NYU Prague student Viviana Garcia recently shared her experience of returning home after time at NYU Prague. She initially decided to stay in Prague, but then was required to depart when all students had to do so.

Going Home

I just got home, and I wanted to let you know how grateful I am to have had the opportunity to study in Prague the last 6 weeks. The events that occurred in the past 48 hours were something that no one could have expected, and I am so thankful that NYU Prague handled the situation smoothly and quickly. All the RA’s, building managers, professors and administration are absolutely incredible, and I’m so lucky to have met and worked with them. Which makes leaving so much harder. 

I am so sad that I have to leave this amazing community in this beautiful city. For the first time, I was genuinely happy with how my college experience was run.  NYU provided actual essentials for living in a dorm (hand and dish soap, power strips, kitchen appliances…), all music students lived in the same dorm, music majors functioned as one (not music ed vs performance, or whatever music tech and biz do), everyone had the same amount of performance opportunities, classes were kept at a good size, and instructors were passionate and supportive. 

I enjoyed my private lessons and ensemble rehearsals because the main focus was making music rather than striving for technical perfection.  My chamber group was amazing, I loved working with you and I hope we can be together again next fall. See you on the Zoom! 

Earlier this week, when we had the option to leave and continue the semester through remote learning, I knew that I was going to stay in Europe for sure. But when all classes went remote, I seriously began to weigh the options of coming home.

The night leading up to NYU’s decision to send all of us home was indescribable. We had just had an open-mic night, where students showed off the results of their hard work in ensemble rehearsals, and the room was so full of energy, love and support.  By 2 am a group of us we’re leaving the Pětka bar, laughing and probably waking up the neighborhood (sorry Holešovice). We crossed the street and were almost back at the dorm when someone received a call from their parent. Trump had just made a statement.  The student was to get on a plane the next day.

I didn’t know what I was going to do, For the next three hours, I called people to find out more about the situation. After falling asleep at 5 a.m, I woke up 3 hours later, was handed a check out form and was instructed to go to campus to book a flight. I cried on the tram and I cried booking my flight, and by the time I returned to the dorm at 2pm the Czech Prime Minister was addressing everyone live on the news announcing that the Czech borders would be shut down soon for the next 30 days. This was the moment I knew that we really had no option but to leave.

Being home will be bittersweet.  My parents put as much money as they could into me studying abroad because they knew they could never give me this opportunity on their own. I had a lot of trips planned all around Europe for the next several weeks. I understand that this virus has about the same complications as the flu for someone my age, but I have been in the ER with the flu and pneumonia, and at the beginning of this semester I had a terrible strep throat and actually said the words “I want to come home” on the phone to my parents. I know that if I were to get sick during this time, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but home.

Vanessa Hsiao was meant to be studying at NYU Prague this term. She shares here why she decided to leave the Czech Republic when given the option to to do so.

Why I Decided to Leave

On March 3, NYU sent an email to all study abroad students, giving them the freedom to choose to stay in their global site or continue their courses remotely, given the context of the rising COVID-19 epidemic. When I read the email, I immediately knew I would be returning home as soon as possible. To many, my decision seemed unnecessary as, at that point, there were less than 10 cases of Corona in all of the Czech Republic. Here are my reasons why…

Hearing from my friends and classmates, they stay rest assured that if they were to catch the virus, they will remain in good health because they are young, healthy, and have a strong immune system. While that is most likely true, we cannot predict how a virus, illness will impact our bodies. It’s not impossible as we have seen young, healthy people be strongly affected with past epidemics, such as SARS, H1N1, and Ebola. When we say, we should put our health above everything, it goes without saying we simply can’t hold the mentality: it won’t happen to me.

Furthermore, in the event that if I were to catch Corona here, I would receive medical care here. I have no judgment on Czech healthcare and I am sure it is no secondary to many countries, but I would feel much more comfortable to be in my home country, have no language barrier, and receive medical care where I am insured most. I understand NYU requires us to have insurance while abroad, but that is, in the event of an emergency or unforeseen health issues. We know Corona cases are rising and in a more prevention perspective, I choose to be home if such were to happen to me.

At the time I am writing this, cases in Czech Republic have risen to 21. In my most optimistic view, I hope it will stop rising and these patients can recover. However, we cannot ignore that neighbouring cases have as many cases as 4,600 in Italy, 800 in Germany, 80 in Austria, and many other heavily impacted countries. Given the open border system of the European Union, I strongly fear that it is only a matter of time before there will be a surge of cases in Prague.

