I’ve never paid this much attention to air conditioning before, but the current heat wave sweeping through Europe has certainly changed that. While the temperatures aren’t as extreme as a hot summer afternoon back in the States, the difference lies in the absence of relief. Most buildings in this part of the world weren’t designed with cooling in mind, which means the heat lingers in apartments, offices, and trams all day long. One of my coworkers remarked that he can’t recall Prague ever reaching such high temperatures, and several supervisors have reached out to check on me, fully aware that I’m not used to this lack of A/C. Honestly, I’ve found adapting to the heat to be the toughest challenge this summer, and it’s been quite a revelation.

What adds to the frustration is the unavailability of the small comforts I typically lean on. Back in the States, my go-to move on a hot day is a chilled glass of ice water. Here, the norm is room temperature water, and surprisingly, many people actually prefer it that way. The first few times I ordered water only to receive something lukewarm during a heat wave felt oddly unjust. Given the lack of air conditioning, I’ve realized there are no cool corners to retreat to or icy beverages to enjoy. It’s an adjustment I never anticipated, especially when every fiber of my being is yearning for relief. But I am adjusting, slowly, and figuring it out as I go.

When I arrived, I anticipated that the biggest challenges would be logistical, such as converting currency in my head, deciphering food labels I couldn’t read, and navigating a tram map that seemed more like a puzzle. Within a week or two, I had tackled all of that. The real adjustments that stuck with me had little to do with the city’s mechanics and everything to do with how people interact, especially during a heat wave.

The first lesson I had to embrace was about reserve. In public spaces, people tend to keep to themselves. There’s little small talk at the register, no smiling at strangers on the tram, and if you offer a smile, you might get a puzzled look in return. It took me some time to realize that this isn’t coldness; it’s simply the norm. People maintain their distance until they truly know you. Once you’ve crossed that threshold, the same person who wouldn’t meet your gaze on the street can become warm and genuinely helpful. The kindness is authentic here; it’s just something that’s earned rather than given freely.

This reserve also taught me that if I wanted to forge friendships, I needed to take the initiative. One afternoon at a café, I decided that I wouldn’t meet anyone unless I made the first move, so I did. I struck up a conversation with the girl next to me, and to my surprise, she was a student from Virginia Tech on a solo tour through Europe before heading to Poland to assist refugees from Ukraine. What a small world! This experience reminded me that the reserve here isn’t a barrier; it’s simply an invitation to be the one to knock.

The expectation of effortless connection stems from a specific background. I spent my first eight years in the Philippines, a place where warmth permeates every interaction. People greet strangers, soften their words, and convey much of what truly matters indirectly. I then spent the remainder of my formative years in the United States, where engaging in casual small talk with strangers feels completely natural. However, in Prague, the social dynamics do not align with either of those environments, leaving many of my instincts misplaced.

This same pattern unfolded at work, initially catching me off guard. Conversations lacked the customary warm-up; there were no casual “How’s it going?” exchanges before addressing the main topic. Coupled with the language barrier, I spent the first few weeks feeling as though my coworkers might find me somewhat bothersome. In reality, I had misunderstood their approach. They were indeed chatty, but only after I took the first step. Once I broke through that initial barrier, the dynamic transformed. They began asking me questions, engaging in genuine conversations, recommending places for my weekends, and guiding me through Czech cuisine and customs. I discovered that they were truly kind and helpful; I simply needed to initiate the dialogue, just as I had done in the café. I learned that a quiet office doesn’t equate to a cold one.

The bluntness took me a while to adjust to. No one sugarcoats anything here. If something I created doesn’t hit the mark, I receive direct feedback without any cushioning, which I would typically provide. Coming from a background where softening a “no” is the norm, I initially perceived this straightforward feedback as a personal judgment. However, it’s not personal; it’s simply efficient. People say what they mean and move on, expecting me to do the same.

This bluntness has also changed my approach to work. During the financial reconciliation project I’m involved in, my supervisors set the direction but leave the execution to me. In the beginning, I waited for detailed instructions that never came because that wasn’t the arrangement. The intent was for me to interpret their vision, determine the execution myself, verify every figure against its original source, and present a solid result. A lot of communication happens through short, straightforward messages rather than lengthy meetings. Becoming comfortable with making decisions without a complete set of guidelines and being prepared to explain those decisions clearly when asked has been one of the most valuable skills I’ve developed here.

So, what makes this journey so tough? It’s not just about memorizing a bunch of rules; it’s about shedding my natural instincts. I find myself overthinking how to connect with others instead of simply reaching out with warmth. I’m trying to soften the edges of my words, letting go of the urge to have every step laid out for me. A few weeks in, and I still have a way to go. I catch myself smiling at strangers, and sometimes, just sometimes, they smile back. I’m growing bolder, though; I’m starting to speak more directly and act with less hesitation. Yet, the biggest hurdle remains the simplest: adapting to the sweltering heat without air conditioning and getting used to sipping room-temperature water during a heatwave. It’s a challenge that feels almost insurmountable.