Berkley Center

When I packed my bags to come to Prague, I didn’t know the language, the city layout, important to-dos, and not-to-dos; I’d ignored all family and friends’ advice. I hadn’t even opened a guidebook! I wanted the city and my semester abroad to be an adventure, an uproarious, unpredictable, relying on my wits, flying by the seat of my pants kind of adventure. And so far, it has been. I wanted to use the city, its corners, metro systems, glorious námĕstí, and unassuming shop fronts as an opportunity for self-discovery. For, if I could figure out how to navigate the new city and place myself within it, then I was sure to gain some greater sort of self-knowledge as well.

I learned basic Czech in a few weeks at school: děkuju as thank you, dobrý den as a formal hello. One of the most continually confusing bits, no as yes, and ne as no, has left me with more milk in my coffee and paper receipts, more small points of humor scattered through the semester than I’d anticipated. As I’ve been here longer—twelve weeks, today—I’ve correlatively felt more at ease with my surroundings and well-adjusted to the culture. I’ve adjusted quite quickly to keeping my instinctively loud American voice at a much lower volume, to not catch eyes with strangers as I pass them in the streets, yet to greet casual acquaintances warmly.

In fact, my days in Prague are even starting to feel a bit routine. Not necessarily in a negative way—I know my route to school by heart, what kinds of food to buy from the grocery store, and how to order my morning coffee fully in Czech. I could tell you all about the city as I know it, about the Astronomical Clock, its impressive, ingenious clockwork or the allegorical figures that represent fifteenth century life and societal values; about the Prague Castle, and how it is the largest castle complex in the world, because it is made up of separate buildings; or about the Czech Republic’s inconsistent political states throughout the twentieth century, sounding a bit like a tour guide as I do so.

The city feels familiar to me in that I've accomplished my goal of discerning the new, strange place. And now I must attempt to learn newer things about Prague, like visiting the lesser-known areas I’ve started to seek out, small, eclectic gems hidden between hooks and allies of Prague’s medieval streets, the coffee shops and bookstores, fresh bakeries, and underground, stone-walled bars. Wine and beer festivals are held nearly every weekend at local squares; now Christmas markets and their enormous, gilded evergreen trees dominate city centers. Rows of wood-paneled stands sell traditional foods and goods: brambory spirálové, spiral potato crisps; trdelník, cylindrical roasted pastries; and elaborately decorated gingerbreads.

I’ll buy presents for my family here, linger in the walkways between stalls, press shoulders accidentally with the Czech men, women, and children who come to browse and taste as well. I’ll wander down more twisted streets, trusting my gut and my handy CityMaps app to lead me back out. And in four weeks, when I return to the United States, my mind will probably still be consumed with ideas of discovering, wandering, of pensive adventures, and reminiscing about the wonderful little corners and awe-inspiring námĕstí, of which Prague is so incredibly full.