Kaunas dresses up

July 19

Our first class lecture was on Lithuania during the inter-war period, from 1919 to 1941. I hadn’t known that Lithuania was at the smallest it had ever been at that point, because Vilnius was occupied by Poland and Germany had the port of Klaipeda. In its heyday, Lithuania was the largest European medieval state and its territory stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea.

Kaunas was Lithuania’s only large city in 1919. It was needed as the capital while Vilnius was under Polish control. Coming out from under Russian Tsarist control, the city was dirty and undeveloped. Farmers drove their herds through Laisvės alėja (Freedom Way). There was no plumbing. There were no suitable or modern public buildings. It had to get presidentiaI fast.

Building projects included the Presidential Palace, the Palace of the Bank of Lithuania, the Vytautas Magnus University War Museum and the funicular that travels up Žaliakalnis (Green Hill). But perhaps the most important symbol of the time was the Resurrection Church, an architecturally modern and unique structure sitting atop the that city. It symbolized the resurrection of all Lithuania and was intended to be built with only private funds, no state money. Fund raising began in 1922, and construction began in 1932. Unfortunately, WWII interrupted construction, and the Soviets made it a radio factory. It was only completed and consecrated in 2004. I have a booklet at home that was apparently used for fundraising in the 1920s and ’30s, showing that my grandparents contributed to the effort.

After more discussion about the political climate and international relations, we walked around the city to see some of the architecture and symbols of the era. During the walk, we were accompanied by a Lithuanian radio show host who was doing a story on the Refresh program I was in. She interviewed me for the piece, and if I can find it online, I’ll post a link, though it will all be in Lithuanian, except for anything that makes it from me. That, I’m sure, will be voiced over.

After the quickest lunch I’ve ever experienced in Lithuania (we went to a cafeteria-style restaurant), we all reconvened at the Presidential Palace, now a museum, for a tour. The tour ended with an interactive presentation on styles of the inter-war period, in which we had to compete by answering trivia questions in order to earn enough “money” to purchase appropriate fancy-dress clothing for a presidential ball. It was designed for schoolchildren, but it was a hoot, illustrated with clips from Fred Astaire movies and other period photos.

I skipped the evening program, which was a jazz concert, because I was tired and wanted to do laundry. I couldn’t locate the person who supposed had the laundry room key, so I went to Akropolis instead to Face Time with Elena and stock up on some food at Maxima because breakfast and dinner are on our own.

I didn’t have a fridge in my room, so I thought I’d put my stuff in the kitchen at the end of the hall. I should have checked them out beforehand because not only were they disgusting, they were obviously out of use, unplugged and musty. I ate my cold cabbage and cucumber salad (something I’ve got to start making at home because its so good) and had some cereal. I stored the rest of my milk in my neighbor’s fridge. I had also purchased some salad greens and herring, and thought they would last at least a day or two until I spoke to the dorm management to get a fridge in my room.

Next: personal connections

Off to school

July 18

The morning seemed to bode well, as we experienced our first shower in Lithuania that didn’t leak. I’m not sure why, but all over Europe, they seem to expect, and even encourage, bathroom flooding with drains in the floor, partial enclosures and raised tubs. The raised tubs are a bit of a hazard in my mind (and in my experience). I can’t imagine an older person or anyone with limited mobility climbing in and out of some of the tubs we had, as even we ended up black and blue for our efforts.

I was looking forward to getting to Kaunas to start the “Refresh in Lithuania” course but wanted to see Alex off. We waited in the tiny Vilnius oro uostas (very literally, air port) until her flight was called. I watched as she got through security, including a brief pat-down, then headed down the road to the train station, making the train to Vilnius station with seconds to spare.

I didn’t have much time to change trains at Vilnius station, which was huge, and I didn’t have a clue which platform to take. I figured that my best best would be to go to the ticket office and ask. I was, of course, on the furthest platform from the office, and had to drag my fully loaded suitcase down a flight of stairs and up another because there are no lifts. They do have ramps next to the steps, but they are so narrow that the suitcase wouldn’t fit in a way that I could effectively use the wheels. The ramps are also separated from the steps by a railing, so it was practically impossible to pull the suitcase by the handle because I had to reach up and over. After watching the suitcase twist and jam a few times I gave up and just lugged it up and down the stairs.

