Moments: Being scammed by an elderly Lithuanian woman

The full entry about my experiences in Lithuania is still to come, however I really wanted to capture this moment in time. I’ve used tags before about ‘moments’ – those magic moments and experiences that in so many ways encapsulate why it is that I love travelling and seeing the world. I had one of those in Lithuania which I’d really love to share.

Approaching the end of my time in Vilnius, Lithunia just a couple of weeks ago, I knew I had way too many Lithuanian Litas left. I decided that rather than exchanging it for another currency, I’d buy myself a present, and I wanted to buy a scarf. Scarves, as in light scarves, have been the most practical addition to my travel wardrobe this year. If it is sunny they help to protect me from sunburn (a relevant thing when you look more like a Scandavian in winter than Australian) and if it is a bit windy you can wrap it around you and it provides that bit of extra warmth. On transport they can fold up and be a pillow. And sometimes when going into churches and places, it helps you to feel somewhat more ‘appropriate’ if you chose a lower top that day. Moreover, they fold up small so they don’t take up much room in your luggage. I’d seen some gorgeous scarves around the various market stalls in the old town but hadn’t looked at prices, just seen the rows and rows of various colours in all their gorgeous glory. I was on my way back from the bus station and headed past the market hall, which was a ‘to see’ in my siteseeing anyway, so I headed in.

Market hall in Vilnius, Lithuania

I saw a gorgeous, gorgeous little stall, like in an enclosed area, with hundreds upon hundreds of scarves in rows from floor to ceiling in all different colours. I stepped in to take a look and I’d been in there no longer than about ten seconds before the stall owner popped up from nowhere, she’d grabbed a scarf from the wall that matched the royal blue shirt I was wearing, and she draped it around me. She began to speak to me in Lithuanian. She was an older woman, probably in her sixties, and I said, “I’m sorry, I speak English.” She wasn’t deterred, despite not knowing a word of English, pulling down more scarves and draping them over me and nodding and making approving sounds at some and deciding herself that others weren’t suitable. I gestured to her which colours I liked (pointing to purples, pinks and blues) and made a yucky face at the green, orange and brown ones she had down. She contemplated for a moment, turned around and produced from nowhere the most gorgeous scarf of different purples, ranging from so dark it’s almost blue to so bright it’s more like a magenta pink.

I think I’d been sold that I’d buy something from her before seeing ‘the’ scarf but seeing a gorgeous scarf that actually would suit very well with my clothes made it an even easier decision. I asked how much. She was tracing the figure on her hand, but because she was doing the figure and then ‘Lt’ for Litas (which I didn’t realise she was doing) I had no idea what she was trying to tell me. She scrambled around, produced a pencil and scrap of paper, and wrote down the figure. I handed over the money, and she blew me kisses as I left.

As I wandered through town feeling so happy and delighted with the random encounter, I stopped by a couple more market stalls and saw some more scarves for sale – for half the price I’d just paid.

Now, I could be naive and tell myself that my scarf is superior, that she had hand tailored each and every single one, that the material is some sort of exotic weave. But I’m not naive.

The old Lithuanian bat played me, and totally ripped me off!

Nonetheless, I’d paid not that much in the scheme of life and ultimately, it isn’t about the dollar figure – it’s about the experience that comes with it, the story that I can tell.



The scarf! With a background of Freedom Square, Tallinn, Estonia

The other scarf I have came from Primark in Westfield Stratford, London – not quite as riveting of a tale, is it?