It was December of 2009. I was listening to Riley Lee in the cold corner of my garage wondering why I couldn’t just be laying in the warm sun. Nothing against the cold, just curious. Then, in February of 2010, as I was playing chess with my friend R. at a Writer’s Union cafe, she suggested I should get to know Julio Cortazar. As I was getting to know him, both contexts came together in one - I decided to go to Paris.

The night before my trip, cigarettes were smoked, songs were played, and stories were told in the moonlit balcony and as always, Andrius Romaska didn’t get home on time. Preparation for the trip was once again put off for the last day, which was doomed to be full of stress, hurry, and sweat. I took my last sip of beer at big R.’s home and the outline of the airport was soon in front of my eyes.

As I was sitting on the plane, I didn’t feel like I was doing anything different or unusual. As it would soon turn out, I’d feel this way throughout the whole trip. It just felt like everything was in place. Without having a place to sleep, I stared into the night’s sky without feeling stressed or nervous as I would during my previous trips. I was just in the moment. And unlike my previous trips, I had no desire to meet any Lithuanians or to go home. I was happy despite my geographical location under the sun. I was happy because I existed. Because I was alive.

It would be pointless if I told you, my dear reader, about every single adventure I had. The meaning of the trip was not just in the special, critical situations called adventures. It was in every different emotion and moment that I experienced. For a week after my trip, I lived and played music with one of my friends who heard how everyone kept asking me about the adventures I had during the trip and how it was overall. We both realized that what you experience is simply incommunicable. No matter what I say, my words won’t take you to the same state that I was in. They won’t take you to a different time, a different place. The only meaningful thing I could do is share the energy I gained during the trip with others. Whether directly or through a piece of art.

Well, until I figure out how to express my emotions and experiences in a different, more decent way, I’ll continue my nonsense and share a few moments and thoughts from my trip.

I felt like I was protected throughout the whole trip. The first night confirmed this. As I was getting ready to spend the night at the airport, a nice man, D., was sent from the night. At eleven-thirty, we were already stepping into a Belgian pub together. Blues, rock and roll, tipsiness from the beer, all while my coursemates were probably studying some nonsense back at home. But I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Amazing. Adding to the fun was the fact that D. only spoke French and I only spoke English. I once again became sure that language was not a barrier. I got a great night’s sleep at my friend’s home. D. offered to take me to the gas station so I could find a ride to France. We drove about 35-45 kilometers. I realized that if it wasn’t for D. taking me to the gas station, I would have really been in a pickle. The only thing that had me worried was the fact that after the first day, I had already somehow spent half of my money at the pub.

I was nervous to ask people for a ride at the gas station. I ate the last bits of cookies for some confidence and pulled out a slip of paper with some French phrases that G. had written down after she came back from Paris right before my trip. I approached the first car by which a nice couple was standing. I asked them where they were going and they said Paris. When I asked for a ride, the man didn’t even hesitate to say “yes!”.

The atmosphere in the car was great. Two bio-scientists who had just recently fallen in love were headed to Paris. I could just sit there and enjoy the aura of love. But we ended up talking quite a bit. And it wasn’t just small talk about the population and culture of Lithuania or other subjects that always come up when speaking with foreigners. We got along very well and didn’t avoid sharing any personal details or jokes. During the later part of the trip, when we were talking about music, it turned out that they had some Bob Marley music in the car with us. Redemption Song began to play. I was enjoying myself in the back seat while the couple were enjoying each other. Paris. When we arrived, they gave me their phone number in case I needed to call in an emergency. Thanks to them.

The city of love was rainy. And cold. I was surprised by the abundance of table tennis and table football in the park. My gosh, if my former classmate N. and I were there, nobody could have possibly ever made us leave. I roamed around Paris, trying to get used to it, occasionally sitting down by the Seine or some other spot to read about Paul Gauguin or to study reading musical notes for my small instrument. Even though before the trip I was really into Witold Gombrowicz, I brought a copy of The Moon and Sixpence, which disappointed me a bit because of what an easy read it was. Nevertheless, the life of Paul Gauguin perfectly illustrates the fact that it’s never too late to start something new.

