I probably went through a full range of reactions when on my first evening walk through Prague’s Staromestke namesti (Old Town Square) I was approached by a man who kept repeating “Cocaine, hashish, marijuana” to me (and certain others) as he made his way through the square, despite a cluster of police just a few meters away (later, I found a facebook group apparently dedicated to this guy).

I had left the “Land of the Free” and arrived in a country that seemingly really was. It seemed that Prague, whether I wanted to partake of such things or not, was the kind of place where laws “to protect” people had not yet begun to control people. I liked that. Immensely.

Like a lot of expats in Prague (and elsewhere), a complicated chain of circumstances (divorce, depression about the state of affairs in the USA, curiosity about family roots, etc.) led to my decision, after only a few days of visiting, to stay (all expats seem to be running from some things, and running to others). Being new in town, I extended the stay at my pension (hostel) until I could find a flat to rent (which took only a few days).

Photo: Spino73

F*ck you

To immerse myself in local culture, I steered clear of tourist and expat places and began tuning my ear to Slavic sounds (it was also easier to tune them out when I wanted to focus on reading or writing).

Everywhere, it seemed, I heard people in relaxed conversations saying to each other “F*ck you.” I wondered if it wasn’t an Irish influence (Irish tend to have dirty mouths), but I eventually asked one of my new Czech bartender friends about it and he laughed, explaining that “Fakt jo” is the Czech and Slovak equivalent of “Really” or “For real” or “No kidding” or “You’re serious” or any of a couple dozen similar responses one can think of in English. “Fakt jo” (sounds like “fukt yo”) means literally “fact, yes?” It turned out these authentic Bohemians weren’t so vulgar and rude after all.

Photo: Bartlec

Blowjob? Blowjob?

One night early in my stay I found myself stumbling down cobblestone streets (this happened several nights, actually), lost, looking for the Vltava River – the landmark I needed to get back to my hostel.

Finally, around 2am, after going in circles through the labyrinth that must have helped create Kafka’s dreams, I pulled out my map and approached a nice-enough-looking lady, middle-aged, perhaps herself a foreigner. “Please, can you tell me where I am on this map?” I asked, pointing first to the map and then gesturing at the buildings around us. To this she responded “Blowjob? Blowjob?” a half dozen times until I finally gave up (turned out I was only a block from the river). I realized then that not all things in Prague were fun and games – there was also a seedy side to this colorful town… just what I needed to be the next Henry Miller.

Charles Square

Real estate or marijuana?

A week or so later, while looking at flats with a Czech reality agent (“reality” is Czech for “real estate”), we were walking through Karlovo namesti (Charles Square) and she asked, “Do you smoke marijuana?” and sat on the next bench, rolled a rather large joint, and lit up. This was serious culture shock for me (coming from a land where mandatory minimum sentencing has put a huge percentage of good citizens behind bars for such petty escapes), as the little old ladies and everyone else walking by didn’t seem to care or even notice.

We didn’t look at any more flats that day, yet somehow, after a brief stint at a Jamaican bar (don’t bother asking which one), we found a flat above a tea room – from a guy who wasn’t even advertising he had one for rent. Prague was really beginning to feel like home, as I had always needed an agent for reality. During the next few weeks, she even invited me to hang out with her and her boyfriend and their friends a few times, which provided several opportunities for contemplating reality.

Photo: Wilhelmja

I had always thought of “The American Dream” as a symbol for Freedom and Opportunity.  As these things have been dwindling in the USA for several decades, I was glad to find that, for me at least, I could still find them in, of all places… the former Eastern Bloc.