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The seed to visit the Baltic states was planted about 7 or 8 years ago. I was attracted to these three countries because of their fresh independence; I expected being in charge of their own destiny would make the locals happy, excited and positive. But the seed lay where it dropped, dormant for the longest time. The only attempt to get it growing was the purchase of the Lonely Planet's Estonia, Latvia & Lithuania travel guide. This too lay mostly unopened and unexplored for years. I'd glance over at it on the bookshelf and dream about the trip.
Then it happened that for 3½ years I did not venture off the rock that is the ROC. I was putting money away and not spending it on flits to Thailand, the Philippines (although I did try to go there last summer; the airline turned me away because my passport was expiring within 6 months) or Hong Kong. So eventually, this summer I extended my rusty wings in the direction of Northeastern Europe.
The plan was well laid out. I thought it would be high season and if I didn't book early, hotels would be full and I'd have to sleep in the park. I was to find out later that in fact, high season is around Christmas! Traveling so far north in the dead of winter appeals to me not at all. Surely everyone must feel the same? Well, some of the hotels were certainly well booked, and some had a full house, but in others I was the only guest. Never mind, it was comforting to have everything settled before departure; I could focus entirely on the exploration of land untouched by my feet.
My plan was to fly into Vilnius, Lithuania, and then make my way north, overland through Latvia and eventually to Tallinn, Estonia. From there, I would venture across the narrow Gulf of Finland to Helsinki to embark on a cruise to St. Petersburg, Russia. I have longed to see St. Petersburg for as long as I can remember, so being in the neighbourhood, it seemed essential to make this trip. (At first I'd planned to fly into Moscow and make my way from there to St. Petersburg and then south through the Baltic states. But a Russian visa is a fickle maiden and I soon read about a 72-hour visa free option for visiting Russia's most impressive city, on condition that the traveler arrives and departs by boat.)
Once all my plans were made and hotels booked, a sudden memory stopped me in my tracks. When I had first dreamed about this trip, my work contract was such that I could take off both months of summer, and I had therefore included a trip to Iceland in my original imaginings. Once again, this is a place I have longed to visit since I was a snotty-nosed child. It seemed inconceivable to be so near and to not go there, no matter how quick the visit. Schedule altered, hotel reservations updated and an affordable flight booked, I was now all the more excited.
The very day that school ended, I was on a bus to Taoyuan, where the international airport is located, to spend the night at the oddly affordable hotel beside the planes. Next morning I was up with the monks for Lauds, that is to say, far too early. There were to be lots of amazing finds, some overwhelming experiences, and - lamentably - a handful of ill-favoured surprises.
I flew first to Hong Kong and then on to Moscow, where the wait for the plane to Vilnius was to be four painful hours. I have never been able to sleep on planes, making long layovers all the less tolerable. I had, 16 years earlier, flown through the same airport, and was now astonished to find that the building showed no signs at all of being updated or expanded. To add to the discomfort, it was hot and there seemed to be no air conditioning. In addition, there was no bureau de change; I couldn't even buy a bottle of water. I was dry, tired, hot and gloomy.
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| Moscow at 8:10pm |
I waited for my flight to come up on the screen, waited and waited, and eventually with only 30 minutes to go before boarding, I decided to ask. Well, wasn't I in the wrong terminal?! Didn't I have to run to the correct terminal, the newer terminal, the air conditioned terminal, through another newer, air conditioned terminal? And didn't I hurt the bones in my right foot, in addition to the blood blister that formed on its heel? This was to slow my pace and reduce my awe for the first week and a half. Whatever, I would not be defeated.
Apricots & Salad
Landing in Vilnius, I spent the first most welcome sleep in the very comfortable Air Inn, freshly decked out with wooden fittings, just beyond the arrivals hall. Breakfast the next morning was deliciously Western, inducing lip-smacking smiles and a very happy belly. Cold meats, grainy bread, yogurt, cereal, pate, smoked salmon, fruit and real coffee - all the things that Westerners take for granted but that I had already forgotten I missed.
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| Vilnius Airport - Oro Uostas |
I returned to the airport to buy some Lithuanian litas. Lithuania is set to adopt the Euro in January 2015, so I was both excited about using a currency that would soon be disappearing, and also sad about the cost of exchanging currency once again. (From New Taiwan Dollars to Euro, Euro to litas, litas back to Euros, Euros to Icelandic krona, Euros to rubles, rubles back to Euros and finally Euros back to New Taiwan Dollars - it all adds up to horrific commissions.)
