The Wanderings of an Englishman

The darkness was almost overwhelming, so utterly black that I couldn't even see my own hand in front of my face. I pushed forwards nervously in baby steps, searching hopelessely for a way out. How had I managed to get myself lost in a church crypt> Why couldn't I see anything? And what was that brushing against my skin?

Kaunas is Lithuania's second city, and a bit of a hidden gem; I'd only ended up in the place because the budget airline that had enticed me so brazenly with the promise of cheap flights landed nowhere near the capital Vilnius. And yet I quickly began to love it. Like the good tourist I'd already taken in the sights including art galleries and the uber-kitsch Devils' Museum; now it was time to tackle a couple of churches.

The Garrison Church is a squat baroque edifice lying slap-bang in the centre of town. I wandered in and quickly discovered that it was a kind of TARDIS in reverse, its large exterior belying its modest internal proportions. But it was gorgeously decorated with paintings and frescos in a glorious fusion of Catholic and Orthodox. I nodded appreciatively for several minutes and turned to leave.

That's when it caught my eye. A sign; "To the Crypt, it read enticingly. An arrow pointed down a rickety spiral staircase and into blackness. I took a closer peek; down into the depths it went, on and on. It was also locked.

"Ah, so you want to see the crypt?"

I spun round. A smiling elderly gentleman, obviously the church's groundskeeper, beckoned me towards the gate. "Please", he continued in broken English, gesturing down the stairs. I clearly didn't have a choice.

So there I was, stumbling around in the dark and wondering what on earth was going on. I'm not sure exactly when I started to get a little nervous; was it when the keeper locked the gate behind me? Or was it that the walls seemed to be covered in some sort of rubber?

"Bugger this", I grumbled, and whipped out my mobile. I switched it on and looked around. And I laughed out loud.

The warden had built himself an underground sensory maze. Kitchen gloves poked out from walls, curtains were draped across the corridors and tatty bits of foam covered sharp corners. I strove forwards with a newfound confidence, weaving my way through a peculiar mixture of rubber and fabric until I eventually hit another spiral staircase. This one led upwards and - even better - it wasn't locked.

The warden looked distinctly annoyed as I emerged from the depths. It was obvious I had cheated; without a light it would have taken me far, far longer to make it through. I mumbled my apologies and made for a swift exit.

But as I gratefully stepped into the glorious sunshine I had a thought; some of the biggest and most unexpected travel adventures can also be the smallest. Just always make sure you're carrying a torch.