munki's blog

Leaving home this time was scary. It reminded me of leaving home for the first time when I was starting as a freshman at NYU. I was going to a place I hardly remembered from my childhood and knew no one there. However, this August I was leaving for a place that I, or anyone in my family, had ever visited, had no friends there, and did not speak the language.

Yes I was scared, but very, very excited. To visit a country that had once been part of the Soviet Union had always been a dream of mine, but to be given the opportunity to actually live in one made me ecstatic.

I didn’t really know what to expect from Prague. I heard that it was one of the most beautiful European cities because its original architecture had been preserved during the various wars. But that was a lie, Prague is not just beautiful, it was like living in a fairytale land, as I soon learnt.

Given that Prague is a hilly city, from various areas you can look down on the city and all you see are these small red roofed houses and lots of gothic architecture. The castle could be seen from pretty much everywhere. This was something I learnt as we drove from the airport in to the city.

The shuttle that NYU picked us up with was supposed to drop us off to our various dorms. Mine was the third stop. And as we drove by the various neighborhoods, I was suddenly really scared. All the streets were tiny, the apartments pretty but crammed together. WHERE WAS I?! I was use to NYC and its crammed spaces, but there was something very eerie about this place. However, when we turned on to the street I was suppose to live on, I fell in love. There was a spacious park with tall, blooming trees. I could most definitely live here.

I walked around the neighborhood a bit before the sun set. And suddenly I felt right at home. Almost all the buildings had windows with various flowers flowing out of them. The sun was bright and made all the colorful buildings look even more inviting. I realized that the fact that our shuttle was really big, it made everything else look crammed. But once I was on foot, everything looked just perfect.

I also think the fact that I had landed in the middle of a beautiful summer made my welcome exceptionally warm. Like Botton describes in his story, winter is such a bleak season, and to come into a new place when everything is gloomy must make it harder to adjust. I think I wouldn’t have instantaneously fallen in love with my new home had I come in the dead of winter. I picture the city to be just the way Botton opens his book, which would have been very uninviting.

(The pictue is of this church I fell in love with, representative of all the gothic architecure in the city)

I can't believe it is almost time to leave. The past two weeks have been so depressing for me and I hate it when someone brings up the topic of leaving. I don't want to say bye to my Czech friends or my friends who go to other schools. And of course, I don't want to say bye to this gorgeous city, and this wonderful country! I truly fell in love with everything Czech. And I plan on coming back, again and again, but it will never be the same. And that is a terrifying and sob-worthy thought.
 
I did not think that study abroad experience would be very life changing for me given that I had already been “studying abroad” for the past two years. But I am amazed at just how much it has affected me. My parents and grandparents have travelled the world, and I chose this country because they had never stepped foot here, and I really wanted to conquer something different. And when I first got here, I thought to myself “Are you mad?” But soon enough I had picked up enough of the language to survive, figured out my way around the city, and eventually the country. NYU gave us amazing opportunities to travel in groups to little-known areas of the country, and eventually I found myself spending weekends in various parts of the Czech Republic outside of the NYU trips.
 
To live in a country with a culture so different from my own was great experience. And I think that I took advantage of my time here to really immerse myself, and I hope I can look back on these four months and have no regrets.
 
The one thing I did realize was that I have spent two years in America, and feel like I haven’t really immersed myself in American culture. I realized that New York is not the prime example of American culture; it’s just a melting pot. And I hope to maybe travel a bit more around the country when I am back, and maybe go visit some of my friends’ houses to really understand what the real American is like. Given that I managed to do that in the Czech Republic in four months, I’m assuming I will get plenty of opportunities in America to do that!
 
I’m glad that I took this course, Travel Studies, because I now have a small collection of thoughts to reminisce over. The weekly assignments were great, each was very varied and I think it covered a wide variety of topics and themes and really made me think about my experience once a week. And it was great reading other people’s experiences too and comparing them to my own!

I’d like to thank everyone for his or her awesome comments on my posts and hope you all have a great last week and a brilliant holiday! Cau cau!


(The picture is of Prague Castle. I randomly stumbled upon it while lost in the city back in September and took this picture)

Everyone’s abroad experience will be different because everyone goes in with different expectations. But everyone should keep in mind that a semester is really short and will fly by so fast you wouldn’t know how to slow it down even if you tried. So never say no, never say you’ll come back or try it later, if the opportunity presents itself, take it. And if there is no opportunity, create it and see where fate takes you.

