Chapters: In no particular order

Chapter One: Boys carry girls over bridges

"Tell me about the locks"
We heard it from behind and turned to find Anya, a not so short not so slim woman of Germany. Our English rang in her ears from across the bridge and she was not going to miss her chance to take part in local conversations. You see, Anya only just realized that she was unable to schedule in "meet real people" between her lonely planet self guided tours and snapshots of the more sanitary views of Vilnius. I removed my grasp on the lock I had chosen to prefer amoung the hundreds that were clasped along ever bare spindel of metal the bridge had.
"It is tradition" Justina replied and tradition took over our imaginations...

Tradition led us through the church doors, past the pews filled with white and the occasional flashy hat worn by "that crazy aunt so and so". Tradition led us straight into the back of the grooms head as tradition ate away at him and tested his abilities to say whatever vows needed to be said before tradition made him carry his girl across the bridge. It was as though we could see them two by two, year after year, teetering of the bridge with smiles and laughter. The family cheered them on as though they were winning a race. "She made it" a cousin would say. They made it. My imagination couldn't reach as far to see a skinny groom carry his plump bride across successfully but reality doesn't fit so I will choose to ignore it. Two by two the bound their love with a lock on the bridge. After exploring the varying aesthetics I realize that the lock is all show and only stands to prove the superiority of ones love compared to others. This lock is bigger, this one is fancier, this one is older.......they all think it. "How can we show that our love is greater by our lock?"

Justina and Anya laugh. I think they reached the part where they live happily ever after right when I thought of the part where two years later someone is looking to bust a lock open. He must not have made it all the way across the bridge I think to myself.

Chapter Two: Two Lithuanians.

Justina and I were walking up freshly watered pavement after a days rain in search of our own cleansing. Wine. Chocolate. Cheese. Maybe some gravel for the cats? As we approached one of the world's many internation versions of Walmart I suddenly realized that up ahead were the two Lithuanian guys I had met in Riga. I laughed out loud in shock and loud enough that they turned. "What the fuck?" we all laughed and howled in unison. It wasn't so much that we particularly felt bonded in some extraordinary way. It was more that of all the moments and all the places, they chose to walk out as I chose to walk in, and that is some what out of the ordinary. Apparently they had only just made it home after 3 hours of standing and waiting for a ride. I kept it to myself that it only took my a little over 3 hours to get from Riga to Vilnius and only about 5 minutes of that consisted of standing. I guess "the international hitch hiking color", yellow, which I had never heard of, wasn't such help after all.

Do we want tea, coffee? Justina and I didn't need much time to glance at each other and say no. An evening that had previously had no expectations at all just became a unanimous girls night. We didn't want to extend the few good moments we had with the boys in uncomfortable, forced ones. We wished them well and saught out provisions for the night. Red, white, dark, sharp, and gravel for the cats.

Chapter Three: Poland?

No, Prague. I don't feel the need to explain myself, I just had no desire to spend a considerable amount of time there. I rode the bus from Vilnius to Prague, straight through Poland, with no feelings of remorse. Sure, Poland is a worthy country and should be explored but the winds were high in my mind and I blew right over it. After 16 hours of the drive through version of Poland I am wishing I would have done it with my thumb out in the air as opposed to with my ass stuck in a chair. Oh well. I made it and it is wonderfull. Last night I met Eric, the Canadian, near Albert, the grocery store. I bathed, we drank beer (oh yeah, the beer here....so good, so cheap), and he sang me some songs that I with all of the Plummer School House gang could hear. His song of suasages was the perfect opening act for Train Grease In My Vagina. For those of you that no what I am talking about, there is no explanation needed. As for the rest of you.....I am not going to give an explanation. Eric kicked me out this morning and I am now staying with yet another incredible woman.........

I can't wait to tell you about her. I am going to get to know her now so that I can do just that.