Czeching Things Out
Casey Coman
Issue date: 3/3/07 Section: Opinion
- Page 1 of 1
I heard a funny story the first day I got here, and it goes like this. Back in the old days of communism in the Czech Republic, some ingenious authority person discovered something very peculiar about human nature. If people are drunk all the time, they won't complain about being slaughtered and oppressed. Thus, gentle reader, they lowered the prices of beer and spirits to be literally cheaper than water. Apparently after the fall of the Soviet Union, the new government just liked the idea and kept it. I will now commence to rub it in your face that I can buy a huge glass of beer that's better than anything you've ever tasted for less than anything on the value menu at Taco Bell. I've been here two months, and although I've gotten over the 'freshman year' phase of my study abroad experience, just the idea of beer that cheap makes me giggle.
I think one of the best things about studying in Brno so far is the reaction of the Czechs to hearing that I chose to study here of my own volition. They quizzically ask, "Did you even know where the Czech Republic was before you came here?" to which I always respond "Of course!" and try to look as hurt as possible. They then ask, baffled, "Why didn't you go to Prague?" and, in the spirit of boyfriends who are endlessly asked if their girlfriend is fat, I've learned to automatically respond with "Oh, Prague is so loud and touristy, it's really overrated you know?" Beaming smiles and usually an offer of beer ensue. My second favourite thing about studying here is the reaction of people from home to the news that I'm going to Brno, in the Czech Republic-a frown of consternation and, "That's like Russia, right?" closely followed by "You're going to Prague, right?" Right.
The Czech Republic is one of those places that gets easily forgotten in the mess of changing political borders in central-eastern Europe, and I'd be supremely pretentious if I didn't note that my getting here was about half chance and half thoughtlessness. I often get the impression that they're one of the dozens of European minority cultures that somehow managed to end up with its own country. Of course, not every minority culture in Europe produces the best beer in the world or liver-melting liquor that's illegal in most parts of the western world. Whatever anyone says about Absinthe's being weak compared to what they drank in the '20s, it will mow your ass down.
The Czech Republic is sometimes called the bridge between eastern and western Europe. When you talk to people here, you can feel the tension between wanting to be accepted as a fully industrialized, consumer nation and retaining the exotic, slightly unstable image of a nation in flux, struggling for a foothold. I still don't understand the nuances of Czech culture, but physically it's a precarious place to be. I'm within a few hours' train ride of four country borders and seven national capitals. I know I won't make it to Rome or Paris or London before I leave in May, but who can go to Budapest or Poland for the weekend on twenty bucks? I'm in a part of the world most people don't even consider, and that's beginning to grow on me.
I think one of the best things about studying in Brno so far is the reaction of the Czechs to hearing that I chose to study here of my own volition. They quizzically ask, "Did you even know where the Czech Republic was before you came here?" to which I always respond "Of course!" and try to look as hurt as possible. They then ask, baffled, "Why didn't you go to Prague?" and, in the spirit of boyfriends who are endlessly asked if their girlfriend is fat, I've learned to automatically respond with "Oh, Prague is so loud and touristy, it's really overrated you know?" Beaming smiles and usually an offer of beer ensue. My second favourite thing about studying here is the reaction of people from home to the news that I'm going to Brno, in the Czech Republic-a frown of consternation and, "That's like Russia, right?" closely followed by "You're going to Prague, right?" Right.
The Czech Republic is one of those places that gets easily forgotten in the mess of changing political borders in central-eastern Europe, and I'd be supremely pretentious if I didn't note that my getting here was about half chance and half thoughtlessness. I often get the impression that they're one of the dozens of European minority cultures that somehow managed to end up with its own country. Of course, not every minority culture in Europe produces the best beer in the world or liver-melting liquor that's illegal in most parts of the western world. Whatever anyone says about Absinthe's being weak compared to what they drank in the '20s, it will mow your ass down.
The Czech Republic is sometimes called the bridge between eastern and western Europe. When you talk to people here, you can feel the tension between wanting to be accepted as a fully industrialized, consumer nation and retaining the exotic, slightly unstable image of a nation in flux, struggling for a foothold. I still don't understand the nuances of Czech culture, but physically it's a precarious place to be. I'm within a few hours' train ride of four country borders and seven national capitals. I know I won't make it to Rome or Paris or London before I leave in May, but who can go to Budapest or Poland for the weekend on twenty bucks? I'm in a part of the world most people don't even consider, and that's beginning to grow on me.
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