A military march in April
April 17, 2016 - Somewhere in Eastern Europe
Lithuanian woods in the spring. A greyish brown ground, dead leaves still in decomposition. It has been raining recently. The smell of moss and mud is ever present. Now and then, tiny fragile flowers are blooming. They are of a deep or light purple depending on their youth and the light through the pines trees. Trunks are thinner than in Canada and, midway through their height, their shade is turning from brown to red. They are tall, thin, close together. When wind is whistling though, their complaint can be heard, a creaking sound as they brush against each other.
The sky is grey, it is not raining anymore. A light wind blows, a river slowly flows by, a few birds sing in the trees. Lying down in the grass of a clearing, looking at the branches moving in the wind, the clouds floating by, grey on grey, the wind brushing my face, I could have fallen asleep.
I had arrived in Vilnius (Lithuania) by the 7:25 a.m. bus from Warsaw (Poland). The night had been cramped and uncomfortable as only a 450 kilometres bus ride can manage. After checking my bag for the day and grabbing a quick breakfast in an attempt to wake up, I had met my host Jamil with whom I took the direction of the train station to participate in a hike in the countryside. I was somewhat exhausted but excited to see nature, to be able to reconnect with the simplicity of grass and wind rather than the complexity of people and concrete.
Waiting for the train that would take us to Vievis, I realized the group we were joining comprised no less than twenty-eight Lithuanian and a Latvian dog (my only foreigner fellow)… So much for solitude.
From Vievis, we had started on what I could only describe as a military march. We had followed the river’s meandering path for twenty kilometres already. Four hours of hiking were behind us. This was our second break. The first one had lasted 15 minutes. Not one more. Just enough time to gulp down some much needed sustenance. Our sergeant, the one with the map, the watch and, judging from the way he walked, a conceivably blistered wooden leg, had made sure we weren’t slaking off.
The woods would have been a benediction, if only we could take time to breathe… But this wasn’t supposed to be a leisurely walk, we had to reach Rykantai in time to hop back on the train to Vilnius. No time to enjoy the changing colours of the scenery, or feel the light breeze, or smell the sweetness of flowers, or feel the damp under-bush, or connect with the trees, or hear the slow river… Time was wearing thin, we had to march on, even faster.
We covered the mere thirty-one kilometres in a little less than six hours, caught the train, arrived in Vilnius, had a quick beer, and caught the bus to go home.
Relaxation is overrated.
A race through the forest perfectly illustrating my mad dash through the East, through Strasbourg, Nuremberg, Munich, Prague, Olomouc, Krakow, Warsaw, Vilnius, Riga, Tallinn, and Helsinki. All this in a little less than a month.
No time to breathe, Russia doesn’t wait. March on.