I bought my ticket and got to the right platform with time to breathe. I found a seat across from a woman who was eating a piece of fruit and said, “Atsiprašau,” which means “excuse me.” She moved her bag to accommodate mine. After a couple of minutes of adjusting and looking at each other, we somehow realized we were both American. Her name was Rasa, she lives in New Jersey, she directs the Lithuanian International Student Services (LISS) program, placing college students in summer internships in Vilnius and Kaunas, and she was headed to exactly the same destination that I was. We had a great talk, and I got her card for Alex. How perfect was that?

I highly recommend the Lithuanian rail system. Both trains I rode were either brand spanking new or maintained by a crack crew. They were spotless, comfortable, spacious, quiet, air-conditioned — and cheap. The seven-minute ride from the airport to Vilnius’s main station was 2.5 litai, about a dollar. The hour and 20 minute trip from Vilnius to Kaunas on the more expensive express train was 18 litai (a whopping $7.20). Septa regional rail and Amtrak are overpriced buckets of bolts in comparison.

The one thing I wasn’t looking forward to with dorm living (well, beside the fact that it’s dorm living) was sharing a small room with a stranger. I was surprised, but very happy, to learn that they somehow still had Alex on the housing list even though I notified them several weeks ago that she wouldn’t be coming. That meant the spartan, ex-Soviet-era-hotel-room-turned-dorm-room was all mine! The fifth-floor room has a nice view of the rooftops, but gets the afternoon sun, so it will get a bit warm for my liking.

I missed the opening reception for Refresh because I wanted to make sure Alex was on her way home. I called the program coordinator to find out where to meet for the first evening’s activity and she arranged for another course participant to swing by and pick me up. We picked up others and headed to a cafe in old town to get better acquainted. We played Uno over beer and kepta duona (the ever-popular fried bread with cheese snack). After racking up a huge score the first game–not the object, by the way–I won the next two by getting rid of all of my cards. Not bad for my first time ever playing. I got the feeling I was the only one in the group who could not hold a decent conversation fully in Lithuanian.

Back at the dorm, I was surprised to find that wifi was not available, so I texted Elena that we’d have to postpone Face Time until the next night, when I could go to the Akropolis or sit out in Laisvės Alėja to get free wifi. She texted back asking if I knew that Alex’s flight was cancelled. Because I left right for the train station after Alex went through security and hadn’t been online since, I hadn’t seen her Facebook posts. She never even got out of Vilnius. LOT put her up at the airport hotel overnight and give her vouchers for food. She was rebooked for the next day to fly through Amsterdam and then home. I felt horrible–I swear I will never book a flight on LOT again.

Next: first day of class

Road trip part II: Shrines of different kinds

July 17

True to pattern, we had not gone to sleep until the wee hours, so we were up just in time to catch the tail end of breakfast. The blynai had obviously been in the warmer all morning and were inedible, so I had cheese, kiwi, cucumber and tomato with coffee. Alex had yogurt and chocolate cereal.

Out first stop was at Šiluva, the site of the first European apparition of Mary recognized by the Catholic Church in 1622. Šiluva never attained the level of fame of Fatima or Lourdes, as devotion to Our Lady of Šiluva was repressed during both the Tsarist and Soviet occupations. As a consequence, it has not become the pilgrimage zoo that the others have, which is refreshing. The koplyčia, or chapel, is small and serene, and is built around the rock on which Mary supposedly appeared to the children of area farmers. When we were there we witnessed women rounding the rock on their knees in prayer.

The days drive was to take us south, to the villages of my grandparents on my father’s side. This is an area with fertile, rolling farmland, reminiscent of the American Midwest, except with storks. The storks migrate from Africa every year to nest and raise their young in Lithuania. They are considered good luck, so many farmers build platforms atop tall poles for them. By the time I noticed the nests, I had sped past in the car and didn’t want to turn around to get the shot, thinking I’d have more chances later, but never did.

To get to our first stop Seredžius, we turned onto a road that paralled the Nemunas River. Called Panemunės, the area encompasses dozens of castle hills that can be climbed for expansive views of the water and surrounding farmland. We stopped when we saw a red brick tower above the tree line and climbed to find Panemune Castle under reconstruction. We walked past it into the village to get lunch at a cafe called Prie Pilis. We wanted a quick bite because we had four stops to make, but a simple bowl of vegetable soup, herring snack and fried koldunai somehow took an hour and a half.