Church Bells in Old Town
Next on the agenda was a trip into town, luggage in tow, where I would locate Domus Maria, a hotel recommended by the Lonely Planet, situated as it was in Old Town, in a building formerly used as a monastery, just beside the Gates of Dawn. What lovely rooms they were, and a quiet, peaceful environment. Luggage dropped, receptionist paid, it was time to get on with the business for which I had come - exploration and discovery. Plodding along on my gammy right foot, I wandered the streets, in awe at everything I saw. The temperature was a palatable 17˚C, and there was a light mist-like rain at times. I was ecstatic at being away from the unbearable heat and humidity of my usual abode.
Sitting in a Vilnius Park
Road and shop signs were in Lithuanian, of course, many also translated into English. Completely absent was Russian. I had expected joy at their freedom from Soviet overlords, but hadn't expected the removal of the language, given Russia's position in the world arena. I guess Lithuania wanted to thoroughly remove all vestiges of those awful decades. What surprised me even more was what I learned later: that both Lithuanians and Latvians are indeed Slavs, albeit Baltic Slavs. That makes them ethnically somewhat closely related to Russians. So I would have deduced, naturally, that it would be these two southern Baltic states that might retain some Russian flavour, and that Estonia would more certainly have rid itself entirely of it.
Well, the opposite was in fact true. Estonians are a Uralic people, thereby being more closely related to Finns and Hungarians. But it was in Estonia that the strongest connection remained to Russia. Estonia has a large Russian speaking community, once migrants during the occupation who decided to remain thereafter and adopt Estonia as their homeland. Signs in Russian were therefore commonplace, and restaurant menus were provided in three languages, the third being English.
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| St Casimir Jesuit Church (more) |
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Russian Orthodox St Nicholas Church (more) |
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| The Cathedral (more) |
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| Church of the Holy Cross (more) |
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| University of Vilnius (more) |
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| St Anne and Bernadine Church Ensemble (more) |
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| Domus Maria (more) |
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| Church of the Holy Spirit (more) |
Another interesting observation was that motorists used their headlamps all through the day. I asked at my hotel why this was, and an incredulous receptionist said, "Well, I don't know where you are from, but our government has made it a law." I asked if that might be because, during the winter months, the sun scarcely shows itself, but she was not sure that was why.
In an effort to not entirely bankrupt myself, I had decided that, at least for the first half of my journey, I would try to eat most frequently from supermarkets and avoid the expense of restaurants. To this end, I located the shop closest to Domus Maria, and on the first afternoon wandered into it. Well, what a discovery! I found yet another Western feature I had missed for years and then forgotten all about: the salad bar. Salads are available in restaurants in Taiwan, and there are recently some convenience stores that sell them, but they are somewhat expensive, contain a limited variety of salad vegetables, and there is also no wide selection. I was astonished at the choices here - and overjoyed to find a vegetable whose existence I had let slip from memory: beetroot! I was like a kid in a candy store. Not only salad, but the selection of cold meats was everlasting.
And then I saw it - a small packet of smoked salmon, just the right size for a single portion, and delectably affordable. That is another product that is available in Taiwan but which costs a pretty penny, and there are no portion-sized packets. And then I saw another IT - an apricot; apricots stacked one on top of the other. I fell instantly and deeply in love with the Baltic supermarket. My choice to be frugal had suddenly become exciting and something to look forward to daily. I ate salad, fruit, grainy bread, beetroot and smoked salmon every single day of the trip.
Wandering around the cobbled streets of Vilnius, I was disconcerted to find that I was unable to determine the direction in which any vehicle was traveling. Was it behind me, coming at me, to the right, driving away? It was confusing. I had had my ears cleaned at the ENT before departure (didn't want flying to cause any problems) - perhaps he did a very good job. Or maybe it was the cobbles themselves and the closely packed buildings. Not that anyone was driving fast - cobbles aren't exactly smooth.
