Once they had overtaken me they quickly dumped their bikes against a wall, and still smiling, they ran to the gutter, facing the busy street, pulled their pants down slightly and proceeded to urinate into the drain. This act did not shock me, I have seen parents aiding young children to relieve themself in drains and flower beds all over Prague. Even more frequently I witness adult men doing the same in very open places with little or no effort to conceal themself. While adult males the world over take advantage of this convenience, we usually make an effort, depending on the level of intoxication, to do it away from other people. Many Czech men seem happy to turn it into a very public event. I was, however, surprised at the age of the boys and their choice of location. There is no way, at that age, I would have voluntarily, let alone gleefully, exposed myself to so many strangers.
Opposite attitudes
There is a striking difference between English speaking and Czech attitudes towards the body, and I believe it is exemplified by the reversal in attitude towards privacy and emotional openness. A trip to a public swimming pool in The Czech Republic results in seeing far more flesh than at one in Australia, whereas you can be sitting at a bus stop in Brisbane and have to endure a little old ladies entire medical history, warts and all.
This custom, of keeping your thoughts and feelings private while being more tolerant of the physical, actually makes sense to me, flesh is flesh, but our thoughts and feelings are far more individual and personal. What I do find difficult is navigating the formality of Czech customs; it is a rocky road for most English speaking foreigners here, as we come from societies that have more informal rules of social etiquette.
Formal friendliness
What I still haven’t gotten used to is greeting people and bidding them farewell in an elevator. My whole life I was taught not to speak to people in lifts, avoid eye contact; in fact the best thing to do is pretend they aren’t there at all. Elevator rides are conducted in silence. Having a complete stranger join me in a lift and saying “Dobrý den”. When the person would never say it to me if we passed in the street, is just plain weird. My uncomfortableness with it does not stop me from doing it though; likewise my adopting the behaviour doesn’t reduce my unease at being a part of this most peculiar pantomime. For as long as I stay here I foresee that every lift journey, will end with me contemplating the absurdness of greeting and farewelling total strangers for the lone reason that we shared a brief journey contained within a small metal box, inside a building, in Prague.
I also have no doubt that every time I walk past that drain on Rumunska I will wonder; at what age will those boys cease to use that location as a latrine.