I'll Be Your Travel Guide

Here is all the Czech that I know:

Ahoj - Hello/goodbye

Dobrý den - Good day

Děkuju - Thank you

Je to pravda - It's true

Je to v pořádku - It's okay

Jsem Kanaďanka - I'm Canadian

Nerozumím - I don't understand

Jahoda - Strawberry

I'll be honest here: It isn't a lot to go off of.

My mom moved to Canada from the Czech Republic after marrying my dad. He was a forester, she was a university student – they were both on exchange in Finland and, a couple years later, he whisked her away to the middle of nowhere. It's always struck me as an achingly romantic story. Giving up your family, your culture and your home to live in a small town in northern British Columbia.

Not to mention your language.

My mom tried teaching us bits and pieces of Czech when we were younger. My brother and I are fluent in please and thank you, but you're welcome is a hard one. We can say hello, goodnight and goodbye, but I've never been able to wrap my tongue around the rolling Rs in good morning. We are, by all accounts, completely hopeless.

I guess that could explain why, all my life, I've dreamed of learning Czech. I wanted to speak the language of cobblestone streets and red brick roofs, the crooked syllables that seemed like the gatekeepers of another world. A world that was exciting and adventurous and, most of all, far, far from home.

I’ve spent so many years wanting – wanting until my lips are cracked and my voice is hoarse from sounding out words in a language that has never seemed to belong to me. Until I decided, just for the heck of it, to apply for a Czech summer school in Prague. And then, why not, book my flights. And gosh, while I'm at it, might as well pay for tuition and accommodation in the sweetest little apartment building with a bright red door, within walking distance of some of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. Sure, that seems like a good idea.

Exactly one month from today, I'll be hopping on a plane to spend my July studying and exploring and walking the footsteps of my forever dream. I'm bringing my trusty Fodor's travel guide, my phrase book (apparently a very good choice), my most chic, European clothes (not that I have any) and a ball of wonder so heavy I'll probably be stuck with an extra baggage fee for my wide eyes and thundering heart.

I'm a beginner at this. At Czech, at solo-travel, at the kind of summer that can change your life. I'm a beginner at this whole "When life gives you lemons," say no thanks and make yourself a banana split, instead. Or some potato pancakes. When in Prague, right?

One month to go. I feel like, in some small way, I've always been counting down the days. Every step I take has been leading me in this direction. Every deep breath has been my lungs reminding me to be patient. One month until this crazy thing comes true.