incarcerated in a new world. Seeing new sights and faces, none of which remind you of home. Hearing new sounds, which can rarely be interpreted. Different mannerisms are being learned, like how to properly indulge in a Czech meal. Knife AND fork. New foods, which were once an acquired taste, now become a taste that I crave. Dumplings will forever remain satisfying to my palate, and I long for the taste and smell of beer. The warm handles in the tram that I use to steady myself are no longer grotesque handlebars plastered with germs. They’re my support. They hold me up as I travel to and from. The sights of Prague still make me weak at the knees, just like they did on my very first day here. The burnt sienna paired with sea foam green have become two of my favorite colors. They bring me comfort. The view of the Charles Bridge from my English classroom still catches me off guard, and the glistening of the river from the mild current created by paddleboats and families of swans reflecting the European sunlight is still a more precious sparkle than any crystal could hope to be. As we come around the bend on the number twenty tram, the city of Prague exposes it’s glory to my freshly opened eyes. I scan the panoramic view of Prague. I breathe in the fresh air and steady myself on the yellow handlebars to prevent myself from collapsing, partly from the beauty of this city, and partly because the tram driver had a bad day. As the view of the city slowly gets tucked away by the lush foliage, I can’t help but smile. I can’t help but fall in love. I can’t help but let my emotions take over.
I am releasing control.
In six days, I’ll be on a plane back to New Orleans. Back to my monotonous, American routine. Back to the familiar. Although this saddens me to no end, I almost feel like dwelling on the fact that I’m leaving Prague would be selfish. I had my time here. I experienced a new culture in its entirety. I made great friends, new and old, and I created new memories that will last a lifetime. I know I’ll catch myself saying, “I wish I could go back to the first day I got there.” I know I’ll miss Prague. But at least it happened. At least I have the memories to keep with me forever. To bring back home. To share. To utilize. I will never regret choosing Prague, which was once the unknown, but now feels like home. And I’ll never regret letting Prague choose me. This is my Prague.
This is the Prague that I know.
Reading this quote during a tour of the Hundertwasserhaus in Vienna, Austria, put my entire trip to Prague into perspective. I came to Prague for a purpose, even if I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. I guess you can’t really explain what something means to you or why you’re there until you have time to adjust to your new surroundings. Time to expand. Time to attach yourself and free yourself of whatever it was that is holding you back. So here I am. In Prague. Figuring out the city and figuring out why I’m here. I’m being the author of my environment, and owning what is mine.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been emotional. I have a tendency to put my heart on the line and become far too attached to temporary things, like vacations or month-long stays in Prague for example. I find it kind of funny that I am the way I am, especially because I’m typically so protective of my emotions. I’m usually the one who is overly cautious about opening up to someone, anyone, for a fear that my “secrets” won’t stay confidential. I’m not just cautious about my feelings, I’ve come to realize. I’m cautious about absolutely everything. It’s a difficult habit to shake, even more so when you’re fully aware of what you’re doing. It wasn’t until recently that I began to break down all of the walls that used to keep me fenced in. It wasn’t until recently that I stepped outside of the box. It wasn’t until recently that I released my inhibitions, grabbed life by it’s throat and said, “I am in control.”
I am in control.
Deciding to spend a month in Prague at the tender age of nineteen will probably be one of the boldest moves I will ever make in my entire life. There is a slight chance that the courage I have built up over the past month while being in Prague will slip away once I return to America. Once I fall back into that monotonous, American routine. There is a slight chance. I know it won’t happen, though. I won’t let it happen.
I am in control.
My routine in New Orleans is, well, a routine. I wake up, I got to class, I study, and I sleep. Sure, I do other things like eat or occasionally blink (just to mix it up a bit), but other than that, it’s a pretty standard routine. Especially during school. One of the first things I associated with a month-long stay in Prague was a much-needed break in my normal routine. I was getting tired of waking up and having my usual breakfast, which consisted of hazelnut coffee and scrambled eggs. I was getting bored with being in my hometown. I was drowning in the familiar. Drowning. And I knew that I needed to do something about it. So I chose Prague, because it was the most unfamiliar to me.
My decision to study abroad in Prague wasn’t the most accepted idea that I’ve ever had, particularly amongst my family. I almost feel like my grandma would rather me get a tattoo of some sort than venture off, practically on my own, to a foreign country. It’s understandable, though. I understand. But sometimes I’d like for people to let me make decisions on my own and support them without hesitation. Let me fly. Let me be in control of my decisions.
I am in control.
Living in Prague these past few weeks has taught me so many things that will benefit me once I return home to New Orleans. One of the many lessons I have learned is the action of release, which was completely foreign to me in America. Release your inhibitions. Release your soul. Release your emotions. Release everything and mold into something new, something better. That’s exactly what I have done while in Prague.