As it began to get dark, I started to search for a place to sleep. I didn’t even know where I was going and didn’t use a map. I just went. I went to a store and imagined that I was buying a baguette and some wine before returning to my Parisian home. After a while of wandering around, I found some sort of an abandoned park. This was where I would sleep. But since the clock was only showing 10 pm, I decided to explore Paris at night.

I don’t know what happened next. It’s still a bit of a blur. I delved into the amazingly lit narrow streets. My eyes half open. My head dizzy.

I headed back to “my” park, pulled out my sleeping bag and fell asleep gazing at the Eiffel tower through the treetops. I woke up a few hours later because of the unbearable cold. I tried to make a fire with the last of the matches B. had given me but they weren’t enough. I delved into the cold for a few more hours. At about 5 am, completely freezing, I went on to explore Paris.

It finally felt at least remotely like spring. I visited so many places and loved exploring Paris without a map. It was also fun to read the novel by William Somerset Maugham that I mentioned, which was also set in the capital of France. I knew the exact places of the districts he wrote about. Once again, I was reminded of how amazing traveling alone is - you could just lay down on a little hill for hours, then sit down at a park with a book or musical instrument and stay for as long as you wanted. You could walk for hours and hours and nobody would be there to complain.

I returned to the same forest for the night. It felt like I had an actual home in the capital of France. I returned armed with 720 matches - hoping that would be enough this time. I fell asleep. Just like the night before, I woke up because of the cold. I made a fire but it wasn’t going to last long because the firewood was wet. Once again, I had to bear the cold. At about 7 am, I headed toward Montmartre.

I made it to Monmartre in about half a day. It was absolutely fascinating. It’s a shame that such places often become taken over by commerce and the magic more or less fades away. As I was on the hill of Montmartre, I decided that tomorrow I’d go explore more places in France. I wasn’t too pleased with the thought of returning to the same park for the night, so I headed toward Gare de Lyon - the main train station in Paris. I reached it at about 9 pm and was “pleasantly” surprised to find out that it wasn’t going to work at night. But I decided to leave Paris that same night.

Not my brightest idea. I spent the night walking through some of the most dangerous districts in Paris. This was probably the first and only time I felt anxious during the trip. A few times, I actually thought I’d have to drop my backpack and defend myself from some suspicious nightwalkers. But I was protected. It rained all night. After three days on my feet and no sleep whatsoever, I didn’t feel too amazing. I considered hopping into the bushes for some sleep but after taking a closer look, I saw that they were all soaked. At about 1 am, I finally reached a decent-looking Paris suburb. I realized that I had no idea where I was, so I just decided to leave that issue for tomorrow morning. I lay down on a bench in a dark park. There were a couple of people chatting on another bench but I didn’t even care anymore.

At 6 am, I was on my feet again. I walked for a few hours, still unsure of whether I was going in the right direction. After six hours of walking, I noticed a small sign pointing to a police station of a small town. Somewhat naively, I was hoping that they would take me to a hitchhiking stop or at least let me use Google Maps. It’s important not to lose hope on trips like this, after all. But the gendarmes just told me to go to the station which I had just walked twelve hours from and added that "It is imposyyyble to hitchhike here". They didn’t let me use the internet, either. Well, at least at the end of our conversation, after I asked two times if I was going toward Reims, they said yes. A couple of more hours later, I reached another small town which had a highway entrance. I wrote down “Reims” on a piece of paper and began to hitchhike.

