– On 1 June 2017, I left the UK to hitchhike alone around the world –
“I began to feel like I’d had enough of the trip for now; I’d been going for over 6 weeks already, and that was the longest I’d ever been away from home. Maybe it was time to go back for a bit, and resume my trip at a later date. But I realised I owed it to myself, after the struggles I had already endured, not to waste what I’d achieved by simply giving up.”
Once the Chinese visa application had been posted, I had already been in Kaunas for 6 days and had nothing else to do or see. I was, however, exhausted; the stress of this thing – rushing to make a travel itinerary in two days, making fake flight and hotel bookings and having to borrow a few thousand pounds to do so, and worrying it might not work out and cause the trip to be a failure – had worn me out again, undoing 5 nights of full, deep, and undisturbed rest. I was unsure if I should stay another night in Rima’s apartment or to go to Vilnius, Lithuania’s capital city. I went to the supermarket to restock the things which I had used, such as cooking oil and milk. As I walked along the isles, I found myself picking up some beers and snacks, and with a grin I realized I wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
I aimed to leave at midday, which became 2pm, then 3pm (for certain!) and then 4pm. I made myself one final coffee and said when I finish it, then I would have to leave. Rima then bought some pizza from a place down the street, so I ended up staying for another hour and a half. ‘Will I ever really leave’? I thought. I knew it was an easy trip to Vilnius; just 100km, perhaps one lift. But I was finding it so difficult to get going. I had stopped for too long and now it was difficult to get going again. I had a comfy bed, electricity, internet, gas, cooking facilities, and even a bathroom! Now I was going back to my usual way of traveling – either sleeping on roadsides or in cheap, dirty hostels. I began to feel like I’d had enough of the trip for now; I’d been going for over 6 weeks already, and that was the longest I’d ever been away from home. Maybe it was time to go back for a bit, and resume my trip at a later date. But I realised I owed it to myself, after the struggles I had already endured, not to waste what I’d achieved by simply giving up.
I stalled some more time away from myself by writing my diary, but I quickly updated it, and once again had no excuse to stay. Rima went back to work, and I sat there on my phone pretending to myself to be doing something. It took me until 17:30 to find the will to grab my bag, say goodbye to Rima, and walk to the road.
It was another straight-forward lift to the capital, once I actually got going. I walked to the highway which was a few minutes away and held my sign up. A man stopped the car after a few dozen others had passed, and took me all the way there.
Although I had already spent a week in Lithuania, I knew almost nothing about its history, which was still eerily present around me; so I asked my new friend. After a few questions, I began to understand why the Lithuanians I had already seen were so cold – The minimum salary here is 350EUR per month, which is just enough to survive on, but not to live on. The government takes 50% of this salary, too. People constantly have worries over money, not just once or twice a month, but every single day. It’s no wonder I hadn’t seen anybody smile. People were snappy, aggressive and miserable. Rightfully so.
He then began telling me about what life was like in the times of the Soviet Union – How shop shelves were sparsely stacked, meat was rarely sold, and meals consisted of mainly flavorless rice or potato. Green beans made an appearance around Christmas time, if you were lucky. And a banana was like something from a fairy tale.
But independence from the USSR didn’t bring much positive change; Russia cut off the energy supply, meaning Lithuania had to begin fending for themselves after being dependent for such a long time. Financially, nowadays, they are in shambles. Basic things like repairing roads and pavements have been pushed to the back of the line and no new buildings have been erected in the last 25 years in Kaunas.
I checked in to the new hostel and collapsed into my bed until sunrise. The next day as I made breakfast, I felt an unfriendly atmosphere in the kitchen, so I ended up being just as reserved. But later on in the evening, three Ukrainian men who I thought were unfriendly (and a bit scary!) invited me over for Vodka and Borsch (a kind of potato, tomato and meat soup). How could I have been so quick to judge them? They were lovely! They filled me up with their food, which was helped down with copious amounts of vodka. And it was here I learned how to let them know you want to stop drinking, because you don’t have their alcohol tolerance. You don’t say ‘no, thank you’, you simply don’t drink the shot in front of you, because if you do, they will fill it up regardless you say.
Because I had eaten so much food (I felt like an over-inflated balloon), the vodka didn’t hit me until I lay down in my bed. An enormous grin occupied my face as I lay there giggling to myself. I wondered what the other people in the room were thinking, but I was too pissed to care. I finished my night by sending various memes, which I found either hilarious, profound, or both at the time, to my friends and family.
The city itself was very nice – every other building seemed to be a church. The architecture was like that from the Disney universe – exactly what I had expected from a place called something so melodious as ‘Lithuania’. Despite being a capital city there was a lot of room to move around in. It surprised me, having grown up thinking London was something to base other capitals on.