I believe there is a responsibility aspect that each individual within/and our NYU community must hold to protect the health of everyone. One of the main reasons I chose to study abroad was to be able to travel and when Coronavirus started to spread throughout Europe, I cancelled my travels because I am not only responsible for my individual health to not put myself at risk, but also to the community, that I do not become an aide in the spread of the virus. I understand that it is not in NYU’s control but many students are continuing to travel to heavily impacted places. I am choosing to be responsible for my own and minimize my exposure to those who chose to still travel.

When people hear that I am returning home to Taiwan, they seem surprised and confused about my decision. Despite being geographically close and a special territory of China, Taiwan has implemented strong measures to combat Corona due to past experience with SARS. Due to political reasons, Taiwan is not represented in the United Nations and consequently recognized as China by the World Health Organization. Without WHO’s recognition of our independence and separate situation, Taiwan’s government has had to fight Corona themselves. There are temperature screenings in most public spaces, required travel history, fines for those who do not fully quarantine themselves, and a special hospital system to avoid spreading. The people have been responsible for the community by initialing self-isolation after traveling anywhere, wearing masks, keep distancing from others, and reducing unnecessary outings.

At this time, everybody has different considerations and attitudes towards this epidemic. I am sure that many people, including myself, want the most out of our study abroad experience. So I sincerely hope that the Czech Republic will not be heavily impacted and those who chose to stay remain healthy and enjoy their time here. I am extremely saddened that my only semester to study abroad has come to this short end but I am grateful to NYU that I can continue my courses and I hope to return to Prague soon.

We start off the new year with a beautiful Thanksgiving reflection from NYU Prague student Veena Murali. Wherever you celebrated Thanksgiving last November, her thoughts will resonate.

Thanksgiving holds a special place in my heart- while most people eagerly anticipate Christmas, I’ve always preferred one special Thursday in November. Growing up, I looked forward to fulfilling my role as the designated potato-masher and table-setter alongside the rest of my family as we spent the morning in the kitchen together- cooking, bickering, laughing. Even after going to college, our family tradition of cooking Thanksgiving dinner together lived on, as I’m lucky enough that New York is a short two-hour plane ride away from my hometown near Chicago.

But this year is different. After 18 years of spending Thanksgiving beside my family eating home-cooked food and reflecting on our blessings, for the first time, our tradition will be broken. My family will be replaced by my friends, and we’ll be “celebrating” in a city that doesn’t really even recognize Thanksgiving as a holiday. While I’m blessed to be surrounded by people I cherish on this incredible adventure of studying abroad, a part of me still aches for the familiarity of home, especially during the holiday season.

Of course, I’ve wrestled with the legitimacy of my homesickness. Among the abundance of international students at NYU, I’ve tried to force myself to push aside my longing for familiarity by justifying that others have it harder, others spend four months away from home every semester, and others aren’t a simple two-hour flight away from NYC. And while studying abroad, aren’t we all in the same boat? Everyone is watching the days get shorter and holiday cheer surfacing while being thousands of miles away from their families, so what’s the point in me articulating my feelings?

In the whirlwind of a semester studying abroad, we feel so much pressure to make sure every moment is capitalized on and that we don’t waste any time. We only get four months to travel and experience new places, and why should any one second of those four months be spent wanting to be back in a place you already know? There’s an expectation that these are ‘some of the craziest and best times of our lives’- if that’s the case, is it right to feel a slight desire to return to routine and stability? 

I don’t know the answers to those questions, as they’re ones that have constantly circulated in my mind for the past couple weeks. But here’s what I do know. Missing your family is okay. Wanting to sleep in your own bed is okay. Craving routine is okay. Looking forward to a home-cooked meal is okay. And most of all, homesickness is okay.

The definition of home has been widely confusing for me this year. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the word ‘home’ as “the place where one lives permanently.” But I haven’t spent more than ten consecutive days in my own permanent home, in Naperville, IL, since last winter break. After living in Rubin freshman year, Alumni while completing a summer internship in NYC, and now Machova whilst studying abroad in Prague, my physical address has switched enough times for me to reject the notion of a permanent living space. Saying that I’m ‘going home’ at the end of the day really translates to “I’m going to the dorm that I’ll only be living in for 3-4 months.” 

