Meeting the Tourists

Everyday I think to myself at least once, "Ahh, THIS is why I love living in Prague." The THIS changes, but the sentiment remains the same.

This week what inspired my sigh were tourists. Now, most living in a beautiful European capital that gets more tourists in a year then inhabitants of the entire country wouldn't use the words "love" and "tourist" in the same sentence. And I do have days where I'd like to take all the slow-walking, take-your-time-in-the-middle-of-the-sidewalk, loud foreigners and dump them in the Vltava River.

But this weekend, I had two separate tourist interactions that reminded me that people are people, and some are even lovely. The first was on Saturday night. I went to a friend's flat that is in Prague 8. If you know Prague, you know this isn't in the center and tourists aren't usually hanging out at tram stops in this area of town.

There was a young couple and a middle aged woman pouring over a map as I approached the tram station. I was traveling back into town with a Canadian girl who has been living here a few months, a teacher as well. We must have looked safe. The man approached us and asked if we spoke English. Yes, we do. And his next question was if we could get them back to the exact opposite side of town. As luck would have it, my new Canadian friend was heading to that exact location and could guide them all the way.

We passed the 20 or 30 minute tram ride in pleasant conversation. The lost tourists were from Turkey. It was their first time in Prague. They had done a central Europe tour involving Poland and Hungary. The Czech Republic was their last leg of the trip. They'd left the organized tour to explore the city and ended up in the middle of nowhere. Lucky we found them. I loved that in the scheme of eternity, I passed a flash of a moment exchanging laughs and stories with complete strangers I don't even know the names of. But we are forever connected by a tram ride on a Saturday night in Prague.

My second happy tourist moment was the next day. I was again on the tram, this time on the way home from church. I was reading Bill Bryson's Notes From A Small Island. Side note: I love Bryson and his scathing humor. Ha! I was sitting and suddenly I realized that there was a woman standing above me, enjoying a page of my book with me.

"So, this book is about the UK? I love Bill Bryson. I read the book he wrote about Europe. I met him once. He's funny in person too." The eccentrically dressed middle age woman above me dove into a one-sided conversation with the top of my head.

I looked up and smiled, "I really like his writing too." I offered.

"So, I guess you are trying to keep in touch with home...." She ventured.

"Oh no, I'm American. But I've traveled around England a bit and can relate. And where are you from?"

"I'm Dutch. Just here for a long weekend. This is my stop, I'm off to a concert...Enjoy the book!" And she was in and out of my life in the span of three tram stops.

But yet again, a little connection of humanity through this moment of sharing made this city even more mine.