I was cycling north through Lithuania, approaching the border with Latvia, when I saw a woman walking toward me along the road. As I approached she started talking to me so I stopped to listen. She was about my age, with deeply tanned and weathered skin, and well dressed. Since I didn't understand her language I pointed to myself and said, "English." She said, "Ah, Englishman. Where you go Englishman?"

The tone of her question suggested that she had already decided that I was on a fools errand and she only wondered how foolish. I said, "Latvia." She said, "Ah, Latvia." I said, "Estonia." She said, "Ah, Estonia." I said, "Russia." She said, "Ah, Russ." She paused a moment then gave me the look that a mother gives an eight year old boy who is determined to do something foolish but she knows she can't talk him out of it. Then she said, "Bye, bye Englishman." and continued on her way.

It reminded me of the story of a real Englishman traveling in the Australian Outback. He had an Aborigine guide of about his own age. The two had traveled together many weeks and had become good friends. Near the end of their travels the Englishman said to his guide, "I want to take your son back to England with me and see that he gets a proper education." The guide thought about it for a moment and said, "No, I would miss my son too much." The Englishman said, "But don't you want your son to learn to read and write?" The guide said, "Englishman can read and write. What good does it do him?"