I am in control.
For starters, I have embraced the drink of choice: beer. Pilsner, to be exact, which really is cheaper than water! For most of my life, I have always been anti-beer. I look at it as a “man’s beverage”. I associate beer with a cluster of unshaved men, huddled together on a tattered sofa, smelling of Lay’s original potato chips, and yelling “Go Saints!” Don’t get me wrong, I love Saints football and the occasional potato fried to a crisp in animal lard, but beer is something that I never knew I would love. Thanks to Prague for opening my eyes, and my taste buds, up to new experiences, such as the traditional, Czech “man’s beverage.”
Another adjustment that had to be made was, not only what I ate, but how I ate it. In America, we eat a lot of “finger foods”, even at restaurants. I quickly learned that the Czechs expect a certain dining etiquette, even while eating an American classic, such as French fries (which are strangely common here).
When walking into a restaurant in America, you politely wait for the host who takes the number of your party, makes you wait thirty minutes, and then seats you next to a family of twelve, ten of which are crying infants. Here, in Prague, they are much more respectful. They realize that we’re mature enough to seat ourselves, so we do. Nearly four weeks into my stay in Prague, and I’m still adjusting to the whole “seat yourself” deal. The next few steps, such as ordering food and drinks, is almost identical to the process in America, except for when your silverware is personally delivered according to your meal of choice. Yes, that’s right. What you order determines the silverware that is provided for you. It’s quite a nice change from the standard knife and fork rolled up in an old, overused cloth napkin. You go about your meal in peace, enjoying every bite, especially if it’s dumplings and gravy you’re eating. Not once are you disturbed by the server with questions like, “How’s that steak for you, sir?” or “Is there anything else I can get you?” They leave you alone here in Prague. It’s so refreshing. Sometimes, while eating a bowl of soup, it becomes really frustrating when you have an overly enthusiastic waitress asking you every two seconds if you’d like more crackers with that lukewarm potato puree sprinkled with bacon bits. No, I don’t want anymore crackers. And for the record, this TOTALLY came out of a can from Wal-Mart.
Aside from indulging in cheap beer and soup that isn’t Campbells, I have also been indulging in the city itself. It’s absolutely beautiful here. Because I’m only here for a month, I’ve been trying to soak it all in as much as possible, making sure I don’t take a second of my time here for granted.
The Visual Prague
The most mundane tasks, such as riding the tram, have become the most sentimental to me. You could simply think of a tram ride as a means to get from one place to another. There’s a beginning, and there is an end. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t view a tram ride in that shallow manner, because I have, but as my days here become numbered, I view the process differently. The warm, yellow handlebars are no longer germ-infested posts that I’m forced to hold onto if there isn’t a seat available. They’re a constant. A steady device that assists me in maintaining my balance as the tram weaves in and out of the city, stopping and jerking, going around bends and curves. It finally reaches the curve that I anticipate every time I find myself on the number twenty. As the tram slows in speed and approaches the turn, I look to my right and find myself staring at the beautiful city of Prague. A panoramic view laden with burnt sienna and sea foam green roofs. Mesmerizing. I feel my grip tighten on the warm, yellow handlebar. My support. My constant. And as my knees weaken from the beauty of this city, I realize why the handlebars are really there. To hold you up. To keep you afloat as your eyes become exposed to the visual glory that is Prague. I take a deep breath. Fresh Prague air. So fresh that it stings my eyes. I catch one last glimpse of the city for the day, as the tram makes the curve. My emotions get the best of me, but I fight back with another deep breath.
I am in control.
There are so many different places to enjoy a view in Prague. Aside from the tram, I also have quite a lovely view from my English classroom. I remember the amount of excitement that coursed through my veins on the first day of class. I ran to the window and shouted, “THIS is our view?! Seriously?!” I immediately reached for my camera and snapped as many pictures as I could get away with before I became that obnoxious classmate that takes pictures of everything. From our classroom, you have a perfect view of the Charles Bridge. It’s enchanting. You can see people walking across the bridge, and I can only imagine what they’re thinking. If they’re anything like me, they were in awe, especially when they saw the paddleboats, some in the shape of swans, floating in the river. Creating a small wake, which drifts in multiple directions until it reaches shore. The water, catching the sun’s rays, sparkles unlike anything I have ever seen. The glistening of the river from the mild current created by paddleboats and families of swans reflecting the European sunlight is a more precious sparkle than any crystal could possibly be. And I get to see all of this from my classroom, which is even more charming than the swan-shaped boat made for two. I would assume your span of sight is limited while sitting in that boat, only having the ability to see what’s in front of you. Sometimes, seeing something from a distance is much more gratifying that witnessing it up close. On the second (or is it the third?) floor of Charles University, standing at the window farthest from the door, I am viewing Prague from a distance. And I find it to be charming.