At Seredžius, we climbed the hill there to survey the land and were rewarded with a picture-perfect view of a woman milking a cow with the village’s church steeples in the background. The town itself was equally pretty, neat cottages lining the twisting, hilly streets. I could imagine Grandmom having a good childhood here. I took a photo of the church in which I imagine she was baptized, then we went back down the hill to the cemetery to see if we could find any headstones with the Kryžanauskas name. No luck.

By now it was after 6 p.m. so we decided to ditch the two hour-drive further south to Tabarauskai and leave finding Grandpop’s village for another trip. We’d also leave Rudamina, where Grandmom grew up, for another time as well. We aimed straight for Kaunas instead so we’d have a better chance of getting to Vilnius at a reasonable hour. Ha!

The Akropolis in Kaunas is huge. This mega-mall with four stories of stores, restaurants, cinema, casino, bowling alley and ice rink appears in each of Lithuania’s large cities, shrines to burgeoning consumerism. In addition to its sheer massiveness, there are two great things about it. Stores that sell similar items are all grouped together–a great convenience for the consumer who wants to compare goods and prices. Also, each parking space has a sensor and when you drive around an LED display lets you know how many parking spaces are available in each aisle. Genius! The U.S. could take a lesson.

Alex was overwhelmed with the number of clothing choices and wished her local mall was anywhere near this large. She bought some children’s books to help her with her budding language skills. At Čili Kaimas, she finally had her cepelinai, which are huge potato dumplings stuffed with meat and drenched in a sour cream and bacon sauce. She ordered a half portion, one zeppelin, but couldn’t quite finish it because of its bulk. I don’t know how the stick-thin Lithuanian women I have seen wolf them down do it.

We got to the Adelita Hotel across from the Vilnius airport around 11 p.m. and began to prepare for departure the next day, Alex home and me to Kaunas. After a little back and forth with the front desk about wifi, Alex was online with one device for 4 litas. Little did I know that my inability to connect that night would foreshadow my wifi woes in days to come.

Next: transportation travails.

Road trip part I: Native tongue

July 16

It was a challenge, but we were up, packed and showered by the time Rimas delivered the rental car to our hotel at 8:45. It was an older-model Ford Scorpio that had definitely seen better days. Rimas had me get in the driver seat so that he could adjust it to spec with a wrench because the knobs were broken.

I found Rimas through the travel agent we used in 2008 because I was shocked by the car rental prices then. They are just as bad now. But I like renting through Rimas because even though his “fleet” is 10 years or so old, he maintains the cars fairly well, he delivers and picks up any time and any place you need him, and his rates are about half that of Budget. And you look like a native that isn’t quite so well off, rather than a tourist. Makes me feel safer somehow.

We decided to skip the hotel breakfast and go to instead to Ponia Laime, a great French pastry shop on Stikliu gatve whose name translates to something like Lucky Lady. It was Saturday, so they weren’t open for another hour, so we parked the car and strolled until the doors opened. I opted for veggie quiche (boring, I know) while Alex had blueberries and coffee syrup layered into what we’ll call creme fraiche because whipped creme sounds just a little too decadent for breakfast.

Alex had the unenviable job of navigating. Even though we had maps and turn-by-turn directions, it’s difficult to see street signs in most cities here because they are on the sides of the buildings, and there may be no street signs at all in smaller villages. She did a great job, though, and I have to say we probably made fewer U-turns than we did on our 2008 trip, and we recognized the necessity for them sooner.

Our first stop was the small town of Kurkliai, the town my maternal grandfather listed as his birthplace on his naturalization application. Getting there required passing through the larger town of Anykščiai, where we passed droves of Goth and semi-Goth teens. We assumed there was some sort of festival going on. In the Kurkliai cemetery, we couldn’t find any headstones with the Markunas name. I asked a group of women who were making a visit if there was an older cemetery or if they recognized the family name. No to both, but I was proud of myself for being able to ask the questions in Lithuanian and understand most of what they replied. Later in the day we passed two more towns named Kurkliai, so perhaps we didn’t have the right one. We didn’t have time to stop, though.

