In my post about Czech Cuisine I mentioned that we made it a point to dine at local restaurants. Yes, there was a Five Guys AND a Hard Rock Cafe we actually walked by.
One evening though, we googled what seemed like a reasonable compromise: the Fat Cat, a local microbrewery-style restaurant / sports bar in downtown Prague whose founders had clearly taken inspiration from American diners.
Starting with the hostess, whose job seemed to consist mainly of making us wait until an usher showed us to a table. A third person, wearing a “Staff” polo shirt, brought the menus and took our drink orders. The whole thing felt meticulously organized in the American style.
But then at least 15 minutes went by without anything happening.
We noticed that a large group at a neighboring table, who had arrived after us, had already been served their appetizers, while the manager and one of the waiters laughed and joked with them. Were they friends? Celebrities? Better people? We felt ignored. And hungry.
Anyone who knows me knows I was rapidly approaching hangry territory.
That’s when a young guy approached us.
“Hi, I’m Ilya, I’m your server tonight, and first of all I’d like to apologize. You guys have been waiting quite a while, and that’s not cool. I’ll make sure your drinks get here right away.”
And he did.
His English was impeccable, and so was his entire appearance.
He took our order and complimented our excellent choices. Yeah, maybe a bit over the top.
But honestly? The service in the typical Czech places we ate at was always perfectly friendly, yet mostly functional. The English proficiency level varied greatly. I wasn’t complaining though; their English is infinitely better than my Czech on any given day.
But this guy? He genuinely took care of us as customers, and I appreciated it.
From then on, everything went like clockwork. Drinks, check. Food, check. “How’s everything?”, check.
When it was time for the check (check), I complimented him on his English and told him it was probably the highest level I had heard from anyone in Prague so far.
He smiled.
“Thank you. But I’m not Czech. I’m from Ukraine.”
That didn’t fully explain it though.
He told us his dad has a cousin in the U.S., and that cousin and his kids often visited them in Ukraine when he was younger. That’s where he practiced his accent and vocabulary. His dad also has a brother living in Czechia, and when Russia attacked Ukraine, his father sent Ilya there to stay.
“It was a small village close to the German border, and everybody was old. I felt like I was in the wrong place. As soon as I had saved enough money, I moved to Prague,” Ilya told us.
“So that must have been four years ago. You were very young when you left home,” I said.
He nodded.
Mid-twenties at most.
Exactly the age armies tend to prefer their soldiers.
I didn’t ask any further questions, it wasn’t my place to.
What stayed with me was something much simpler:
We met a young man far from home who had rebuilt a life for himself in a foreign city, speaking a language he had once practiced with visiting relatives, serving burgers to tourists from Switzerland.
I’m glad we met Ilya, and I genuinely hope Prague continues to be good to him.
Do you remember a time when someone you met briefly while traveling stayed with you longer than the place itself?
haha "approaching hangry territory” is brilliant! 😅 But was a touching story of this young man. As someone who has also made a home in another country, I know how much courage can hide behind an ordinary working day. I remember when I lived in Napoli, every morning when I was on my way to work, there was this old man watering a plant pot on the pavement opposite Galleria Umberto. Every single morning, he was there with this little water can. Cleaning the pot, picking up cigarette butts people left in there. That still warms my heart today. 🥹
ReplyDeleteYes, I remember a 15-year-old boy and his family in Mexico. He was an excellent trail guide on a horse ride. He brought us home to meet his family who couldn't speak English. It was very eye-opening. He would be in his 40's now.
ReplyDeleteHearing stories like this makes me realize just how far apart we are, not just geographically, but from the realities of war. It's humbling to remember that while I enjoy the peace and security I often take for granted, others are living with uncertainty every day and having to make life altering decisions to keep themselves and family safe.
ReplyDeleteWhat a great interaction you had.
ReplyDeleteHmm, what a powerful visit with the young waiter. Several years ago, my primary care doctor (Scottsddale, Arizona) got a new nurse. She sounded a bit European, and some English terms for medical equipment escaped her. Curious as always, I asked "Olga, where is your charming accent from?" When she said "Ukraine", I just started to cry. We were about a year into Putin's war on the Ukraine. But Olga asked me not to cry. Some people are forced to be strong and accept Life as it is. And I know they are touched by true compassion.
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