The question I get asked the most, anywhere, is "Why Prague?" I'll easily admit that I really don't have a good answer. "No reason," I say. This often leaves a confused and somewhat uncomfortable look on the face of whoever I'm talking to. The conversation splits a few ways from here. The helpful ones - the ones that like me already - usually start to offer reasons:
- Cheap beer. (Did I mention that the beer is cheap in Prague?)
- Beautiful women.
- Decent climate.
And I agree - I don't see anything wrong with these things, in fact I'm definitely in favor of all of them. But I feel that it's somehow wrong to actually subscribe to this list of reasons; the reasons for going anywhere or doing anything, I feel, are motivated by a deep set of emotions, circumstances, and mindset.
But here's the great thing about doing things for no readily available reason: you get to make them up as you go along.
-sequiter.
I went to an Ice-Hockey game with my new buddy (I'm not big on the term "buddy", but Radko uses it a lot, so what the hell) Radko. Radko's a travelling guy, works as a sales manager something-or-other for a company that does home integration. He's passionately Czech - loves knedlik (terrible Czech dumplings), Smazheny syr (fried cheese things) and treats Pilsner Urquell (Plzen in Prague) as something of a religous experience. Optimistic, friendly, speaks very good english - a good guy to know.
Anyway, so we're at the hockey game, my first. After the second period, I step out in the parking lot for a cigarette, while Radko goes to the bathroom. Suddenly, I'm in a large crowd of people, all smoking and chatting and doing everything that one generally does on breaks. I can't understand a word - maybe if I listened to one conversation at a time I could pick out the gist, or at least recognize a couple of words. But here's the thing:
It sounds beautiful. Like birds chirping. Or crickets, really loud crickets.
It's then that I formulated my reason for coming here. When you understand what's going on around you, you begin to not see things. It's probably a very useful thing: brain says "yup, seen that, I know what it is. Next!" But when surrounded by strange and unfamiliar surroundings, you get do a couple of things:
One, you can live much more in a fantasy world. The couple sitting next to you on the subway might be discussing the finer points of Borges, or Dostoyvsky. You never know!
But more importantly, you are freed to actually think about the way things are. The construction of things. Your brain is forced out of its groove, to re-examine what it finds. The experience can be very primal (I found myself very frightened in an unknown part of the city last night), or very analytical, like a child constantly asking questions about the world, and coming to some initial conclusions. But either way, you're learning something, and looking at the world slightly differently than before.
Buy it? That's why I came to Prague. Maybe.
Later that evening (after ice-hockey), I spent an hour or so with Radko and his friends in a bar in Stare Mesto (old-town). It was much the same miscomprehension - "what was that word?" "Are they discussing something interesting?" ("Is Radko talking about me?" There's that egotistical child coming around.) Who knows. The conversation drops into English for a few minutes when the topic of American cities comes up, but for the most part I'm left without much comprehension. And I'm left to invent stories about the faces I see, and to struggle with all my might to catch the drift of the conversation.
While walking home, Radko turns to me and mutters disgustedly, "All we talked about was flights. Flights, fucking, and drugs."
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