It was also in Vilnius that I spotted for the first time a curious Baltic habit. Some people sitting at outdoor cafes were wrapped in matching blankets. I was to discover that they are provided by the cafes for the comfort of their patrons. I eventually took this picture in Kaunas a few days later. I guess the weather here is somewhat unpredictable, though I was to become rather disappointed in what would prove to be hotter and sunnier days than I had longed for. Apart from Vilnius and Reykjavik, it was sweaty while I walked, and nights in the hotels (where neither air conditioning nor fan was provided - I stayed cheaply) were uncomfortable. This was the first unhappy surprise to which I referred earlier.
On the streets and in the shops, I noted that the locals were not very smiley, but none of them looked at all threatening, either. Cyclists were a little nuts, and one or two of them yelled at pedestrians. One even purposefully smacked into a stroller's umbrella. There was also a couple of Mormons a-converting, and I was careful to avoid them. Mormons are quite prevalent in Taiwan and I have had the misfortune of being stopped by them occasionally while riding around town. I find it quite intolerable when people try to push their ideas onto others. To me it shows a lack of respect.
My attempts at cultural activities in Vilnius were mostly thwarted. I tried to visit the Theatre, Music and Cinema Museum. Though I located the building, I could not find its entrance. There was no door in the facade facing the street, and the door around the back was not open, neither in the morning when I first stopped by, nor in the afternoon when I returned. I walked a long way beyond Old Town to the Museum of Genocide Victims, but this building was so well hidden (and not signposted) that I simply could not find it, despite following a map. (Looking at the Wikipedia article now, I realise my map must have been incorrect - how could I have missed this building?) I did eventually visit the Contemporary Arts Centre. The installations were interesting and bizarre, but I have seen better in Taipei. The Amber Museum Gallery was more unusual. To gain entrance, I walked into a trinket store, whence I had to descend into the basement for the pokey museum. What made this place memorable was that the basement is set at 15th century street level, and the archaeological excavations have been kept intact. The amber itself (to me) is interesting only in how it was formed - I am not particularly interested in its eventual use as jewelry.
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| Amber Gallery Museum (more) |
I had been quite excited about the idea of the White Nights before departing Taiwan. The idea that the sun stays up all through the night seemed novel and fascinating. I had read (and THANK HEAVENS for that) that I should come prepared with a night-mask to block out the brightness in order to sleep. The first few days the novelty was still exciting and exhilarating, but I soon found that it messed with my bio-rhythms, despite the mask. I was not tired by 10pm, notwithstanding my long walks each day, and I awoke way too early most days. Not to worry, I was on holiday, so feeling tired was not an important concern. I was interested to know what conditions are like when the Earth tilts the other way. The hotel receptionist said they get about 5 hours of sunlight in the winter and the temperature is usually around -10˚C, but can drop to -30˚C. Brrr!
After two glorious days, it was time to bid the lovely town of Vilnius adieu and move on. An early bus took me to Trakai, where the promise of an intact medieval castle beckoned and called. As my plan was to spend a couple of hours there and then continue northeast to Kaunas, I took all my luggage with me. Well, it was a local bus with no belly for the baggage, so I had to sit with my hard-case between my legs, spread-eagled like a spatchcock. I took up two seats, and by chance there was one and only one extra seat. The country roads that led us to Trakai reminded me of the lovely European countryside I had not seen in 15 years. Broad, neat roads surrounded by pine forests or expansive farmlands, everything wrapped in crisp, clean air with the clear blue sky crowning the allure.
Arriving in the town, the local tourist office was willing to watch my bag, since I had not booked a hotel here. They also advised that traveling on to Kaunas by local bus was not ideal, and that I should rather return to Vilnius and get a train from there. While I was actually tickled by the chance to spend 5 hours riding through the Lithuanian countryside - it gives one the chance to see things that one would otherwise never see - I did not at all fancy doing that once again wrapped around the hard-case. Damn! I might have left my luggage at Domus Maria!
As I ambled in the direction of the castle, I was struck by three perceptions. First, I noticed that, thus far, I seemed to have chosen destinations preferred by people 20 years my senior. It was an odd observation, and it reminded me that when I was at school, I more happily sought the company of adults than that of my peers. I hadn't thought about that for years.......... The second was a relief - when I am surrounded by Westerners, I am a man of ordinary size. Certainly no doctor would approve of my weight, but among my own people, I do not stand out. In Taiwan I am most certainly regarded as well overweight, and far too many people consider it acceptable to constantly point this out, never considering how rude it is to a Western psyche. The third phenomenon was really an absence of a phenomenon - I had not yet come across any stray animals. Discarded pets and their offspring are very much a part of the Taiwanese landscape.
