1997 years.
Lithuania
Six years old girl.
Sitting in the street.

Talking with herself: ,,I will never come back to my family. I will run away, far far away”. She never exactly did it…Too little, too shy, too poor – and all in all it was just a protest against older people, who was believing that are able to do whatever they want…But after 12 years the same idea came to the same head. Another situation, another feelings, another running plans and even another country. But still… the same, unforgettable feeling: ,,Run, Kri!Run!!!”

 First hours in Italy. These three words (,,Run, Kri!Run!!!”) were the only ones that were coming in my mind. WITHOUT ASKING.  First of all, I had to realize that all two months that I was spending by studying Italian, was just wasting my time.

Train tickets office. Task: to buy one way ticket to Chiari. Words that I had repeated all flight: Voglio uno biglietto a Chiari. The reality: ,,I would like to get one ticket to Chiari”. After fifteen minutes discussion with tickets seller where I exactly want to go – I got ticket. I have ticket, shaking legs, mess in my head and even if this is not enough – too big luggage and stairs without end in front of me.

Train. Three minutes left till I will depart. The only idea in my head: ,,Kristina, you still have time to get out of the train. You have…you have… Okay, now you don’t have, because train started to move…

And then I had a time for thinking: life is just the moments, which time by time are repeating – seven and eighteen years girl are thinking the same: ,,Run, Kri!Run!!!”. But they both are just sitting and not running at all.

Chiari.

Abbracio, bacio; abbracio bacio; abbracio bacio; bacio, bacio….First cultural shock. After five people, I exactly understood why someone has created people with hands. No more kisses. Just hand shaking.

Language shock.

Food shock.

Habits shock.

Too much shocks…

Let’s run….Really?

No! All these shocks were too good to run far away from them. So I started to live with them.

First of all I needed to manage with language. Because without it I couldn’t travel, I couldn’t go to supermarket, I couldn’t talk with anybody I couldn’t do nothing, just sit at home. But the problem was that I was feeling like story ,,Tower of Babel” has came to my daily life. Almost nobody understood me, and I didn’t understood no one. So first steps were to understand hands talking. Difficult, but easier than Italian. After that, time by time, new language came to my head. I was able to talk, play with children and – to run…Just for one day. One sunny day. Venice, Genoa, Firenze, Bologna, Roma, mountains, lakes, forests, rivers…

Before coming to Italy, I have to be honest, I had read all possible books about this country and people, who are living there. Why? I am really not sure, maybe to know what to expact, maybe to know a country before coming, maybe… But in the end all these readings hadn’t any worth. All books: ,,In Italy you can eat – pizza, pasta, lasagne…”. And sea food? Yes, this one was forgotten like not very important. And I, one day sitting in front of plate, where I even don’t know what it is and how it have to be eaten. What to do with all this food. But Italians gave my instructions…Strange, but even for these little things, I needed someone’s help.

This was my daily things: eat, learn, travel. And my daily work was with the same people like I. Children. Happy, sad, injured, talkative, silent. With all this emotions I passed ten months. Did I was ever sad? Of course. Many times. But the best thing is after something bad to get something good, than you have the real opportunity to feel the worth of happiness. And I felt.

I came home…

I never thought that I am going to miss something so much, and that, that something wouldn’t be even touchable.

And for this something I will start once again to run. To run to that something.