After yesterday’s beautiful golden sun, it’s light drizzle that greets me. I didn’t book breakfast and it’s a 20 euro addition so I skip it and leave around 9am. My wander around Druskininkai has reassured me that not only does Lithuania have food, I can also buy it from places familiar to me like Selver and Maxima stores. I don’t have so far to go today, my destination is Vilnius, around 3 hours away, where my partner will meet me and she has arranged for a new chain to be fitted to my bike. With no real itinerary I’m looking forward to a similar experience to that of yesterday and look at the surrounding area on Google Maps. The only attraction popping up is a place called Grutos Park a few kilometres away so I decide to go there.
— Just starting? View Day 1 post of the roadtrip —
I’m very close to the Belorussian border and it’s only today that I notice. I pass a long line of trucks parked on the verge at the side of the road. There must have been getting on for 100 of them. At a junction I turn off and see lines of trucks in all directions.
Soon I see the turning for Grutos Park and head into the car park.
There’s no-one there as I arrive which pleases me and I walk down the outdoor corridor to the turnstile and ticket office. Vienas prasau I say with a smile to the bored woman behind the glass. She doesn’t seem impressed with my Lithuanian as she shoves the card payment machine through the little semicircular hole. Payment taken, she retreats back into her little office.
Grutos Park is home to the old Soviet monuments that were taken down after the fall of the USSR. A lot of them were destroyed, vandalised, sold for scrap but not all and many of the remaining relics have found their way here. They’ve been dotted around some woodland so as I walk along a raised pathway through the trees, 30 foot high Stalins and huge Lenin busts slowly appear in clearings. Its such an atmospheric and fascinating place and well worth the visit. If old statues of old Communist party officials aren’t your thing there’s a fairly mundane zoo to enjoy as well.
Feeling extremely pleased to have found and experienced this park, I prepare to leave as three men in semi business clothing get out of a newish Skoda. One of them addresses me in English with a slight American accent and asks me if it’s worth visiting. I say oh yes, it definitely is and they seem delighted.
The next place I want to see is Trakai and it’s castle. It’s a couple of hours away but it’s a delightful couple of hours. The landscape is gentle and beautiful, the skies clear and the road dries. The traffic is very light, just the occasional old Audi and I happily bumble along enjoying my environment. I drive at the junction to what looks like a fairly major road, although traffic is still light. I am near Trakai, and near Vilnius, back in civilisation. I’m not delighted by this.
As I enter the town of Trakai, I understand why there roads are so quiet, everyone is here. Cars line the streets on both sides, people walk in the road, there are handmade signs offering parking for a price, advertising cafes and souvenir shops. It’s very busy and it’s quite the contrast with where I’ve come from. I’m taking all this in when my phone rings. I have an earpiece in my helmet but it’s hard to hear as I ride and it’s distracting and not an especially reliable connection so I pull over and take the call normally.
It’s Kris, I need to get my bike to Vilnius as soon as possible as Marius, the man who will fix it, wants to get it done so he can get away early for his weekend. I look around me at all the people, I remember that whilst it’s nice to see things in person, I already know what the castle looks like and there are a lot of mosquitos here so I tell her I’m on my way and I’ll see her in an hour. I’ll come back to Trakai another day.
Lifting my helmet back onto my head I manage to capture some mosquitoes to join me on my race to Vilnius, I realise that it’s actually very hot and set off. I quickly find myself on a highway sweeping up and down on it’s way to the capital. I thought I was closer than I actually was so it takes a while to see the huge, concrete ‘VILNIUS’ sign that lets me know I’m here. I enter the lions den of lunchtime city traffic with some trepidation but it’s unnecessary. The drivers of Vilnius take pity on this English motorcyclist and his lack of local knowledge and I arrive at the Radisson hotel on the banks of the river unscarred and surprisingly relaxed. Kris is there to meet me and we take all the luggage up to the room and I’m swiftly on my way to see Marius. His place located after a couple of phone calls and him coming out to get me on his electric skateboard, I find him to be a really friendly, warm guy and we have a nice long chat before he remembers he wants to get finished and he sends me away.
I take a Bolt scooter back down to the river and have a shower and a nap. Later that evening we go to a fancy restaurant on Vilnius’ most glamorous street and have a lovely meal. I feel a nice sense of achievement at getting this far but I worry about my bike all alone in a strange workshop.
Total distance 103 miles, riding time 2 hours and 37 minutes
***
Ta-daa! Part 2 – Kris: my side of the story…
*
So, this is where we met up. We’d left our homes around the same time, starting from different ends of Europe – and Vilnius was where we’d unite.
I was quite excited about it. Over the past few years, I had fallen madly in love with Vilnius and now, finally, I’d be able to share it with Jay.
He’d called me from Poland, to announce that the chain needs replacing and he doubted we’d make it to Estonia with it. Which, naturally, resulted in me having flashes of our bodies dragged on the asphalt and limbs laying loose under a Maxima truck… Not exactly the road trip I had envisioned!
Luckily, I knew a guy who knew a guy, and I’d called the guy that the guy I knew knew, to confirm he’d be able to fit us in. He thought he might have the chain we need in stock, or, at least, he assumed he’d be able to get it “within a day or so”. As this was the only option we had, I happily accepted. So what if we lost our accommodation in Latvia – we’d have another night walking on the banks of Neris and a safe ride home!
But back to the topic at hand: me travelling to Vilnius.
While he had been “busy” soaking up the scenery and chasing his desperado dreams, I had packed a backpack, taken flight on borrowed (and much delayed) wings, and found myself knee-deep in the headquarter politics.
Does not seem like much of a feat?
Think again, my friend!
