In the spring of 2007, I had just finished my internship in Vienna, Austria, so I was ready to have a few more adventures before debt threw me on a plane back to Canada. My uncle Paul had always told me that our Grandma Omi’s family lived in Vilnius, Lithuania, I felt this was a chance to reunite with a blood line, I had never met before.
Making the proper arrangements, I departed Vienna on a night train towards Warsaw, where I would spend a few days. I had a little bed on the train, so the sleep was alright. When I arrived in Warsaw, I quickly darted to the bus to find my hostel.
The plan at this time was to spend two days exploring Warsaw, and then hit a night bus to Vilnius.
Warsaw was not the greatest city I had visited, being in Krakow with my fiancé two months prior made this Polish capital quite bland and a little boring.
Much of Warsaw was destroyed in WW2, so the architecture was quite modern. There was a little portion of the old town, which was so small it merely killed 20 minutes. Perhaps had I been in a better hostel with a livelier crowd, or had a travel companion for this particular trip; my opinion of Warsaw would not be so hardened.
Finally, the time had come to hop on the night bus to get in touch with my family.
Arriving early at the bus depot, as I am quite known for, I sat in a crowded bus hall for two hours. Finally it was time to line up, so I headed outside to the lane where the bus will arrive to pick us up, carrying my large backpack and my small backpack stuffed to capacity, I was weighed down, tired, sweaty and exhausted.
As well, little did I know that the Polish Eurolines loves to overbook their buses, then not reimburse the unlucky few that do not athletically make the cut, so I made an alliance with a Lithuanian girl, hoping this would pay off?
Another tidbit about Polish buses is that they are famously known for their tardiness, which in this case was 2 hours late, goodie!! Seeing the bus pull near was a wonderful site, but I soon realized my relief was short lived as the competition to get on the bus began. Knowing my family would be waiting for me at 6am at the bus station in Vilnius, I had to be quick.
Disadvantage!! Travelling alone with a large backpack that has to be stored under the bus in Eastern Europe, bad idea! Everyone charged the bus like angry rhinos; I threw my backpack under the bus and sprinted for the entrance. Using muscle, force and determination, I squeezed through to notice, SHIT!! There were not many spots left.
Beads of sweat dropping down my forehead, the nervousness building in my stomach, preparing for disappointment, I heard a heavenly sound shout my name, “Roy”. I looked up and there was my ally, she had saved a seat for me, she reached out through the masses of huddled bodies, also frantically searching for a seat, and grabbed my small backpack from me and by slam dunking it on the seat, my spot had been claimed.
What a relief, she had saved me a lot of trouble. So here I was on my way to Vilnuis to meet my family. The overnight ride was horrendous, this old, pleasantly plump gentleman with raging body odour, the kind that lingers in the air and needs an exorcism to rid the world of this stench, reclined his seat into me. Behind me, a person who decides that he has to bring a large piece of luggage and cram it in between his feet, refused my right to recline.
I address body odour man, a great name for a superhero, fends off evil doers with his stench, “Excuse me”. He waves a hand and mumbles something in a language I am not familiar with, so there I was, sitting upright all night as the bus weaved through curvy roads in the dark, trying to sleep.
Finally, my destination, Vilnius Lithuania, I gladly hop off the bus and tap into my renewed spirit to find my relatives. I quickly found my ride, as I recognized a family member through an old photo that my Uncle Paul had given me. After greetings, I hop in the car and meet her daughter, who speaks fantastic English.
She informs me of the plan, but also informs me that no one else speaks English. Wow, I thought, this is going to be a little awkward, but who does not like the challenge of an awkward situation. I arrived at the house, had a slice of homemade pie, was like a warm hug in my stomach, and then fell asleep on the couch.
At ten in the morning, I awoke to an old man with some missing teeth peering over me with a weird smile. Startled, I stare at him wondering who the hell this is. It is Vladimir, the husband of my Great Grandma’s niece. Still smiling, with two of his fingers he starts tapping his neck.
I have no idea what to make of this, but it appears as if I should reciprocate the gesture. Tapping my neck with my fingers, he immediately laughs and pulls out a 26 of Vodka with two shot glasses and pours us a couple shots.
It being the morning and with an empty stomach, I grin, grab the shot and slam it back. Needless to say it burned all the way down to my stomach, like someone had opened my mouth and poured a shot of Tabasco sauce down my throat.
Again, he starts tapping his neck, this time with more enthusiasm. I have justified one more in my head because how much more can we do? I tap, he draws, vodka in shot glass, burning stomach; wash, rinse, repeat, right?
Oh man, he is tapping again, so I say the only Russian word I know at this time “Niet”. Thinking this may be enough, I repeat. He starts laughing and continues to tap. Realizing my futile attempt to say No, I have another couple. Finally, it ends when his wife enters the room, grabs the bottle and yells “Niet”.
Relieved, I finally got to eat breakfast, buzzed as I was, it was amazing food. This story always reminds me of good times travelling, stories I would never trade for anything, the things that have created who I am.
Therefore, with many great friends, I have orally told them this story, and subsequently bought them vodka shot by tapping my neck with two fingers. This is my way of introducing people to the two finger tap.
In that case, if you ever see me in a pub and I tap my fingers to my neck, this is a non-verbal sign for Vodka shot. Keep in mind that in order to be a part of the shot, one must tap their neck in approval. Once a neck is tapped, there is no backing out; everyone must buy their own shot, unless a brave sole decides to burn a whole in their wallet. This usually occurs after a few “Night Caps”, refer to previous article.
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