The small town of Trakai was charming and quaint even before reaching the castle. It was peaceful walking along the road. After entering the castle, I met a Swedish couple who I asked to take a picture of me in the torture chamber. Then I wandered around the settlement in awe and wonder.
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| Trakai Town, Lithuania (more) |
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| Island Castle, Trakai (more) |
Island Castle, Trakai
Returning from Trakai, I decided that the train would be more comfortable, so armed with Maps-With-Me, I grabbed my bag from the information bureau, and off I went. I stopped once for directions. The young man who helped said continue half a mile. Well, I am ashamed to say that I am unable to measure that on foot, just as I am incapable of guessing someone's height or weight at a glance. So it happened that I walked way too far, overshooting the train station by a long shot. This while lugging my hard-case with me. (I know I've said hard-case at least three times, so I should say that I love that suitcase. It protects what's inside and the wheels (still) work very well. I can drag it, or put it solidly down and coax it along - it has four wheels on the bottom.)
At one point I walked up to a man at his garage and asked for directions. It was at once frustrating and a little amusing to be using body language and onomatopoeia to make myself understood - I haven't had to do that since my early years in Taiwan - but I was surprised to find that I still could communicate that way. At the station, I had to wait for about an hour - I'd missed the most recent train by a few minutes thanks to overshooting the station. So what? I didn't have to catch a scheduled flight, so time was irrelevant. It was just the heat that made me somewhat irritable.
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| Miniature of Lithuanian Rail System |
Back at Vilnius Train Station, I had time to try a pie-like snack that I'd seen but been reluctant to attempt. Well, it tasted exactly like a South African sausage roll, which, by the way, is much nicer than an American cocktail sausage. Cocktail sausages (at least the ones I have tried) are Wiener-like sausages wrapped in pastry, while the South African version uses fresh minced meat, tasting more like a meat ball than a processed sausage. It was delicious. Sadly I forgot to ever look for it again, so one was all I'd get.
Kita stotes...????
next stop.....????
next stop.....????
Arriving in Kaunas a couple of hours later, I hopped into a taxi to my hotel. I had been trying to make it a habit to walk to each hotel, thereby getting the lay of the land and facilitating a quick return to the town centre once I was settled. Here, however, the map was a little confusing. My hotel was just "over there", but it seemed that there was no direct route to it, and I was right. The taxi did not cost too much, and I was grateful that I'd taken it. We were to navigate a labyrinth of disconnected roads and ascend a hill too steep to happily climb with luggage.
The Perkuno Namai Hotel (named after the Lithuanian god of thunder) is very pretty. It is located in suburbia, with a spectacular garden descending from the lobby down a steep slope. While it looked ever so inviting, my gammy foot and tired legs prevented me from venturing along its leafy paths. It was already 6:30pm by the time I got settled, so I decided not to do any exploring in Kaunas today. Having been so good about eating from the supermarket, I also decided to have my dinner tonight from room service. It was very tasty, and I was happy to just put my feet up and rest for the evening. The restaurant hosted a wedding on both nights I stayed there, and I read in Kaunas in Your Pocket that it was a well respected and popular restaurant.
Here was the first time I came across an intriguing door-window invention. The handle could be twisted three ways. Pointing downwards, the window-door was locked. Pointing to the right, the window-door opened like any door. Pointed upwards, the top part of the window dropped inwards, thereby providing ventilation but no access by a person. This fitting was quite common in the places I traveled, though not necessarily the norm. The room came with air conditioning and I happily used it to create the temperature I had expected.
