But you speak…

July 26

When I walked into the room at Vytautus Magnus University to take the summer course language test, I was handed two pieces of paper and told to sit anywhere at the large conference table. Others were already bent over their tests.

I looked at the papers I was handed, and began to sweat. One was an illustration of a family packing for vacation. The other contained several exercises, the instructions for which were all written in Lithuanian. I couldn’t really understand any of the instructions, but I was bound and determined not to end up in the beginner group. I didn’t want to waste my time relearning the grammar system and basic conversations. I would just have to exercise logic and guess at what they wanted.

I recognized the word paveikslas (picture or painting) in the first exercise, plus a form of the verb rašyti, to write. There were 10 blank lines under the instruction, so I guessed that they wanted us to describe what was going on in the illustration. My vocabulary is very limited, and I certainly didn’t know the words for many of the items pictured: a badminton shuttlecock, a fishing pole, a stuffed animal, a raquet, a blow-up ducky inner tube. I didn’t even know the words for packing, wearing, carrying or holding. Or vacation.

I resorted to first-grade sentences: There is a bird. There is a dog. There is a house. The man has a hat. (Has, has… wait, does the verb to have take accusative or genitive? What is the accusative ending for a feminine singular noun in the second declension? Crap, I should have this memorized by now.) The boy also has a hat. The woman has a dress with flowers. The woman has a purse. The girl is on the grass. The cat is in the car. The grandmother is in the window. The family is going to the sea and is happy. (Okay, that last one wasn’t actually illustrated so much as inferred, but I had to somehow demonstrate that I could put more than three words together.)

I got a bit of a break after that, because the next exercise was to conjugate two verbs in just the first person. Verbs I can do, most of the time. The present, past, future and past frequentive for the irregular verb būti, to be: aš esu (I am), aš buvau (I was), aš būsiu (I will be), as būdavau (I used to be). Now valgyti, to eat: aš valgau, valgiau, valgysiu, valgydavau.

Next exercise: a list of words at the top, and an equal number of sentences with blanks. I know a fill-in-the blank when I see one, but I had two problems. The first was that I have a limited vocabulary in Lithuanian and only recognized the root forms for about half of the words listed. The second problem was that I still cannot remember which endings go with which seven parts of speech in each of the five noun declensions. It’s essential to know them for sentences to make sense, especially as the ending of the word takes the place of a preposition in some instances, and sometimes the same ending indicates a different part of speech depending on whether the word is masculine or feminine and in which declension it is. For example, vyrai is nominative plural of the masculine noun vyras. But rankai is dative singular for the feminine noun ranka. I knew I’d be relying on logic and the process of elimination. If the sentence mentioned driving and a ticket, it must be the word that has bus as the root. I think I got about half right.

The final exercise consisted of 10 sentences each in a two-column grid, one column numbered and the other one preceded by letters. I finally got that the numbers across the bottom of the page with blanks under them meant that they were looking to match the statement in the first column with the correct response in the second. After matching “Merry Christmas” with “You, too” and a few other simple questions and answers concerning names, addresses and dorm room numbers, I had to again rely on logic and the process of elimination for the rest, but think I got them all.

After handing in the test, I joined the other students in the waiting area. Once the written tests are graded, you go back one by one for a short conversation to determine comprehension and conversational skill. Then they decide in which class you belong.

When I went back in, I was asked my name, and the teachers shuffled through the pile of papers to find my test. They looked it over and then asked in Lithuanian where I was from and why I wanted to learn the language. I answered in Lithuanian, telling them that I was studying in Philadelphia, that my teacher was from Kaunas and that all of my grandparents came from Lithuania. They looked a bit surprised, then pleased. We had a bit more small talk: what was my teacher’s name, from where in Lithuania did my grandparents come. Then they conferred.

Much to my surprise, I was given the choice to join either the advanced or intermediate group. They encouraged me to start in the advanced class, repeating, “But you speak…” I kept saying, “But not well… And my grammar is bad… And my vocabulary is small…” We agreed that I could start out in the intermediate class, but if either the teacher or I thought it was too easy, I could transfer to the advanced class before the end of the week.

