Thursday December 8th, 2:15pm, Sacred Strangers

Making new friends is difficult for me. I like the friends that I already have, my routine, being comfortable. Studying abroad forced me to suck it up and reestablish all of that.

I can’t say I have made any Czech friends. But I have come across several strangers who have had positive influences on my experience here. Certain aspects about Czech culture have made turning strangers into friends difficult, like the barriers between languages and music taste, but others have made such interactions surprisingly pleasant, like the always-practiced custom of giving salutations, “Dobry den” and “Na shledanou.”

The friendliest strangers I’ve ever come across are the guards to my dorm building in Holešovice. They sit in a small office the size of a closet, and I can trust that the moment I turn around after shutting the building door, whoever is on duty will throw me a smile and a wave through the glass door. Which I return with just as much eagerness.

There’s the curly red head that always returns our “thank you” with the same “neni zač” (“not at all”). I heard her speak English for the first time the other day, which was just strange to me. I’ve really come to love the sacredness of the Czech greeting. Doesn’t sound as good in English.

Then there’s the head honcho, a middle-aged man who’s always on the phone. He isn’t the warmest, but I can always count on him to come open the door for me with the same shuffle of his feet and “tak, prosím,” kind of like, “so, there you go.”

One of the most curious guards is a young man, probably around my age. He’s tall, skinny, and leans to the left when he walks. His wavering “Hi,” seems to be the only word in English he knows, or cares to share. It’s all you really need, though. He’s taught me how to have a short conversation just using hand movements and smiles.

At the beginning of the year, there was another guard my age, who had a crush on one of my roommates and ended up being a creep with an ego more fragile than a leaf skeleton. He stopped working at our building in September, and took his inappropriate comments elsewhere. He was replaced by another young man our age, who is a sweetheart. We’re glad about that — we don’t miss him.

The one I will miss the most, though, is the first guard I met. I remember arriving on the morning of August 20th (which feels like just last week) with suitcases and bags strapped to every part of me. He helped me bring them inside the building, and explained in nervous, broken English that he would run and find the head RA so I could get into my room. Now his English is still very broken, but he’s got one hell of a wave. I’ll always be able to picture him on a cold morning, sitting inside his little office, with a frantic, excited wave and a smile that could brighten the devil’s day.

I’m dreading the day I get the last “Hi,” “neni zač,” “tak, prosím,” or wave from the stranger friends in my building. But they’ll remain among my favorite memories from my semester in Prague. They taught me a surprising yet important lesson: a simple “hello,” or “goodbye” can change someone’s life.