I wake up. Itâs 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. Itâs a repeating pattern of blue flowers over a yellow background. I see it without thinking much, realizing Iâm still halfway between sleep and awakening. Itâs not often that this balance is so stable, so I decide to enjoy every second of it. I donât 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 Iâve 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 didnât 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 â I think sheâs still sleeping â I canât 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 thatâs what matters. Itâs 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 Iâm home alone I get this feeling of freedom, the feeling that I can do whatever I want. While this is technically true, I shouldnât give in to it. I have stuff to work on. Although, Iâm not exactly sure what, and in what order. And I see that thereâs dishes in the sink, I should clean them too. But first I should allow myself a little rest. Go to Youtube and see if thereâs something new and interesting. ⦠11:42. I should really get to work. See what I have to do and just start. Iâve been watching videos for over an hour now, thatâs typical. Oh yes, I have to write for Creative Writing. I want to write that auto-ethnography. It seems challenging, but I think itâs what I find the most interesting. Iâve 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. Itâs a topic I find truly interesting, but I canât seem to structure it right. After being stuck at two-thirds of the page for more than 15 minutes, I stop. Iâll finish it some other day. Or not, maybe I made it too difficult for myself, maybe I should just drop it. Iâm not sure what else I was supposed to be working on, and I let myself get distracted once again. Iâm annoyed that things are not going the way I hoped. I donât feel like trying to get anything done anymore, Iâm 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: Itâs 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. Iâm still annoyed by my lack of productivity from this morning, but the weather charges my annoyance into an energetic frustration, and I canât 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. Iâm sitting in the back of the trolley on my way to the university. Iâve 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 heâs slightly bigger than his seat, he occupies part of mine too. He doesnât smell great, but in the segment of over-fifty men on trolleys in Lithuania, heâs probably above-average. I suspect that he drinks. He might not be an alcoholic, but he simply doesnât look cared-for enough to be free from the stuff. One of the other men in the trolley starts talking to me in Lithuanian. Heâs 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 âno, sorryâ. I assume he wanted to ask me if I have a light or a cigarette. But he doesnât seem to be disappointed. Instead he sits down next to the fifty-something guy, and asks me where Iâm from. âYouâre from the Netherlands and you donât smoke?â is the somewhat mocking reply when I answer him. Iâm pretty sure that people here smoke much, much more than in the Netherlands, but I tactfully donât 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 doesnât speak more than two words of English. The younger guy tells me that heâs from Russia, that heâs 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 donât think of asking him what it is that he stole. Heâs clearly down on his luck. He looks about as well kept as the other guy. With a big smile on his face he says heâs 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. Heâs 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 âskinheadâ â although he didnât have the look, so up until now Iâm not sure what he really said â and he makes slow punching movements while he says something in Lithuanian. The younger man translates it: âhe hits wellâ. I smile and feign being impressed. Of course I couldnât 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 âtake careâ, which is my way of saying âplease donât drink yourselves into a comaâ. 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 arenât already taking part in society? The more I think about this, the more I dislike myself and my own assumptions. When someoneâs experience of the world is so drastically different from yours that itâs beyond comparison, thereâs no use in wanting that person to change. Itâs better to be friendly and not challenge their beliefs and lifestyle. Adapt, just for a moment, to their world and see the difference youâre making. As I wait for the light to turn green, I hear someone shouting behind me. âOlandija!â I turn around to see the two guys, the younger of which is shouting and lifting up his hands. I canât 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 itâs 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.