My original plan was a staycation. Part Two of the Final Fantasy VII remake was set to launch during my vacation, and I would purchase myself a PS5 and buy a digital copy of the game. It was honestly a solid plan; I had thoroughly enjoyed both the original game from the 90’s and the first installment of the remake that came out a few short years ago.
However, something was different this time around. No matter how hard I rationally tried to justify to myself why buying a PS5 would be worth it, I just…couldn’t pull the trigger. Every time I got close to the transaction, I’d always found a way to talk myself out of such a ridiculous-to-me purchase. Whether it was grumbling that I’d have to pay extra for features that used to be assumed standards or the fact that I just don’t feel like playing video games anymore, I just couldn’t part ways with the money over something that would collect dust, my outdated PS4 serves as a streaming machine just fine. Being the first amongst my buddies to have played FF7 Pt.2 just wasn’t worth it to me.
Though, none of this changed my new employer’s vacation policy. Essentially, time off earned but not used in 2023 needs to be used by April 2024, or it’s forfeited. Thus, I still needed to use my vacation time. My passport was also expiring soon (it had little more than six months left on it) thus it was practically begging to be used for one last time. I opened my credit card log-in and checked out how many miles I had on my account; nearly $500 worth! Thus, the open skies had called my name.
After scouring travel.state.gov (#NotAnAd, obviously) for entry requirements for countries that I was mildly interested in, I honed in on a destination; Lithuania. I had previously taken a trip to Eastern Europe and had been jonesing to go back ever since I returned. With a soon-expiring passport and mandatory PTO both burning a hole in my pocket, not to mention a steeply discounted flight to soften the financial blow, I abruptly changed my plans. Instead of a staycation that I was kinda-dreading, I soon shifted towards a cool-and-quirky vacation. The roundtrip-flight and hotel, after cashing in my miles, came to a paltry $700. Not bad at all!
I spent the next few weeks cramming as many phrases of Lithuanian as I could; after all, I don’t like visiting a country if I cannot speak its language (pay attention; that’ll come up again later!). Thus, the morning of my departure flight came, and I woke up and eagerly got dressed in my best tie as I couldn’t wait to go to Eastern Europe again. Here’s the thing; except for Drunk Uncle Sam’s laughably ineffective lackeys, I love nearly every part of flying. I love checking my bag, I love waiting to board, I love boarding, I really love take-off’s (and get silently jealous when I don’t get a window seat), I love landings and basically everything in between.
I touched down in Denmark, a necessary stopover en route to Lithuania as the Baltic nation isn’t enough of a tourist pull to warrant direct service, when the real pulse-pounder began. My passport had little more than six months left on it, and while EU rules were clear on this being okay, I was still a bit nervous. The customs line moved quickly, and thus I soon found myself face-to-face with an EU border agent. He had a jovial tone as he asked me the standard security questions, he gleefully stamped my passport as he wished me on my merry way. That’s it, no stern finger wag or long-winded lecture on how close I was cutting it, or any other nonsense like that.
After a quick transfer flight, I landed in Vilnius, the capital city of Lithuania. I collected my checked bag from the terminal and left the airport. It was as if I had stepped back into Joseph Stalin’s playground, circa 1953, nothing but grey Commie blocks as far as the eye could see (that’ll come up later too!). I got on a cheaply-priced tram that took me to a half-kilometer of my hotel, and marveled at how apparent the scars of Communism still were, doubly so in a city not particularly known for tourism.
I disembarked the tram and walked to my hotel as I noted my surroundings and mentally rehearsed what I was about to say. I arrived and cooly used my limited Lithuanian to approach the check-in desk. The hotel staffer muttered a long line in the Slavic language, but I at least heard the local word for passport and handed over my almost-expired blue booklet. A moment later, he handed me an envelope with a room number and card keys. I thanked him in Lithuanian and went into my room, silently dancing and fist-pumping as I had managed to pull off a big-to-me foreign language win.
I still felt energetic despite the long haul flight and grabbed some local cuisine. I walked into a hole-in-the-wall restaurant (hint: in the Baltics, nearly all of them are like that) and instantly liked the vibe; none of the customers were speaking English, and it filled up quickly, which are tell-tale signs that the place was legit. I ordered in the best Lithuanian I could before the kind waitress switched to English. Soon after, I was enjoying some great local cuisine.
Still having some pep in my step (youth and fitness have their perks!), I started hitting some of the sights. I climbed in a still-in-service tram from the 1970’s that had clearly seen better days (seriously, I felt like I needed a tetanus booster as I stepped off of the Commie rust bucket) and rode to a museum that I had particularly wanted to check out. Some walking was still necessary, though I enjoyed the stark contrast between Old Town charm and Soviet-style architecture. I visited a building that was a former KGB black site; an old prison where they kept POW’s and political dissidents. Spoiler alert: the living conditions were not exactly five-star.
Generally, my time in the capital city was spent taking historic tours of both medieval era Lithuania and the horrors the country endured in the 20th century. I feasted on the food (joking to my friends back home that “my fat ass is going to waddle back to the hotel now”) and gained an appreciation for how lucky I am to be born in the United States, and never had to live through communism.