The view of Prague may be breathtaking, but the memories I am creating while in Prague have more of an impact on me than any paddleboat or panoramic view could ever have.
The Emotional Prague
There’s a difference between seeing something and feeling something. I prefer the latter. Always. My ability to feel has always been prominent. I am driven by my emotions. I am not surprised at the level of emotional weight I have been experiencing since arriving in Prague. I’m actually relieved that Prague is affecting me in this manner, because, ultimately, it’s allowing me to better appreciate this experience.
My mom always makes jokes about how sentimental and emotional I can be at times. She tells me that she always knows when I had a good time somewhere, because I always say, “I wish I could go back to the first day I got there.” She’s right, though. Mother knows best. I’ve trained myself over the years to appreciate what I have and not to take anything for granted. I made a promise to myself that, while in Prague, I would appreciate everything, even if it seemed insignificant. So far, I have stuck to that promise.
Some of my fondest memories of Prague haven’t been the group activities, or even visiting numerous castles and cathedrals. Some of my fondest memories have simply been having dinner with a couple of good friends, or sitting in the courtyard during our lunch break at school. The intimate occasions strike me the most. The moments where there is no silence, just laughter. The moments where everyone is in perfect harmony. Simply enjoying one another’s company. Those are the moments that I adore the most.
Every night, around dinnertime, there is a certain routine.
“Where should we go for dinner tonight?”
That is the question that always lingers.
“They have that little Czech place around the corner…. Or the pub across the street from the dorms.”
Every night, those exact words are spoken. Oftentimes, that statement is followed by the infamous line,
“Shouldn’t we try something new?”
My friends and I are as indecisive as they come. We can barely get dressed in the morning without asking one another what they’re wearing, much less choose a restaurant for a meal. We usually settle for this place called Old Prague, which is located in a quaint part of town or, in fact, the pub across the street from the dorms, Pod Loubím. Both of these restaurants offer the traditional Czech cuisine as well as a variety of cuisine, which falls into the “Italian/American” category (risotto con pollo/“hamburger”). After many dining experiences at both restaurants, we’ve come to realize that if you want goulash and dumplings, Old Prague is the restaurant for you. If you want cheap(er) beer and a beef dish that resembles a banana split, venturing off to Pod Loubím would be the proper choice.
One dinner occasion that sticks out to me the most actually took place at Heuringer Welser, which is a winery in Vienna, Austria (we were there for a weekend trip). The winery was one of the coziest restaurants I have ever had the pleasure of dining at. It was dimly lit, but not too dark. There were grapes suspended from the trellis, and decanters of red and white wine placed on every table. There were dogs roaming around the restaurant, too. Normally, this would have disgusted me, but I was at a winery. In Vienna. I had no reason to complain. Besides, we had live entertainment that night. An older couple. They were singing Austrian songs and playing their instruments. Their faces never broke from a genuine smile all night. Not once.
Aside from the beautiful scenery and a meal that would have put Colonel Sanders’ chicken recipe to shame, it was the company I shared this experience with that really made the night special. Sitting at a table with great friends, old and new, drinking wine, and never letting the fact that we were in Austria fade from our one-track minds, was a night that I will never forget. It reassured the fact that these were the people that made my trip special. As usual, it was an emotional experience for me. I felt my heart expanding, which is somewhat of a rare occurrence for me, being that I am so closed off. It’s still very strange to admit that, because I am a person who is full of love. Love to give. Love to receive. It’s just a matter of time.
I am in control.
I gave love that night. I received love that night. I could feel it as easily as I felt the smooth, Austrian wine slide down my throat. As easily as I felt the delight of the couple performing for us. As easily as I felt the joy radiating from everyone. Everyone. Despite all of our differences, we were all connected that night, even if it was short lived. Even if it wasn’t. I’m positive the fact that we were dining at a winery in the beautiful country of Austria aided in our overall joy, but I firmly believe in the saying, “It’s not where you are but who you’re with.”
It wasn’t where I was. It was who I was with.
We’ve had excellent meals, and we’ve had mediocre meals (shout out to the fried bleu cheese at our beloved Pod Loubím), but one thing that remains constant is the company. It doesn’t matter where you go, or what you’re eating, it’s the company that makes the meal worthwhile. Chances are, I won’t go home remembering stories of the delicious beef on garlic with spinach and potato dumplings from Old Prague(which was delicious, and will, in fact, never be forgotten), but instead, I’ll go home remembering the jokes we told at dinner that night. I’ll go home remembering the stares we got as we laughed way too loudly or requested, for the millionth time, water. No bubbles.
“No bubbles?”
“…. No bubbles.”