Define your goals for your time abroad. For me it was to live in a relatively obscure European country and get to know as much about the country as possible within those four months. The best way to do it was to take classes that would immerse me in the culture, do an internship, and befriend my RA’s. And it worked. Through my classes and internships I have met people, heard stories and seen places in Prague that most people living here for years never will. And befriending RA’s meant experiencing the country like a true local. In fact, this past weekend one of my RA’s took me to her town to visit her family. It was the most culturally enhancing weekend thus far and I am so grateful to have been given that opportunity.

My advice to anyone going abroad is to be as open minded as possible. I went in with no friends, and absolutely terrified about what I was getting myself into. Everyone asked me why I would go to a completely foreign country not knowing anyone, which scared me. But it made me more open and adventurous. I have become close friends with people I would have otherwise avoided at NYU in New York. And it happens naturally because everyone is lost together. When travelling during weekends, don’t be afraid of going with a group of people you don’t really know. Travelling is the best way to make friends.

A great way to experience the local culture is to try something you have never heard of before. This is something I learnt from a friend. Every time we went to a restaurant together, he’d order the item on the menu that was the worst translated and generally sounded awful. The surprise was usually pleasant, at times disgusting, but a great experience nonetheless.

And of course, don’t always follow the “NYU crowd”. Exchange students tend to hang out in expat places which are usually more expensive, and of course, not very “local”. So every now and then, don’t forget to break out of the crowd and go somewhere more local.

Again, everyone has different expectations, but I think what I have written here is something everyone should try out just a bit. It made my time abroad awesome.

(The picture is from on top of the highest mountain on the Beskydy mountain range, which surround the town my RA is from. On top of every mountain on the range there is a pub, incentivizing people to climb. That is Czech culture for you ;))

I come from a commonwealth country; a country that was plundered by the British, who, when they departed, left behind many things, some good and some bad. One of the things that they dumped on us was the English language.
 
I have always looked at this remnant as a good thing, up until I moved to Prague. Knowing fluent English opened many doors to me, and removed various cultural barriers which meant that when I moved to the States for college, I was well-versed with their mainstream culture and had an easy time making friends. Similarly, I had a plethora of knowledge and literature available to me because almost anything that is worth knowing is first translated into English.
 
My own mother tongue, Urdu, was something I never paid attention to. It was a language I picked up simply because it was spoken everywhere around me. Yet, for many people in my country, Urdu is considered a language that is beneath English. I guess that in some way, this is a result of the colonization, and even though the British left over 60 years ago, they still control us with their language.
 
So coming to Prague, I realized how this “gift” from the British was not actually such a great thing. I was amazed at the fact that mot people in the Czech Republic, as well as other European countries, took great pride in speaking their national language, and for the most part did not even know English. In fact, many Czechs who are bilingual or multilingual (and there are many of them) speak various other European languages but not English. They actually consider English to be a not very beautiful or impressive language.
 
One of my RA’s overheard me talking to my mother in English on the phone. She asked me why I didn’t speak to her in Urdu. I really didn’t know how to respond to her.
 
To conclude, my epiphany while abroad was how language defines a culture. Here in Europe, their national language is the only language they really communicate in, from menus to conversation with friends. But back home in a commonwealth state, it is funny how the British still seem to control us, simply by introducing us to something that is slowly and quietly taking away from our culture and still controlling us.

If you know anyone who has ever visited or lived in Prague, one of the things you will hear will be how rude the people are. To be fair, they are not intentionally rude, they are just very reserved and give off an unfriendly vibe. Unlike Americans or other Europeans, they do not feel the need to have any significant encounters with strangers. And we just have to accept them for this, because with a history as painful as theirs, you cannot blame them for not being very open.

Yet, interactions with strangers are so important. They help you immerse into a society and understand it better.  I guess for this country, the lack of interaction does the same for you!

I say that they are not rude and I can back this up with examples. Unlike New Yorkers, Czechs will offer their seats to every old, frail, sick or exhausted looking person on public transportation. However, unlike most other people, they won’t smile or say anything when they get up. They’ll just get up and walk away. Yet it is such a kind gesture, that it makes me smile every time.

I had a man give me his seat when I stumbled on to the metro with my huge grocery bags. A quiet exchange with no smile on his part. Sometimes I wonder if it’s something that is just expected of them and not something they do because they are being kind. But I like to hope it’s the latter.

