Vacation! Joy upon joy. The girls and I were heading to the great beyond (or in our case, London and Prague) for sightseeing, culture, and relaxation. But with transit never far from my mind, I wondered how we would get around foreign cities, and if it would be as easy as navigating the homeland. Is it possible to feel at home on a “foreign” transit system?

With buses on the brain, I was assigned by the group (okay, I volunteered!) to familiarize myself with transit systems abroad. Exploring the other meaning of the word cosmopolitan using the Internet and a cousin in London, I became an expert on intercontinental transit. By the time we boarded Metro heading towards National Airport, I was bubbling with excitement (and not just about riding transit, either!).

Arriving at Heathrow Airport in London, we were able to take the Heathrow Express train to Paddington Station and hop on the London Underground (or Tube, for those of us in the know) and get to my cousin’s house where were staying until our departure for Prague. But, could we navigate the system without looking like ugly Americans?

We arrived “across the pond” without incident and boarded the Heathrow Express, which was lovely with televisions broadcasting news, weather, and tourist information on small screens throughout the car, but a bit pricey at £25 round trip (about $45 USD). The Tube reminded me of New York’s Subway, causing Stacey to whine about wanting a cab, but it was more comfortable, and unlike D.C.’s Metrorail, where eating and drinking is forbidden, there were actually newsstands and vending machines inside the stations. It was cool at first, but didn’t seem as appealing when the toddler sitting near us spilled her juice on my shoes (luckily they were sensible—read ugly—traveling shoes and not my usual Manolos).

We reached my cousin’s house in record time and without incident, a miracle for four women traveling together (especially with Stacey and Erika wearing stilettos). The next two days were fantastic, my cousin showing us the city, from Westminster Abbey to Buckingham Palace to the Tower of London to Shakespeare’s Globe Theater all taking the Tube, a double-decker bus, and only one cab ride, just to appease Stacey’s pleas for “cultural experimentation” (who was I to refuse anything in the name of research?).

From there it was on to Prague (back to Heathrow on the Express) by way of Vienna, with all the girls and myself finally opting for sensible shoes. So far, no private vehicles taken and only one cab ride. I was already feeling at home away from home. But would Bohemia offer the same ease as London or would cause me to click the heels of my sensible shoes and chant “there’s no place like home,” hoping to be magically transported back to the Yellow(brick) Line?

We had already been warned not to take taxis in Prague, so Stacey knew better than to plead that issue, and luckily we had a very adept Czech friend to pick us up at the airport and show us around. Prague Integrated Transit (PIT) was not, in fact, the pits, it was gorgeous and clean. The Prague metro was extremely modern, the tram system was even more exciting, reminding me of the light rail in Salt Lake City. I was energized and ready to ride it all!

My optimism was a little rattled when Alison got separated from the group in the metro station. With the signs in Czech and none of us speaking anything but English, we were frantic. The crisis was averted, however, when we arrived at our destination, waited (not especially calmly, I might add) a few minutes for Alison, hoping she’d be on board the next arriving train. Miracle of miracles, she had gotten on, listened carefully and managed to meet us at the National Museum stop (not hard since “museum” in Czech is “muzeum”) in the heart of the city. We were off without further ado.

Our week in Prague was glorious, taking just about every form of transit imaginable, from train to tram to bus, then back to the airport to get us back to London for our final flight home (and back to National Airport and our beloved Metrorail). All told we had ridden three different transit systems in three different countries (U.S. included) and had only strayed on our trips to and from the Prague airport in a private vehicle.

I think we deserve pats on our backs (insert applause here) for being such well-behaved transit-minded tourists. But when all is said and done, we were all happy to see the familiar Metrorail “M” when we exited the airport to return to our respective homes. After all, there really is no place like home.