Space on a bike, as you may guess, comes at a premium. Thankfully, Jay had been able to take my brand spanking new summer-friendly riding sneakers (more of those later) and a helmet in one of the boxes – and since I was going to wear them on my way back, the space they’d free up would be the only space to house the stuff I’d brought with me for my work trip to Vilnius.
I had had to manage to pack 4 days’ worth of office attire + one set of evening outing attire, toiletries, and tech, including my laptop, into a teeny-weeny “personal item” size 16L bag (Tropicfeel Nest, highly recommend).
The padded pants and armoured jacket I’d wear on our way home also formed my “travel day outfit” for my travels from Tallinn to Vilnius. They’re all black and appropriately bulky, and it was in the middle of a 30*C heat wave… so, needless to say, I had gotten a lot of funny looks, the airport staff was extremely suspicious and somewhat frosty towards me on both ends, and by the time I got out of the taxi and checked into my hotel room, I was a frustrated sweaty mess ready to collapse in the shower.
The experience had been heightened, a little bit, by me having travelled with my co-workers. One of whom is a Harley guy. Who, having seen the neon yellow armour pad sticking out of the bag, had blessed us with a lecture on motorcycle riding and, especially, with tips for a pillion rider (the back seat passenger, in human language). Based solely on his (limited) experiences with his girlfriend. Who, if his description is anything to go by, is a nervous wreck clinging to him like a baby monkey holding on to their mum. Just like I was in the beginning – when Jay first got the bike and I had no clue what a game changer adding a luggage rack and covering the seat with a cargo net would be. You know, cause synthetic butt on polished leather makes a slippery slide… I’d given up trying to tell the lecturer that while he takes out his Midlife Crisis maybe a few times a month, Jay has covered tens of thousands of kilometres on a bike, with about a quarter of them with me, so… shut the f..k up. He did not, of course, but that was my own fault for telling him which bike* we have after he had already announced his HD.
But by now, it was all OK – I’d survived the trip, Jay was on his way and the office was where I left it the last time. The sun was shining, people were smiling and everything seemed great. Well, except for office politics.
The CMO No 3 had just been fired, and while she was not exactly a favourite of mine, the way it was handled had left a sour taste in the mouths of the whole marketing team. They were also organising a farewell party, which I wasn’t overly excited to attend (for various reasons, not least being the fact that it was Jay’s first night arriving in Vilnius and I was excited about it), so – I politely declined, stating prior engagements I ‘simply cannot get out of’. Oh, I sooo wish I could come, of course, and be sure to hug her from me, but I just can’t make it, for real cannot…
Well… that came back to bite me later.
We did have dinner plans, so I wasn’t lying. With my former team lead, from the same company. Who had also been invited to the farewell party and while I actually had considered going, he was 100% certain he had no desire to be included in the event, in any shape or form.
We’d agreed on a restaurant a few weeks earlier, and he had kindly booked us a table at the terrace (remember: tropical heat wave!). And while we sat there, waiting for the hors d’oeuvre to arrive… we saw a colleague of ours. And another. And another…
The farewell party had moved locations, to a place two doors down from where we were sitting. And we, unwittingly, had become spectators as well as a spectacle. Making a statement by not attending, yet announcing we’re too nosy to be able to stay away… Bfffff. The side eyes lingered for months after…
At least the food was great, and me and Jay followed it up with a walk in the Old Town and by the river banks. That same weekend, Vilnius going to have a big NATO meetup, so the city was filling up with army trucks and barriers and concert stages, and with the hot air thick and syrupy, it really started to feel like we were in Barcelona, waiting a festival to be set up.
Oh, and a point of correction.
Jay thinking his puppy eyes got him a place in the Radisson underground garage? Pff. It was the 22 euros I had paid for it, and yes, I had already given them his licence plate number…
_________
* Even if you’ve got zero interest in motorbikes, there is a massive cultural difference you need to be aware of. Some bikes, you ride feet first – sitting upright with hands almost straight – like the iconic Harley-Davidson Fat Boy (the bike of choice for Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator) or Triumph Thunderbird (which Marlon Brando rode in The Wild One), known as cruisers. Like you may deduct from the name, these bikes are meant for cruising: perfect for a lazy Saturday afternoon ride. They also tend to make somewhat of a statement and it’s more than likely it’s a cruiser if you see a XXL grey haired man wearing an (either fake or real) leather jacket with Hell’s Angels, Los Bandidos or The Sons of Silence logo on the back. And yes, many of them dress up in these jackets because they “look cool” and without ANY club affiliations, which must annoy the heck out of actual gangers now having to be associated with their city-soft wannabe groupies.
If I was riding a motorbike, I would consider getting a cruiser: short legs, fatty muscles and slow speeds behind that decision, mostly, cause I am a wimp. Probably a Triumph Bonneville.
And then there are bikes where you ride headfirst – either leaning slightly forward (known as “standard” bikes, like our BMW), or very-forward-leaning “sports” bikes (with the rider basically straddling the bike, and these are defo not meant to include a pillion rider).
If you’re not sure what a standard bike is, think of Daniel Craig or Tom Cruise being chased through the streets of Monaco. Think of a red motorbike.
Now, as you can probably imagine – anyone having a *strong* preference for any bike type does not mix well with those riding something else. It’s more than just a bike, it’s like aligning with certain ideologies to a point of no return. And, usually, you can tell by the gear people wear how “deep” they are in it. Anyone in full-body leather jumpsuit with lots of writing and logos on it? Calls every HD owner a “wanker”. Anyone wearing a bandana and leather jacket with ANY circular logo on the back? They’ll find a way to wiggle “small penis” into any conversation about standard bikes, and they live in a world where “Harley” is the answer to any meaningful question.
And for those getting a big noisy sports bike for normal work commute – thank you for your service, dear organ donors!