Here again, I was astonished at the cost of doing laundry in a hotel. The same had been true at Domus Maria and was to be true of all the places I had yet to visit. A single shirt could rip €25 from one's wallet, before adding underwear, socks, vests. I worked out that it was cheaper to buy new clothes than to get the hotel to wash them. I bundled my laundry into a plastic bag, intent on finding a laundromat the next day as I wandered around Kaunas. It was now that the second of my unwelcome surprises arrived. As it turned out, I was not to find a place to wash my clothes the next day, nor indeed anywhere else along my journey. At the next stop, Šiauliai, I eventually asked the receptionist where I could do my laundry, to which she replied, "Only in your room." I wanted to know if there was a laundromat in town, and she said no. I was flabbergasted. I guess I am spoiled by traveling in Asia. There is a laundromat whenever you need one, and if you don't like to do it yourself, it is both convenient and cheap to get it done for you. Asians, it seems, have a much better attitude to providing services. Cut to me, washing my entire suitcase of clothes with shampoo in the shower in Šiauliai. I got better at washing frequently, and I did buy washing powder, but as I was moving on quickly from place to place, most often I had to wash 4 days' worth. I did my best to both wash and rinse them properly, but I am no match for a machine. That coupled with the heat ended in the occasional underarm rash. This aspect of my trip was singularly and repetitively unpleasant and infuriating.
Back to Kaunas. Next morning, I was up early again and, after another lovely Western breakfast, off to the city, by taxi since this hotel was in suburbia. It was quite hot! Walking around was a little uncomfortable, but I did discover that, unlike in Taiwan, here the shady areas beside buildings and beneath trees were in fact considerably cooler than sunny places. It was not unlike walking into an air-conditioned building. I took a walk by the Kaunas Castle, only a portion of which remains. A large group of technicians and musicians was setting up in the moat for a performance which I would not see.
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| Streets of Kaunas (more) |
Next, I visited the Maironis Museum. Maironis (born Jonas Mačiulis) was a Lithuanian poet. Then I stopped at the Povilas Stulga Music and Instruments Museum. This place was fascinating to me. I love all things music, as long as they are not mainstream commercial genres, and here they had an extensive collection of folk instruments from across the Baltic states, as well as instruments from further afield, including examples from South America and one or two from Africa.
After lapping up their offerings, I wandered over to a sister museum, the Kaunas City Museum. Here only one exhibition was
open and I turned to leave when a tall young historian with a powerful
handshake offered me a guided tour of the cardinal's rooms (their beloved
Cardinal Vincentas Sladkevičius, who'd cautiously but
tirelessly resisted Soviet decrees). While I have little interest in the church,
its history is so tied up with Medieval and Renaissance music that it does have a certain appeal, and the broad shoulders before me were an added incentive. He turned out to be very interesting and well informed. We had an animated conversation about the political history of the area, the languages and ethnicity of the citizenry (to which I referred earlier), with my contributions being about religious music, and the similarities between what he was telling me and the South African tale. Among the facts I learned was the shocking but obvious and cunning truth that the Soviets disallowed the use of the Roman alphabet, insisting that Lithuanian be written using the Russian alphabet. Leaving the museum, I felt energized and a little smarter.
The last stop before lunch was at SS Peter and Paul Cathedral. I had in fact come here earlier, immediately after being dropped by the taxi, but there had been a service taking place and I decided it would be impolite to wander about at that time.
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| SS Peter and Paul Cathedral (more) |
Snippet of Egyptian Music at Ramzis II
For lunch I followed a recommendation from Kaunas in Your Pocket. It referred readers to an Egyptian restaurant called Ramzis II. I found the place after making a couple of wrong turns. It was set back through an archway, and seemed impossible to stumble upon, so thank goodness for the guide book. I was the only guest, and my meal was delicious. I had a chicken salad starter and a chicken main course, too. I didn't realise that I was ordering only poultry until it arrived at the table. For dessert, I had a coconut cake. Both the first and the last course tasted authentically Egyptian (though honestly, I have no idea how Egyptian food tastes), but the main course, delicious as it was, was not unlike a lovely Italian pasta sauce. I guess both countries lie on the Mediterranean. As I ate, my soul was washed by Egyptian songs over the stereo.
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| Ramzis II (more) |
I gave up on the remaining museums I had planned to see because my feet and legs were killing me. In addition, Kaunas had become unbearably hot and, as soon as I stepped beyond the boundaries of Old Town, also dusty and reminiscent of the one-horse town where I'd grown up - Virginia in the heart of the Free State, South Africa. I decided instead to find new clothes (which was, incidentally, a plan I had before leaving Taiwan. I had happily thought that I'd easily find Western sized clothes here. Register shock in decibels when I try on the XXL shirt bought from a local shopping centre, and it is too small!)
