In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

23 Prague T he train slowed, breathed long, heavy puffs, let out its last huff of steam, and stopped. We pulled into a wide platform lined with tracks and teeming with passengers . Hurriedly, we collected our few belongings, got off the train, and paused in the middle of a rushing crowd to get the feel of our new surroundings. We looked at the passing faces the way children do when trying to discern the trustworthiness of strangers . “People look friendly!” we said hopefully as we observed cordial eyes. We listened attentively to fragments of conversations; it did not take long for us to recognize familiar Slavic roots in the language. We followed the crowd out of the station and stepped into the center of Prague. We felt utterly lost. We stood in silence. Our eyes circled tall buildings, centuries-old domes, and steeples. We stared into the brisk traffic and found no hint of where to go in this city where we knew no one and did not speak the language. We each found courage somewhere within ourselves, and someone, most probably one of my cousins, said, “Let’s go!” Walking through the city, we talked to people, used bits of information we had picked up on the way, and landed at the door of a gray building with a sign: “KARITAS,” the Czech acronym for the YMCA. We walked up a flight of stairs, and entered an airy dormitory room with long rows of neatly made beds lined against two opposite walls. Prague 151 I felt comforted by the friendly atmosphere in the room. People sat on edges of tidy beds and carried on conversations in many languages. Others moved busily around, coming and going. The tone was civil and the faces of the people reflected a wide range of nationalities. Some people had recently been driven out of their homes by the changing of regimes, some were Jews who had come out of hiding, and others were concentration camp survivors. Recent history could be read in their gaunt figures and the shadows in their eyes. Many faces were veiled in secrecy. Our entry did not cause much stir, nor did it require explanations. Faces turned to us with polite acknowledgment and mild curiosity. Someone walked up to greet us and show us five beds near each other. The beds were covered with fresh white linen. We immediately sat on them to confirm that they were really ours to use. We dropped our packages and looked around the sparsely furnished but immaculate dorm. Mama ignored her fatigue and began to arrange our few belongings. For the next few weeks, this dormitory was home while we planned our next precarious step of crossing into West Germany. The place was our oasis. People warmed us with kindness, shared tidbits about their experiences, pondered where to go, and then they were gone and forgotten—except for one dark-eyed young man. I first noticed him when he walked by our corner and our eyes met for just a couple of blinks. In that instant I caught a gentle, almost imperceptible smile, and I became aware of a most pleasing face, a shock of black curls, and angular curves on a muscular figure. The impression never left me. The young man occupied a corner bed on the opposite end of the hall. After that first meeting, he often stopped at our corner to say something to me. I liked his attention, but I felt shy and tongue-tied in his presence. Whenever I was in the dorm, my eyes darted to look for him. I hoped he would come to our corner to see me. He occupied my mind entirely and filled me with conflicting thoughts. He was the prince of my dreams. I imagined how wonderful it would be if I joined him forever. Then I was immediately seized by guilt and sorrow. My dream was impossible! I could never leave Mama and Fredka and go away to heaven knows where. I was embarrassed about my feelings and tried hard to keep my love secret. My feigned indifference did not escape Fredka, who startled me one day with the question, “You like him, don’t you?” I stuttered timidly, “He is not interested in me.” “Oh, yes, he likes you!” she assured. “He tries hard to get your attention. He always stops at our corner to speak to you. He likes you a lot!” I am not sure...

Share