I got on a tram once, exhausted from lack of sleep and food, cranky from home work stress, and generally having a bad day. I found an empty seat and cherished it. But on the next stop, an old woman got on. Given that every other seat was already occupied by elderly people, I felt obligated to give up my seat. So I just stood up, tapped her shoulder and pointed to my seat. As she sat down, I did not expect any further exchange and hence took out my phone to distract myself. However, she grinned at me, and started saying all these things in rapid Czech that I did not understand. It was more than a thank you. When she realized that I was alien to her words, she just stroked my arm, and every now and then just smiled at me. I guess, in some way my simple (and expected) gesture had made her day. And her warmth, gratitude and unexpected emotions suddenly took away all my negative feelings and really brightened my day. 

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera is a book that describes the marriage of a Czech couple during communism. It is fictional, so I did not feel as if it said much about the culture, but by combining the experiences described in the book with my own, there are many conclusions that I can come up with.
 
In the book, the husband is cheating on his wife with another woman. The wife finds out, warns him, threatens him, but he doesn’t stop. We find out from the husband’s thoughts that he feels bad, but he hates being anchored down.
 
I cannot generalize and say that having extramarital affairs is a very “Czech” thing to do. It definitely is a universal sin. However, it is true that the Czechs tend to take relationships very lightly, affairs are common and they apparently do it very openly. According to one of my Czech professors, it is unusual for a Czech in their late 20’s to be single, and they are expected to be married in their 30’s even if the relationship is not very strong. Affairs and divorces aren’t as frowned upon apparently.
 
In the book, Tereza (the wife) feels as if there is a communication barrier between her and her husband, Tomas. This is definitely something I have experienced with Czech men.
 
If you think that it is hard to understand a man, you have yet to encounter a Czech man. Being Czech and male in one form takes complicated and mysterious to a whole new level. As a people, Czechs are very reserved, to the point where it comes off as rude, but being here for so many months has taught me not to take it personally. I don’t call it breaking the ice here, it’s breaking glaciers before they warm up to you. And the men, even if they are interested in you, they will be more aloof than any other man one may have come across. Hard to believe, I know.
 
According to my Czech friend, (who will remain anonymous because I do not want to ruin her chances with any Czech man!) it is almost next to impossible to know if a Czech man is interested in you. They will give off small hints, and then it almost becomes the girl’s job to try and break the glacier and take the relationship to the next level. Needless to say, many girls here at NYU in Prague aren’t really getting the complete Czech experience!

There is not just one thing that embodies the genius loci of Prague for me. I se the genius loci as the various things I have experienced in this city that will always remind me of this glorious semester. And there are so many of them so I have to break this blog down into sub sections.

The Architecture: The colorful town houses with slanted red rooftops, the gothic architecture of the churches, the cobbled streets that kill your feet, and the winding, narrow streets of Prague. If I ever see such architecture in another city, I will be transported back to these few months, either standing on top of a hill viewing the beautiful cityscape of colorful houses and the stunning gothic churches, or following a narrow deserted street in between these buildings that lead me to some quaint, unnoticed corner of the city. Such winding streets had inspired Kafka to write about the claustrophobia his characters suffered (he probably wrote from personal experience). But to me, these streets reek adventure, and dare me to walk down them even though the New Yorker in me screams warning sirens that deserted, dark streets that aren’t labeled on maps mean trouble. But this is not New York, this is Prague, where such streets reveal the secrets and the beauty of the city.

The Food: Generally rich and tasteless, the food here rarely appeals to me. It is heavy on the protein (think heaps of meat in every dish), lacks vegetables (potatoes and cabbage are the only vegetables they seem to know about) and come in very small portions. I have eaten things like goose and duck legs, seen people eat every part and corner of a pig (pig ears?!) and am still debating over whether I want to try rabbit. And mind you, none of this food is part of a special meal, it is their daily cuisine. When I leave, I plan on eating nothing but vegetables for a few weeks.

The Unpronounceable Long Names: There is this street I walk down almost every weekend and every time I talk about it to anyone, they ask me which street. But the fact of the matter is, I can’t for the life of me neither pronounce the name nor spell it. Because the name has several consonants, like every other street or person’s name here. And as hard as I try, I can’t do it. I can repeat it after someone, but ask me again in two minutes, and I will be blank again. I can see myself in the future being introduced to someone with a complicated name and automatically saying “Are you Czech?!” because that struggle will forever be ingrained in me.

