Whenever I walk into a restaurant or a cafe, I always pause outside and try to muster some sense of confidence. If I'm lucky, there is a line, so I can listen and practice in my head what I'm going to say and how I'm going to say it. When it's my turn, I smile shyly and mumble a small "dobry den" in Czech (or "hello" in English) before I fumble through an innocent order. By now, the words come more easily to me and I can pass as someone who understands Czech, but every now and again the person I am talking to will respond with something I've never heard before. Something I wasn't warned about or taught in my Beginner Czech class, and I have to break the conversation with English and hope that they understand.
When I picked out my study abroad program, I chose one with no language pre-requisites. I had spent two years in college studying French, but it was apparent to me and every French professor that I was never destined for Francophone greatness. Instead, I picked an unfamiliar city in a country I didn't know the history of and hoped it would all work out. So when I arrived in the Czech Republic and Prague in late August 2015, I braced myself for three months of existing fully outside of my comfort zone.
I just finished two-and-a-half months of Czech and I can honestly say I am better off than before. By now, I can get around in the city. I can ask for things in stores. I can order in restaurants. I can recognize what signs say and translate them into English. But I regret not being able to communicate in Czech. I feel like I'm always in between being a tourist and a local. I hate the shame of being an English speaker, particularly an American English speaker.
Young Czech people, in general, all speak at least a little English. And usually they jump on the opportunity to try to speak to me in English. One time, when I was buying something at a bookstore, the girl ringing me up at the counter apologized to me for assuming I spoke Czech, and I had to quickly respond and tell her that she shouldn't apologize. I hate that she would apologize for speaking to me in the national language. But I understand that with the short amount of time I'm here and the fact that only one college in all of New England offers Czech courses (Brown University), I will never be fluent, or above a novice level.
Beyond Prague, I could hop on a train and in two hours end up in a different country. There's no solution to my problem, because I can't possibly learn 30 different languages. I'll never not be a foreigner while I'm abroad, but I wish I was better trained to navigate other cultures. In the United States, we're so isolated and focused on our one shared culture that adopting multicultural perspectives feels daunting. After spending 20 years living within two hours of the hospital where I was born, I'm hoping to become more open to the world around me.