Once again, it was raining. One man stopped but he could only drive me 20 kilometers, so I kindly refused. Nobody stopped for about half an hour. I decided to go down to the highway and stand there instead of just the entrance of the highway, though I figured that probably wasn’t allowed. A Chinese couple stopped but I once again had to decline the short ride they could offer. A police car drove up to me with flashing lights, so I decided to act like a clueless foreigner. I didn’t get a fine, I was just angrily escorted to the highway entrance and instructed to hitchhike from there. I was getting more and more soaked and tired. For the first time throughout the trip, I began to swear. If you were me in this situation, would you have ever thought that that same evening you’d be a hundred and fifty kilometers away, sitting in the center of Reims, eating a fancy dinner and drinking wine? Probably not.

After about half an hour, an Indian stopped with his small truck and drove me ten kilometers, so I was able to warm up a bit. About fifteen minutes later, another person stopped and offered to drive me another ten kilometers. Well, since my next best option was to continue standing in the rain, I kindly accepted. It’s because of people like this that you never forget being on the road. At first, this man, who had a perfect British accent, just wanted to learn who I was, where I was going and why. But after that, I just sat quietly and listened to him. This person was born in Kenya, traveled the world when he was just 17, graduated in England, lived and worked in Israel, the US, and France. His motto for every single situation he’d been in was “Life is fun”. When we started to talk about women, R. said that he is very much enjoying his life without them right now because there’s nobody to hold him back from self-development or moving forward. But he told me that when he was working in Israel, he had someone very special who he was planning to spend his future with. But as she was waiting at a bus stop one day, a terrorist came and killed himself along with everyone else at that bus stop. I looked at him with terror in my eyes. But R. just smiled and said, "That's ok Andrius. Life is fun, life is fun". I glanced at the GPS. There were only 8 kilometers left to Reims. R. drove an extra hundred and forty-something kilometers just for me, not to mention that he also had to drive all the way back and paid an extra 15 euros for tolls. I was completely touched as I stepped out. Thanks to R.

In Reims, I had arranged a place to stay three days from then through the Couchsurfing platform. But in the state I was in, I just rang the doorbell on the night before Easter. Of course, the nice young hostess accepted me but I still felt very uncomfortable. Along with her, her mother, and a few friends, we had a delicious lunch. After that, we headed to the center of Reims to meet up with some other friends of hers. I felt even more uncomfortable. But the friend whose home we went to welcomed me very warmly and kept me company. Despite how uncomfortable I felt, the atmosphere in the room was fantastic. French eating traditions, wine, Sangria, the beautiful night sky through the window, the fascinating lighting of the room, and the French language. Well, unfortunately, at that moment my body had reached its limits. I thought I’d faint right there, at that table, so I held my fists clenched under the table. Thankfully, we didn’t stay too long after that and I successfully made it home. Once I got some sleep, I said goodbye to the hospitable people. It was raining and I was once again on the street.

After the night I had, I felt lazy. I didn’t want to go anywhere that day. I called a few people from Reims but nobody answered. I sat in the cold cathedral for a while and received a call from a man who lived nearby. I gave him a visit and found out just how much a person can learn in one day. I had an amazing night with the harmonica master. R. taught me how to play the Chinese Go and gave me some great music and book recommendations. We enjoyed some Picon Beer and spent the night watching movies of David Lynch. Putting all the new stuff aside, I really enjoyed R.’s company. No barriers. No awkwardness. In the morning, he showed me the direction to Lille and I took off with the sun once again.

I sat down by the river to relax a bit. I wasn’t in any hurry. Music by the Irish band Flook was playing. Instead of taking the highway, I decided to go to Lille through a side road along the highway so that I could admire the small French towns. Well, I didn’t get to admire them for too long because I soon got lost and my map wasn’t being any help, so I decided to search for the highway. As I was searching, I discovered a closed road section of about 3 kilometers. There were no cars or people in sight. I had 3 kilometers completely to myself. Magnificent. Later, I started to regret my decision not to stay the night. It was about 7 pm, the highway was still nowhere to be seen, and there were still more than one hundred and fifty kilometers left to Lille. Nevertheless, I was completely at peace. In half an hour, I reached a peage (a toll for the highway). Soon, a young man stopped who didn’t speak any English and agreed to take me to Lille. Oasis was playing. The bridges on the way to Lille were beautiful. I’m sure most of you don’t pay attention to things like this but to me, they were just perfect. At about 9 pm, the man dropped me off by the Lille station. Thanks to him.

