I am surprised it’s taken me this long to post a photo of a couple here on the blog. Truly everywhere you turn in Prague there are pairs of lovers gazing into each other’s eyes, and my classmates have done a thorough job documenting these encounters. Romance and relationships look physically different here in Europe, and the contrast is substantial when compared to the States. Based on the social queues I’ve picked up on, it seems dramatic public displays of affection are widely accepted or even expected. The couple above was keeping things uncharacteristically low-key as they chatted by a small fountain, so I had to snap a picture.

Admittedly, walking but 10 minutes among the beauty of European buildings is enough to elicit warm fuzzy feelings for days. It would be interesting to explore how much of the PDA here in Prague is rooted in societal norms versus environmental influences. It’s probably a little bit of both, like in the US. There it feels like the waters are even more muddied by the popularity of rom-com movies or TV shows like The Bachelorette, which treat romance as entertainment.

These differences in expression of love make me wonder how different the expectations that come with love are across cultures. Gender equality has not progressed here in Prague to the same degree that it has in the US; just spend one night out on the town and you’ll discover this quickly. But the divorce rates are essentially the same in the two countries, according to one of our tour guides. In the end, comparing and contrasting might not do much good. Perhaps it’s enough to say that love here in Prague looks unfamiliar, but is surely the same feeling down at its core.

There’s no denying that Prague is a place of beauty, but the city and its people can also be harsh in a lot of ways. One of the most unnerving parts about Czech culture, in my opinion, is the staring. Whether it’s riding a metro or walking past a restaurant, there are always a few sets of eyes staring at you, tracking you as you walk and talk. To the Czechs, this is only normal. I think they stare at each other just as much as they stare at foreigners. But as someone who was taught it was rude to stare, it’s hard to brush it off as people’s gazes linger. I’m slowly growing used to it.

The man pictured above was sitting near the Vltava taking a smoke break, his sunken face looking down at his lap. He is only one of the many of the shady characters we encounter daily walking around the city, many of whom go unnoticed as they lurk in shadow. They tend to keep to themselves, which makes them feel less threatening. As I walked by, he looked up and locked eyes with me. I’ve learned to embrace these sometimes awkward moments when my nonchalant shooting is exposed. Rather than let my jitters get the best of me, I just raised my camera and snapped a picture. I’m not sure he liked me making his photo, but I’m not sure I liked him staring. So I think that makes us even.

Coming to the end of our third week, I thought I had Czechs figured out. They are a quiet people that keep to themselves. They love to stare. Most of them aren’t very warm, despite the polite “dobry den” they issue every time they greet someone. Their dress is simple, not flashy. They teach their children what it means to work hard and be tough from a young age.

But when I came across this old man playing a music box on the cobblestone streets of Cesky Krumlov, he seemed to contradict a lot of these characteristics. He was always smiling and laughing, especially when he had a crowd around him. His outfit looked like he’d bought it straight out of an old-timey barber shop, perfectly complementing the happy melody issuing from his music box. His body was a little frail, yet there was an air of content about him. It almost seemed as though he performed for the sheer pleasure of it rather than making money.

While his kind demeanor and dapper outfit may well have all been an act, I’d like to believe his distinct persona showed me that there’s more to Czech culture than often meets the eye, even after spending several weeks living amongst these people. Distilling an entire culture into one type of person is something I now know I need to be careful of; there are many different details that contribute to building a group of people.