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.
No comments:
Post a Comment