I tried to call a girl who was from there but she didn’t answer, so I tried to find the number of another person who lived in Lille but it turned out that I hadn’t even written down the full number. A man came to me offering some weed. I declined. I began to feel uncomfortable in this district. For some reason, I decided that I should walk 20 kilometers to one of the beautiful bridges and smoke a cigarette there. I walked through the dark highway while singing my lungs out. After about an hour of singing, a car stopped, although I hadn’t even asked for it to. Two men were sitting inside. They didn’t look too trustworthy but I got in anyway. I didn’t even understand where they were headed but I was as calm as ever, so I certainly didn’t care. With a thick accent in English, the men tried to figure out where I was going. I wasn’t going to say that I was looking for the perfect bridge, so I just made something up. After a while, they had to turn away from the highway. They stepped out to stretch and we headed our separate ways. Thanks to them. After about an hour, I finally found a bridge and climbed under. Car lights flashed below and my cigarette smoke swirled above me. After completing my ritual, I bundled up in my sleeping bag and fell asleep. It was freezing. How else could it be?

It was a sunny morning. I headed to the nearest town to buy some French bread. After enjoying it in the sun, I decided to continue hitchhiking and headed toward the highway. After climbing over lots of fences and walking along the highway, I began to hitch at the entrance of the highway. But soon, a police car stopped with flashing lights and they just seated me inside without saying a word. I thought I’d be taken to the police station for sure. But they just dropped me off on a small worthless road that was headed to Lille. I managed to stop a Ukrainian truck driver and broke my record for the shortest hitchhike – I traveled about one kilometer with him. After wandering around a bit, I found another highway entrance. Shortly after that, a man stopped offering to take me to Lille. He was about 35 to 40 years old and seemed like a very nice and innocent man. Like he hadn’t yet been ruined by all of the bad things in life. When we were discussing the Lille football team, I asked him if he ever went to these games. He said that his wife didn’t like football. I thought he didn’t understand my question, so I asked again. He said that he understood my question but he just didn’t go anywhere without his wife, including football games. Well, there you go.

Once I got to Lille, I got in touch with one girl who I hoped would arrange me a place to sleep. We were supposed to meet at the station in the evening. After enjoying the sun, I headed to the station. I met M., who was accompanied by a German girl. M. said that a friend of hers would welcome me for the night. That friend joined us after a while. We just hung out all around Lille talking about cultural differences and whatnot. At about 9 pm, we headed to a bar in which there was going to be a Couchsurfers’ meetup. I felt extremely uncomfortable. I didn’t know anyone there, although the people did seem interesting. After a while, some young Swiss men came and we found lots in common and had a good laugh together. But right in the middle of all the fun, we had to go home. Early in the morning the next day, after spending the night at S.’s place, I was back on the road.

The police pretty much became a daily part of my trip. In the morning, the police once again seated me in their car and drove me away to the outside of Lille. They were kind of like a taxi at that point:) The sun was shining, so I lay down on the grass in the middle of a roundabout. Cars were driving around me in circles and I just relaxed there for a few hours. I was at peace. But when I saw how dark the clouds had gotten, I forced myself to get up. After walking for a bit, I tried to get a ride from someone who was headed toward Valenciennes. After about forty-five minutes, a man stopped, saying “get in, get in, quickly”. He was a very interesting person to listen to. Quite experienced in life. He gave me lots of useful tips about traveling and US organizations. He offered to buy me lunch at a fast food place in Valenciennes but I declined. Thanks to him. When I arrived, I started to explore. It was a very charming town. One of the coziest ones I’d been to on this trip. At about 2 pm, I found a remote court where a man was playing petanque. Gradually, other men joined him and it turned into a serious match. I spent about three hours there. I just couldn’t leave. But the clouds were getting dark again, so I decided to head toward the highway. This is when the hard part of the trip began.

