What would I miss about the U.S. if I moved back to the Czech Republic
The article I wrote last week about missing the Czech Republic broke all records for this blog readership. Thank you! :) As I promised,
this week I’m going to write about things I would miss if I had to leave the
USA.
As I mentioned last week, life overseas is quite
challenging compared to that in the Czech Republic. Back at home, it is
relatively easy to live comfortably and to succeed, even if you do not do
anything exceptional because there is hardly any competition. It’s easy to rest
on your laurels. Here, it’s the opposite. People are always striving to
succeed at all costs, which is stressful because almost everything has been
done before by someone else and there is massive competition everywhere. On the
other hand, it is extremely motivating: imagine you go out with three
friends, one of them trained for a triathlon race in one month on top of his
work; the second wrote a novel in a month; and the third immersed himself full
time into keeping fish and now sells his exotic fish all over the world. Every
other person does something special that means a great deal in their world. I
always wanted to achieve more but in the Czech Republic all I did was just
constantly talk about it: One day I will train for a marathon, start writing a
blog, publish my diary, learn how to cook healthy meals. Who knows what
would have happened if I did not move? Anyway, I have a feeling that in Prague
I was in real danger that all my dreams would remain in the bar, fuelled by a
couple glasses of wine.
Support for crazy dreams
This is connected to what I wrote previously. Whenever I
said in the Czech Republic that I would want to achieve this or that one day,
the usual reaction I got was “Come on, what for?” or “You’re not normal, are
you?” or an even better one: “In my opinion, a woman of your age should sit comfortably
at her butt at the house and take care of three kids.” The concept of
normality with numerous opinions and unsolicited advice added was probably one
of the greatest cultural shocks I’ve ever experienced. Because it’s been a different
story over here since the first day I arrived. Suddenly nobody wanted me to be normal;
no one criticized me and immediately gave me their opinion. On the contrary,
they all respected my own opinion (or at least kept quiet if they disagreed)
and usually the crazier the idea, the warmer the reaction. Do you want to go
back to school with eighteen-year olds even though you’ve passed the thirty
year mark? So what?! Do you want to interview Ivanka Trump? Write to her! (No
reply yet, but never mind.) Do you want to run a marathon eight months
after giving birth and collect $2,500 for charity? Go for it, here is your first hundred. Here,
as everyone is so busy, they don’t have the time and the urge to meet “for one”
all the time, and they don’t have time to constantly talk about whether this or
that is a good idea. Either do it or don’t do it. Simple.
Smalltalk
So just today: My neighbor complimented my shoes (DSW,
$25), a bass player in a café liked my dress (second hand, $19), in
the shop I got a tip from the cashier to go with my bag of spinach, “try to mix
it with a little tahini in the pan”. I don’t know if this chitchatting with
total strangers is for real or pretend but it lifts my spirits every day. At
the same time, I keep wondering if this is the reason why here overseas, at
least for a while, you can speak with anyone. The Americans do not find it
strange that there are twenty people at their BB they have never seen before
but they are all somehow connected through their neighbor who has invited them
all. In the Czech Republic, it’s different. This year I verified to myself
once again that it does not matter what event I put on, I will always have five
people who don’t turn up at all, another five pretend the invitation does not
concern them (I did not write to them personally, only a general message on
a social network), another five will make up some excuse and twenty will
send me a message on the day of the event that they would say something like "rather
go for a coffee where I don’t have to share you with another twenty people I
don’t know." On the contrary, Americans know that time is precious,
especially for someone who lives 6,000 kilometers from home and so consider
each new encounter as an opportunity. The Czechs find it annoying. I am always
sorry about it when at home.
Delivery services
Although they also work in the Czech Republic, the US
services (at least those in a large city) are unique. And I’m not just
talking about deliveries, pizzas, raw materials, and recipes for dinner, fresh
vegetables to mix green juice or flowers. Just a few clicks on my phone means I
will have the book I wish to read tonight delivered in a couple of hours or
allergy drugs or a pack of baby diapers when I suddenly discover I am down to
the last one. Delivery is often free of
charge or you pay an annual fee (Amazon, Prime, for example), other
times it is conditioned with a minimum purchase at a certain price, but not
very high. I cannot imagine the situation that I found myself in while visiting
the Czech Republic in May. I ordered some goods and paid 150 Czech Crowns for
delivery. After three days the courier called me: “Young lady, so I’ll be
delivering your package today. What do you mean you’ll not be home at one p.m.?
Well, in that case, you’ll have to pick it up yourself at the Post Office. I
finish at two and won’t be coming back. Don’t care – sorry.”
Comfy traveling with a stroller
I became fully aware of this when I had to travel with a
stroller in Prague in early May. If I didn’t have my mom with me, who helped me
take it up, hold it, take it down again, I haven’t got a clue how I would have
managed. I'm not just talking about the metro and public transport; though
these were the places I missed the platforms for the disabled (and moms with
prams) the most. When I forget about New York, which is specific, in the
United States I have never seen a subway station, a train, a bus or anywhere
else that would lack equipment for a disabled person. Actually, I am often
quite surprised where disabled people are able to get to, usually in relatively
complicated and busy places. That’s because there are access platforms, special
large buttons for spontaneous door opening, spacious toilets, and other things.
As a mother with a stroller, I can truly
appreciate this because I don’t have to drag the stroller anywhere or ask
someone for help or hold the door with my elbow, the wheel, or my back when I
need to get through. On the other hand, I was pleasantly surprised in Prague
how many people (especially men!) stopped and offered to help me with
the pram so that my mom did not need to take it down the steep steps in the
tram.
Family
B. works here and I love him; we
have a son who has his grandmother
and grandfather here. We
are family, so we are together. If I was to move to the United States knowing
what I know now, with my school knowledge of English and tipping thirty years
old, to start all over again, I would not do it. When I left the Czech Republic a
month ago, my dad asked me the same question he has been asking me for four
years: “What do they have in America that we don’t have over here?” “Clean
houses without graffiti,” was the first thing that came to me because this
time, the ruined facades of the houses in Prague upset me the most. Anyway,
the truth is I can come up with fewer and fewer things each year. The Czech
Republic is changing. For the better. (Really, believe me!) But,
what do I know? Maybe in a few yearstime, the lines above - talking about what
we yet don’t have in the Czech Republic - will sound like memoirs. The one
thing that will still stand tough: I would miss the bus that I can jump on in
front of our house and less than four hours later find myself on Times Square
in New York. This to me, even after four years, is something of a miracle. Every
time I am on it, I feel like I am dreaming. 
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