I wake up. It’s the kind of waking up that starts with the transition from sleeping to slumbering, then

slumbering to snoozing, and as I slowly get conscious of the world around me, I realize that I have all the

time in the world to make this process as long as I want. So I turn around, open up my eyes and look at the

pattern on the wall for a bit. It’s a repeating pattern of blue flowers over a yellow background. I see it

without thinking much, realizing I’m still halfway between sleep and awakening. It’s not often that this

balance is so stable, so I decide to enjoy every second of it. I don’t remember dreaming anything. When I

tract back the minutes I see only black, no exciting story or bizarre pictures. As I turn around once again I

realize how I’ve gotten used to this place. Less than two months ago I went to Vilnius, leaving behind

practically everything. Well, all immaterial things at least. I took my laptop with me, only to lose it in a trolley

during the first week of my studies. I got over it within a day. But even leaving behind my family was

surprisingly easy. The moment itself was difficult of course, and at the airport I felt like I didn’t want to go at

all. Even if it meant seeing my girlfriend again, and not just for one or two weeks like it had been before, but

for at least 6 months. That prospect was alluring, but walking away from my parents and my younger

brother was incredibly difficult. And now, lying in bed with my girlfriend next to me – I think she’s still

sleeping – I can’t say I ever felt like that again. Of course I miss them, as well as my family and my friends,

but I feel at home here, and that’s what matters.

It’s 10:30. My girlfriend just left to her university and I have to work on some things for my own studies. I

have about three or four hours until I have to go to my university and I want to use my time well. As soon as

I’m home alone I get this feeling of freedom, the feeling that I can do whatever I want. While this is

technically true, I shouldn’t give in to it. I have stuff to work on. Although, I’m not exactly sure what, and in

what order. And I see that there’s dishes in the sink, I should clean them too. But first I should allow myself a

little rest. Go to Youtube and see if there’s something new and interesting.

…

11:42. I should really get to work. See what I have to do and just start. I’ve been watching videos for over an

hour now, that’s typical. Oh yes, I have to write for Creative Writing. I want to write that auto-ethnography.

It seems challenging, but I think it’s what I find the most interesting. I’ve always liked noticing things and

making up ideas about the world around me. I should just start writing. I start writing about my girlfriend

and how our cultural differences affect us. It’s a topic I find truly interesting, but I can’t seem to structure it

right. After being stuck at two-thirds of the page for more than 15 minutes, I stop. I’ll finish it some other

day. Or not, maybe I made it too difficult for myself, maybe I should just drop it. I’m not sure what else I was

supposed to be working on, and I let myself get distracted once again. I’m annoyed that things are not going

the way I hoped. I don’t feel like trying to get anything done anymore, I’m just not capable of doing anything

meaningful today. I get a message from my girlfriend, asking me if I want to meet for a coffee. I reply:

It’s the first warm day in Vilnius. The sun is pleasantly burning and the air feels soft. Every change in season

brings a brief nostalgia for last year. Now that I walk around with an open jacket in the sun, I feel like I felt

last year in summer, or maybe I always feel the same way in summer. As if the cold weather had made me

forget what summer feels like. I’m still annoyed by my lack of productivity from this morning, but the

weather charges my annoyance into an energetic frustration, and I can’t help but to be slightly amused by

my own mood. I jump in the trolley and get on my way to my girlfriend and a much-wanted coffee.

I’m sitting in the back of the trolley on my way to the university. I’ve always liked sitting in the back. As I

realize this, I think of a very crude joke that makes me grin and that will never see the light of day. A few

stops before mine, a man in his fifties sits next to me. As he’s slightly bigger than his seat, he occupies part of

mine too. He doesn’t smell great, but in the segment of over-fifty men on trolleys in Lithuania, he’s probably

above-average. I suspect that he drinks. He might not be an alcoholic, but he simply doesn’t look cared-for

enough to be free from the stuff. One of the other men in the trolley starts talking to me in Lithuanian. He’s

a bit younger than the man sitting next to me, and his tone is loud but not unfriendly. I ask him if he speaks

English, and he starts over, asking me if I smoke. I say “no, sorry”. I assume he wanted to ask me if I have a

light or a cigarette. But he doesn’t seem to be disappointed. Instead he sits down next to the fifty-something

guy, and asks me where I’m from. “You’re from the Netherlands and you don’t smoke?” is the somewhat

mocking reply when I answer him. I’m pretty sure that people here smoke much, much more than in the

Netherlands, but I tactfully don’t speak my mind about this. It turns out that the two guys know each other,

and I get into a chat with both of them, although the other one doesn’t speak more than two words of

English. The younger guy tells me that he’s from Russia, that he’s worked in Belgium for two years and that

he lives in Vilnius for a year now. His English is broken but understandable. I wonder how he worked in

Belgium with that level of English. Maybe he speaks French? He goes on to tell me that he was exiled from

Russia for stealing, I don’t think of asking him what it is that he stole. He’s clearly down on his luck. He looks

about as well kept as the other guy. With a big smile on his face he says he’s in Vilnius to drink and fuck, and

even though saying that is the easiest way to make me judge you, my smile in response is not purely

politeness. He’s a friendly guy. Socially gauche, no doubt, and with a skewed view of morality perhaps, but it

seems like it comes from a good place. The guy next to me points to himself and says something that sounds

like “skinhead” – although he didn’t have the look, so up until now I’m not sure what he really said – and he

makes slow punching movements while he says something in Lithuanian. The younger man translates it: “he

hits well”. I smile and feign being impressed. Of course I couldn’t be less impressed by a guy that self-

proclaims that he punches well, but at this point the two are friendly enough to have won over my

sympathy. They go out at the same stop as I do. To get something to drink from the Iki, apparently. As I turn

around to walk away I tell them to “take care”, which is my way of saying “please don’t drink yourselves into

a coma”. After I say it I realize that even if I did tell them this literally, it would be nothing more than naïve

from my part. I would like to see them stop drinking and start taking part in society. But is that what they

would want? Is that what would make them happy? And why do I even assume they aren’t already taking

part in society? The more I think about this, the more I dislike myself and my own assumptions. When

someone’s experience of the world is so drastically different from yours that it’s beyond comparison, there’s

no use in wanting that person to change. It’s better to be friendly and not challenge their beliefs and

lifestyle. Adapt, just for a moment, to their world and see the difference you’re making. As I wait for the light

to turn green, I hear someone shouting behind me. “Olandija!” I turn around to see the two guys, the

younger of which is shouting and lifting up his hands. I can’t help but laugh and wave back. I then turn back

and cross the road, towards the university. I wonder how they would react when they would be placed in

one of the classes. Welcome to this class of Public Understanding of Social Sciences and Humanities. Would

they think it’s all nonsense? What would they say of this text? I think it would mean very little to them.

Nevertheless, I walk to the university with a smile on my face.