The moment I saw the heavily embroidered sleeves, I began looking for an escape route. The uniforms were not terrifying, nor did the men and women wearing them look particularly menacing. Typically I encourage tipping of street performers (especially if you post photos or video to Facebook or Instagram), but costumed “performers” have always been a quandary. Is putting on an unauthorized Mickey Mouse suit and posing with kids in Times Square really performing? Costumed characters already are so prevalent, I’ve thrown money in the hat for Spider-Man in Venezuela, Generic Panda Guy in Paris and Levitating Jesus in Madrid. Originally, the plan for the day, after two weeks in Latvia and Lithuania, had been to hunker down in the hotel room, despite being in the middle of Vilnius’ historical center, until it was time to catch a cab to the airport. The places and people in these Baltic states had exceeded my expectations, but the strangeness of foreign places that I seek out at the beginning of a trip — few recognizable meals, constant linguistic bungling and only random moments of familiarity — often wear me down by the end. Locked in the hotel, I had managed to shun further exploring, even while surrounded by cultural wonders and rare opportunities. Eventually, curiosity about the cathedral across the street pried me from the room and my self-pity. At the cathedral, I noticed the dramatic statue of some medieval leader, which in turn lured me past the museum, into a tree-shaded park and up a hill of crude cobblestones. The road ended at the castle courtyard, near the tower, where the costumed group stood — the group that had started singing. By the third song, I recorded some audio, knowing I might use it later, and tried to find a way to tip them and talk with them. [...] at a break in the music, I approached. Any other time, it would have been the universal opening line of tip-seeking street performers. “Please tell them their music fills my heart,” I said, clasping my hands to my chest. There were hugs and handshakes, kisses on the cheek and “Farewell” butchered in two languages, until I had to walk away — before I got too misty. Walking the cobblestones back down, I thought about having been “too tired,” and about past times I didn’t go out to explore more.
Comment on Departures: Power of surprise kindnesses in travel
By Spud Hilton, San Francisco Chronicle: Travel
Sat, 03/28/2015 - 1:33am
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