Just arrived in Vilnius

It’s been a while since we were last in Vilnius. I hadn’t realized that nine months had passed by just like that. If you follow Living Imprint’s Facebook page, you may have come across the status update where I was lamenting that FlyLAL, Lithuania’s main carrier, has gone bust. As a result, no direct flights into Vilnius. And this, when Vilnius is the European Capital of Culture for 2009. What a pity!

All flights to Vilnius have to route via another city, e.g. Prague or Riga. This trip, we're going via Riga.

The opening of the Surviving History full exhibition at the Tolerance Centre is this Thursday, 10th Sept. So we have decided to come in today so we can sort out installation over the next two days.

The day did not begin well at all. At the check-in counter at London Gatwick, I realized I’d brought the wrong passport. Shivaun was trying to console me, that I was obviously tired and frazzled. Plus, and I only realized this when I was at the airport, I hadn’t eaten for over 23 hours. Sleeping only at 3 and 4 am the last two nights didn't help. Obviously, I’d packed everything but my brains.

So instead of carrying my Irish passport, I had brought my Malaysian one. Yikes! Okay, so the check-in lady didn’t make any comments. All seemed okay, but yup, I was still feeling frazzled and annoyed with myself ‘cos re-entry to UK would be a grief. The complications of dual nationality! Thank God that Jesse is coming only tomorrow, so I can ask him to retrieve my other passport and bring it along. So far so good, I thought. Fingers crossed.

So, there I was, tucking into a Magnum dark chocolate at the boarding gate. If you know me, you'd know I normally don't have sweets. But for some reason, I'd gotten myself this ice cream at the vending machine. Maybe I needed a sugar rush.

The flight was leaving on time. But I was still feeling a little nervous. When it came time to board, Shivaun got past the check-in gates while I dawdled at the back of the queue, chomping on my Magnum and suffering severe brain freeze trying to wolf it down. Shivaun walked ahead and I could see her disappearing round the corner. The flight attendant looked at my boarding pass. No probs there. Then he looked at my passport. ‘I think you need a visa,’ he said. Damnit. My brain starts racing a mile a minute - what other EU ID do I have on me that I can use? What flight can I get on later? “Shiv! Shiv!” I yell but Shivaun has disappeared from view altogether. He makes a couple of calls, asks if I have a return ticket, then tells me it’s okay. Little did I know then that this was an omen - a hint of the possible unpleasantness ahead.

We arrived into Riga. Now, I know nothing much about Latvia or Riga but Katya had told me that it was quite beautiful. Not that we would have a chance to encounter its attractions as we were only transiting for an hour and a bit.

It was about 6.15pm local time. I was surprised that even though we were just transiting, we had to go through the rigmarole of passport checks and luggage scans again. The immigration officer takes away my bottle of water. Without a single Latvian lat to rub between us, I start feeling a bit annoyed about this - having some liquids at hand gives me a sense of security.

Another officer asks me if I have a laptop; I pull it out of my bag and put it into the plastic tray. I walk through the detector and it beeps though I have absolutely nothing on me that should set it off. Another immigration officer gives me a disapproving look and says to me, ‘Check, check’ and starts feeling me up and down grudgingly; she gives me a look that says I have created trouble/work for her.

On the other side of the scanner, another officer says to me that I need to take the electronic equipment I have in my laptop bag out so they can scan them – an external drive and a mpeg player. He says this with an accusatory look on his face; as if I tried to sneak one past him by putting them through the scanner inside my bag. I want to protest that no one asked me to take these out of my bag too, only the laptop, but decide against it. I take them out of my case and start putting my laptop back into my bag; I figure he wants to scan the drive and player, but no, he wants me to put it back into my bag and send my bag through to scan again, minus the laptop; he’s annoyed with me and raises his voice. I feel like saying to him, ‘Chill, bud, so I misunderstood…”

The unpleasantness continues. I am tired, grumpy and thirsty. I want to have a cigarette. I go up to a boarding gate counter. There are three officers there; they see me. They ignore me. I wait. They avert their eyes, hoping I'll go away. Instead I say, “Excuse me?” The lady sitting behind the counter goes, “Yah?” with the what-do-you-want look in her eyes. I ask, “Is there a smoking room in this airport?” She tells me about non-Schnengen or something like that. I have no clue what she’s saying but her face lets me know that I should not ask again.

I walk to the transfer desk instead and despite feeling a little upset at the rudeness I have just encountered, I smile and say, “Good afternoon, can you please tell me if there is somewhere I can smoke in this airport?”
She says, “Outside.”
I ask, “How do I go outside?”
She doesn’t answer me, instead she asks, “Where are you going?”
I say, “Vilnius.”
She says, “You smoke in Vilnius.”
I am a bit confused. I stare at her.
I ask again, “So there is no smoking room in the airport?”
She smirks. “You smoke in Vilnius,” she repeats.
I am, at this stage, staring at her incredulously. My brain isn’t computing this unwarranted sarcasm. I start to say, “That really wasn’t necessary, I was just asking if there was a…” and then I give up. This is such a bizarre encounter. I can’t make out why she’s gone out of the way to be mean to me.

I tell Shivaun this. She’s sitting and waiting by the boarding gate. “Maybe they’re racist,” she says. Somehow, I think not. I think this is just business as usual here. Customer service and courtesy are not part of the program. I am, at this stage, feeling antsy and upset. There's a bad taste in my mouth I can't get rid off.

Finally, we get into Vilnius. It almost feels like home; at least I am more familiar with it. We cab it to the hotel, check in, and are out on the streets in 10 minutes to look for somewhere to eat. It is now 9pm. We arbitrarily pick a place called Café Libre.

The food is quite good. The waitress is very nice. She says ‘thank you,’ and ‘please’ and she smiles! At the end of the meal, she even asks if we like the food. I feel like hugging her. I feel like telling her ‘thank you’ for ending this day of horridness with some kindness.

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow, we begin installing the exhibition. I can’t wait for the sun to rise and melt away the yuckiness that has clung to me since we set off this morning. They say bad stuff happens in threes. Okay, that's the quota up now. Tomorrow should be a great day.