One more thing about Prague that I have never experienced anywhere else is the fog. It reminds me of something I have read in a book. I can walk out of my building and be completely engulfed in the stuff. It is absolutely beautiful. I love foggy nights when I am walking back home, and my street is completely hazy and the yellow street lamps add to this beautiful effect. It definitely is a very big part of the Czech genius loci for me.

Czech republic is known (or infamous for?) its highest consumption of beer per capita in the world. Needless to say, every intellectual conversation happens over beer, and not coffee.
 
One of my favorite things to do after an exhausting week is go bar hopping on this one street that has a medley of various kinds of bars. My favorite one is this huge bar that attracts the younger local crowd, usually the sort with dreadlocks and torn jeans (which is a very popular look amongst the youth here). There are foosball tables and a variety of local beers. The cocktails are a little pricier. Their food menu consists of things like chewing gum, to crisps. American bar food is definitely not the same as Czech bar food. The music varies from Czech to English, always upbeat and loud, but not loud enough to prevent one from having a decent conversation. The interior is wooden and you have the option of sitting on tables and chairs, or couches.
 
The best part about this bar (by the way I don’t know it’s name because it’s in Czech and hence has a hundred consonants in it) is that it has three rooms covered in rock walls! So till about 8 p.m. at night, you can rent rock wall climbing equipment after a beer or two (they check to make sure you’re sober enough!) I’ve done it a few times and it’s so much fun! I love the random concept of bar with rock climbing walls, it gives one a whole new experience in drinking and bonding.
 
Right next to this bar is a café I like to go to get a snack at before I actually go the rock climbing bar. This café is not something one can find easily, actually I would not have even known of it’s existence had the bartender at the rock climbing bar not told me about it. It’s on the top floor of an office building. So you ring the doorbell, say “Good day, I am here for the café”, in Czech, and the person buzzes you in. Then, you climb up five flights of badly lit stairs till you get to a door covered in posters and graffiti. The first time I went their I was convinced I was in some kind of drug den. But inside is what is known as an “intellectual café”, where people drink coffee, or beer (usually its beer for the Czechs), read a book or meet old friends or make new ones. The café is split into three rooms, smoking, non smoking and quiet. Each has super comfortable bright sofas. The friendly staff (and Prague is known for its rude service) offers you a menu but you have to go up o the bar to order. They have delicious sandwiches! People are either sitting around talking, reading a book or magazine, or playing board games. It’s a very friendly environment so I usually leave after having deep conversations with strangers.
 
These two places are not exactly representative of the typical Czech bar or café, but both have a very integral part of my semester here so I just had to write about them!

The world's first concentration camp was built in the Czech Republic, a few miles outside of Prague in a town called Terezin. This was something about the country that I didn't know. 

On my visit to the Jewish Museum, I left feeling a little dizzy. I knew that the Czech lands had been part of Hitler’s empire and had partaken in some disgusting things. But every time I walked the streets of Prague, I promptly forgot that a city so beautiful could have a past so gruesome.
 
The museum held photos of the train tracks that led from Prague to Terezin, one’s that were designed for the particular purpose of transporting Jews and are not used today. Placards under the photos described how the Jews had been forced to actually build those tracks themselves, ignorant about what they would be used for in the future.
 
The artwork that disturbed me the most were drawings and paintings made by children. When kept in the camp for months, these children were becoming hard to handle, as well as becoming psychologically warped. So former teachers also detained at the camps, decided to make what they hoped were not the last days of these young Jews, a little ore colorful. So the immersed them in art projects.
 
As always, the ages of the children were upsetting. They ranged from around three to their mid-teens. Some of the drawings depicted happier days and freedom, with families celebrated holidays together or children playing on the streets of Praha. Others made me tear up. They were bleak paintings done in dismal shades of grey and brown showing the Terezin camp, broken souls, and incomplete families. The older children drew most of these depressing pieces, but some of the younger ones were represented in this group.
 
Since they were usually short on supplies, a lot of these pieces of art were done on scraps of paper, newspapers and pieces of wood.
It’s hard for me to imagine what it must have been like to live in a concentration camp, knowing that there was a slim chance that you would actually leave it. I really admired the women who were giving these children a chance to forget their worries. The woman who had started the program was eventually shifted to Auschwitz.