Next was Niuronys, for the horse museum. Painfully slow service at their crowded restaurant gave us the chance to discuss nicknames, and I learned them for each of Alex’s coworkers. After eating, we checked out the exhibits of Lithuanian horse history, horse art (with some great photos and sculptures), various horse-drawn farm conveyances and the house and barn reconstructions they had on the grounds.

On the way to Bileniai, my maternal grandmother’s birthplace, we stopped in Viešintos and took photos of the church in which she was most likely baptized. We didn’t see a cemetery to check for family names (in this case Bačiulis and Juodviršis, but perhaps we didn’t go far enough into town. I’m kind of kicking myself now, because this is the location that I’m surest of in my family history. We searched out the tiny village of Byleniai, as it appears on Google maps, and traveled the unmarked dirt roads, navigating by mileage, to reach a piece of farmland that we imagined could have belonged to my grandmother’s family.

Our last stop was Kryžių Kalnas, the Hill of Crosses, which we reached as the sun was beginning to set. Legend has it that long ago a farmer put up a cross to ask for his daughter to be healed. When the prayer was granted, others made the same offering. But it wasn’t until the Soviets razed the hill that the Lithuanians built it back larger than ever–and did so two more times after successive bulldozing. Lithuanians are stubborn. I’ll post a video that will give you a better idea of what it’s like, because it’s difficult to describe the excess, eeriness and solemnity that national symbol of hope.

We arrived in Šiauliai and checked into the Šaulys after 10. Then we headed out to find a late dinner. At Arkos we ordered a beer and perused the menu, only to have the waitress come back to say the kitchen was closed and to take our menus away. We downed the beer quickly so we could pay and go somewhere else. She must have taken pity on us because she came back and told us we could have salads if that was okay and gave us back the menus. We chose our salads only to have her come back a third time to say the only salad she could offer us was a tongue salad. We politely declined and beat it across the street to Can-Can Pizza.

Over fried bread with cheese (which we decided was the inside-out version of the American mozzarella sticks), pizza without tongue (though there was one with tongue called “the liar”), and calzone, we continued the nickname discussion. We had gotten hand towels labeled “rince doigts,” probably to go with the French theme (Can-Can, remember?), and I told Alex that fingers in Lithuanian are pirštai, toes are kojos pirštai (fingers of the foot, literally), and that thumb is nykštys. She decided then that Nathan’s new nickname should be little thumb, or nykštukas, which is also the word for gnome.

Tomorrow, the road trip continues.

My big electronics fail, or why it took so long to get pictures in this blog

This post is not only about my iPad, but it figures prominently, so I’ll start there.

I love my iPad. I do. My team, some of my former team and other friends at work all chipped in to get me this awesome piece of technology for my trip as a goodbye gift from CHOP (The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, and yes, it’s a terrible acronym, but the best place in the world to be if you’re sick and a kid). Their generosity blew me away. Oh, yes, in case you didn’t know, I quit my job so I could do this trip.

Back to the iPad. I bought it a spiffy red Speck cover to protect it back and front, and thought it would do anything for me in return. It would be the perfect companion: light, eminently portable, able to ride on my iPhone’s personal hotspot for access everywhere.

An online chat with an AT&T rep and followup call with their international services group put a kibosh on data roaming. Lithuania is not on their list 
of 100 countries with which they have an agreement, so if I wanted data roaming, I’d have to pay outrageous fees. I’d be limited to free wifi, but that’s almost everywhere, right?

Next I set up my blog on WordPress based on its ease of use, full feature set and variety of templates. I chose my template, ran through the setup on the Mac in my home office and thought I was good to go. I shoot a lot (photos, that is), so I planned to upload to my photo safe (an external drive specifically for images) and access the photo safe with the iPad to select the pix for my posts.

Then I learned that you can’t connect an external hard drive to an iPad. Hmmm. Okay, need a trip to the Apple store. The nice lady said that the camera connector kit would solve the problem. I would just use the connector that was the right size for my card, and it would let me either import everything or just choose the photos I wanted to use. I’d still have to upload to my photo safe, but no big deal.

So I get to Lithuania, and guess what I forgot to pack? The first post went up without pix, but the Apple store in Vilnius had a connector kit, so I was back in business–until I opened it and realized that there was only one card connector and it was too small for my card. The second connector was for an iPhone. This meant shooting with the phone in addition to the camera if I wanted pix in the blog. Fine.

