Having hardly slept again as it sounded as though there was a stag do in my room (for the avoidance of doubt - there wasn't) throughout the night, by some miracle I managed to stir on time, pressing the snooze button just once instead of the usual seventeen times.
I hastily got ready then was at a breakfast table by 7am, happily devoid of the 'beknackt' woman from yesterday - in fact, the room was empty so I didn't have to table-surf, brush past anyone or do anything apart from munch my diverse breakfast - square scrambled eggs (I think the chickens must lay square eggs here), tiny hot dog sausages, cucumber, tomatoes, rice, plums plus a vitamin C-recalibrating orange juice, water and coffee. It was sumptuous. I then remembered that I was going to be on a bus for a significant chunk of the day so started worrying about what happened when I was in a vehicle the other day, so I packed a magic spoon as I haven't seen a newspaper here.
With a clandestine coffee smuggled into Thermy my thermo-mug (everything should have a name), passport stashed accordingly, notebook, funky bucket hat (funky in my eyes anyway, that's debatable in some circles) and suncream, I bundled out of my budget hotel and made the three-minute walk to an awaiting mini-bus outside St Peter's Basilica.
I was heading to, that's right... Lithuania!
The tour guide looked like a villain from Spooks. But he was warm and friendly, incredibly knowledgeable about all things Latvian and later, Lithuanian. The other passengers started to arrive - an eclectic bunch from as far afield as Japan, Germany and Hertfordshire.
One lady seemed a bit cagey about what she does for a living, so I think she's possibly an assassin, but has to keep it quiet. I'm not sure if you've seen 'Black Doves' on Netflix, but it makes you think. Just be wary of anyone who tells you they work in insurance, and remember that Sarah Lancashire isn't necessarily living it up in a golf buggy at the Yorkshire Tea offices.
Another lady had all sorts of intriguing tattoos. She seemed to have a raccoon tattooed behind her ear. I wanted to ask her about this but the considered that maybe she had had a difficult experience with a raccoon. Another of her tattoos adorned her leg - she obviously didn't think she was going to get varicose veins when she had that one done.
Tattoos eh. There was a man from the council outside my house last week scraping away the plants from between the paving slabs; we coincided as I was doing the bins - he has a tattooed face! That must have really hurt. I'm not sure he thought that through. The neighbour with the baby Bedlington terrier turned up and we had a little three-way chat about the state of the world whilst the puppy bounced around thinking we had all met up just for him.
Another member of our bus crew was an American lady who looked as though she hadn't been on a same continent as a hairbrush for about forty-five years. I mean, I haven't used a hairbrush since 1996 but I think I would have if my hair was long and straggly. I think she had been scammed as she had signed up and paid for a different tour yesterday, which never turned up to collect her. That happened to me in the Ivory Coast once - I arrived at a massive church in Abidjan (I like massive churches, you may have got that) - and paid my entry fee to a bloke in the grounds. On entering the church they asked for my entry fee and I informed them in my best French that I had already paid - turned out the bloke in the grounds was a passing scammer - whoops - and was now several thousand CFA better off. Hey ho, maybe he needed it for something important.
We stopped off at several quirky places on the way to Lithuania. At the Bauska Castle we were able to climb right to the top and see beautiful views of the winding river. We learnt - right at the top - that the structure was entirely held together by wooden joints - impressive and a bit terrifying when several hundred feet off the ground. It reminded me of GCSE DT Resistant Materials when I made, well, tried to make, a magazine rack and used dowel joints to secure it. Unfortunately I was overenthusiastic with the belt-sander and the thing got smaller and smaller as I kept having to sand each side. Maybe if I ever meet a Borrower, they could use it. If you've not come across the Borrowers, they are tiny humans who live in your house. They are friendly and borrow things as and when needed. In the original book, the mother was called Homily - she features in a lot of church services these days.
We had some time to wander round and I went into a downstairs storage area and was face to face with an enormous mutant horse. My grandad used to describe horses as 'unpleasant at both ends and uncomfortable in the middle'; I agree. I said this to someone recently and she said that sounded like a description of her husband.
Our next stop was the spectacular Rundale Palace museum where we had a couple of hours to explore this incredible place and peruse the rooms and gardens. It was heaving with tour-groups, so after a while I decamped to the cafe in the crypt, away from the hubbub and made friends with a Spanish tour guide who was trying to hide from her annoying tour group of serial complainants. We mutually agreed that anything involving other humans is often complicated. I then went and sat in the chapel and read my Jesus book - seemed like a sensible thing to do.
We clambered back into our minibus with blacked-out windows (the driver was a Spooks villain after all) and were now Lithuania-bound. We drove through the agricultural landscape punctuated by speeding tractors and huge white storks.
I looked out and saw a huge red and white structure - we were approaching the border! Excitedly, I reached for my passport, eager to bounce out and embrace a new country. But our bus sped past the huge red and white structure because it wasn't the border - it was a car wash.
There wasn't a border - the Spooks villain just said - 'we are now in Lithuania - welcome!' There was no-one (wo)manning the border, no line, no surly border guard in uniform wielding a rubber stamp, no checks, nothing. There was what looked like one of those sports cones I keep in the boot for ball games by the side of the road which apparently meant that we were now in Lithuania. Talk about underwhelming. Well at least I didn't have to make up any stories about who I know in the country, my three children April, May and June (told to multiple border guards over the last twenty years, along with my awaiting husband in whichever town I am heading to).
We soon made it to the place of pilgrimage which had been the purpose of this trip - the breath-taking Hill of Crosses. There are various legends as to why people started putting crosses on this hill - it's more of a gentle incline than a hill really, but there are upwards of 100,000, probably nearer twice that now, crosses of every conceivable description placed here - this has been happening for nearly two centuries and it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
One could spend days there reading inscriptions, looking at the tens of thousands of individual crosses dedicated to individuals, couples, people who have passed on, organisations, teams; dedications are in thousands of languages and any cross, of any material, from wood to metal to cloth, even Lego crosses can be placed there. I don't think there are many World Heritage Sites which are growing every day. There are crosses as far as the eye can see, bazillions of them. Visitors gently competed to take photos of the crosses - I took a photo or two but mostly soaked up the humbling feeling of standing in a place where millions of believers have stood, surrounded by the most powerful symbol of faith.
This blog post is dedicated to my beloved Dad who passed on nine months ago today. He was consistently supportive of my adventuring, even that time in 2002 when I didn't realise I was technically missing in Burkina Faso. Rest in Peace Dad.
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