Once I left Valenciennes, I had no idea where I was or in what direction I was going. I went to a store and bought so much food that I could barely zip my backpack. It was raining and getting dark. I squatted under a bridge. Then, I began to sing a song that sounded sort of like a chant and walked through the dark highway. Not wanting to meet yet another policeman, I walked through the little “jungle” separating the two opposite ways of traffic. I struggled to make my way through the bushes, walking through huge puddles, and as if this wasn’t enough, it started to pour. My clothes were completely stuck to my body. But I tried to get rid of all negative thoughts, so I just sang. I was hoping to find a bridge under which I could get some sleep. After a couple of hours, I reached a sign that showed me I was going in the right direction. After another half an hour, the outline of a bridge appeared in the dark. I was overwhelmed with joy. The bridge was suitable. Soaking wet, I bundled up my in my sleeping bag and fell asleep.

It was a gloomy morning. I could barely move my freezing clothes and body. Well, at least I knew where I was. I decided to take some side roads toward Belgium. After a long time of walking, I got back on the road. About forty-five minutes later, an elderly man stopped. Once again - a person who had much to talk about. He was an architect. I told him I was a math enthusiast, so he told me some interesting tricks and facts about math. I was dropped off in some strange town. The road signs were very puzzling, so I felt lost once again. But after pulling myself together and walking for quite a bit, I was back on the road. After half an hour, a nice man stopped offering to drive me 3 kilometers. I kindly accepted. Another completely innocent man who hadn’t been ruined by all of the bad things in life. I felt very comfortable in his car. After driving three kilometers, he offered to take me to the Belgian border. Perfect. I asked for some reggae. At the Belgian border, the man said, "ok, you are nice, I take you to the airport". These kinds of acts truly touch you and get you thinking about the egoistic thoughts that often pop up in your head. We talked a bit more about the man’s life, had a few laughs, and soon, I was already at the airport. I felt uplifted.

I finished Maugham’s book over the evening, played some music, dried my socks, and then finally bundled up in my sleeping bag. At about 4 am, a guard woke me up telling me to get out of the way. Since my flight was only the next day, I knew that I would bore myself to death at the airport, so I headed toward Charleroi. Guess who stopped by me as I was walking along the highway? You guessed it. Once again, I was forced to travel through the side roads. I came across a small market, bought myself some chocolate milk and chocolate waffles, and decided to call it the end of my trip at this cozy place. I decided not to head to the city anymore when I came across a monastery. I climbed over a mini fence and walked to a distant garden. It was divine. The sun, birds, wet lawn, statues. I was completely relaxed and enjoying everything. I just started to speak with myself. After a while, a nun approached me but left right away when she saw how deep in meditation I was. Then, she came back again. But once again, she was quiet. I decided to leave this place. I approached a couple of monks taking care of the garden, said hello to the same nun, and offered her a waffle. Then, I went back to the airport and tried to keep myself busy until the nighttime. It turned out that a few other Lithuanians were going to spend the night there with me but I just wanted to be with myself. I pulled out my sleeping bag and fell asleep.

My flight was coming up. This was it, folks. I was just as calm throughout this flight as I was during the one two weeks ago. Once I got off the plane, I headed toward the doors of Karmėlava airport. My trip was over. But a couple of my friends, J. and A., decided to make me a surprise - they unexpectedly appeared at the airport and insisted on buying me some soup. It was amazing to just sit there, still a bit disoriented, but knowing that I wasn’t alone on the road.

The geographical destination of my trip was Paris. I’m sure that I’ll return there one day to play some great games. That city is just perfect for them. There will never be too many games in Paris, especially when the wine there is so cheap.