The visit to this museum didn’t really change my perspective of the country. It did however poke into my brain and take out from my lets-forget-the-bad-stuff closet in there the gruesome history of this place and remind me that this too was a country that had partaken in one of mankind’s worst crimes.

Sometimes I regret the fact that Prague was my first encounter with a European city. It's cobbled streets and authentic, well preserved architecture fools the naive traveller into thinking that all of Europe will be as original and glorious as this city. But it is not.
 
Prague was the only city that was not completely bombarded and flattened in the various wars of the 20th century. Almost all the other major cities had to rebuild their empires from the rubble that remained, on a tight monetary budget. So imagine my disappointment when I visited Berlin, first on my list of cities to visit, and was almost blinded by the ugly architecture of the city. However, tourist attractions like the Reichstag and the Berlin Cathedral on Museum Island remained artfully reconstructed. Of course, initially I didn't know that they had been reconstructed. And when I found out, I suddenly could tell the factors that gave away the buildings true age. For one thing, the Reichstag even had new additions to allow it to accommodate and attract more tourists.
 
However, even though Prague did not need to refurbish itself to become a hot LonelyPlanet  pick, a recently developed tourist industry is trying to expand its market. They do this by adding bizarre attractions like Segway tours, American style clubs and pubs, and a strange and overrated clock tower show every hour.
 
These really are strange ways to add an appetizing pink color to an already delicious tasting piece of ham. 
 
I’m trying to enjoy this piece of delicious ham called Prague without it’s artificial color. It’s hard sometimes, because in a way, I too am a tourist, one on an extended visa, wanting to visit and see the things the city is famous for. It’s often difficult to try and be more local because most of my friends are extended tourists too who only want to go to bars and clubs that cater to people like us. But I’m trying to venture out. I’ve befriended my RA’s and through them made more local friends. They take me to Czech university dining halls for lunch, and clubs where no one speaks a word of English (yet strangely enough, loves to dance to every Top 40 hit). Just recently, a local friend of mine took me into this sketchy alley, rang a door bell, said something in Czech, led me up five flights of dark stairs and into a beautiful café, flowing with intellectuals who wanted to discuss American literature with me.

I really hope I can successfully overcome the power of chemical nitrates.

 
The book, The Golem, by Gustav Meyrink, is set in Prague in the early 20th century. More specifically, the setting of the book never seems to leave the boundaries of the Jewish ghetto. 
 
The Jewish ghetto of Prague, back in the day was grimy, over populated, and a dismal environment to live in. The inhabitants were not integrated into the society; they were not considered Czechs, but simply as Jews.

Unlike most works of fiction where the Golem is depicted as a monster, in this book he usually takes a metaphoric form, embodying the fears and concerns of the Jewish society, which were many and of an unbelievable variety.

When I went on the NYU Jewish ghetto tour, I expected to be taken to the outskirts of the city. Imagine my surprise when we stopped after a 3 minute walk from the NYU building, which is located in the heart of the city. The street has been completely revamped, and the descriptions of the squalid conditions, which I was to read in The Golem much later, were absent. Today, the area has been converted into a tourist haven.

I went back there after reading Meyrink’s novel and contemplated the forgotten streets. I wondered how the margins of society, as the Jewish community at that time was, managed to live so close to the main town square. That was a question I had asked the tour guide that day but he was unable to answer.

Today the streets look as wide as any other in Prague, which initially made me think that it couldn’t have been all that bad living here. But reading the novel made me see the reality of it. There had been thousands of Jews packed on to this one street, living in dilapidated houses with poor sanitation and little privacy. There were no jobs and no schools. Children got into mischief, in the form of prostitution and theft.

Today, you can take pictures of quaint buildings with a façade that hides their true history, and buy an overpriced Star of David souvenir and a bottle of Absinth.

The only part of the area that truly represents its history is the Jewish cemetery. Squashed in between a beautifully cobbled street and some modern buildings, I thought it was the most macabre sight.

Gravestones were scattered in a haphazard manner all over the hilly terrain. I had never seen a cemetery like it! Our tour guide explained that there could be up to 11 graves one on top of the other here, hence the hills and scattered gravestones.

He then said something that will always stick with me when I walk by that refurbished and deceitful area.

