Back in Prague, Sans Czech.

Where did it go?

A Street Sign in Prague. Such Czech words used to make some sense to me. Not much now.

Jeden is the Czech word for the number one. I used to know it. I lived in Prague for two years, until August of 2023, and studied Czech somewhat conscientiously. 

I took intensive classes for the first few months. I did the entire series of Pimsleur lessons, which I really liked. I used to do them while I took a walk in the mornings, listening to the dialogues and repeating the phrases as asked. 

Toward the end of our time in Prague, I actually sped up my study of Czech, aware that once we left for Portugal I would not do it anymore. I bough a book called Speak Czech Badly!” aimed at expats looking to get some basic language skills. 

All this study armed me when I sallied forth into the city. As I do now in Portugal learning Portuguese, I would insist on speaking Czech, even though I often could not understand what the people said to me. Shopkeepers and clerks were my involuntary tutors, patiently repeating words for me to try to memorize. 

In retrospect, it is all very comic.

Now, I cannot even remember the word for one. I cannot remember the words for hardly anything! 

Ok I can remember dobry den, which means good day,  and na shledanou, which means goodbye. Pronounced NA SKLED A NO. Difficult to learn at first, but then fun to say. Clerks habitually would say it to K and me in singsong voices. But really that’s about it.

All this comes to mind, because I am back in Prague for a long weekend just for fun. I’m going to see some of my friends at the Globe Restaurant and Bookstore, a neat place where I used to play and perform music with others almost every Friday night. 

On the airplane here, connecting from Barcelona, I asked the young man next to me who looked Czech, what was the word for one. I was aware I could not remember.  “Jeden”, he told me. It rang a bell, but not a really loud one. 

It was striking to me just how non-Latin the word was. It sounded nothing like the word for one in French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, nor I think German or Dutch. But why I should it? Czech is a Slavic language.

And I think he said jeden. He may have said jedna. Words in Czech change spelling and pronunciation depending on their role. Just using my Deepl translator app, I quickly made to appear jedno, jednoho, jednu, jedna, jediný and jeden, depending on whether I was saying I want one beer, I want one daughter, my daughter’s one beer, the number one, or just one. 

But I can’t blame Czech complexities for me not remembering any of the variations. 

After hearing the word jeden or jedna from my seat mate, I could say the words for two, three and four. Which are dva, tři and čtyři. Though I had to look up just now how to spell them. I could not remember the rest of the numbers without some help from him. Keep in mind and numbers were part of the language I used a lot.

My House Is A Fine House, But Small

How could I have forgotten so much, so fast? 

I think at least two things are going on here. 

The first thing is I seem to have a house in my head, with various rooms, and there can be only so many occupants in those rooms. 

For the past year, I have been studying Portuguese. And Portuguese words have moved into the language learning room in my head, apparently evicting the Czech words. 

But that’s not all.

The second thing I think is that I have a switch in my mind that turn things off when no longer needed. 

I found this happens with me with trivial things, like phone numbers and addresses. When I move away from a city, I forget both very quickly. It appears that my mind is keeping track of what is worth remembering, and discards things without comscious direction.

This seems to happen with languages. 

While living in Prague, I went back to Brooklyn for the summer of 2022, almost 3 months. I then also felt like I had forgotten my Czech. But on the arrival to the airport in Prague from Brooklyn, basic Czech all started coming back to me. Even while still in the airport. The switch had been turned on.

That is not the case now in Prague, as I walk around the city and look at the language on the signs, and hear people talking. Things are coming back to me only slowly. The language seems weirder. 

If I leave Portugal, will I also forget all the Portuguese I’ve learned? I hope not. It makes me sad to thinks so. 

I speak Portuguese now a lot better than I ever spoke Czech.

One reason is that I am working harder at it. I learned with Czech that you have to keep at it with a language. Daily practice is essential. This idea that after a certain point you just soak up a language from being in the environment  is not really true.

Getting back to the house in my head, I can still speak Spanish well and French somewhat. Portuguese has pushed them aside some, but I sense they are still living in my house. They are like old-time residents that have been forced to move into basement quarters for a while.

I want to learn Portuguese well enough so that a nice set of quarters is built for it in the house that is my head. I don’t want it to leave ever. This is going to take a lot more work on my part.

I dream of a future where I can effortlessly switch between French, Spanish, Portuguese and English, speaking all well. It is a nice dream. For now, learning Portuguese takes priority. 

As for Czech, I am willing to fondly bid it adieu.

Back In The City of Spires and Trams

So putting aside my journey with Czech, what was this city of Prague where we lived for two years like to me, now that I had returned?

The city has not changed, was my first impression. It is still incredibly beautiful and magical. The tram system is still stupendous. And since I am now 65, I can ride it for free. The streets are still full of ornate buildings, mostly at the same height.

The people in the street look Czech, most of them. Big, burly, sometimes scary looking men. Tall, angular, pretty women, often wearing black.

There is something comforting in that. I thought: K and I were so lucky to live here. 

After a few days though, the city began to grate on me some. Boy there were a lot of tourists, even midweek in late October! And so many bad, fast-food restaurants. The city began to appear a beautiful object laquered over with tawdry stores and restaurants aimed at tourists. It is a description that frankly applies to many popular world cities. Národní třída, a main intersection of the city, now has a Popeye’s Fried Chicken and a food court. The place could be at an airport. 

Still, I like to think a deeper Prague survives, and thrives, with the Czech residents and longtime expats.  

Tummy Time: Familiar Faces in Familiar Places

The severe-looking waitress gave me a smile of recognition when I came in the door to have lunch. This was the place below our apartment which I has been to dozens of times and mentioned more than once in this newsletter.

I bet to her it seemed like just a few months had gone my since I had been in, not more than a year. I really liked that she remembered me, and gave me one of her rare smiles.

And just like in the old days, she asked for my order before I had time to sort out the menu. No english on this menu. I just stabbed at something. 

The prices have gone up by about 20% but it was still very cheap. So 135 crowns or $7 for meatloaf, potatoes and gravy, and 45 crowns or about $2 for a giant beer. So the total cost was about nine dollars.

I vastly prefer the fish, meat, beans and green vegetables and great bread of our part of Portugal to the meat, gravy, cabbage and great brown bread of Czechia. But it was nice to be back. The meat loaf tasted way too salty, as did a tripe soup I had somewhere else the next day. I hope that is because Portuguese food is less salty. 

*This newsletter written and edited entirely on my Iphone! Please forgive any errors.