“Okay. Water. No bubbles.”
I am in control.
I never would have imagined that a city so far from home would actually be where I began discovering my true self and releasing my inhibitions. Being incarcerated in a new world. Seeing new sights and faces, none of which remind you of home. Hearing new sounds, which can rarely be interpreted. Different mannerisms are being learned, like how to properly indulge in a Czech meal. Knife AND fork. New foods, which were once an acquired taste, now become a taste that I crave. Dumplings will forever remain satisfying to my palate, and I long for the taste and smell of beer. The warm handles in the tram that I use to steady myself are no longer grotesque handlebars plastered with germs. They’re my support. They hold me up as I travel to and from. The sights of Prague still make me weak at the knees, just like they did on my very first day here. The burnt sienna paired with sea foam green have become two of my favorite colors. They bring me comfort. The view of the Charles Bridge from my English classroom still catches me off guard, and the glistening of the river from the mild current created by paddleboats and families of swans reflecting the European sunlight is still a more precious sparkle than any crystal could hope to be. As we come around the bend on the number twenty tram, the city of Prague exposes it’s glory to my freshly opened eyes. I scan the panoramic view of Prague. I breathe in the fresh air and steady myself on the yellow handlebars to prevent myself from collapsing, partly from the beauty of this city, and partly because the tram driver had a bad day. As the view of the city slowly gets tucked away by the lush foliage, I can’t help but smile. I can’t help but fall in love. I can’t help but let my emotions take over.
I am releasing control.
In six days, I’ll be on a plane back to New Orleans. Back to my monotonous, American routine. Back to the familiar. Although this saddens me to no end, I almost feel like dwelling on the fact that I’m leaving Prague would be selfish. I had my time here. I experienced a new culture in its entirety. I made great friends, new and old, and I created new memories that will last a lifetime. I know I’ll catch myself saying, “I wish I could go back to the first day I got there.” I know I’ll miss Prague. But at least it happened. At least I have the memories to keep with me forever. To bring back home. To share. To utilize. I will never regret choosing Prague, which was once the unknown, but now feels like home. And I’ll never regret letting Prague choose me. This is my Prague.
This is the Prague that I know.
Prague's Display of Affection - Travel Writing Essay #2
Since being in Prague, I have noticed a surplus of details that, initially, caught me by surprise. For starters, the language is different, which is a challenge to adjust to. Actually, it’s near impossible to adjust to, unless you’re semi-fluent in Czech. Much to my dismay, I am not, but I have learned a few Czech phrases that I am quite proud of. One of them is “dát ponožku v něm” (dat poh-no shku v nehm) or “put a sock in it” (put – a – sock – in – it) as we Americans like to say. Hopefully I won’t have to shout this phrase to a group of adults in the next Starbucks that I’m sitting in while trying to read. Whoever thought it was okay to cackle loudly in a den where people are obviously reading deserves to be harassed with poorly pronounced Czech language. Another major difference in the culture here in Prague, as opposed to New Orleans, is the food. My first Czech meal consisted of beef, potato dumplings, cranberry sauce, and whipped cream. Confusing? Yes. Delicious? I’m still deciding. I’m certain that Prague doesn’t offer a traditional New Orleans po-boy (which is a sandwich on French bread), but I’m willing to give their food a chance, even if that means coupling beef with ice cream sundae toppings. One of the many differences, aside from language and food, that sticks out to me more than the others are the relationships between people in Prague, and the openness that makes itself ever so present. Being from New Orleans, your precious eyes become exposed to quite a few sights that you wouldn’t deem suitable for anyone else, especially during Mardi Gras on the ever-so-familiar Bourbon Street. However, I often find myself in the midst of a situation that one may find awkward. Like holding eye contact with a stranger while biting into that infamous po-boy, or attempting to shout a phrase in Czech and completely butchering it. Maybe it’s because I’m American, and I’m paying too much attention. Maybe showing love in public is just their way of life. Affection. It can’t be all that bad… or can it?
While walking to the metro one morning on my way to class, I noticed a couple walking hand-in-hand. My first reaction was, “Aw, that’s sweet,” which was immediately followed by, “I miss my boyfriend.” Typically, public displays of affection tend to make me feel uncomfortable. It isn’t the act of love that makes me feel uneasy, but it’s the level of public openness that tends to freak me out. Intimacy usually takes place behind closed doors for a reason. Some things aren’t meant to be seen by other people, especially complete strangers. Now that I am also the recipient of someone else’s affection, I think otherwise about PDA (to a certain extent), and apparently, so do Czech people. I cannot even begin to count the amount of PDA that I have witnessed so far during my stay in Prague. It’s everywhere. People here love to love! I, personally, think that it is a wonderful thing, although it can be turned down a notch or two, especially to the couple at Petřín Hill, who were in the midst of approaching third base.
