Czech Lessons

I read an article this morning about why it’s important to travel while you’re young.

Among his litany of sophic insights, the writer noted:

“You will begin to understand that the world is both a big and small place. You will have a new-found respect for the pain and suffering that over half of the world takes for granted on a daily basis.

And you will feel more connected to your fellow human beings in a deep and lasting way. You will learn to care.”

I was nodding my head in absentminded assimilation when one of my students walked in and asked what I was reading.

I asked her to read a bit of the article for a short warm-up to the lesson, and we proceeded to discuss the effects that travelling has on a person as a citizen of the world. What we didn’t discuss—and something I do plan to tell them by the end of classes —is that my students have taught me more in the three months I’ve been with them than I could have ever anticipated or expect to reciprocate.

At first, it was hard to get to know them. A thin shell of skepticism is a protective barrier surrounding all Czechs; a generational defense mechanism reminiscent of the communist era.

Once you earn their trust and affection, however, you’re in—all the way in. They care deeply about those they permit into their circles and care for their friends in every way they are able. My students are the sources of almost all of my knowledge of Prague and the secrets of this magical city. They come in day after day with suggestions of things we must do or places we must see, and they are all so excited to take me on visits to their “willages” when classes are over. Each village has something special to offer, especially during the summertime. I could spend every weekend of my life checking off towns in the Czech Republic from the list they’re continually creating for me.

My students are also my wellspring of cultural enrichment. Without them I may have been surprised on Easter morning (which is the Monday after what we consider Easter) when all the boys in town—ranging in age from 2-102 years—run from door to door with switches, exchanging slaps and the promise of youth for colored eggs, candy and ribbons from the resident females. 

One thing that many expats notice right away is that the Czechs have many universal, defining features. An easy way to quantify this is that I (as well as all of my friends) have yet to meet a Czech who doesn’t enjoy “picking up mushrooms in the nature.” It’s a thing.

They’re also characteristically honest: 

One of my students said the following to me today regarding his colleague: “It’s important that she knows that no one in the office loves her. She needs to know.” 

And characteristically scrappy. So many years of being under the communist hammer instilled penchant for thwarting authority whenever possible. In 1891, the Czechs were inspired to build a replica of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Parisians told the Czechs they could never create something so amazing. So the Czechs responded by creating an exact replica that is one meter higher than the original. Including, of course, the hill on which it is mounted.

These may seem like trifles, but to me they’re quite revealing of a national identity shaped by the past, including most recently the communist regime and the revolution that ended it. It’s a pretty great country, and I feel so lucky to have this opportunity to explore these things that make us the same and different. The world is a cool place.