The Apartment + Arunas

Arunas Janeliunas, Internet Projects Manager at Verslo Žinios

Waiting for me around the corner is the man who will be my manager for the next three months. Arunas Janeliunas.

We shake hands, exchange some pleasantries, and I follow him into the entrance lobby of the apartment building. The building is new, and the reception desk looks more like something from a luxury hotel than a building in a former Soviet country...a preconception I was unaware I had.

The "Homeplug"

My living room in Vilnius

The building is modern, and Arunas takes the time to show me the little idiosyncrasies of my new place, the key must be turned a certain way, the stove has a manual, and most noticeable to me...the internet is running from a device connected solely through the  electrical outlet. The "Homeplug"—my new arch-nemesis.

We test the device by plugging a computer into it and seeing if it will connect to the internet. It does not. After exhausting every trick we can think of we are forced to see the owner of the building to find out why the homeplug is insisting on having a self-assigned IP address and no internet connection.

The building

We find the owner in his office and he accompanies up to the apartment and the offending device. He is also a font of information on the workings of the new apartment building, one he is obviously very proud of. When we arrive at my apartment door the owner shows me the, in my opinion, overly secure, massive deadbolt on my door. "Vilnius is a very safe city, but you should still lock your door" he needlessly instructs me, as if i were planning to leave the only belongings i have in the world right now in any kind of vulnerable situation. But he tells us about some other Americans that were staying there recently who continually left their door not only unlocked, but wide open throughout the day. I promise him i will do no such thing in an attempt to get him inside the door and onto the problem of the internet connection.

The owner insists that there couldn't possibly be any issues with the homeplug device, "I have one in my own place" he says, as if that mere fact should be enough of a testimonial to make us second guess our own experience. However, once he plugs his own computer into it he is immediately faced with the same problem we were.

The Cab Driver's Return

While we are all bent over the computer, back-seat-driving the owners troubleshooting, my cab driver from the airport suddenly appears in the doorway. "Your card", he exclaims as he proffers the credit card I had unsuccessfully tried to use to pay him. "Holy crap, thank you!" I respond without thinking, Iam even so grateful I grab the cab driver and hug him.

"See! Very safe city" the owner exclaims as the cab driver heads back downstairs, although both the owner and Arunas are obviously shocked by this seemingly altruistic act by none other than a dastardly Russian. I am not.

The excitement over, the owner leaves with the offending homeplug and a promise to return it, fixed, the next day.

The Arrival

"I love rock music" my Russian cab driver yells over the blaring radio.

I found him in front of the airport, along with a line of cabs waiting to take newly arrived passengers to their destinations. I chose him because he takes credit card, and he understands my Lithuanian translation app that i use to speak for me a little. I press the button to say "take me to this address" and point to the street address I have displayed on my Xoom in the email I received with allt he information on my new home. There is a quick discussion between the cab drivers and he decides, yes, he can take me there.

Now we are barreling through the narrow streets of Vilnius. He takes me the scenic way to the address, even I can tell, but it doesn't matter, I am tired and dazed but the city around me is amazing.

The apartment building, located in old town.

 We find the address and i give him my credit card, he inserts it into his card reader and waits for the transaction to complete. There is a problem. This is my first interaction with the credit card readers in Vilnius, they all take "chipped" cards, but i don't know that yet.

So he gestures and shows me that the card is not working. Fuck it, I think. "American dollars?", I ask. "Sure, sure, is ok", so I pull out some 20's as he points to the meter and writes down the conversion rate "$1 U.S. = 2.3 Litas" so i do the math on my phone's calculator. "Is this right?", I ask as i show him the result. "Litas" he says and points to the meter again. Our comunication is starting to break down.

I give up, pass him a couple of 20's and this seems to satisfy him greatly. We get out, he pulls my bags out of the trunk and helps me take them to the curb. I thank him for the ride and he says his goodbyes. That's the end of that...or so I think.