The iPad to iPhone connection worked great. Sucked in all of the pictures without a problem once I realized that the iPad had to be out of its protective case for the connector to seat correctly. Now into the blog to add photos. Wait, the uploader uses Flash? You’re kidding me. But there’s an alternative browser-based upload. Okay. Wait, why is the button greyed out? Aargh. I’ll try later.

About this time my iPhone stopped recognizing wireless networks. I don’t know why. I’m guessing that I inadvertently hit something to change a crucial setting but I for the life of me couldn’t figure out what. So now I’m dependent on the iPad alone to update Facebook. But the upload but is greyed out here, too. I’m getting to the end of my technological rope. I find the answer not on Facebook, but in a New York Times technology section article: the iPad does not have a conventional directory structure, which is what uploaders look for. It just plain won’t work. Ah, but the iPhone Facebook app will work, if a bit clumsily, so I download it and upload the photos.

Armed with my new-found knowledge, I go to the app store and search for WordPress. And what do you know? There’s an app for that!

Next puzzle: there is only wired access at the university (yeah, I know, right?). Gotta figure a way around that because I can’t sit outside on Laisves Aleja or at the Akropolis mall all night.

I fell in love yesterday

July 15

Before you say, “Hey wait a minute, aren’t you already spoken for?”, let me explain. I fell in love with my new-found cousin Liliana.

Liliana is the mother of Diana, with whom I recently connected and planned to meet in a few weeks because she is traveling outside of Lithuania now. Liliana is the daughter of my grandmother’s nephew, who had been corresponding with my mother in the 1980s before she died, though I didn’t know it at the time. I located Diana through LinkedIn based on what her grandfather had written to my mother about her college major and profession. Got that?

Diana told me that her mother didn’t speak much English, so I was worried about meeting her because I don’t speak much Lithuanian. I shouldn’t have worried. Not because she brought her friend Regina, who speaks more English, but because family connections can transcend words.

Even though we had never laid eyes on each other, we knew each other instantly when we saw each other in the hotel lobby. After an emotional greeting we sat at an outdoor table for lunch but didn’t order for at least an hour because we were sharing family stories, comparing likes and dislikes, looking at family photographs and each learning things we had not known. For example, I had a copy of my grandmother’s birth certificate noting the village in which she was born. Liliana had not known the location of the family farm before her grandfather’s family moved to where he grew up. I had not known that he and his sister both had been deported to Siberia in 1941 for 16 years.

Liliana wanted to take us to Europos Parkas, which is a sculpture park built around the geographic center of Europe. We went up to our hotel room for a pitstop before leaving and so I could put the beautiful bouquet of white roses that she brought me in water. I apologized for the mess–clothes and books everywhere. Regina confided that Liliana’s apartment was not always quite so perfectly kept. Add that to the growing list of similarities.

What other similarities? We both prefer cold weather to hot. No one in our family is thin (sorry, Alex, you will be fighting genetics). It is difficult to eat without wearing some of our meal at some point in the day. And Liliana has the great fondness for coffee that I would if it didn’t give me heart palpitations.

At Europos Parkas, Liliana paid, as she had for lunch. Not that I hadn’t tried, mind you. At least I got her to agree to allow me to pay kita karta (another time). Oh, and did I mention that she also brought us chocolate? My Lithuanian friends at home had warned me about this extraordinary generosity based on their experience with visiting their relatives.

At the park, Alex and I explored while Liliana and Regina waited for us at the restaurant because it was difficult for them to walk, as they are a bit older. Much of the work was quite interesting and original, and the woodland setting was the perfect background for the installations. The world’s largest wall made of used television sets was a favorite, and a potential inspiration. When we were done, we sat for a while over ice cream, sent postcards with the Center of Europe postmark and accepted yet more gifts (a keychain for Alex’s truck-to-be and a lucky bird carved from wood) before driving back to Vilnius.

I wanted to say thank you for the wonderful day, so later that evening Alex and I walked around until we found an open flower shop. I wanted to have the bouquet we chose delivered to Liliana. But I didn’t know how to say delivery in Lithuanian. And as luck would have it, i think we found the only shop staff in old town who didn’t speak or understand much English. After much trial and error, they finally understood that I didn’t want to take them myself or for them to get me a taxi to take them. It also began to dawn on me that they don’t normally deliver any flowers; people just take what they want with them. Luckily, one of the women in the shop lives on the same street as my cousin, so she said it would be no problem for her to take them. I was sweating from the communication effort by the time I left the store. I can’t wait until class starts.