With this, however, has come a shift to a new meaning of the word ‘home’. For me, the idea of home is no longer where I sleep at night, where I shower, or where I eat dinner. Instead, the word has evolved to be associated with people, love, family. Home isn’t just a place, it’s a feeling- a feeling that can be evoked simply by spending time with people I love. Jumping on the bed singing Hannah Montana in Weinstein with my best friends felt like home, exploring the Guggenheim Museum in Manhattan with my dad felt like home, strolling Leicester Square in London with my mom felt like home. The Oxford English Dictionary also states that the word “home” has “feelings of belonging, comfort, etc.” associated with it, and this is the part of the formal definition I’ve learned to emphasize this year.

This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for all the change that has occurred this year. I’m grateful to have been able to finally feel at home in NYC, I’m grateful for the incredible opportunities studying abroad has brought me. But most of all, I’m grateful to have people in my life that will stay permanent, even if my physical ‘home’ may only be temporary. I’m not sure how my definition of home is going to change in the coming months or years. But I do know that embracing change is a lot easier to do when you have the people you love by your side, no matter what.

NYU Prague student Lachlan Hyatt recently interviewed former political prisoner Mirek Kopt. With the thirtieth anniversary of the fall of communism in the Czech Republic approaching, his piece reminds us of the importance of remembering these histories.

The Czech Republic’s Forgotten Prisoners

By Lachlan Hyatt

PRAGUE – On a cold spring day in 1945, Mirek Kopt took a walk with his father to a shooting range near their house on the outskirts of Prague. They had heard that the range was being used for executing German sympathizers, but the field was empty when they arrived. The day was sunny and there was no fighting in the city; occupying Nazi forces had finally been pushed out by the invading Soviet army. Mirek and his father walked through the weeds of the shooting range before coming across two bodies laying side by side. A man and a woman, seemingly husband and wife, had been executed with a bullet to the back of the head earlier that morning.

“This is when a chain reaction started which proved that one totallity was replaced by another,” said Kopt via an interpreter nearly 75 years later, reflecting on the moment when his contempt of of communism first formed. These beliefs would eventually land him six years of hard labor in a political prison camp.

Since the Fall of Communism in the Czech Republic in 1989, stories of those first targeted by the totalitarian regime, like Mirek Kopt, are being lost. The last of the Czech Republic’s political prisoners, which once numbered over 200,000are dying out, and with them so are the memories of the most brutal era under Communist rule.

“There is a real risk that knowledge about the former political prisoners will die with them,” said Dr. Barbara Vann, a professor of  sociology at Loyola University Maryland who has studied this issue, via email. “This subject has not been talked about much even within families of former political prisoners, and it has not received much media attention.”

Sitting in his quaint apartment outside Prague in his leather sandals and sweatpants, Kopt doesn’t at first seem like a rebel. His white hair and liver spots make it hard to imagine him printing dissident pamphlets, beating up Communist party members, and stockpiling weapons used to hijack trains in his youth. As he recounts his time battling the Communist state, though, glimpses of the old resistor show through.

Kopt remembers vividly one day in late autumn in a labor camp when a guard who particularly disliked him poured a bucket of cold water on him as he slept in the concrete solitary confinement cell.“This was not only a matter of health, it was a matter of life and death and to be honest, if I met this man in my life, I would probably take justice into my own hands,” said Kopt, grinning.

The Communist regime in the Czech Republic began shortly after the Soviet Red Army liberated the country from Nazi occupation at the end of WWII. In 1948, the Communist Party pulled off a coup, becoming the only political party. This new regime forged a strong alliance with the Stalinist USSR and other countries of the Communist Bloc. Dissenting political views were punished harshly.

By the early 1950’s, there were over 30 prisons and labor camps across the country. Thousands of Czechs were arrested for any perceived anti-state activity during the most oppressive years of the regime.

“We realized the only way to fight violence is another violence,” said Kopt.

Kopt began printing anti-commuinist leaflets with his friends while still a teenager but was encouraged to partake in more extreme actions by his uncle, who had deep ties into the resistance. Kopt soon became a member of the Ostriz resistance organization, a group made up primarily by outlawed dissident Boy Scouts. By 1953, Kopt had established his own conspiratorial group. In 1954, Kopt was falsely connected to the murder of a policeman by members of his old Boy Scout troop and was sentenced to ten years of hard labor.