After making my daily purchase of water, smoked salmon and salad, I returned to Perkuno Namai for the last night. Early next morning I was off again, this time to Šiauliai and the enticing Hill of Crosses. I arrived at the station 10 minutes before the next bus and thankfully got a ticket. Unsure that I was about to board the correct vehicle, I stood at the bottom of its steps and looked up at the driver. It took me all of two seconds to realise that locals here would not automatically assume that I was foreign. I have become so accustomed to being immediately recognised as a WAI GUO REN (外國人) that I subconsciously expected it. Why weren't people speaking to me in English off the bat? Or scurrying from me if they weren't able to? Why didn't Grandpa Bus Driver (he must have been in his 80s - shriek!) perceive at once that I didn't know what to do? Recovering from that, I got up the stairs and tried to pronounce Šiauliai. It worked, and I was ushered on.
I followed my progress as best I could on Maps-With-Me. It was fun to do this as it prevented me from getting too bored and also gave me a sense of where in the world I was. It was on this trip that I saw what had attracted me to these countries so many years ago. Almost every countryside house was flying the Lithuanian flag. Such patriotism was lovely to see, such pride in their heritage and their freedom.
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| Lithuanian Patriotism (more) |
The countryside between Kaunas and Šiauliai was gorgeous. Open fields yielding hay gave way to forests in the distance. There were roadside gas stations with modest convenience stores. We passed through some villages so tiny they were neither represented on my maps nor even signposted on the road. Others that were signposted had names like Ariogala, Betygala, Šiluva, Žaiginys and Tytuvėnai.
It was a completely different feeling in the town of Šiauliai. This place was dead and dusty. There was nothing at all about it to redeem itself. As I said earlier, it was here that I finally realised I'd be washing my clothes by hand. The clerks at the bus stop spoke English but with such thick accents I really had no idea what they were saying. My guest house was spartan, the bed so narrow that, lying on my back, both my arms fell to the ground. I opted eventually to sleep on the floor. I'd booked a cheap room, but realised after the first night I'd have to upgrade. After washing my clothes, I went into town. Many cafes were open, but few patrons visited them. Most other shops were closed. It was like the aftermath of a catastrophe - dead, dismal. Returning later to the guest house, I asked where everyone was, and was told that the town was away on holiday, in some place that was obviously more interesting than here. Not only that, but it was also here that the pain in my feet and legs became most unbearable. In hindsight, this was definitely the least interesting, least enjoyable place on the whole trip.
I had come here to see the Hill of Crosses, so I kept my plans as they were, though I was tempted to move on without delay.
"Atop a small hill about 10km north of Šiauliai is a strange and inspiring sight. Here stand thousands upon thousands of crosses planted by countless pilgrims.... Large and tiny, expensive and cheap, wood and metal, the crosses are devotional, to accompany prayers, or finely carved folk-art masterpieces. Others are memorials tagged with flowers, a photograph or other mementoes of the deceased, and inscribed with a sweet or sacred message......
When it comes to explaining the origin of the Hill of Crosses, there are almost as many myths as crosses. Some claim it was created in three days and three nights by the bereaved families of warriors killed in a great battle. Others say it was the work of a father who, in a desperate bid to cure his sick daughter, planted a cross on the hill. Pagan traditions tell stories of sacred fires being lit here and tended by celestial virgins.
Crosses first appeared here in the 14th century. They multiplied after bloody anti-tsarist uprisings to become a potent symbol of suffering and hope.
During the Soviet era planting a cross was an arrestable offence - but pilgrims kept coming to commemorate the thousands killed and deported (to Siberia). The hill was bulldozed at least three times. In 1961, the Red Army destroyed the 2000-odd crosses that stood on the mound, sealed off the tracks leading to the hill and dug ditches at its base, yet overnight more crosses appeared. In 1972 they were destroyed after the immolation (click here) of a Kaunas student (click here) in protest at Soviet occupation. But by 1990 the Hill of Crosses comprised a staggering 40,000 crosses, spanning 4600 sq metres. Since independence, they have multiplied at least ten times - and are multiplying still." Lonely Planet, Estonia, Latvia & Lithuania, 6th edition 2012, pp 334, 337
To get to this phenomenal place, I had two choices. I could take a bus that passed the Hill of Crosses area and then walk 2 kilometers to the hill. This would allow me to spend as much time as I wanted there. But as I said, my legs (so unaccustomed to exercise) were not playing along, and I would naturally have to walk the 2 km back to the bus. The other option was to get a taxi directly from my guest house, which would take me there and bring me back, with only a 30-minute stop at the attraction. I opted for the second one. In hindsight, it was the right choice, even ignoring my aching bones. I am not religious, nor do I share the pain and suffering of the people who put the crosses there (though I most certainly empathise), so I did not need hours to contemplate. Thirty minutes was a little too short - perhaps I needed 45. Not really worth the hassle of option 1. Still, it was an incredible sight, and I am very glad I came here.
