Making Friends

Moving abroad is often a daunting thought. Humans are essentially social creatures and you certainly wouldn’t be alone in asking yourself: How do I meet people? How do I make friends? It may not be entirely orthodox, but here’s how I did it.

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In front of me is an empty plate and an empty glass of wine. Rose, a colleague and flatmate, is sitting next to me. Her plate is empty too. Big Blue, another colleague, is sitting opposite me. Her plate isn’t empty.

Rose and I try not to look at Big Blue’s plate.

‘So you’re a gannet too?’ Big Blue asks me, noticing my struggle.

I nod.

‘Go on then,’ she says, half-resigned, half-laughing. We don’t need telling twice. Rose and I pull the plate towards us and dive in.

That was my first evening in Liberec. I know how to make a good impression.

Dinner (plus Big Blue’s leftovers) is a regular occurrence. Liberec may be small, but it has ample choice of restaurants with good food that disappears astonishingly quickly. There’s one such eating establishment beneath the town hall where you can try traditional Czech food; and another, much cosier alternative that is affectionately called ‘the potato place’. We don’t confine ourselves to Liberec, however, but accompany a trip to a pretentious Prague art gallery with some excellent Mexican cuisine. And what would a hike in the surrounding countryside be without a pub stop afterwards to refuel?

I don’t just make friends over food. Also over beer. In fact, beer has a remarkable ability to bridge the language barrier. One Friday I go to an English club and receive an invitation to Poland, which I gladly accept. The next Saturday I am treated to pelmeni and an afternoon of board games in a small town just across the border.

At the English club, I find out about a German equivalent. After all, I spend all my working hours speaking English: I need to practice my other languages. And so, one Wednesday, I join an eclectic mix of people who meet up to speak German and drink beer. It briefly occurs to me that I am no longer a student; I am now among adult language-learners – but the observation doesn’t linger. There isn’t much difference.

What about my Russian? A very good question. It seems all I need to do is go to Prague and wander aimlessly around before an opportunity presents itself. Some friends and I are looking for somewhere to eat when we see a sign in a pub window:

LANGUAGE EXCHANGE 15:00 – 19:00

Shall we, shan’t we…?

We go in. I am unsure at first – I haven’t spoken Russian for a while – but soon get caught up in conversation with a man from Irkutsk who ponders my mistakes as if there is a reason behind them. I tell him how much I liked Irkutsk when I visited two years ago and he looks surprised.

I try to go further off the beaten track. That’s when my language skills fail me. I encounter people with whom I share no mutual language. ‘Mluvite anglicky?’ I ask hopefully. ‘Do you speak English?’

The answer is often an apologetic but straightforward ‘no’. Not English, not German, not Russian. Only Czech. Anyway, I feel rude forcing people to speak a foreign language when I am living in their country. I determine to learn it.

I join the local Erasmus group on Facebook (*disclaimer* I am not an Erasmus student!) and introduce myself brazenly:

Hello! I’m from England and I’m learning Czech. Is anyone interested in a language exchange?

I meet up with a Czech guy from Liberec who, it transpires, also speaks German and Russian. At least we can make ourselves understood, even if it gets confusing at times. In the meantime, I continue with duolingo, a language-learning app on my phone, and pick up as much Czech as I can from the children I teach.

Some of the younger students would like to think I’ve made friends with them. Certainly it seems that way when they cling on to my arm at the end of the lesson and chatter away excitedly at me in rapid Czech. I try to free myself and tell them I don’t understand but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.

I have, however, made friends with one of my adult students. When I mentioned that I wanted to learn to climb, he invited me to go with him one evening after work. Since then, he and his girlfriend have proven the finesse of Czech hospitality. See my previous blog post for more.

Last but certainly not least, I’ve made friends at church. My landlady invited me, and it turns out that one of my colleagues, Greg from Australia, also goes. I listen to the pastor and try to pick out the odd word that sounds similar to Russian. I don’t understand much, but I am made to feel welcome. It probably won’t come as a surprise that I consolidate my acquaintance with them over lunch…