It is only until you have the courage to sit at a cafe by yourself that you begin to understand the complexities of a place. In order to start seeing things, you have to walk alone. 

I’ve visited Vilnius, Lithuania every summer ever since I was four months old. I know exactly where every alleyway leads to and the names of the waiters of my favorite restaurants. But the day that I walked it alone was the first time I saw it for what it was. It was the first time I noticed things.  

I walked back and forth past a cafe about four times before I sat down. I was scared of looking alone, but why? I was alone! And why should that stop me from buying a coffee?

I sat down, and immediately noticed a man with darkened sunglasses and a walking cane walk past the cafe. He came back to the ice cream stand near where I was sitting, found the waitress running it, and asked her to name all the flavors they had. She did, and he decided on chocolate. He then asked the girl to help him find an empty table where he could sit at. This was the moment I realized he was blind. The man then sat at the table, alone, and proceeded to take a picture of his desert. I was amazed. Why would he do that? If he cant see the ice cream in real life, why would he want to have it in his digital life? 

I was alone and had time to think about the matter, and realized a lot of us take pictures without even looking at what we are taking a picture of. We watch concerts and football games through our cameras. We spend a lot of time taking the perfect picture of a landscape so we could put it on our computer lock screen, and when we do, we walk away and don’t actually look at it with our eyes. Many of us don’t see whats in front of us, but we still immortalize it so we can observe it later. Why?

After paying for my drink, I got up and walked around the city. I saw an old man helping another old man light a cigarette. Maybe they’ve been companions for many years, and have done this exchange many times, or maybe they were strangers. Somewhere next to them, I saw a mother helping her daughter light a cigarette. She had the job of teaching her the ropes of life, and according to her, this was an important skill to know. I kept walking and saw an old woman on a bench reading from a tattered pocket sized prayer book. She was mouthing the words quietly. She’s had the prayers memorized ever since she was a little kid and her mother used to say them to her before going to sleep. I walked up Castle Hill and saw the whole city, like I have many times, but this time I became more fixated on the two little boys next to me that were sharing a large carton of orange juice. 

The things I noticed have no significant importance other than the fact that I was entertained by the stories I could create out of them. They don’t mean anything, other than the fact that I was able to see them. Instead of being focused on a conversation, or having my nose in a phone, I was able to notice little things I wouldn’t have before. I encourage anyone reading this to eat dinner alone. Go downtown and order the taco you’ve been craving alone. Show up to Frisbee club alone. You don’t always need to be with someone to go somewhere. Take mental notes of the people and things you see, and take pride in the fact that you were able to see them.