If You Want to Be a Praguer, Just Come Along With Me...

Now that I know my way to school and back without having to think about it, and I’ve seen it all enough times that I no longer need to gape quite as obviously, I’ve taken up a new occupation during my commute: pretending I’m a Praguer. Don’t laugh- this is no easy art. You can wear almost anything, but the more layers you’re wearing, the better, and it’s best if you have on several colors/fabrics that don’t exactly match, but don’t exactly look bad together, either. Nothing you wear should be bulky, yet you should have on enough things that the overall effect is definitely bulk. Colors are important, but it’s best if they’re covered by many drab layers so that only peeks of bright are visible (presumably to illustrate your light-hearted, friendly interior). Accessories are crucial; at least one bag (a backpack counts) is essential, and this should be augmented by any other random prop, as long as you’re full of stuff. The most convincing is a well-worn plastic bag with handles from one of the bigger stores (I recommend Tesco or Billa). It doesn’t matter what is in the bag, but you must guard it with your life, and it should look like you carry it with you everywhere.

None of that, however, is nearly as important as your demeanor. First and foremost, you must appear to be intensely worried about something. This worry prevents you from connecting to the other people around you, and makes you much more important than any current, trivial happenings. Thus, if there is a ruckus or someone needs help or is running for the subway, you must not only look disinterested, but be disinterested, since your worry consumes your whole being. Of course, you must never, ever smile. BUT – and here’s the tricky part for me- all of this worrying must be totally non-dramatic. There can be no crinkling of the brow, no perceptible sighing, no slouching of the shoulders nor rubbing of the temples, because, my dear Praguer, you are a rock. Even though the weight of the world is on your tiny shoulders, you must proceed with the undertone of confidence, austerity, fortitude, and resilience that calmly asserts, “My family made it through Communism, goddamnnit, and we can certainly make it through this.” For when you are a true Praguer, you proceed through life with the knowledge that your country has been through hell and back, and with the conviction that you, personally, somehow helped it survive, so if you currently look reserved, apathetic, and worried (because you are), so be it. You stand with your weight equally distributed on both feet, glance around vacantly, and continue to focus on your problem of the day.

I know what you’re asking: “Claire, how did you become such an authority? You have only been practicing this technique for a few weeks.” Well, my friends, today I acieved a sure medal of success: Just as I was truly worried about being sick and maybe having to go to the doctor, as I was ignoring everyone around me and living in my own little world, as I was defiantly promising myself that I wasn’t really sick, I saw a man on the up escalator, clearly a tourist, snap a picture of me to take home and show his family and friends what a real Czech girl looks like. Talk about an affirmation. Coming up soon: Whether it’s a good thing to be a Praguer, aka the much-awaited entry, “Are Czech People Attractive?”