The Baltic states have a sad and tumultuous history. Naturally, the locals resisted both Nazi and Soviet occupation. Resistance movements were crushed, people killed and others deported to Siberia. And of course, tens of thousands of Jews were murdered. For many years during Soviet occupation there was guerilla resistance fighting. Consider reading the following articles:
The Holocaust in Lithuania
Chiune Sughara
Salaspils concentration camp
Returning from "Criss Cross", as the receptionist at my guesthouse referred to it, I went into town, and today it was somewhat busier. It was Monday, so I suppose those who weren't away on holiday came out of hiding to attend work. I sat at one of the cafes and had a Georgian beef soup. It was spicy and utterly too hot for the temperature of the day, but it was indeed delicious. It was, however, not altogether unfamiliar. I remember my mother making a soup that tasted just like this when I was growing up.
At this point, I wish to make another annoyed comment about the wretchedly torrid weather. Inasmuch as I expected comfortable temperatures, I had packed two pairs of long pants and only had a pair of shorts with me because I had come from Taiwan, where I would have baked to an edible well done if I had worn trousers to the airport. This pair of shorts was white. Realising that I would continue to bake here if I attempted to wear the long ones, I ended up wearing that same pair of white shorts every single day, which meant that I could not wash them as they would not dry overnight. It is quite astonishing that they were still quite white when I arrived back in Taiwan. It was shaming and disgusting, but hell, I will never see anybody from those countries again.
On the flip-side, it was wonderful to share roads with motorists who followed the rules. People stopped at red lights, waited for pedestrians at zebra crossings, and stayed on their own side of the road. I have become so unaccustomed to this that I found myself reluctant to cross even when I noticed vehicles slowing down. I was oddly out of my depth, a sensation reminiscent of my bewilderment at not immediately being identified as a foreigner. It was only in St Petersburg where I felt more at home using the roads because Russians are as pushy and rule-bending as the Taiwanese. (Forgive me, my Taiwanese friends.)
There was a similarity here to a practice I got used to in Taiwan. I am somewhat afraid to write about it because it's not a polite topic, but I find it curiously intriguing. The Taiwanese sewer system is incapable of dealing with discarded toilet tissue. In all public places, a bin beside the throne is meant to receive the used and offensive product. One is even meant to follow this rule at home. I have heard a variety of reasons for this, the most plausible being that there is no central sewerage disposal; instead a septic tank is built beneath each building to catch effluence, and I have indeed seen such a tank being "vacuumed" in my own building. Taiwan is the only country where I have come across this practice, although admittedly I may have been to other countries where it is also required to bucket the bundle but been unaware of it.
Well slap me silly if it is not the standard practice in the Baltic states, too. All public facilities were equipped with trash cans beside the porcelain, as were the rooms in all the guest houses and hotels. I did, however, read in Kaunas in Your Pocket that it is no longer necessary to do so and that "we've been [flushing the paper] for years." There was an odd website at http://www.wheredoiputthepaper.com/gtom.html in case you had any interest whatsoever in learning more, but it seems to have ceased to exist.
I've been rambling. Back to the trip. I was happy the next morning to be saying goodbye to Šiauliai. Getting on the bus, the driver made the Asian man in front of me put his own bag into the luggage belly, so I dutifully started to do the same, at which point the driver took my bag and did it for me. Was this racism? It was the only sign of it, though, and there was no other obvious rudeness to report. The country roads I had come across through Lithuania were not in great shape, and as we crossed the border into Latvia, they got instantly worse. To be fair, the road works began just a few kilometres down the road, and this slowed our progress considerably. I was tickled when I saw that here too all headlamps were on. Are these the Northern Lights, then?
