On the Saturday that I spent in Lithuania, I went with a few friends from my hostel dorm to see Trakai Island Castle, which is, well, it’s a castle on an island. Funnily enough.
The castle itself wasn’t particularly impressive. We all thought that it felt very “new”, and quite touristy – probably because most of the castles in Lithuania were originally wooden and didn’t survive the test of time. The view of the castle from the mainland, though, was quite pretty, if you could get a glimpse of it through the crowds of tourists.
What I found much more interesting was the activity on the footbridges across to the island. The locals clearly knew that tourists are the No. 1 way of making easy money, and they’d come up with all sorts of ways of doing so. There was a woman selling berries which she was clearly collecting from a tree right beside her makeshift “stall”. Why she thought she had the right to charge for these when it would have been perfectly acceptable for any one of us to go and pick a handful for ourselves is beyond me, but she seemed OK with it.
There was an awkward-looking man in welly boots by the water, presumably offering boat rides in cute little multi-coloured rowing boats.
But by far the most common sight (and sound) along the way was of buskers. Small ones. With recorders.
They didn’t seem to be making any money, but this was most likely because they were utterly crap. Somewhere, at some point, a small child has seen someone busking and thought “Aha! That clever person is getting money just by sitting with a cap in front of him and making a lot of noise with a musical instrument.” The small child, being quite resourceful, did his research and discovered that the cheapest musical instrument he could afford was a plastic recorder. Perhaps he purchased it, sat in the path of tourists, and received a lot of money because of the Ahh, how sweet! factor, I dunno. But anyway, the point is that all the children in the area saw this and felt that they were entitled to do it too.
And the thing is, they don’t even know how to play the things! All along the way, the air was filled with the non-too-melodic noise of small children blowing repeatedly into their recorders. Some didn’t even realise that those holes on the front might actually have a fairly essential function, and were simply blowing into the mouthpiece without even attempting to pretend to be playing a tune.
I can’t help but wonder what would happen if I tried this in Ballymena. Perhaps people would think I had serious issues, and give me money simply to pay for my therapy. Or perhaps, on the other hand, some Lithuanian practices are best left in Lithuania…
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Umm, and people were actually BUYING these berries?
People try to get money out of me every time I leave the house here. I’m seriously considering tying a sign around my neck with “I am unemployed” on it!
What about stopping people in Ballymena and offering to write them an instant personalised poem for a £1. What do you think you’d get?
bevchen – yes, I felt like screaming at some of the beggars in Lithuania and Poland. They seemed to think that because I had luggage, I was obliged to give them money. I wanted to explain that the luggage was all I had in the entire world, and that I barely had enough to feed myself with!
d@ve – you know what, that actually sounds like fun!! I could set up a little table at the bandstand or something. People might actually go for that one. Hmm….!
The poem thing happens in Before Sunrise!
Did it work in Before Sunrise?
I’ve heard some kids busking in Crete with an accordian and it sounded like someone puncturing a cat.
If you set up on the bandstand you will be evicted by those wot preach as they seem to have the franchise for that particular location.