Clearly, in Prague, love is a glorious thing, and it is acceptable to hug and kiss (and possibly straddle) your significant other in public. Not only did this take me by surprise, but it also made me question these people’s upbringing. Is PDA embraced in Prague? It sure does seem to be so. I couldn’t imagine the reactions one would get back home if they decided to fondle their partner on the metro. First of all, New Orleans doesn’t have a metro transportation system. Secondly, they’d draw a heavy amount of unwanted attention. Czechs don’t budge when they see a kissing couple on the metro. It’s a normal thing to see here. The actions that I have been witnessing show that cultural differences span deeper than language or food. In my opinion, cultural differences are rooted within the people.
Despite the sight I witnessed on Petřín Hill, I have also encountered situations between individuals that you wouldn’t be embarrassed for your family to see. A couple of days ago, I was waiting at the tram stop trying to decipher which tram to take from point A to point B. As I stepped onto the number twenty-two tram, I took a stand across from a family of four. Instead of staring off into space, I decided to be useful with my time, so I stared at the family instead. What’s the point in fixating your eyes upon beautiful, Prague scenery when you can stare aimlessly at the locals? Trying not to seem like a rude American, I diligently observed them as they interacted with one another. It was so friendly. The two little boys joked and played around like brothers should. The father watched the little boys and smiled. He seemed proud, like a father should. He then kissed his wife on the cheek, which was affection presented in a tasteful way. The wife smiled at the husband in return, and spoke to him in Czech. Her words sounded very pretty, and I can only imagine they translated to something equally as beautiful. I smiled and looked out of the window for a bit, trying my hardest not to start daydreaming about having a family of my own someday.
A couple of minutes later, I heard someone speaking English, which snapped me out of my daydream almost immediately. Being in Prague, you hear people speaking English quite often, but typically only when you speak to them first. That alone makes hearing it in public that much more exciting and comforting. I whipped my head around, and discovered that the person speaking English was the mother of the two boys I was previously observing. She was talking to her youngest child. The little boy was staring at his mother as she asked him, “How old is your daddy?” in perfect English. The little boy replied, “My… dad… is….”, and then paused. His mom smiled, gave him a moment, and asked him the same question, to which he replied, “My… dad… is… forty-five.” They were both laughing together now, almost in a perfect harmony. It occurred to me moments later that the mom was teaching the little boy English! I was so thrilled at what I was witnessing, that I turned around to see if anyone else saw it too. Needless to say, no one did, which, in a sense, made the moment feel even more special to me. I laughed, which caught the attention of the mother. She looked at me, smiled, and proceeded to teach her son my language. It was at that moment that I no longer felt like an outsider. A tourist. Without fully realizing it, I witnessed the English language being transferred from one generation to the next. It was like a cycle, and I was a part of it. I immediately pulled out my purple sticky notes and a pen that I stole from my mom, and wrote down, “mom teach eng to son”, in my own shorthand, so I wouldn’t forget to write about it. This moment that I witnessed was far too pure to forget. Now I never will.
Being in Prague has opened my eyes to a lot of new experiences. I have been exposed to a new language, various types of food, and another culture’s way of expressing their love. Regardless of how your love is expressed, at least it exists. At least you know it’s being practiced in other areas aside from your hometown, even if it is a little different. You could choose to hold your partner’s hand while walking down a busy street in the city. You could choose to practice the act of reproducing at a public park. Or you could simply display your affection through a quick kiss on the cheek of the person you love, or by exchanging a friendly smile with a stranger on a tram. It doesn’t matter how far away from home you travel, you will always encounter public displays of affection. There’s no escaping it. In reality, do you honestly want to? It is safe to say that every country is accustomed to expressing themselves differently. It is also safe to say that this difference is actually what makes us all similar. The way we express our love in public may be different, but it’s the universal act of love, that is rooted within us, that remains the same.
Affection. It isn’t all that bad, after all.
While walking to the metro one morning on my way to class, I noticed a couple walking hand-in-hand. My first reaction was, “Aw, that’s sweet,” which was immediately followed by, “I miss my boyfriend.” Typically, public displays of affection tend to make me feel uncomfortable. It isn’t the act of love that makes me feel uneasy, but it’s the level of public openness that tends to freak me out. Intimacy usually takes place behind closed doors for a reason. Some things aren’t meant to be seen by other people, especially complete strangers. Now that I am also the recipient of someone else’s affection, I think otherwise about PDA (to a certain extent), and apparently, so do Czech people. I cannot even begin to count the amount of PDA that I have witnessed so far during my stay in Prague. It’s everywhere. People here love to love! I, personally, think that it is a wonderful thing, although it can be turned down a notch or two, especially to the couple at Petřín Hill, who were in the midst of approaching third base.