Tired in Trakai

July 14

I don’t know if it’s the jet lag catching up or that we’re not disciplined enough to force ourselves to adjust to the seven-hour time difference, but it seems we’re turning in later every night and feeling more tired in the morning.

We signed up for a tour of Trakai, Lithuania’s second capital, and relaxed in the van on the 45-minute drive out. Our guide, Natalia, gave us historical background on the king and grand dukes of Lithuania who ruled from there, interrupted from time to time by someone who claimed to be a historian and quibbled about a few details.

We explored the beautiful island castle for a while, then walked the grounds a bit, stopping to buy a pint of freshly picked forest berries (wild raspberries) from a vendor along the path. Another thing I love about Lithuania is the unique way some people supplement their incomes. Young and old will go into the woods in the morning to pick mushrooms and berries (they are very familiar with those that are safe and those that aren’t) and you’ll see them selling their findings by the road with various-sized containers packed full of the fruits of the forest.

We were spooning our berries out of the container, marveling at the intense flavor, when I heard my name. I looked up to see someone I knew–and not someone who lives in Lithuania. It was Jana, from Toronto, whom I know from the annual Women’s Weekend at Camp Neringa in Vermont. She was there with her family, on their way to Vilnius. Talk about a small world! We joked that we’d probably bump into each other again back in Vilnius.

Later that night, after a Trakai-inspired dinner of kibinai and a meandering walk through the former Jewish ghettoes, we went back to the hotel to do our nightly photo uploads. A Facebook message popped up from my Lithuanian cousin Diana, who happens to be in Scotland now. We had planned to meet for the first time after she returns and I’m back from my courses in Kaunas, in August. If we were still going to be in Vilnius tomorrow, her mother, also my cousin, would like to meet us! We were–our last day before our trip to Šiauliai–so we made arrangements.

So excited for tomorrow, but nervous. Must brush up on my lietuvių kalba tonight!

Little delights

July 13

Maybe it was the Švyturys or maybe it was staying up too late the night before catching up with friends and family on Facebook, but we got a bit of a late start. The maid was knocking on the door to make up the room before we were near together. No matter, we were soon out and on a mission for souvenirs.

Our first stops were the little boutiques and second-hand shops on Saviciaus gatve, where Alex got a couple of vintage tops. These were, ummm, personal souvenirs. Next stop, the kiosks and shops on Pilies gatve, full of (maybe it is and maybe it isn’t) amber, hats and scarves in the obligatory geltonas, žalias ir raudonas (yellow, green and red) of the flag, leather goods, linen, traditionally patterned socks and mittens, Russian nesting dolls and all manner of typical souvenir shop knick-knack. Shot glass with a vilkis? No problem.

A half dozen stores and booths later, we had accomplished purchases for Alex’s brothers (can’t reveal what they are until Alex gets home), but were left with the dilemma of what to get her parents and friends. We decided to cogitate on it over lunch at Koldunine. As one might infer from the name, their specialty is koldunai.

Koldunai are little circles of a simple flour and water dough stuffed with various sweet or savory fillings. You might know them as pierogies; growing up, we called them virtinai. Either way, they are little mouthfuls of pure deliciousness. I had mine with beef and Alex had hers stuffed with potatoes. The restaurant was a sweet, simple cafe with crisply pressed linens and mismatched china. The proprietress was lovely, and pretended to completely understand my Lithuanian, which endeared her to me even more. The koldunai were fabulous. We will be back.

After lunch we headed to Užupis, a section of Vilnius that was once a thriving Jewish community from the 16th century until WWII. Now considered akin to the Montmartre with a thriving artist community, it declared itself an “independent republic” with its own president, currency, army and constitution. All tongue in cheek. The constitution, however, is one I can definitely get behind. Read it here.