“Just like they had no space to live when alive, they had no space to rest when dead.”

That was the Prague Meyrink and Kafka wrote about and got recognition for. The Prague of today hides its history well, behind a fairytale-like atmosphere. If it weren’t for immortal masterpieces of literature, the true essence of the city would have been lost

I do really stupid things sometimes, and one of the dumbest things I’ve done so far was on my very first night here. I had just got into my apartment and had enough time to wash up and change to go to the dinner being hosted by NYU. I had no local currency on me, just a credit card and some dollars. I didn’t even have time to look at a map.

And after dinner, in an attempt to make friends, I agreed to go out to a bar with some people. It was my first time in a metro, and it took us no more than 5 minutes to get to the stop where we needed to get off. I learnt much later that what was a 5 minute subway ride, is actually a half hour walk. So when we left the bar around 2 a.m., much after the metros had stopped running, my friend and I made the stupid decision of walking back home. Everyone else cabbed it, but with no money I figured I’d just walk with this other girl whom I had just met but seemed friendly and smart enough.

So with our limited knowledge of Czech and zero sense of direction, we opened a map of the city for the first time and started our hour long trek home. The map was as useful as a pizza sauce-stained napkin. We were quick to learn that NYU had lied to us; no one here spoke English. I approached some cops, thinking that they could speak some English and help us out. They laughed at me and continued to sip their beer, much to my horror.

We decided to get on a tram; after all it had to get us somewhere! And it did. The tram driver rolled his eyes at us when we told him where we wanted to go and told us “4 stops”. I tried swiping my card at the door but he snapped at me. That’s when I learnt of the “honor system”.

When we got off at the fourth stop, we still really didn’t know where to go and probably walked around in the wrong direction for a while. The streets were deserted which was quite frightening. We were told later that unlike in New York, where if you see a deserted unlit street and make a detour, in Prague, they are fairly safe to walk down.

We eventually got home, safe and feeling rather learned of the Czech ways. See, even though it is a very shy and unfriendly nation, if approached politely, most people are willing to go out of their way to help you out. I would never recommend discovering a city in that manner, but at least it makes for a fun story.

Communicating in the Czech Republic has thus far been horrible. Czech is a beautiful language, in my opinion, and many people do not agree with me. But I don’t have time in my schedule to learn it, and to be honest; I don’t see how it will help me in the future. 

We had a language crash course, which was fairly useful. It enabled me to finally go grocery shopping. However, that doesn’t mean I always end up buying what I had actually intended on buying.

For example, the other day I came home and opened a packet of what I prayed was butter.

Me- Oh jeez I really hope this is butter.
Roommate- Hahaha Eric said the same thing!
Me, poking the hunk of dairy with a knife- Not to be racist, but this stuff is way too white for my comfort.
Me, taking a bite of said dairy product- $#!& this is so not butter! Goddamit Prague I just want some butter!
 
It was some kind of creamy cheese.

Similarly, I have wasted a ton of money by constantly buying the wrong kind of milk. I always some how end up getting some strange sour smelling thick milk. I have tried various brands and tried to act it out to several attendants at the grocery store, but I always end up with the same thing. I have no idea what exactly it is, but according to one of my professors the Czechs love it.

In a separate incident, during my first week here I was showering with what I thought was a body wash. The only things that were written in English on the bottle were, “Nivea” and “24 Hour Extreme Hydration”. To my jetlagged mind and shower yearning body, that sounded like body wash. The stuff did not lather, and I whined about it everyday for a week but was too busy with orientation to remember to find out from my RA what it actually was.

It turned out to be body lotion.

A lot of people are complaining about how much they hate this language barrier. It definitely is very frustrating. There are too many consonants and too few vowels in every word, making them impossible to pronounce. Grocery shopping is difficult. Getting directions is almost impossible. My friend and I laugh about how the crash course only really taught us how to pick up men at bars; “Hi my name is ----? What’s your name”, “Where do you live”, “I want a beer”, “My number is ----“.

But I secretly love the madness of not speaking Czech. It becomes the foundation for brilliant future stories, and is just part of the great travelling experience.

(The sign in the photo is something I found outside one of the cages at the Praha Zoo)

For the first time in my 21 years of existence, I am not living in a metropolis. There is almost half the number of people in this entire country than there are in the city I grew up in. Yes, Prague qualifies as a city. There is an intricate public transport system, a major airport and train station and lots of American brands available everywhere, but it is no New York.

