In the morning a Georgian guy checked into the hostel who’d just arrived from St Petersburg. He was supposed to start his university studies there but upon arrival his visa was canceled and he was evicted to Belarus.
Back at the police station at ten. ещё ждать. I was done with all the paperwork at quarter to 2pm. Then they took my fingerprints as well and I couldn’t opt out of it anymore. Everything was done by 3pm and I was free to go wherever.
The only real option for leaving today was the 7.52pm train to Vilnius/Lithuania. All other plans have fallen victim to time.
The lady at the ticket office insisted that the bike would be carried free of charge and didn’t want to sell me a second (normal) ticket for it, but also said that there would be no luggage car on the train. I was mentally preparing for a similar struggle as on the trip from Brest to Minsk.
And it got even worse. The train is one of Lithuanian Railways; modern, Diesel driven, and with nice hangers for bicycles. I happily hopped on, hung the bike, and was stopped dead in my tracks by a stern but composed conductress. She explained that it was impossible to transport the bike like this (i.e. in one piece). It would be ok in either Belarus or Lithuania (with extra tickets, of course), but under no circumstances would it work across the border. Why, she couldn’t say. I’d have to take it apart. Wtf?
After some explaining back and forth I finally succumbed one last time to Belarusian bureaucrazy [sic] and detached the wheels and lashed them to the frame. What difference does it make, I wonder. It takes more space (3 seats instead of 1), it can’t be hung at the hangers designed for it, it’s got a few more scratches, and I got dirty fingers. Wtf.
I haven’t been to a less bike-friendly country, over all. On the other hand, in Germany it is 100% impossible to take a bike on a train that is not designed for it, like the ICE. There is no option of buying a second ticket. On an IC, if in fact there is space but you haven’t got a reservation before embarking, the conductor will refuse transportation. Unlike Belarus, where you just buy a second ticket on the train, and on top the conductress will wrap the bike in plastic bags so it doesn’t wet the seats.
In hindsight, of course, it’s not a big deal to take off the wheels. Two minutes. There is, however, a massive mental barrier that makes me want to keep the bike in one piece.
Anyway, enough of the ranting. My mood is not as bad as it may sound. In fact it is quite good, for I have 1.5 days of exploring Vilnius ahead of me, including some bouldering and, weather permitting, cycling and photographing. And I already love Vilnius. It has that charming, somewhat run-down feel to it, with old seemingly wooden houses right in the city. I also received my dinner for a ridiculous small price, a million sorry’s, and free ice cream and free beer on top just because there was a wee tiny snail in the salad (apparently very fresh).
Everything will be better from now on anyway. The grass is always greener on the other side (of the border).