As we walked down Paupio gatve, I told Alex that during my last visit I had photographed a kitten in one of the windows, and it was one of my favorite photos. She pointed to a window. “There’s a cat.” I can’t say for sure, but it looked suspiciously like the photo I had hanging on the fridge at home, just grown up a little. The house seemed familiar, as did the lace curtains. They had gotten new windows, as all the houses seem to have on that block, so it just might be…

We continued up the road to the Bernardine cemetery, one of the oldest in Vilnius. You might think it’s weird, but I like cemeteries — now. When I was little, I was deathly afraid of them, no pun intended, and would go to great lengths to avoid even having to look at one. I would duck down in the car until I was sure we were safely past. Not sure when that changed, but now I’m in heaven when I get to walk an old cemetery. This didn’t disappoint. It was secluded, and wooded, quiet with moss and ferns. The plots were jumbled together, one upon the other, comforting each other with casual familiarity. Utter beauty and randomness, planted with care or carpeted with weeds, side by side.

Back down in old town, we crossed the Green Bridge over the Neris to the naujamiestis, or new town, snapping shots of the last remaining Soviet-era sculptures that grace its four corners. One the river banks by the bridge, plantings spell out the endearing, “aš tave myliu” on one side and answer, “ir aš tave <3" on the other (I love you and I ❤ you, too). Striking new architecture provides a foil to the antiquity across the water.

We crossed back over near the Cathedral and wandered the back streets on our way to dinner. There was a group of teens playing soccer on the plaza right in front of the presidential palace, within steps of the from door. No security and no worries. It was so refreshing to see.

Alex is a sucker for beautiful architecture, so when we passed the university, an emphatic, "why can't I go here?" almost leapt from her mouth. I think she'll be checking out Hofstra's study abroad options, though she states she'd want to come back only after she has learned more of the language.

We ate at Lokys, which is a restaurant that specializes in game. A not so game Alex had a creamy vegetable soup and šaltinosiniai (literally, cold noses, a nickname for little koldunai stuffed with blueberries, because they are served cold and supposedly resemble winter-nipped noses). Because I always have to try something I haven't had before, I had the beaver stew. Sorry, Bucky, but you were wonderfully tender and rich, a little like moose, which in turn is like a really good brisket. Ice cream, of course, capped the evening, because Lithuanians know how to do ice cream right.

Back at the hotel, as we were uploading pictures to Facebook, we were in hysterics, as we were most of the day (well, except when we were in the cemetery). Alex said to me, "I've never laughed so much." Mission accomplished.

Tomorrow, Trakai.

You don’t look Lithuanian

“Where are you from?” The question came unexpectedly in English from a group of four late-20-somethings standing on the sidewalk in front of a bar, laughing and speaking to each other in Lithuanian.  A guy in crisp linen shorts and shirt had turned from his friends and was addressing us. He’d had one or two, was in a state that complemented what you could tell was an already outgoing nature, and not quite to the point yet of being obnoxious. 

“Amerikoje,” I answered in proper locative case. He looked completely surprised but recovered quickly. “From America?” “Yes, from America.” “I thought maybe from Spain; you look Spanish.” “No, I’m Lithuanian. All four of my grandparents were from Lithuania.” “Congratulations,” he said, extending his hand to shake.  A woman in the group giggled a bit. I’m guessing that he might have been bragging to his friends that he could spot the tourists and also tell where they were from, and that he’d just lost the bet. “Your friend?” He indicated Alex. “My niece. She’s half Lithuanian.” “She looks like a good Lithuanian.” I agreed. She’s blonde, blue-eyed and beautiful. He extended his hand to her now. “Congratulations. Congratulations on being Lithuanian.”

So here’s the deal. I’m 100 percent Lithuanian. I look like my paternal grandmother, who was born in Seredžius.  My maternal grandmother, from near Viešintos, had siblings with dark, curly hair like mine. But everyone, even Lithuanians, assume that the typical Lithuanian has light hair and eyes. And everyone to whom I’ve spoken in Lithuanian seems surprised or bemused.

The other night Alex and I were at a restaurant looking over the menu at the entrance. We wanted to eat outside, so I worked through what I thought were the right words in my head and asked the waitress, “Galime valgyti laukes?”  

Dead blank stare. Wow, I thought, I know my grammar is shaky, but I must have totally messed that up. So I asked in English, “Is it possible to eat outside?” She immediately came back to life with a pleasant efficiency, seated us and gave us menus.

