“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.
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