Vilnius was a great city to visit, though truthfully it could be thoroughly explored in a long weekend. Thanks to the Schengen Zone, I had a last-second YOLO idea to jump on the train and head to Latvia. I had never crossed an EU border on land before, so that was part of the appeal, and I was also determined to squeeze every last drop out of my nearly-expired passport. I made it to the station on time, and showed the staff my ticket. First class train tickets in Eastern Europe are surprisingly cheap, and the train was pretty new (definitely not a Commie bucket!). I spent the four-hour trip cramming as much of the Latvian language as I could; I must’ve looked like a goddamn sociopath to the other passengers as I muttered English and Latvian to myself over and over again.
I didn’t notice the border change, as there wasn’t even a sign to indicate the border; merely one station had a Lithuanian flag and the next station had a Latvian one. The train pulled into what seemed like an even-more-dystopic version of 1950’s Stalinism (hint: that’s because it was!) and I got off. I had booked my return for a little more than 24 hours later, so I was hell-bent on making the most of my time there.
I walked into a museum that I really wanted to see and asked, in Latvian, to buy a ticket. The clerk took my Euros and gave me a long-winded speech that I understood absolutely zero percent of. I asked in Latvian if he had an English-language map and then his eyes lit up. He printed off another ticket and eagerly handed it to me and told me in English that a guided tour would start in ten minutes (the sign behind him stated that guided tours were twenty Euros). I had an amazing tour of the museum, and marveled at the valor of the Latvians who dared to defy the Soviet Union by declaring independence, much as I did in Lithuania.
I went to my hotel in Riga, and passed an ocean of Commie blocks, outdoor markets, and pedestrian underpasses to get there. The neighborhood this supposedly-four-star hotel (for only $45 per night…in a capital city!) was reminiscent of Behind Enemy Lines as it conformed to nearly every negative Eastern European stereotype. I managed to check into my hotel without using English, though this interaction had much less speaking and more pointing to multi-lingual signs than Lithuania did. I went up to my hotel room, took one look, and wondered what time during the night that one of my kidneys was going to be forcibly removed.
I went back out and explored the city some more. I went to the top of a lookout tower that look eerily similar to the Polish counterpart that I had visited previously. I was stunned by what I saw (and not in a positive way); an ocean of grey and beige Commie blocks as far as the eye could see, many of which were obviously abandoned or still damaged from decades ago. It was another reminder that the scars of Communism had still not healed. I decided that I was nearing my limit on dark tourism for the trip, and decided that I should take a break from Eastern Europe for my next international trip.
I decided to gorge myself on some Latvian food and wash it down with some Latvian beer. I managed to get most of what I ordered, despite not knowing enough Latvian (or any Russian, as signs in that language were depressingly common in Latvia) and the other side not knowing English. We devolved to pointing like cavemen to facilitate the transaction and I swore never again. I dislike going to countries where I can’t speak any of the local language (I had tried once before in the Czech Republic, and seemingly didn’t learn my lesson the first goddamned time). However, I tried to not let my limited Latvian ruin my time in the little Baltic state.
I woke up in Latvia the next day with the same number of kidneys that I went to bed with, and considered that a total and complete victory. I headed to a walking tour that I booked and was stunned by the utter frankness of the local tour guide. He told me that “This isn’t Prague or Rome. Come back in July and you’ll still have this place (Riga, the Latvian capital) to yourself” and that “nobody wants to stay here”. I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t learn and appreciate a lot though. I noticed that many of the official Latvian government buildings still have bullet holes in their sidings from the Soviets during their independence declaration. This hit pretty deep as it both signaled a powerful historic message and a sign of the economic state of the country.
I got back on the train and returned to Lithuania, and grabbed dinner in an old historic restaurant that was touted by the Lonely Planet guidebook (#NotAnAd, though I would totally be willing to shill for them; fantastic products that have never let me down before!). I walked in, and in Lithuanian said Hello and Table for one please. The waitress led me to a table and gave me a long-winded spiel that I understood little of. I answered with Do you have an English menu? in Lithuanian and was greeted with a near VIP treatment. She asked, In English, how I learned her language and that if I was an expat; I told her my brief language learning tactics and that I was just a tourist from the US. Her eyes lit up as she then explained everything about the 15th century building we were in, the historic menu and other intricacies of the building. She even offered to let me tour the cellar of the building, and explained it’s royal medieval usage.
Ultimately, I came back home, thankful that I took the trip. I passed US Customs and the border agent asked me the standard security questions. She asked me what countries I visited and she needed further explanation. The border agent, like most Americans, didn’t know where the countries I had just came back from were, so I had to shorten it to “I was in Eastern Europe” and that was enough to satisfy her questioning and let me in. Ever since I got back two weeks ago, I’ve only ever wanted to get after it (at work, in writing, in fitness, and so on). I’ve also sent my passport for renewal, and I cannot wait to get back out and explore more of the world. Vacation successful!
While I intellectually knew that speaking the local language was endearing to the locals, it was absolutely reinforced during this trip. Speaking just a little bit of the Slavic languages opened doors to new experiences for me that otherwise would’ve remained closed. This trip further drove home the lesson that traveling off-season and traveling to non-tourist hubs (as my Latvian guide so eloquently put it) is rewarding as hell! I also learned, the hard way, my upper limit on how much dark tourism I am capable of; I had the chance to visit an old Nazi concentration camp and turned it down (which was my second time doing so). I never would’ve had any of these experiences had I just stayed home and played Final Fantasy 7.
Consider this trip my break-up from the controller.
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