From mulled wine to a closed cave
In the Netherlands, there's a tradition of weekend Christmas markets, probably copied from Germany. Even so, locals say the markets are better in Germany and travel there. But the local one is enough for us. The next evening, we picked up another friend and headed to one of these markets. It was really cute: little stalls, dancing, mulled wine, whatever they call it here, traditional local dishes – croquettes, and, of course, sausages with stewed sauerkraut. Our Christmas spirit levels immediately spiked, so much so that we even chugged some mulled wine in a noisy pub.
We took a trip to another town where there's a big cave that they apparently also celebrate in, but we didn't make it into the cave, I already forgot why. It was closed, I think, because a carnival procession was taking place right in the city center. We only caught a glimpse of it, because we were hungry and looking for something to devour. All the restos were booked solid, so we ended up scarfing down some fried mushrooms and croquettes from a temporary wooden stall.
We had a wonderful time, and I was glad I dropped by, even though getting back to the airport was a massive pain in the ass.
The adventures of an early traveler on the edge of caffeine madness
My flight was in the afternoon, but I still had to get to it. The thing is, my friends live on the border of Belgium and the Netherlands. From there, you still have to somehow manage to get a bus to Eindhoven. Two-plus hours, with a transfer. In the end, I decided to drive with them in the morning. The problem is that they leave around six, if not earlier. I hate waking up early with a passion, because my sleep is garbage; I almost never fall asleep early. But what can you do.
In the morning, I felt completely awful, as is usually the case when I don't get enough sleep. Everyone handles it differently, but those who just get a little slow and sluggish have a hard time understanding those whose spine is burning and whose mood is: I want to off myself.
I arrived so early that the options of where to sit were few. I had to go to the Starbucks at the bus station. Its rating is abysmal, unlike the local craft cafes. Abyss means "bezdna" (bottomless pit), so it can roughly be translated as "bottomless". This is an interesting example of a word that is hard to translate in this context, because "bottomless" isn't used like that in Russian. The usual translation would be "disgusting" or "terrible", but then you lose the nuance that the rating is very low, lower than the absolute bottom. Have I ever told you how much it pisses me off when people think the English language is poorer than Russian, or that Russian is the richest language of them all? It's such an ignorant perspective that it becomes hard to even talk to the person later, kinda like if they believed the earth is flat.
In any case, this word is used idiomatically, since a rating can't literally be below the bottom, it's just a number. But there's no equivalent idiom in Russian, unless I just don't spend enough time on the internet. While writing this, I realized the closest word would be "provalny" (abysmal/disastrous), which again means below ground level. So there you go, you're witnessing the agony of good translation right before your eyes, and now you understand what a tough job it is.
As for the Starbucks, I drank my coffee, sat around for a bit, and went to MediaMarkt for a new laptop charger to replace the one I forgot in the waiting area by the gate. It was a bummer, because the charger was really good, gallium-nitride, meaning extremely compact, but still 80 watts and 3 ports. If anyone doesn't have one, I highly recommend it, very convenient. After some searching, I found the exact same one, but 100 watts, meaning you can charge a laptop and a phone at the same time. Slightly bigger in size, but still pure fire!
Prayer, meditation, and a phone apocalypse
I arrived at the airport early. I had an extra hour before boarding. I grabbed a coffee and went into the meditation and prayer room to write a post for you, my beloved subscribers. Not everyone knows this, but some airports have a room like this. For example, in Warsaw. There was one here, too. It looks funny. The orientation towards Mecca hangs on the wall. On a small shelf stand various translations of the Bible, the Quran, and the Bhagavad Gita (in several languages, including Russian), and on another shelf there's a bunch of prayer rugs. There are even Buddhist statues and a couple of texts: something from the Dalai Lama and the Diamond Sutra, I think.
But I pray to the god of Facebook, so I opened my laptop and started typing. Less than ten minutes passed before an older lady came running in. I felt a bit awkward, but what can you do; once you've started something, you gotta finish it. I kept on typing. The lady started meditating, and I asked her what the deal was. It turned out she was from my own sect of Goenka Vipassana. For those who don't know, let me explain: it's a ten-day retreat (like a workshop, an isolated meditation course). You can't do anything there except sleep, eat, and meditate. Using your phone is forbidden, leaving is forbidden, talking is forbidden, sports are forbidden, writing is forbidden, reading is forbidden, and even lustful thoughts are forbidden. That last point almost killed me!
Anyway, the lady started meditating, and I tried to type as quietly as possible. Good thing my portable keyboard isn't mechanical, otherwise it would have been totally kaput. Nevertheless, the meditation wasn't meant to be: literally a couple of minutes later, the woman's phone loudly blared some kind of siren. I was a bit stunned, because it would make sense to turn off the sound during meditation. She apparently was too, because another couple of minutes later she jumped up and ran off. Either she ran out of gas, like in the joke about Stirlitz and the mouse, or I annoyed the hell out of her with my typing. Be that as it may, another minute later my own phone started blaring, which made me stunned all over again, only more focused this time.
This incident teaches us not to hastily judge things we don't fully understand. As it turned out, the phone blared the siren because the Dutch government was conducting a test of the emergency alert system over the cellular network. And so I learned what to expect if a tornado of Russian tanks suddenly descends upon Latvia.
Apple revelations and bike transport secrets: chasing caviar and a healthy lifestyle
And so the trip is finally nearing its end: I flew into Vilnius. This time I decided to do it for kicks, and ran for the train. I had never done this before, but then I found out that you can take a train from the airport to the train station, not just a bus. To do this, you have to exit through the main doors, walk a block, and there will be a tower with an elevator down to the tracks. I barely made it, and even then, only by sprinting. You can only buy a ticket online in advance, so I had the wrong ticket. Nevertheless, the conductor forgave me and pretended that I supposedly had a ticket.
Late in the evening (around ten) I made it to the Turmantas station, which has been mentioned here many times, right on the border of Latvia and Lithuania. There my dad picked me up in his car, whom I forgot to remind to grab the key to my apartment. We had to stop by my parents' place for the key too. Foresight and planning rule, as usual.
It's time to sum things up, I suppose. The trip as a whole was a success. I did a lot of riding, practically every weekend. I blew a fair amount of dough, but not like an insane amount. As my friend says: "arms and legs are intact, and that's good, you'll earn more." I got to properly catch up with a buddy in Valencia and old pals in the Netherlands, which is always awesome.
I, of course, got to know a bit more about life in Spain. How warm and relaxed it is there, how awesome the trains are, how fast housing prices are growing. I gained more knowledge about how to work remotely and how to fight with landlords. Experienced it firsthand, as they say. Confirmed for myself that Airbnb really does have its flaws, and a hotel these days is a pretty decent alternative, especially an apart-hotel where you have a kitchenette.
Sorted out the different varieties of apples and realized just how different they can be.
Learned a lot about how to transport a bicycle across Europe and Spain on the cheap. Of course, I would have liked to not travel alone, but it's a sin to complain. Otherwise the Great Macaroni Monster might hear me and force us all to bail from Latvia together. There's a war all around, and many people are completely deprived of shelter and livelihoods, and here I am with red caviar instead of black.
I rediscovered my love for traveling, cycling, and a healthy lifestyle, and I hope to keep it up this year. As Zwift now constantly urges me: Ride On!