I walked to lunch with a couple of other students, comparing notes on where we placed, and if we were happy. I was. Once I got back to the dorm, though, I couldn’t do much more than take a nap.

Off to school

July 18

The morning seemed to bode well, as we experienced our first shower in Lithuania that didn’t leak. I’m not sure why, but all over Europe, they seem to expect, and even encourage, bathroom flooding with drains in the floor, partial enclosures and raised tubs. The raised tubs are a bit of a hazard in my mind (and in my experience). I can’t imagine an older person or anyone with limited mobility climbing in and out of some of the tubs we had, as even we ended up black and blue for our efforts.

I was looking forward to getting to Kaunas to start the “Refresh in Lithuania” course but wanted to see Alex off. We waited in the tiny Vilnius oro uostas (very literally, air port) until her flight was called. I watched as she got through security, including a brief pat-down, then headed down the road to the train station, making the train to Vilnius station with seconds to spare.

I didn’t have much time to change trains at Vilnius station, which was huge, and I didn’t have a clue which platform to take. I figured that my best best would be to go to the ticket office and ask. I was, of course, on the furthest platform from the office, and had to drag my fully loaded suitcase down a flight of stairs and up another because there are no lifts. They do have ramps next to the steps, but they are so narrow that the suitcase wouldn’t fit in a way that I could effectively use the wheels. The ramps are also separated from the steps by a railing, so it was practically impossible to pull the suitcase by the handle because I had to reach up and over. After watching the suitcase twist and jam a few times I gave up and just lugged it up and down the stairs.

I bought my ticket and got to the right platform with time to breathe. I found a seat across from a woman who was eating a piece of fruit and said, “Atsiprašau,” which means “excuse me.” She moved her bag to accommodate mine. After a couple of minutes of adjusting and looking at each other, we somehow realized we were both American. Her name was Rasa, she lives in New Jersey, she directs the Lithuanian International Student Services (LISS) program, placing college students in summer internships in Vilnius and Kaunas, and she was headed to exactly the same destination that I was. We had a great talk, and I got her card for Alex. How perfect was that?

I highly recommend the Lithuanian rail system. Both trains I rode were either brand spanking new or maintained by a crack crew. They were spotless, comfortable, spacious, quiet, air-conditioned — and cheap. The seven-minute ride from the airport to Vilnius’s main station was 2.5 litai, about a dollar. The hour and 20 minute trip from Vilnius to Kaunas on the more expensive express train was 18 litai (a whopping $7.20). Septa regional rail and Amtrak are overpriced buckets of bolts in comparison.

The one thing I wasn’t looking forward to with dorm living (well, beside the fact that it’s dorm living) was sharing a small room with a stranger. I was surprised, but very happy, to learn that they somehow still had Alex on the housing list even though I notified them several weeks ago that she wouldn’t be coming. That meant the spartan, ex-Soviet-era-hotel-room-turned-dorm-room was all mine! The fifth-floor room has a nice view of the rooftops, but gets the afternoon sun, so it will get a bit warm for my liking.

I missed the opening reception for Refresh because I wanted to make sure Alex was on her way home. I called the program coordinator to find out where to meet for the first evening’s activity and she arranged for another course participant to swing by and pick me up. We picked up others and headed to a cafe in old town to get better acquainted. We played Uno over beer and kepta duona (the ever-popular fried bread with cheese snack). After racking up a huge score the first game–not the object, by the way–I won the next two by getting rid of all of my cards. Not bad for my first time ever playing. I got the feeling I was the only one in the group who could not hold a decent conversation fully in Lithuanian.

Back at the dorm, I was surprised to find that wifi was not available, so I texted Elena that we’d have to postpone Face Time until the next night, when I could go to the Akropolis or sit out in Laisvės Alėja to get free wifi. She texted back asking if I knew that Alex’s flight was cancelled. Because I left right for the train station after Alex went through security and hadn’t been online since, I hadn’t seen her Facebook posts. She never even got out of Vilnius. LOT put her up at the airport hotel overnight and give her vouchers for food. She was rebooked for the next day to fly through Amsterdam and then home. I felt horrible–I swear I will never book a flight on LOT again.

Next: first day of class