“When I was being investigated, the congress told me they were going to hang me, but I didn’t think much of it because it was a war,” said Kopt. “I didn’t stress out about that, it’s just how things were.”

Kopt was sent to mining camps in the mountains northwest of Prague, less than 10 miles of the East German border. This region, known as the “Jachymov Hell” contained over 12 seperate labor camps and held over a third of the Czech Republic’s political prisoners at this time. The prisoners here would work in shifts, mining uranium to be used by the Soviet Union 24 hours a day everyday of the week. Prisoners toiled in the mines with little training and safety regulations, working to meet quotas so they could receive rations. On the surface, prisoners were abused by armed guards and forced to endure the cold weather of the mountains.

By 1960, the harsh methods of the Czech Communist regime were relaxed and thousands of prisoners were granted amnesty, emptying many camps. Kopt believes the release of these prisoners was an important part of the fight against the Communist regime, which would continue for almost another 30 years.

“The fact remains that when the Communists released thousands of people from prisons and lagers, basically started the erosion of the system,” said Kopt. “Because the civil society didn’t have any clue how many people are being held in jails and lagers for political reasons. Their ideas of who we were was distorted.”

Now, most of the political prisoners have passed away.

“Most of my friends from the lagers are dead now – I think we are three still alive today,” said Kopt.

Many former political prisoners died from cancer after being exposed to extreme levels of radiation from the uranium mining. One camp that processed uranium ore led to so many deaths of prisoners it is now known as “The Red Tower of Death”. Political prisoners were released but never truly escaped the camps. Stigmatized by the state, many struggled to find reliable work and housing and only received small reparations in 2004.  

The struggle to preserve the stories of political prisoners has become more challenging in recent years as many Czechs wish to distance themselves from the troubles of the past.

“They are not getting enough information on the recent past and they do not even know where to get this information,” said Kopt regarding Czechs’ views of the past.

Efforts to preserve the legacies of former political prisoners have faltered in recent years. The Confederation of Political Prisoners of the Czech Republic (KPV CR), an organization started to connect former political prisoners, has been facing conflict as more and more of their members pass away. Disagreements emerged when some leaders of the group wanted it dissolved and others want it continued by family members of former prisoners. Troubles in the leadership of the KPV CR reach a point this summer where a guardian of the organization had to be appointed by a Czech court. Because of the inner conflicts, much of the documentation concerning political prisoners have been lost.

With the stories of former political prisoners being forgotten, some in the Czech Republic worry that an oversimplified or inaccurate understanding of history will persist. One such person is Dan Zdarek, a member of the PoliticalPrisoners.EU NGO that runs educational tours of the Jachymov labor camps.

“If people just accept the simple picture of things, that it’s just a place of injustice, then they don’t have a clear idea of what that represents and what that means to communism,” said Zdarek

“Communism is something that’s alive in the minds of everyone living in the Czech Republic because they are the ones whose parents and grandparents lived in the communist system.”

As the 30th anniversary of the Fall of Communism in the Czech Republic approaches, the dissenters of the 70’s and 80’s, like the Czech Republic’s first president, Vaclav Havel, have been celebrated for their anti-Communist effots. For those who faced threats of execution and toiled in the uranium mines, this attention can seem misguided.

“The older prisoners think the dissidents got all the attention, when in reality, their experiences were nothing compared to what they themselves experienced as political prisoners,”  said Dr. Vann.

The surviving political prisoners in the Czech Republic today still try to meet up and share their experiences. Events are held annually in Jachymov and around the country, but the number of attendees is getting smaller each year and the events receive little attention from the media. Radiation levels in the Jachymov camps remain high. After decades struggling against the old regime, Kopt can now only sit and observe the nation he fought to make.

“I think it’s a bit of Havel’s fault because we kind of abandoned our mission,” said Kopt. “Our president is basically an agent of Moscow,” referring to pro-Russian Czech president Milos Zeman. “Former Communists still have a lot of advantages in society than regular citizens. But justice needs to be seen in some way, ” he added.

Though the effects of his six years in prison still linger, Kopt is determined to share his stories and make the most of his freedom. He has published books about his time as a rebel and helps give tours of the Jachymov camps he was once imprisoned in, hoping to pass on the memories of his struggle to new generations of Czechs.

“I have my literature and my radio, that’s all I need,” said Kopt walking past a messy watercolor painting posted on his refrigerator.  “And my grandson.”