Dear Bridget,
We're already two months in! Doesn't every day present a bevy of eye-opening discoveries and exotic delights? Don't you step into the city each morning and join the locals, blending effortlessly into the crowds and caf?©s with only the barest trace of an American accent betraying your presence as a foreigner?
No? Me neither.
I guess by now I'm supposed to be well on my way to a full immersion into Czech culture. So where am I? Hunkered down in my dorm room, writing to you over a cup of English breakfast tea and some clementines - pretty much what I might be doing back in Medford on any given autumn day. (Except I'd be talking to you in person, not via word processing.)
"Immersion" seems like such a funny word now that I'm actually here. It's not a process you work at; it just happens. Unfortunately, while it can't be forced, I definitely see how easy it would be to delay your cultural assimilation by surrounding yourself with everything and anything from the good old U.S. of A. I willingly chose a program with neither a home-stay option nor a language requirement, so now I live with Americans and speak mainly English while living in a foreign country.
My weekends - usually spent city-hopping elsewhere in Europe - further reveal how deeply I'm involved in an American community. Here, everything is set up for me; resources for school, events and social outings are sent to me via e-mail each week, usually highlighting events for English-speaking expatriates. I'm grateful for that, and I often attend the events they suggest. But when I'm looking to have a good experience in a new city, traveling with only a backpack and a guidebook, I'm more likely to depend on my interaction with locals and other travelers - and usually they aren't Americans.
This makes me wonder if the life I've made for myself here reflects Czech culture or just an American's take on Czech culture. I certainly am guilty of reproducing a schedule of extra-curriculars just as I had in the States: Twice a week I attend a yoga class taught by an American expatriate, and I rehearse for a theater performance produced by the NYU students in my program. But then again, where else would a yoga teacher greet me with "Dobre den!", or where might I again have the opportunity to perform the work of Václav Havel, playwright and former president of Czechoslovakia?
I'm glad I've integrated the familiar with the new here; it keeps me cheerful and excited about my travel experiences knowing that I don't have to abandon my predilection for American hobbies.
Certainly, it's hard to remain sane when every trip to the convenience store must be approached like a language quiz, and each day on the metro I look enviously at the cliques of Czech students who chatter excitedly amongst themselves about things I cannot dream of translating. It's easy to get frustrated, and in such moments I just want to trudge home and get a good dose of American culture, maybe via "The Daily Show" or Defamer.com.
I think, ultimately, it's okay to give in - on occasion - to my desire for American indulgences. It's definitely a shock to long for things I never thought I'd miss (for the love of God, someone please give me ketchup for my fries!), but I do recognize them as trivial cravings.
It's not as though I'm truly discriminated against for being American, and when I introduce myself to people here, they don't immediately ask about my nationality. (Apparently the accent isn't a give-away; to someone who's not speaking English as a first language, asking them to differentiate between an Australian and an American accent can be a tall order.) Rather, they ask about my hobbies, where I like to travel and what I study. Fortunately, my nationality only seems to be a real issue at passport control.
And it's not as though my definition of "home" is entirely American. One of my goals while abroad is to become comfortable with being a career traveler. I certainly plan to explore more, and my favorite personal effects reflect all of the experiences I've had that I value - not just American ones.
I look about the nest I've made for myself here in my dorm room. To an outsider conducting anthropological research on this 21st-century correspondent, it would appear that my two great loves are: 1) books, and 2) food.
Yes, most of the books are in English (many translated works), but I've picked them up from different cities as I've traveled. And much of the food includes American candy (owed to the generous care packages sent by my loved ones), but how else am I supposed to get marshmallow Peeps?
Maybe I'll share when you visit this weekend. Get ready for three days of fried food, early '90s music and bad hair. Hmm, maybe American and Czech culture aren't so clearly defined after all ...
Love,
Kate
Bridget Reddington and Kate Peck are juniors majoring in English.
