Pack up and Czech out

With bleary eyes, I peered across the laps of an old Czech couple and through the window of… With bleary eyes, I peered across the laps of an old Czech couple and through the window of a Boeing 737 aircraft. As much as I felt like dozing off after a lengthy trans-Atlantic journey, I couldn’t help but stare at the red rooftops scattered on the ground below, which made the outskirts of Prague look like a rose garden.

I felt slightly forlorn as I pictured my mother choking back tears at the airport when we parted ways the day before. But my body simultaneously rocked with excitement as I thought about the adventures that awaited me in the Czech capital.

It was May of 2004 and I was finally fulfilling a personal dream by spending a couple of months in Prague on a study abroad program sponsored by Florida State University. At the risk of sounding cliche, I have to tell you that the experience changed my life.

After navigating my way through the terminal, retrieving my luggage and clearing customs, I emerged into an open foyer to find a short, middle-aged man waiting there for me. To my surprise, he had Asian features, which shattered my image of the typical Czech man.

But his “homemade” sign, which read “Florida State University,” signified that I had the right guy, so I approached him to say hello. I narrow-mindedly assumed that he spoke English, and I suppose he over-optimistically thought that I spoke Czech. We were both wrong.

So we stood there in the large hallway, waiting on a few others, somehow having a conversation — and semi-understanding each other — using our native languages. Really, it was more that he would say something in Czech and I would shake my head as if I understood; then he would do the same with my English.

This “dialogue” went on for quite some time before he became noticeably uneasy. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a phone and punched in some numbers. To my surprise, as he handed me the phone, he managed to say, “Here, talk to Eva” in words I could understand.

I actually had no idea who Eva was, but I talked to her anyway. It turned out that she was a local who was one of the instructors in my program. I took her class on Czech culture and she told us many things that came in handy when we had free time to shop, dine and explore the city.

For example, she explained that while the country had become more Westernized in many ways, the service sector was a particularly noticeable exception. This contrast was visibly played out at Tesco, or the “Wal-Mart of Europe.”

The aisles were filled with food, textiles and toiletries as found in many Western establishments. But the checkouts were run by robotic employees who had not yet forgotten the concepts of “systemization” and “quotas” from the former Communist days.

It never failed that the cashier would have my merchandise scanned before I could retrieve my wallet and a bag tossed onto the counter for me to stuff my belongings into as my change was falling onto the floor; all the while the next customer was already being fed through in the same chaotic manner.

And shoppers received just one bag, whether they were purchasing a pack of gum or ten boxes of cereal. Asking for a second bag usually triggered an angry glance from the teller, who eventually tossed another one onto the counter as if you had just asked for his remaining $20.

It took me just as long to familiarize myself with Czech restaurant protocol as it did to learn the shopping procedures at Tesco.

A request at a cafe one afternoon to wrap up the remaining portion of my meal to take home left the server stunned and eventually educed a silver-colored object that looked as though it had taken some effort to assemble.

Upon further inspection, I noticed that the server had put my food into an ice cream container and wrapped it in aluminum foil. And that’s when it occurred to me: It’s a no-no to take leftovers from a Czech restaurant; at the very least, it’s highly unusual.

By the end of the trip, I wasn’t any more skilled at going through the Prague checkout lines than I was after the first days of my arrival. But I was definitely more tolerant and sensitive to the fact that the Czech system functioned a bit differently from what I was used to and that that was OK.

On account of numerous incidents of cross-culture miscommunication, I was able to fine-tune my sense of patience, understanding and acceptance of different ways of life.

With that in mind, I highly recommend going abroad, be it to travel or study. It’s an eye-opening and humbling experience. In the end you’ll understand yourself better by coming to understand somebody else.

So pack your bags and hit the road; you probably won’t regret that you did.

Christine won’t pack your food to go but she will answer your e-mails at clh4@pitt.edu.