Clearly, in Prague, love is a glorious thing, and it is acceptable to hug and kiss (and possibly straddle) your significant other in public. Not only did this take me by surprise, but it also made me question these people’s upbringing. Is PDA embraced in Prague? It sure does seem to be so. I couldn’t imagine the reactions one would get back home if they decided to fondle their partner on the metro. First of all, New Orleans doesn’t have a metro transportation system. Secondly, they’d draw a heavy amount of unwanted attention. Czechs don’t budge when they see a kissing couple on the metro. It’s a normal thing to see here. The actions that I have been witnessing show that cultural differences span deeper than language or food. In my opinion, cultural differences are rooted within the people.
Despite the sight I witnessed on Petřín Hill, I have also encountered situations between individuals that you wouldn’t be embarrassed for your family to see. A couple of days ago, I was waiting at the tram stop trying to decipher which tram to take from point A to point B. As I stepped onto the number twenty-two tram, I took a stand across from a family of four. Instead of staring off into space, I decided to be useful with my time, so I stared at the family instead. What’s the point in fixating your eyes upon beautiful, Prague scenery when you can stare aimlessly at the locals? Trying not to seem like a rude American, I diligently observed them as they interacted with one another. It was so friendly. The two little boys joked and played around like brothers should. The father watched the little boys and smiled. He seemed proud, like a father should. He then kissed his wife on the cheek, which was affection presented in a tasteful way. The wife smiled at the husband in return, and spoke to him in Czech. Her words sounded very pretty, and I can only imagine they translated to something equally as beautiful. I smiled and looked out of the window for a bit, trying my hardest not to start daydreaming about having a family of my own someday.
A couple of minutes later, I heard someone speaking English, which snapped me out of my daydream almost immediately. Being in Prague, you hear people speaking English quite often, but typically only when you speak to them first. That alone makes hearing it in public that much more exciting and comforting. I whipped my head around, and discovered that the person speaking English was the mother of the two boys I was previously observing. She was talking to her youngest child. The little boy was staring at his mother as she asked him, “How old is your daddy?” in perfect English. The little boy replied, “My… dad… is….”, and then paused. His mom smiled, gave him a moment, and asked him the same question, to which he replied, “My… dad… is… forty-five.” They were both laughing together now, almost in a perfect harmony. It occurred to me moments later that the mom was teaching the little boy English! I was so thrilled at what I was witnessing, that I turned around to see if anyone else saw it too. Needless to say, no one did, which, in a sense, made the moment feel even more special to me. I laughed, which caught the attention of the mother. She looked at me, smiled, and proceeded to teach her son my language. It was at that moment that I no longer felt like an outsider. A tourist. Without fully realizing it, I witnessed the English language being transferred from one generation to the next. It was like a cycle, and I was a part of it. I immediately pulled out my purple sticky notes and a pen that I stole from my mom, and wrote down, “mom teach eng to son”, in my own shorthand, so I wouldn’t forget to write about it. This moment that I witnessed was far too pure to forget. Now I never will.
Being in Prague has opened my eyes to a lot of new experiences. I have been exposed to a new language, various types of food, and another culture’s way of expressing their love. Regardless of how your love is expressed, at least it exists. At least you know it’s being practiced in other areas aside from your hometown, even if it is a little different. You could choose to hold your partner’s hand while walking down a busy street in the city. You could choose to practice the act of reproducing at a public park. Or you could simply display your affection through a quick kiss on the cheek of the person you love, or by exchanging a friendly smile with a stranger on a tram. It doesn’t matter how far away from home you travel, you will always encounter public displays of affection. There’s no escaping it. In reality, do you honestly want to? It is safe to say that every country is accustomed to expressing themselves differently. It is also safe to say that this difference is actually what makes us all similar. The way we express our love in public may be different, but it’s the universal act of love, that is rooted within us, that remains the same.
Affection. It isn’t all that bad, after all.
When in Prague - Travel Writing Essay #1
There comes a time in everyone’s lives where they’re forced to expand. Expand their knowledge. Expand their horizons. Expand their waist size. Regardless of what you’re expanding, whether it be in your control or not, it’s inevitably going to happen.
