Prague has a way of slowing you down

Even when you’re there to speak at a conference, the city insists you look up

From the conference room window, I could see the Radio Free Europe building, once a literal and symbolic beacon of the West during the Cold War

A reminder that words, voices, and transmission matter

Moments before I was due on stage, the local Czech compère leaned over and asked a question I wasn’t expecting.

“How do you pronounce your name?”

My surname. Hughes.

I paused

In the UK, it’s a fairly common name, often with Welsh roots, so I’d never really had to think about it

I explained, probably too quickly, “It’s pronounced Hewz — it rhymes with amuse.”

In India, I’ve been called “Hugs.” Sometimes “Huge.” Both delivered with warmth and good humour

But standing there in Prague, suddenly conscious of accents, syllables, and the small frictions of language, I felt oddly embarrassed

No one had ever asked me that question before

So I repeated it again. Hewz.

She smiled, nodded, and introduced me simply as “Mr Tim.”

It was a small moment, but travel has a way of magnifying those

Names, words, jokes, even throwaway phrases don’t always survive border crossings intact

You learn to make allowances, for local culture, for pronunciation, for how things land when translated

Conclusion

Travel reminds us that communication isn’t just about speaking clearly, it’s about being understood

Sometimes that means adapting

Sometimes it means letting go

And sometimes, it means smiling, walking on stage as “Mr Tim,” and appreciating that the message matters more than the pronunciation