Photo taken in the Vltava River, Prague
The Road Less Traveled
During high school, one poem left a lasting impression on me: “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost. Our entire English class had to take turns reading it aloud.
Like many classic works, it described a natural setting to reflect a larger truth. In it, the speaker looks back on having chosen between two roads and claims that taking the “one less traveled by” made all the difference.
By then, I was already deep into my post-adolescent years—the famed beginning of self-discovery—and I heard in the poem the experience of indecision and the value of choice itself. It echoed a familiar struggle among teenagers: which sport to play, which AP classes to take, or even who to sit with at lunch.
Personally, I saw choosing for the sake of following as accepting the status quo and adopting an identity from a menu of predefined archetypes. From early on, I resisted this. I hated the concept of labels and categories.
The idea of being boxed into a type—reduced to a few superficial traits like a car defined by its basic parts—was stifling. I felt a thrill in challenging any restrictive ideas of identity. It became second nature to play with people’s assumptions.
The more I was perceived one way, the more I leaned hard in the opposite direction to disprove it. Nonconformity became my instinct—and the reason behind a life-changing decision.
Out of the Ordinary
After college, I moved back in with my parents to pay off student loans. It was a tough period, especially since I was fixated on doing something bold in my twenties—so living at home felt like a setback.
Before long, I became interested in moving abroad and started researching programs. One day, I stumbled across a website for a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) school based in the Czech Republic.
It was aimed at recent grads who wanted to teach English in Prague. I was instantly drawn in. The site showed images of an old European city full of winding cobblestone streets, a historic stone bridge, and a hilltop castle overlooking a square.
The idea of living in such a city felt like a far-off fantasy. But maybe the nonconformist in me pushed through because I still remember how that practical inner voice was drowned out by one bold question: why does it have to stay a dream?
Suddenly, questions swirled in my head. Haven’t you always wanted to see the world? What are you waiting for?
Excitement surged as I started picturing a life that was completely out of the ordinary. Still, I was nervous—even imagining this kind of future felt like trespassing on something forbidden. It was as though fear was trying to stop me from even dreaming.
Fortunately, my imagination was much stronger than my worries, allowing my curiosity and desire to win me over in the end.
Borrowed Courage
After digging deeper into the world of teaching abroad, I found a TEFL program with tons of glowing reviews and applied online. A few days later, I was accepted into their four-week fall session.
That meant in just a few months, I’d be a certified English teacher living in Prague. I began emailing the school with questions and was connected with Carly, a former student of the program.
Carly became a huge influence. She told me how much she loved the program, her life in the city, and her job. She walked me through every detail, easing my fears whenever I second-guessed the move.
Her encouragement gave me the confidence to truly consider what I was about to do. And eventually, I booked a one-way ticket to Prague.
Against the Grain
The day I officially decided to move abroad was monumental. Like the poem, I had chosen between two paths—staying in my comfort zone or facing the unknown.
So as the days to my life-changing decision drew closer, I began telling friends and family of my plans. What I didn’t expect was the mixture of responses I would receive.
As my departure date approached, I started sharing my plans. The responses surprised me. Some friends and relatives were genuinely supportive, but others weren’t. “Czech Republic? Why?” one relative asked, frowning like I’d joined a cult.
Another family member laughed and joked I was moving to a third-world country without indoor plumbing—completely inaccurate. One friend even quipped, “Don’t get taken,” referring to the movie where Liam Neeson’s daughter is kidnapped in Europe.
There will always be people who won’t support choices that break the mold. But no amount of skepticism could dim my desire to explore what lay ahead.
Courage and Fear
That said, I wasn’t fearless. In the weeks before I left, I had many anxious nights imagining worst-case scenarios.
But along with those fears came a surge of adrenaline. A spark. An awakening. I felt vividly alive.
As the famous saying by Franklin D. Roosevelt goes:
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”
Those words could not have rang any truer than at that special time. For I was straddling both fear and courage on either side, still willing to move ahead with the risk of being wrong — a leap into the unknown that meant choosing life and love over doubt and fear.
City of a Hundred Spires
The flight from London to Prague landed at night. From my window, I could see the glowing green lights of the airport’s exterior.
After collecting my bags, I met my taxi driver, who whisked me away while chatting on his phone and weaving through traffic—a less-than-calming introduction.
But as the car zigzagged through the city, I glimpsed Prague’s glowing lights and felt a strange sense of peace.
At the drop-off point, I was greeted by Petra, a friendly school staffer who led me to my temporary home: an old villa.
She answered my many questions and showed me to my room on the top floor. The building smelled like home—warm meals, aged wood—and had old-fashioned heaters and heavy doors that locked from the inside.
Alone at last, I stepped onto the balcony and looked out. The famous spires and rooftops of Prague’s medieval skyline stretched before me.
I stood there smiling, inside and out—astonished. After everything, here it was at last.
Here it was, finally before me – the famous City of a Hundred Spires. I made it.
