Dateline: July 2nd, 2022.

I awoke at the sound of my phone’s alarm clock at 5:45 am local time. Unfortunately, the two phone calls that I made yesterday, as well as using the luggage locator app, had almost completely zapped the phone’s battery life. And since I didn’t have Czechoslovakian-compatible charger, I knew I had to act fast.

I used what little battery power I had remaining to get directions to the nearest mall. I saw there was a tram stop just two blocks away from my apartment. Hot dog! I thought to myself. We’re in business!

However, the events that unfolded thereafter didn’t go quite as planned. The whole experience felt surreal. It started in a rather pedestrian sense, literally and figuratively. As I walked to through the streets of Holešovice, I felt like I was an extra on a movie set. The buildings themselves were just so beautiful that they did not appear real to me. Why would they? Most American apartment buildings are cheaply built–even the expensive ones.

However, I had little time to admire the architecture as I soon reached my first dilemma. I was certain that I could just purchase a tram ticket at the stop. However, once I arrived, I saw this was not the case. I didn’t want to get busted for not having a ticket on my first full day in Prague, so I decided to simply follow the tram tracks until I reached my destination. As I headed two blocks due eastward, I reached Libensky Most–a bridge of the mighty, muddy, Vltava River. I had literally goosebumps on my body as it dawned on me that I had never been this far east in my entire life. I admired the view of the water flowing beneath me, and the majestic city center nearby. I lamented that I didn’t have enough battery power to go around snapping photographs willy-nilly, but I promised I would make it up to myself later.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, I saw a general store right in front of the mall. Hmm, here’s an opportunity, I thought. I walked in, and sure enough, they had phone charges for Czechoslovakian outlets. Problem was, I didn’t understand nearly enough Czech to read the directions on the package. I had no idea which chargers were compatible with my phone. I turned to the clerk behind the counter for assistance.

“Dobrý Den,” I said. “Mluvim maly Czezky. Mluvite Anglicky?”

“Anglicky?” The Vietnamese man behind the counter shook his head and apologized. “Ne.”

Oh dear. Thinking back to may days as an inventory manager at Manhattan’s largest bike shop, I remember all the times when someone who didn’t speak English or Spanish needed a new part (or in some cases, a whole bike.) Since this was before the ubiquity of smartphones, I had to rely on hand signals to get the message across.

Now the shoe was on the other foot. This time I was hapless customer, hoping that the man behind the counter would understand my dilemma. I pointed to the charging port on my phone. “Neznam.” I said in Czech. “I don’t know which one I need.” I pointed to a nearby outlet. “To test?” I asked, gesturing a plug in motion with my hands.

Well, fortunately the store owner and his wife who had just walked in understood my crude gestures and remarkably limited Czech vocabulary just fine. It’s a good thing they did, because I had inadertantly chosen an incompatible charger, and once they saw what kind of port my phone had, they were able to help me find the right one.

With that, I thanked my Vietnamese friends and said goodbye. “Děkuji.” I said with a smile. “Na shladenou.” And with that, I walked out the door with a smile. Feeling refreshed at having completed my task, I decided to take a photo of the most interesting thing in my immediate vicinity: A giant dinosaur sculpture atop the nearby mall. Fun fact: Jurassic Park debuted in 1993, the same year the Czech Republic became a country.

As I walked back, I felt the jet lag overpowering me, and lamented that I had yet to see a single tram stop with a ticket vending machine displayed outside. So I walked back the way I came, plugged in my phone, and did some research to find out how I could pay for tram tickets in Prague.

When I found the answer, I nearly facepalmed. Apparently the ticket vending machines are on the trams themselves.

Instead, I chuckled aloud at my foolishness, lay down in bed, and promptly slept for another six hours.

It’s getting better all the time . . .