Four days after I should have walked off a plane into Prague International I walked off a plane into Prague International. The details are complex-- involving a sudden trip to Chicago, my mother and brother putting our house on the market, a lost passport, a lost birth certificate, a lost social security card, money scamming "expedite" services, a money scamming re-booking, a broken iPhone, another sudden trip to Chicago and a hell of a lot of money.
You can imagine, after going through losing your political identity—and all other forms of identification the strange sensation of traveling. It’s almost like being a ghost, incognito. I positively love it. With no cell phone, no occupation and almost nothing you must do the absolute freedom to write and live in a foreign country is exhilarating.
For some inexplicable “x factor” taking classes over here has been terrifying. At Columbia I had settled into a groove of either dominating my classes, or at least being comfortable enough to partake without second thought; by the end of last semester I was frankly done with it. Over here, for some reason—the teachers are from Columbia, the students are from Columbia, the class is a Columbia class—I have the same anxiety and anticipation I had when I first came to the college.
From first impressions and in a word the Republic in which the Czechs live in is refreshing. It’s refreshing to see a city not drowning in tourist traps—these places that are more Disneyland versions of themselves than an actual country. Prague is a living breathing entity, where graffiti is just as valued as art, there are as many statues as people, where you can’t always speak English and get away with it, in short, a place where I would be any day of my life. As Dostoevsky would say, “there are intentional cities and there are unintentional cities.” To me, Chicago, with her perfectly square grid system, zoned city parks and sculpture, wide open spaces and absolute flatness is the worst and most contemptible kind of intentional city. While Prague, a gem of an undulating urban sprawl comes to life at you from behind every winding hill, every basement hideaway and surprise window.
I’ve had to come in to the country practically backwards, making up for lost time in class as well as working toward something new all the time. I juggle this with spending time with my friend Andrew who is only in town for the first five days. Not ideal, sure. I’ve often seen my roommate writing diligently while I’m on my way out on the town—to bars, museums, Kutna Hora. I should be working hard and everybody’s working harder than me. That being said I was indescribably disappointed when I heard how my peers spent their first free time here; going to an American hostel, making friends with a bartender there who was also American. Were it my first day (and it was, a few days ago) I would be everywhere, a Kafkan madman talking to strangers, getting lost, inebriated beyond recognition, going in to every place with a light on and people inside, rejoicing in the wind that a new place gives you; not just in Praha 7 but all over the map. They want to do everything as a group—go to new places in Prague and talk amongst themselves. I’ve made a point on numerous occasions now to duck out.
My insatiable search for the insider spot, no guidebook fodder, has driven me mad in seeing it happen. Just the other night I was in Praha 3 on the west side for just this reason. Everything seemed to be closed and in act of desperation I joked to Andrew, “We should follow some Czech people to see where they go.” God bless him for having the balls to actually do it. We ended up in a neighborhood tavern; quaint, close and warm with spirits, old friends and laughter. We had a few beers and within no time I struck up a conversation with some girls at the table next to us. They turned out to be Swedish, so my plan failed on that level. But just the conversation and sort of hatching from this shell of comfort I had previously been in was like a rebirth, my best night thus far.
So this, being here, has been a struggle. I’ve been trying so hard, already incognito, to uninvent the everyday I know and be somewhere new and at the same time uninvent this “notion” of myself. I’ve spared nothing, no whim, no impulse, or goal. I wouldn’t say that there is a plan. My mother always says to me “You push the limit… You push the limit and you don’t know when to stop.” Maybe I’ll make a note of it and I’ll go through every day in this place exploding with the new and the unexplored with a little mental disclaimer hovering in my vision DO NOT TOUCH. DO NOT SEE. DO NOT LISTEN. DO NOT KISS. DO NOT TAKE. DO NOT DO. DO NOT SMILE. DO NOT EXPERIENCE.
A long time ago I saw one of those cheesy motivational posters, I wish now that I had bought it. You know how they take a core value and offer some profound and breathtaking description, well this one was:
RISK: A ship in the harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships were made for.
Let’s go see what ships were made for.
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