fall break/yom kippur

lovers in the Old Town Square. artsily overexposed.

I'm here in Prague for fall break, one of the few who stayed instead of jetting off to Greece or Italy. Plagued by my chronic FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and riddled in rationalizations, it is ultimately this: I came to Prague to make it my home, and the past few days have been quiet, unremarkable, and totally beautiful, because, after a month, I'm feeling comfortable.

I spent Friday walking from my building to Wenceslas Square, maybe an hour long walk but punctuated by trips into thrift stores (two new, cute, cheap dresses!) and fruit stores (I am a sucker for oranges) and gaping at parks and clocks and churches and reading Kundera to feel pseudo-intellectual/pretentious, to get a sense of place and history.

a balloon flower for a young fan

Wenceslas Square was as bustling as ever, and above is a band that played medieval European songs to the cheers and tips of tourists. (Note the McDonalds golden arches in a banner above their heads). It's amazing to read about the communism that was once here, and see it replaced by such vibrant capitalism, for better or worse. During the communist regime, bands were commissioned by the government to ressurect folk tunes and create a national pride through cultural "authenticity" (in fact, they were also commissioned to write "folk" songs about the greatness of communism, and modern farming and working songs that would never be sung by the farmer or the worker and would simply be used as propaganda). Now, the culture and the music are capitalist products, bait for tourists looking for something Czech.

The longer I stay, the more I'm able to avoid what it is obviously manufactured, and get closer to the heart of the actual people. I'm making Czech friends who show me restaurants and clubs and exhibitions that are for the people who live here, living examples of a culture, not just something designed for tourist expectations. My lack of Czech language is hard, though -- the second I struggle, the other person usually switches to English, and I feel a palpable lack not being able to communicate in the native language of the country.

But it's made me realize that often, less is more -- I asked a woman in the thrift store if the dress was too small for me (in Czech) and she responded in Czech that it was small, but fit me well. I don't think she knows how much her smile and simple compliment brightened my day -- proof that I could communicate, even simply. Another thing I often ask is the name of someone's dog (and dogs are everywhere here, especially big dogs, even on public transport) -- which often launches into petting the dog, smiling at the owner, a totally mundane interaction that feels like magic.

there is probably a joke about communism here

I sat by the Vltava River on Saturday, trying to read and write, appreciating the last stretch of sunshine before the cold autumn. I watched a lot of young families, throwing bread at the swans. The swans really get up in your face -- they expect to be fed. One got so close to me I figured he was sick of bread and was hungry for human flesh.

I found two vegetarian restaurants this weekend, and found familiar hippie vegans -- tattoos, dyed hair, snark -- and enjoyed being able to eat everything.

it may not look like much, but everything on this plate was indescribably delicious. also pictured: pretentious book

And now I'm not eating. Yom Kippur, and my final meal before the fast was a fried cheese sandwich. Delicious.

I should be taking this time to deeply consider my year and my life, and my goals for the upcoming year. I guess right now I just feel guided by optimism. Not every day is flashy and glorious, not everything is perfect, but every day brings with it beauty, and I try to see beauty in everything.