Until very recently, I have always been very reluctant to try new things. I don’t want to say that I was afraid of change, but because being honest with oneself is important, I will go ahead and acknowledge the fact that I was afraid. For as long as I can remember, I have always kept myself inside of this bubble. It was a bubble created by myself that housed everything that made me comfortable. I would rarely allow anyone inside of this bubble of comfort, for fear that they would break it, and I’d be forced to confront the outside world. After a series of events that ultimately lead to an epiphany, I had a breakthrough. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
When I first considered studying abroad in Prague, I had some reservations. I wasn’t sure if I would necessarily enjoy being on my own, but by no means am I overly dependent. I think that the word that describes me the most appropriately in this situation is self-conscious. Naturally, I would rather experience something with someone else, whether it a trip to the grocery store down the street or a trip out of the country. Another issue that worried me was the fact that, not only would I be outside of the United States, but I would be outside of the United States for an entire month. I have always been extremely close to my family and friends. The mere thought of not seeing them or speaking to them, with the exception of the occasional Skype session, made my stomach turn. I was very worried that the relationships I had with people back at home would weaken because I was traveling overseas. After a few pep talks and a few bowls of ice cream, I realized I would be okay. The relationships I created with people would still be there once I returned home. It wasn’t until this issue was resolved that I truly felt as ease about studying abroad.
As the weeks passed, the realization that I would be leaving everything behind for a month slowly began to nag at me. It was almost as if Prague was becoming a burden, and I hadn’t even been introduced to the country yet! The majority of my problem was the fact that I was anxious. I was anxious about flying, anxious about being immersed in completely new territory for thirty days, and anxious about not being surrounded by my family, friends, and boyfriend. I was nervous about everything, to say the least, but that’s nothing new. My nerves get the best of me sometimes. Remind me to shake that later.
On the night of July 7th, as I was packing, it finally hit me that I was traveling out of the country. Actually, it didn’t hit me. It punched me square in the face and pushed me to the ground. I was paralyzed with fear. The night of July 7th is actually a blur. I do remember packing, and I remember pacing in my house saying over and over again, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Shipping off to another country is something completely out of the ordinary for me, which is why it was so crucial that I went through with it. After nineteen years of life on earth, it finally hit me that there is more to see in the world than New Orleans, which resulted in another epiphany, which was followed by yet another a breakthrough. A sense of peace washed over me as I zipped my suitcase one last time and finally crawled into bed. I went to sleep knowing that leaving was okay. Being away from the familiar was okay. I would be okay.
Needless to say, the overall journey to Prague was the opposite of okay. I didn’t cry before I departed New Orleans like I initially thought I would. However, one of my flights was delayed, which resulted in missing a connecting flight. I also had to communicate with a woman in the Frankfurt airport who was, to put it mildly, anti-American. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t anti-American, but she surely didn’t feel like dealing with me. I was a little frantic, I’ll admit, but can you blame me? Here I am, in Germany, trying to tell a woman that I’m about to miss my flight and I need a new boarding pass, only for her to tell me that a flight to Prague at 11:45 AM doesn’t exist, when I know for a fact that it does! After many confusing looks, disgruntled sighs, and a few clicks on her fancy, German computer, my new boarding passes were printed, and I meticulously placed myself on a bench with some German chocolate and waited for my plane to arrive. Fiver hours later, I’m finally on a plane to Prague.
I won’t go into great detail about my time here in Prague so far, but I will say that it has completely turned my world upside down, and I’ve only been here for six days. Being in Prague has been the ultimate learning experience, as well as the ultimate culture shock. There is so much to learn! Aside from the language, I’m also transitioning from living in a house to living in a small dorm, from traveling by car, to traveling by foot, metro, and tram, which I’m beginning to love! I’m also adjusting to the breakfast food, which doesn’t consist of scrambled eggs and toast like it does in America, but is a culmination of chopped hot dogs in ketchup and a surplus of carbs. Prague seems to welcome carbohydrates with open arms, which is also an adjustment from the U.S, because we tend to avoid bread at all costs. Thanks, Atkins Diet, for making people think stuffing your face with pepperoni and steak is a much healthier alternative to nibbling on the occasional blueberry crumble muffin or pretzel stick.
Aside from all of the adjusting that has been taking place in my life as of the past week, I can honestly say that I would not have changed any experience I have had thus far, including the banter I exchanged with the beastly, German woman. Everything has been a learning experience. Everything. I can literally feel myself growing, not only intellectually, but emotionally, as well. My emotions, as of today, are nothing compared to what they were on my first day here in Prague. I’m becoming more comfortable with being away from the familiar. I’m falling into a routine, which makes me feel at ease. I’m exploring a new country, practically on my own. I’m living my life to the fullest, and I’m taking chances, which is exactly what I should have been doing all along. I’m expanding my knowledge, my horizons, and maybe even my waist size, but I don’t care. When in Czech, do as the Czechs do. If that means stuffing your face with carbs at every meal, then so be it.
Until very recently, I have always been very reluctant to try new things. I don’t want to say that I was afraid of change, but because being honest with oneself is important, I will go ahead and acknowledge the fact that I was afraid. For as long as I can remember, I have always kept myself inside of this bubble. It was a bubble created by myself that housed everything that made me comfortable. I would rarely allow anyone inside of this bubble of comfort, for fear that they would break it, and I’d be forced to confront the outside world. After a series of events that ultimately lead to an epiphany, I had a breakthrough. It couldn’t have come at a better time.
