The Czechs in a Nutshell

In the middle of the summer, it gets even worse. To move reasonably fast from one point in Prague’s centre to another, you’d better wear shoulder protectors and a helmet. Sometimes only a machete can help. And when you finally have made your way to your favourite hospoda, dripping with sweat and only seconds from a nervous breakdown, all tables are occupied by noisy and drunken tourists who splash Czech korunas about as if they were Monopoly money.

To common Czechs, the flood of tourists feels so strong and all-embracing that when the national news agency ČTK reported some years ago that 55 million foreigners visit the country annually, not a soul reacted with mistrust. A German journalist, however, took the effort to verify the ČTK report. If the estimate were correct, he concluded, there would be 3.4 persons sleeping in each and every hotel bed in the country every night. Considering the Czechs’ relatively relaxed attitude to sex, you can’t exclude the possibility that this actually occurs from time to time, but the Freudian message in the somewhat exaggerated ČTK report should instead be interpreted as follows:

“Our small and beautiful country is drowning in tourists. On the one hand, they are a holy terror; on the other hand they bring so much money to the country that we should clench our teeth and put up with them for a while longer.”

By the way, any psychoanalyst will probably conclude that it’s perfectly natural to hate something or somebody, on whom you feel more or less dependent upon.

There are, however, a few practical precautions a tourist can take to better his or her odds, such as trying to react quickly when in a crowded shop. To the local population, there’s nothing so irritating as a seemingly lobotomised foreigner who halts the queue with silly questions (“How much will that be in dollars?”) and eternal fumbling with money. If you manage not only to keep your money ready and pick up your stuff without halting the queue for an eternity, but also to utter Dobrý den! when you enter the shop and Na shledanou! when you leave, then you have contributed significantly to the improvement of tourists’ reputation in this country.

The same applies to foreign tourists who desperately press themselves into a tram, metro, bus, shop, or whatever without first letting the people inside get out (in the metro during rush hour, this can be downright dangerous). And similarly, when you are riding in a tram, metro, or bus, or visiting a shop, don’t detain the people who are waiting to enter, but get out as soon as possible.

Those are the easy rules. Others can be more challenging. For instance, when using any kind of public transport, younger passengers are expected to let older ones have their seats. But what age is required to have this privilege? In luckier instances, the elderly person (who can be practically of any age) waves some kind of ID to make you get up. In other cases, you just have to leave it to your judgement — or compassion.

Here, you should be aware of an especially tricky problem: pregnant women. Ignoring an expectant mother in need of a seat is (rightly) considered the zenith of bad taste and a really rude offence. On the other hand, you may commit an almost equally rude offence if you signalise that you believe a woman is pregnant by jumping up from your seat when she actually isn’t (see: Czech Cuisine). So, if the tram or metro you are riding is full of young, swollen ladies, you’d better not sit down at all.

What’s more, all public transport companies use controllers to catch passengers without tickets. To increase the effectiveness of the system, the revizoři (they identify themselves by flashing small badges which they hide in their palms) are paid according to the number of passengers caught, so quite logically, they systematically prey on confused and easily scared tourists. In fact, the chances you’ll meet a revizor are even greater than the chances you’ll be lifted by a pickpocket (which is rather high, and on tram No. 22 from Charles Square to the Prague Castle, close to 100 percent).

On principle, the revizoři don’t speak foreign languages, and they can be quite brutal, so unless you are fluent in Czech or carry a black belt in karate, don’t forget to buy a large number of tickets — and get them stamped! — before entering the metro, bus or tram.

When riding in a taxi, however, you risk trouble even if you behave like Mother Theresa. As already mentioned, Prague’s cab drivers are an amazingly ruthless bunch of predators, and innocent tourists with their pockets full of money and an inability to find their way in the city, are their favourite food.