My apartment is located in a relatively quiet yet hip neighborhood called Vinohrady. Once upon a time, it was littered with vineyards. Today, it is apparently a more gay-friendly neighborhood, but I wouldn’t have known that had I not read it in a travel guide because when I think gay-friendly area, I think West Village. I definitely have not seen groups of flamboyant men in deep V-neck shirts anywhere around here. The Duane Reade equivalent shuts down at 7 pm, and it is impossible to find any kind of food past 9 pm, not even in the all night bars because their kitchens also close at 9.

So to get food at these odd hours (or normal hours to me, since I’ve been so spoilt all my life) I have to get on a metro (the local lingo for a subway) and go to Old Town Square, which is the more tourist friendly and central area of the city. Here I will find the Czech equivalent of Halal carts that unfortunately for my Kosher diet, sell mostly only sausages. But they also have my thus far favorite Czech cuisine, fried cheese. I can already see myself craving this piece of gastronomical heaven when back in Manhattan. The hunk of Edam cheese is dipped in egg and fried and served with mayonnaise or curry ketchup between a bun, and may one day be the cause of my future heart attack. For about the same price as a plate of Chicken over Rice, I find myself happiness in this foreign land.

So how is this past 9 pm adventure part of the nitty gritty aspect of my life abroad? Well, since I’m a bit of a foodie, I have spent a lot of my first few weeks here discovering the local food. I have ended up cooking a lot since the rich and heavy Czech cuisine is not something I can eat on a daily basis. I have discovered some delicious Italian food, a Mexican joint owned by a Vietnamese family and a café that sells sandwiches that by American standards would be considered a snack and not a meal. The most expensive meal I’ve had at a relatively fancier restaurant cost me only $8. But the lack of variety is a bit frustrating at times. So I may not miss Czech food a few months for now. Except for my fried cheese. I’d sell a kidney for that stuff.

Ahoj (pronounced Ahoy, like a pirate) from Prague!
 
I have the travel bug. It isn't as bad as food poisoning. It's just more expensive. I moved to New York from Pakistan for college. It was painful. I knew no one, had no family, and didn't understand why the food didn't have heaps of spices. I was homesick for the first few months, but didn't have anyone to complain to. Making friends seemed impossible. The American education system was so different from the British one I was use to and my grades suffered. Those first 2 or 3 months of college are something I wouldn't want to repeat even for a million bucks. 
 
But then I made some amazing friends, fell in love with the city for all that it had to offer and cried in the cab on the way to JFK when leaving for the summer at the end of freshman year. 
 
So what made me repeat it all this semester when I decided to leave the city that I was now calling home, the people I was now calling family, for a city and a country that would see me disoriented, friendless, and possibly very homesick, again? I'm not sure, but I know right now that I don’t regret it a bit.
 
Since studying the Cold War I was grossly obsessed with the former Eastern Bloc. I think communism, as an ideology and only an ideology, is great. But the fact that it had been implemented in this corrupt form for decades seemed so bizarre to me. I had for months begged my dad to rake me to Russia to see how a country plagued with the Soviet disease was now functioning, but he refused.

So I took the opportunity I got and moved to the closest possible city, Prague.

Former Czechoslovakia, now the Czech Republic, fascinated me for several other reasons. It consisted of a population of resilient people; those who had brought about the bloodless Velvet Revolution, and instead of bitching about their lives on Facebook (I guess mostly because they were fortunate enough to not have that option back then) gone on the streets and peacefully brought the change that they had wanted. And here they are 22 years later, a member of the EU with a fairly thriving economy and a crazy nightlife. (But most people still refer to it as Czechoslovakia. I have to give them a little history lesson every time that awkward moment comes up.)

So I wanted to be apart of it. And as afraid as I was of repeating those first few months of freshman year, I went for it. And I promise I have not an ounce of regret. A month later, I am still trying to get my bearings right, get accustomed to the language and heavy food, but I love every minute of it. I have made some amazing friends from NYU and other US colleges, as well as some local Czechs. And I’m already dreading the day that I will be forced to leave this little fairyland tucked in the middle of a history-rich continent.Ahoj (pronounced Ahoy like a pirate) from Prague!
 
(In the picture you can see part of the city from next to the Prague Castle, one of the most beautiful views I have seen yet.)