Feeling Safe in Unsafe Places

What I learned after living in an “unsafe” area in Prague

When I moved to Prague, I wasn’t even 18 yet. The first few months I stayed at an apartment provided by the university but it was only for short-term rental. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to survive mentally with a flatmate, so I was searching for an affordable apartment that I could afford to rent on my own.

I found a listing online for an apartment that was not big but it wasn’t small either, with a lovely view of the city of Prague, and a small balcony. I called the agency and scheduled a viewing. When I went there, the rental agent warned me that probably I would find the neighborhood too rough to live in. I could see why he would say that and I appreciated his honesty, but that apartment was the only one I could afford.

Recently, Blogs by J wrote about the importance of community, and I agreed with Charlotte Kingsbury- Fink in her recent story that it doesn’t really matter where you live. Living in the Smíchov area taught me that.

Smíchov is not an area a tourist would go to, unless they’re looking for drugs or other illegal stuff. While I loved Prague’s historic center and all the amazing architecture there, I also loved the feeling of Smíchov. My apartment was located in a building very close to a housing project. Everyone there knew what “community” meant.

I never felt unsafe there, and I was reminded on a few occasions that people look out for one another. One such example was when one day, as I was walking towards my building, a teenager approached me and asked me in broken English if I was okay. I was at the height of my restriction phases due to my eating disorder, so I assumed that I probably looked pale. He said that his grandmother (who was one of those typical grandmas who stakeout by a window all day) noticed that I haven’t been bringing any supermarket bags to the apartment for more than two weeks and asked him to find out why.

I felt embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. Maybe they thought I run out of money? I didn’t want to say to the kid that I was just eating very little. I told him that I was fine and that lately I started eating more at the university. He seemed okay with the explanation. I thanked him and his grandmother for noticing. Despite my embarrassment, I felt that I was being taken care of somehow. Since that day, whenever I would return home from the supermarket I would make sure to nod to the grandma at the window.

Another experience of community was when my pet hamster, Poseidon, passed away. After burying him in a nearby small forest, I was making my way back home on foot. Two lovely ladies who lived in the housing project, noticed the dirt on my clothes. They asked if something happened to me. I told them about Poseidon, even though my Czech language skills were really bad at that point. I appreciated that they cared enough to stop and ask if something was wrong.

In Smíchov it was easy for me to find any substance I wanted to try. That was good for me at the time. I also felt safe to wander around at night and I enjoyed the ambience. From my balcony I could enjoy the city lights and the castle. There was also a great small bar there that played mostly post-punk music. Being there, lost in the music and the smoke, was heaven for me.

Another great thing about Smíchov was that it was within walking distance to the city center. It was also easy for me to get to the new Jewish cemetery whenever I felt like visiting Kafka’s grave.

Smíchov was a place where I didn’t have to pretend to be something I was not. No one cared how much each other’s clothes cost or what nationality you were. What mattered was who you were as a person. Of course there was crime there, but I never felt scared.

I also felt accepted regardless of my appearance. No one cared if one day I was in androgynous clothes, and the next one I had an ultra femme appearance. Although back then I hadn’t come across the term “non-binary”, I felt free to experiment with my appearance a lot. That’s something I didn’t dare to do at the university, for example.

Smíchov taught me that nice people can be found everywhere. Of course, life in a gritty area is more difficult but the community spirit there is stronger. Another thing I learned was that people observe one another not only to gossip about them later. Maybe some people’s favorite activity is to stakeout by a window, but that could be the only way they know how to show others that they care.

When I visit Prague again, Smíchov is a place I’ll definitely go to. I want to see what’s changed, and reflect on my memories there. Although I’m quite different now as far as my appearance is concerned, I feel that I would still fit right into Smíchov’s ambience.