My First Week in Prague

I’m studying abroad in Prague, Czechia this semester. I’ve been here a week, and I’m having a great time exploring the Czech way of life.

This was my first time visiting Central Europe. At first, it felt similar to what I envisioned. The drive in from the airport took us through the outskirts of the city, where many buildings are decrepit communist housing blocks from the Soviet occupation. Through my jaded Western eyes, it felt a little like a Call of Duty map.

Quickly, the architecture changed, revealing a city that existed before Soviet rule. We entered Malá Strana, or the “Lesser Town,” and rumbled down winding, cobblestone streets. Ornate facades concealed interiors used for everyday life.

We crossed the bridge into the New Town. The first evidence of this was the Dancing House, a Guggenheim-esque structure guarding the city center. Many buildings have kept their Baroque facades, but are now separated by wider streets and glass offices. We made it to Vinohrady, my neighborhood.

It’s a bustling area. A blend of residential and office spaces, buildings here are multi-use. There’s a small office in the unit across the hall from me, and restaurants and corner stores occupy the bottom floors.

I’m one neighborhood away from the Old Town, where many of the historic buildings and famous monuments are. It’s far enough away that I don’t see tourists, but close enough that I can hop on a tram and be there in five minutes. There are plenty of activities for a non-tourist to do in the Old Town, so I end up there quite a bit—it’s nice being this close.

One such spot is the Ultra-Ant Climbing Club, a cozy rock climbing gym tucked away in an alleyway. To reach it, you descend a staircase, navigate through a hallway, and climb back up into a small atrium that likely predates the United States. Naturally, there’s a quaint pub connected to the gym that plays a key role in many patrons’ workout routines.

Czechia has the third-highest alcohol consumption per capita in the world, and the pub is easily the most important mechanism in the social life of a Praguer. It is not uncommon to know a close friend for many years and never have been inside their home. In Czechia, the home is for family, and the pub is for friends. Interestingly, it’s also commonplace to see people working on laptops in these establishments, nursing a large mug of beer.

In the week I’ve been here, I’ve visited a few pubs. My favorite so far is U Sudu, a sprawling, underground wine bar with foosball, smoking, and no ventilation. On a Tuesday evening, it was full. The bartenders were drunk and dancing around, pouring inexpensive, heavy drinks and queueing American pop music from the 2000s. At around 11:30, they turned off the lights and flipped on disco mode.

I’ve quickly become accustomed to the European ritual of going to the store every day. I love stopping in the Tesco Express on my way home from the gym to grab a few small things—some bread, maybe a bell pepper, a bottle of pils—rather than hauling a week’s worth of groceries home every Sunday. It feels indulgent, but it’s justified when it’s already on the way.

Prague is paradise for a public transit nerd like me. There are three metro lines that can whisk you across the city in about 15 minutes, but they’re too deep underground for a commute that would otherwise be a 20-minute walk. For shorter trips, there’s a robust light rail network. Trams come every five minutes, and they reliably shave 10 minutes off a walking trip. Brand-new cars and 50-year-old Tatra T3s are used interchangeably.

In the mornings, the trams are shrouded in a tense silence. Czechs wear a judgmental, stoic expression by default, and it’s not unusual to look up and find someone unapologetically staring at you. What might be considered provocative in the US is often just someone “being Czech.”

This week, a tour guide likened the Czech phenotype to a coconut—hard, rough exteriors, but very kind and welcoming once you “crack” them. It’s surprising how far you can get by trying a bit of the language—just a simple “dobrý den” (hello) can turn a Czech frown upside down.

When I decided to study abroad, I expected to be hopping on a cheap Ryanair flight to some tourist destination in Western Europe most Friday afternoons. But after spending a week here, I think I’m going to focus on making Prague my home.