Many expats living in the Czech Republic never learn the language. When I first moved here, I attributed this to what seemed like a lack of effort on their part. This belief prompted me to take action – I purchased textbooks, enrolled in classes, and committed to daily Czech study sessions. Embracing the philosophy that “half of success is showing up,” I diligently followed this approach, believing that consistent effort would yield results. But three years later, I’m still frustratedly asking: How long does it take to learn Czech?

Czech has a reputation for being difficult, but I hadn’t anticipated it being quite this tough. In other languages you can quickly put sentences together and use these patterns to create new sentences. This doesn’t seem to happen with Czech: the declension and conjugation are so complex I rarely produce a sentence which is 100% accurate, and if I do it feels like good fortune rather than good judgment.

Every time I ask my Czech teacher about a confusing sentence, the new grammar rule signals another three months of hard work. Also, have you tried to pronounce words with no vowels? English children only take elocution lessons if they have serious learning difficulties; in the Czech Republic it’s a regular occurrence.

Additionally, there’s the challenge of sustaining motivation in response to interactions outside the classroom. The tendency of locals to reply in English may explain why so few expats learn the language. Spending countless hours learning a complex language is one thing, but when Czechs refuse to communicate in Czech you begin to question why you’re putting yourself through it. I understand Czechs are trying to be helpful by switching to English, but the subtext is “Your Czech level is too low for us to communicate.” It’s infuriating when you’ve just spent 45 minutes speaking Czech with your teacher and then you order a drink in a cafe and the waitress replies in English. On other occasions, we’ll be speaking Czech without confusion and the other person switches to English for no apparent reason.

My motivation for learning Czech was to establish connections with the local people, but I now question whether my studies are having the opposite effect. I am carrying around so much anger from all the times Czechs have replied in English I now aggressively reply: “Mluvte česky, potřebuji to cvičit” (Speak Czech, I need to practice). So instead of making connections I come off as a furious foreigner with a chip on his shoulder.

There are two exceptions when it comes to people open to speaking Czech with foreigners. The first comprises elderly men at beer festivals. Generally, they have limited or no proficiency in English and are enthusiastic about engaging in conversation. The second exception is homeless people. Just last week, I engaged in a ten-minute conversation with a homeless man about English football. The interaction was very enjoyable, prompting me to briefly consider the notion of launching a social enterprise where the homeless teach Czech to foreigners. However, I eventually abandoned the idea due to the potential unreliability of the teachers.

Another expat gripe is that there are some Czechs who refuse to understand what a foreigner is saying. I’ve encountered countless instances where myself or a foreign friend places an order in Czech, only to be met with a waiter nonchalantly shrugging, as if it is unintelligible gibberish. At this juncture, even Czech friends become exasperated, as there’s nothing wrong with our pronunciation, and the waiter seems intentionally uncooperative.

When English learners travel abroad, they immediately gain authentic language practice in real-world scenarios. People generally make an effort to understand their English, regardless of the proficiency level, fostering a positive feedback loop. In contrast, when learning Czech, motivation is consistently undermined in the external environment, requiring continuous effort to rebuild it within the confines of the classroom.

Up to now, this discussion has focused on the challenges of learning Czech, but its important to highlight some positive aspects as well. Firstly, the process of learning Czech has significantly enhanced my overall language-learning abilities. Having struggled with French during my school years, I recently picked up a French document and was pleasantly surprised to decipher 60% of its meaning. The difficulty of learning Czech has, in a sense, made tackling other languages seem comparatively easier. Decoding that French text felt akin to completing a children’s puzzle after spending three years trying to crack the Da Vinci code.

Learning Czech has also made me realise that we can only be accountable for our own actions and not those of others. If my goal is to have a five minute conversation in Czech, 50% is out of my control. The other person might want to practice their English, be busy, or just not be feeling sociable. If, on the other hand, I sign up to give a speech in Czech then this is 100% within my control. It’s important when learning languages (and in life in general) to recognize where your responsibility ends. Another positive is that I can now do many of the things I need to in Czech. A recent highlight was renting a car space using only Czech to organize the contracts. It is these tiny real-world victories that motivate me to continue learning.

All things considered, if a recent arrival to the Czech Republic asked ‘how long does it take to learn Czech?’ I’d probably reply with a question of my own: “Are you aiming to master the language, or just get by?” Personally, given the scale of the investment and the results on offer, I’m no longer sure it’s worth aiming for fluency. My advice would be to familiarize yourself with the basics and then give the local people what they want by allowing them to practice their English.

*Also learning Czech? Get some useful tips here!