I had to ask: “How should I have said that?” She answered, “You said that right, but I wasn’t expecting it, and I just went blank for a minute.” We all laughed, and because I didn’t want to subvert her paradigm any further, we conducted the rest of the evening in English. 

Museums and music

July 12

Museums by day…

Because the day’s forecast was for rain, we decided to plan indoor activities and set an agenda that included museum visits. We set out into the cool, grey morning after another breakfast of blynai, eggs and sausage at the hotel.

The first stop we planned was the Genocide Museum, so we headed up out of the old city and onto Pamelninko gatve. When we turned on Auko gatve for the museum, we saw a couple small groups of people milling around outside and pulling on the door. A quick look at the door revealed that the Museum was closed on Tuesdays as well as on Mondays. And what the people waiting didn’t realize is that the graphic on the door indicating closure on the first two days of the week meant Monday and Tuesday, not Sunday and Monday. Lithuania, as well as some other European nations, begins its week on Monday–the name for the day gives you the clue: Pirmadiena, or first day.

So we cut over to Gedimino prospectas, which would lead back down to the Lithuanian National Museum. The exhibit on the Grand Duchy of Lithuania from the 13th to 18th century was a great overview, and saved me from passing along misinformation in reply to Alex’s questions about Lithuanian history. Among the Polish/Lithuanian rulers in the 1700s we came across a Lesczynsky, which is the last name of one of Alex’s friends at home. Tons of awesome maps, chronicling those ever-changing borders.

Moving on, we tried to imagine our ancestors living in the farmhouse rooms and wearing the clothing feature in the Rural Lifestyle in Lithuania exhibit. I loved the brightly and intricately painted chests and wardrobes. The textiles were stunning as well.

I love folk art, so I really got into the Lithuanian Cross-work exhibit. A short documentary film helped put context around the elaborately carved crosses and shrines that used to fill the countrysides and forests. There was a huge collection of carved saints that I would have loved to have taken home.

The simplest but perhaps the most moving exhibit was a temporary ensemble titled The Homecoming, which was dedicated to the 70th anniversary of the mass deportations of Lithuanians by the Soviets to some of the most harsh and isolated places in Russia. The exhibit chronicled the 1989 and early ’90s expeditions by a group of former deportees to the sites of exile and imprisonment, and their efforts to establish fitting memorials and bring back to Lithuania the remains of the deportees that could be located. Black and white photographs like those of the decaying Siberian cemeteries and dozens upon dozens of flag-draped coffins on the tarmac of a Lithuanian airport perfectly capture the heartbreak of the circumstances. I couldn’t help but cry.

After that, lunch seemed like a good idea. Because we wanted to stay in the area because we were coming back to the Museum of Applied Arts, we headed back up Pilies gatve and decided on pica (pizza) at Trattoria da Ravello. The Lithuanian “c” is pronounced “ts” so pica is the closest approximation to pizza. Anyway, the four-cheese, thin-crusted pizza we had was delicious, even when eaten with a knife and fork.

After lunch, it was back down to Arsenalo g. 3a and the Museum of Applied Arts. We marveled at how extraordinarily tiny the waists were in the Victorian clothing exhibit and how fun the Charleston dresses were in the Art Deco clothing exhibit. There was also a small but revelatory exhibit on poet Czeslaw Miloscz, who is actually Lithuanian. Who knew? Apparently he was born and spent his early years in Kėdainiai, though his family later moved to Poland and he considered himself a Polish poet.

Music by night…

When we were walking around, a young woman handed us a flyer for a free concert on Rotuses aikštę, so we decided to check it out. The LA band Ozomatli was playing a mix of salsa, cumbia, danchall, funk, merengue, hip hop and reggae courtesy of the U.S. embassy, and the square was jumping with residents and tourists alike. It was a fun way to regain some energy at the end of the day, under the still-bright Lithuanian evening sky.

We ended the night at Čili Kaimas with some hearty traditional fare: bulviniai blynai (potato pancakes), šaltibarsciai (cold beet soup), silkės (herring) and kepta duona (fried bread). Maybe not the healthiest meal, but delicious, and almost like my grandmother used to make. We washed it all down with my favorite Lithuanian beer, Švyturys Baltijos, a beautiful dark amber that manages to be full and rich but light and refreshing at the same time. Alex put it on her list of things she could not live without.

Tomorrow: shopping for souvenirs for Alex’s family and friends.