I find it fairly easy to make a space my own.
I pin my pictures, display my jewelry, fold away my clothes and hang up my favorite pieces. The warmth of being under a comforter, nuzzled up against the side of the bed feels the same in most places.
So it confused me when my first two weeks here weren’t consumed in such a comfort – they felt foreign. Despite this lingering discomfort, I rose every morning, typically shaken awake by jetlag, and found myself reaching for my phone to text my mom. The day was spent sneaking glances to see whether someone or something familiar was thinking of me as much as I was thinking of them. But what I’ve come to learn about my routine is that it needs the exact opposite of what the word means: it needs change. I cannot wake up every morning knowing exactly what to expect, I need my expectations to be dismantled, I need to be forced into doing something, doing something new.
So now, I wake up, wash the sleep off my face and reach for my cup of instant coffee (yes, I know. Very controversial.) I look at my closet, a tinge of longing for the pieces I chose to leave behind, I always had a hard time making decisions. Alas, I make one and dress myself, strutting over to my desk for my favorite part: accessorizing. Just like every commuter in Prague I check the clock and head to the tram, my tram, the number 6. I like the 6. She’s always on time, never too early & never too late. She brings a new crowd of people for me to observe every morning until we begin crossing the river and it’s time for me to say my “excuse me’s” and “dekuji’s”. The sky on my walk to school is sometimes painted with a monotonous gray, but is beginning to show blues, whites, and yellows which makes me smile. Others are smiling too, whether it’s for pictures near the clock tower or the vendors attempting to appeal to wandering tourists. “Dobry den!” exits my mouth as I brace myself for the mountain of stairs ahead of me – a daily climb that never fails to leave me huffing and puffing. Classes go by, one after the other until it’s time for the change in my day.
After coming abroad, I thrust myself into every activity I possibly could. Forcing myself to leave the familiar unfamiliarity of my new bed and try something scary. I meet with new friends and grab a new meal, I head to a meeting to discuss new ideas, and sit in a new cafe doing homework for classes that teach me new things. The sun begins to set as I stroll towards the stop, ready to be reunited with my trusty friend, the number 6. Crossing the river for the second time signals to my exhausted mind and body that the day is coming to an end. A debate begins in my mind: to pad thai or to not? Some days I channel my inner mother, telling myself “Ela, we have food at home”, other days I cave and take a left towards the tiny Vietnamese restaurant that knows to have a tofu pad thai prepared for the girl with the giant blue puffer and pin-decorated Jansport backpack.
Dinner time means family time. That’s how it’s always been and how it always will be. Back in New York, it meant sitting at the dinner table with my roommates having our daily debrief. In California, it meant eating a home-cooked meal with my bare hands while having lengthy conversations with my parents about anything and everything. Here, in Prague, it means a series of calls to whoever is awake. I recount my day: puppies I saw, history I learned, people that annoyed me, people that made me laugh, what I ate; and I hear about a large array of mornings. Some have been awake for hours: my dad. Others are laying in bed, talking to me with a sleepy rasp still clinging to their voice: my best friend. It’s time for me to wind down and search for that sleepy feeling myself. I make my way towards my shared bedroom, but still, it feels like my own. I enclose myself in the warmth of the comforter, and nuzzle myself up against the side of the bed, slightly irritated at the lack of pillow, but nevertheless ready to close my eyes and fall asleep, something that now feels the same in my new home.
Written on February 14th, 2023.
elasays 
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