A New Yorker (of 20 Years) in Prague

Back home in New York, silence doesn’t exist. New York City echoes like a chasing animal: subway brakes screeching, ambulances squealing, people yelling on the street. It’s chaotic, loud, and electric. Honestly, these were the sounds I needed to fall asleep. 

But when I stepped out of the Prague airport for the first time, something felt…different. The air was fresher and softer in some way. The city didn’t blare its alarms for my attention; it simply stood silently and gracefully. 

My first week in Prague felt like walking through a movie set built centuries ago: pastel buildings, decorated roofs, and soaring cathedral spires replacing the skyline of skyscrapers I was familiar with. People walked instead of rushing. Cafes weren’t filled with laptops and meetings, but instead with people actually talking, or just simply being. 

At first, it was unsettling. I kept thinking to myself, How do these people have the time to take a break? Slowing down felt almost rebellious. I learned here that coffee lasted an hour, and drinks lasted for four hours. I learned that a walk to class is a chance to have some fresh air and notice the glow of morning light on embedded cobblestones. I learned that silence can feel full and rejuvenating, not empty. Time in Prague feels like it exists for you to live it, not to race against it. 

New York is the city that never stops growing. A building is always being constructed, roads are always blocked, and scaffolding always deters your usual path. Back home, buildings reach higher, and billboards flash brighter. Prague, on the other hand, moves differently. The loudest thing I’ve heard in Prague is the clanging of the tram bell or the church bells marking that another hour has passed. After taking a month to adjust, I noticed soon enough that the quiet started to feel like a luxury. Prague stands untouched by time. Its beauty isn’t loud or self-advertising. It’s the kind that sneaks up on you, such as the ornate doorways in front of our dorms or the way one wrong turn can lead you to a gorgeous church. Every corner here feels like it belongs in a fairy tale. Prague doesn’t just look different from New York — it feels different, and it’s teaching me that there’s another way to live.

It didn’t take me long to realize that, like New York, Prague plays by its own rules, in the best way possible. A few moments that made me laugh, pause, or even rethink everything included: 

1. 1. Sacred Sundays: Stores close, streets are empty, and the city exhales. I would even be able to hear a coin drop and echo through the streets. There’s comfort in a shared, relaxed, and meditative rest day.
   2. Tipping on the Backburner: There is no anxiety or guilt over a 20% or 25% tip. In Prague, tipping is an expression of gratitude, not an obligation. It feels refreshingly human, as opposed to an awkward, money-demanding situation. 
   3. Normal Silence: People don’t fill the air with chatter. On trams or in cafes, quiet isn’t unsettling; it is peaceful. I’ve learned that I don’t always need to be talking with someone or in conversation. I can instead take the silence to listen to the way the wind chimes or the sound of my shoes on the cobblestone. The Prague mandatory 10pm to 6am quiet hours truly mark a difference in lifestyle and pace.
   4. No GMOs:  Don’t get me wrong, Prague’s food scene is incredible. There is nothing better than sitting in a cozy cafe with apple strudel or goulash that tastes like it came from someone’s grandma’s kitchen. But now and then, my New Yorker side starts to ache for a few oddly specific things. First, I never thought I’d say it, but I miss American fruits and vegetables that look suspiciously perfect. My food shopping trips have gone from once a week in New York to three times a week in Prague. My brain knows it’s healthier, but my inner Trader Joe’s girl misses strawberries the size of golf balls.
   5. Bagel Blues: Another thing Prague does better than New York is pastries. These can be flaky croissants, warm spinach bread rolls, and even my favorite powdered Czech donuts. However, there is just one type of bread that Prague can’t do better: bagels. I never realized how spiritual a sausage, egg, and cheese on an “everything bagel” really was.

However, even without bagels and GMOs, the true takeaway of living in Prague for a semester was a lesson in fulfillment. Fulfillment doesn’t come from constant movement, scheduled meetings, or never-ending progress. Prague has taught me to enjoy slow mornings and to let time pass without counting. I’ve found solace in talking to friends for hours over drinks and feeling giddy when hearing the church bells echo across the Old Town Square. 

Prague is a city that reminds you that you don’t need to chase life to live it. There’s something freeing about living in a city that simply stands. It’s as if Prague is gently reminding me that life doesn’t have to be rushed or measured in productivity. Back in New York, life always felt like a race: deadlines to meet, subways to catch, lights to chase. Prague has taught me how to breathe, how to notice, and how to appreciate my surroundings. For the first time, I feel that slowing down isn’t a weakness, it’s a gift. Sometimes the most meaningful moments come not from doing more, but from truly being.