When I first considered studying abroad in Prague, I had some reservations. I wasn’t sure if I would necessarily enjoy being on my own, but by no means am I overly dependent. I think that the word that describes me the most appropriately in this situation is self-conscious. Naturally, I would rather experience something with someone else, whether it a trip to the grocery store down the street or a trip out of the country. Another issue that worried me was the fact that, not only would I be outside of the United States, but I would be outside of the United States for an entire month. I have always been extremely close to my family and friends. The mere thought of not seeing them or speaking to them, with the exception of the occasional Skype session, made my stomach turn. I was very worried that the relationships I had with people back at home would weaken because I was traveling overseas. After a few pep talks and a few bowls of ice cream, I realized I would be okay. The relationships I created with people would still be there once I returned home. It wasn’t until this issue was resolved that I truly felt as ease about studying abroad.
As the weeks passed, the realization that I would be leaving everything behind for a month slowly began to nag at me. It was almost as if Prague was becoming a burden, and I hadn’t even been introduced to the country yet! The majority of my problem was the fact that I was anxious. I was anxious about flying, anxious about being immersed in completely new territory for thirty days, and anxious about not being surrounded by my family, friends, and boyfriend. I was nervous about everything, to say the least, but that’s nothing new. My nerves get the best of me sometimes. Remind me to shake that later.
On the night of July 7th, as I was packing, it finally hit me that I was traveling out of the country. Actually, it didn’t hit me. It punched me square in the face and pushed me to the ground. I was paralyzed with fear. The night of July 7th is actually a blur. I do remember packing, and I remember pacing in my house saying over and over again, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Shipping off to another country is something completely out of the ordinary for me, which is why it was so crucial that I went through with it. After nineteen years of life on earth, it finally hit me that there is more to see in the world than New Orleans, which resulted in another epiphany, which was followed by yet another a breakthrough. A sense of peace washed over me as I zipped my suitcase one last time and finally crawled into bed. I went to sleep knowing that leaving was okay. Being away from the familiar was okay. I would be okay.
Needless to say, the overall journey to Prague was the opposite of okay. I didn’t cry before I departed New Orleans like I initially thought I would. However, one of my flights was delayed, which resulted in missing a connecting flight. I also had to communicate with a woman in the Frankfurt airport who was, to put it mildly, anti-American. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t anti-American, but she surely didn’t feel like dealing with me. I was a little frantic, I’ll admit, but can you blame me? Here I am, in Germany, trying to tell a woman that I’m about to miss my flight and I need a new boarding pass, only for her to tell me that a flight to Prague at 11:45 AM doesn’t exist, when I know for a fact that it does! After many confusing looks, disgruntled sighs, and a few clicks on her fancy, German computer, my new boarding passes were printed, and I meticulously placed myself on a bench with some German chocolate and waited for my plane to arrive. Fiver hours later, I’m finally on a plane to Prague.
I won’t go into great detail about my time here in Prague so far, but I will say that it has completely turned my world upside down, and I’ve only been here for six days. Being in Prague has been the ultimate learning experience, as well as the ultimate culture shock. There is so much to learn! Aside from the language, I’m also transitioning from living in a house to living in a small dorm, from traveling by car, to traveling by foot, metro, and tram, which I’m beginning to love! I’m also adjusting to the breakfast food, which doesn’t consist of scrambled eggs and toast like it does in America, but is a culmination of chopped hot dogs in ketchup and a surplus of carbs. Prague seems to welcome carbohydrates with open arms, which is also an adjustment from the U.S, because we tend to avoid bread at all costs. Thanks, Atkins Diet, for making people think stuffing your face with pepperoni and steak is a much healthier alternative to nibbling on the occasional blueberry crumble muffin or pretzel stick.
Aside from all of the adjusting that has been taking place in my life as of the past week, I can honestly say that I would not have changed any experience I have had thus far, including the banter I exchanged with the beastly, German woman. Everything has been a learning experience. Everything. I can literally feel myself growing, not only intellectually, but emotionally, as well. My emotions, as of today, are nothing compared to what they were on my first day here in Prague. I’m becoming more comfortable with being away from the familiar. I’m falling into a routine, which makes me feel at ease. I’m exploring a new country, practically on my own. I’m living my life to the fullest, and I’m taking chances, which is exactly what I should have been doing all along. I’m expanding my knowledge, my horizons, and maybe even my waist size, but I don’t care. When in Czech, do as the Czechs do. If that means stuffing your face with carbs at every meal, then so be it.
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