Sunday, May 8, 2016

If It Be Your Vilnius



The bus from Kaunas to Vilnius was probably the easiest, smoothest segment of this trip, which has been a Baltic millipede of many, many segments. It's probably because I didn't schedule it. Took a nice shower, made some nice coffee, packed my bags nicely and walked down to the station. Just to see.

I was like, "Vilnius?" They were like, "That bus is leaving in two minutes and it's $6." And I had two minutes and $6, so snip snap snorum,

One of my favorite things about Lithuania so far is that the word for "thank you" is pronounced "ah-choo." Easy to remember and hilarious to say. Please pass the pepper. Ah-choo,

The driver gave me my ticket, I sneezed my appreciation, and we were on the way.

I read more Mavis Gallant. Rich and beautiful. I don't know who to recommend it to, but The Pegnitz Junction is magnificent. I loved the feeling of reading it.

The outskirts of Vilnius were shabby as we approached, the city is sort of frayed at the edges. Oh, Toto, I don't think we're in Kaunas anymore.


Bought some bread with onions and mysteries inside, traded in my dollars for Euros. I was looking forward to some new coins for my collection, but Lit and Lat are both firmly on the Euro now. It means things are a little bit more expensive. But, I guess everything is compared to The Ukraine.

Back in Lublin, I was told that the locals go to Georgia for their cheap holidays. I liked thinking about that. I go to Eastern Europe for cheap vacations, and Eastern Europe goes to Georgia. Where do the Georgians go?

Took a taxi to my apartment. My hosts were a couple of woodland creatures named Asta and Donatas. O' the casual beauty of their faces and bodies, the silver refinement of their gestures and manners. He works in the National Library and fixes MINI cars for a hobby. She's in Marketing and makes tiny arts and tiny crafts.

They're preparing for a road trip with their friends in four MINIs to Belgium.

Other lives, other worlds.

My room is enormous. Huge windows, crayons, bookshelf. Hilariously, there's a giant picture book of Estonian bus stops!


I think I meant to get right out into the action, but I closed my eyes for a moment, and.... hours passed in a Lithuanian nap. Maybe I sensed I had the time. Two days here. The parts of the trip that don't involve loitering at the Ukrainian border have been go + go, so this is a built-in rest stop.

There was plenty to see, however, so up I got, camera packed, map folded, and off to the Old City (as is the pattern and the theme). Long walk there. Getting pretty used to enormous churches. Got sad thinking about the history of them.

Like, these places were forced to become Christian. Ostensibly to "save their souls" but practically because The Pope and Western Europe condoned the looting and murder of "pagans." You were allowed to come up here a'rapin' from Germany or England or Etceterastan if you were spreading the Lord's word.

So, to keep from getting a bunch of French arrows in your thighs, you put up a cross and said, "No pagans here. Look how Christian we are, maybe even the most Christian."

It makes me think of the way Ta-Nehisi Coates writes about "whiteness." Because they are forced to by culture and out of fear, people will claim to be whatever they think will give them the most rights. And if they can get other people to agree, they're in great shape.

What's the best thing to be... White Christian? Brother, I'm so glad you said that, because it describes me exactly. Go loot those tree-fuckers in Estonia, we're all busy saying grace over here.


Before they got cathedral spires all stuck in them, though, the Lithuanians fought a famous battle with the Teutonic Knights and busted their horns all the way back to Malbork. Kept themselves pagan a little but longer.

Malbork is where I was a few weeks ago, It's been very cool to read about these things and then see them, of course.

Into the Old City, which is enormous and thriving. Happy people everywhere delighting in the sun. More tourists than Kaunas, but something called Europe Day was going on and there were food carts lining the streets and a huge religious concert with thousands of people. Nuns on picnic blankets. Teenagers in church-group tee-shirts.

Wandered in and out of amber shops and coffee places. Stunned by the facade of the National Theater. It's three... I guess muses, but they have gold comedy, tragedy, and... neutraly (?) masks. Their outline against the sky, their strange balance, the integration of the theater into the city. I was stricken with emotion. It was A Moment.

It made me want to be famous and dead and asleep and fucking and old all at once.

 
Hot-air balloons rose in the distance and I headed to their launching place. I passed many street musicians on the way. I've been in... eight cities and heard "Imagine" in all of them and Adele in most of them. Here, though, two boys with a guitar and violin were singing a Lithuanian song that everyone seemed to know. The crowd sang along beautifully. The emotion on their faces. It was a moment for them.

A filthy old man with a nicotine-yellow beard, his face the color of street-sleep, did a Zorba the Greek sort of dance. His jeans were dark with urine. His sport coat was badly torn at the shoulders.

Further down the cobblestones, two teen girls were singing Cherry Bomb. I couldn't believe it. My heart already open from the theater statues, this song rushed in to fill it. After so many days of melancholy Old City crooning, so cool to hear something with an edge.  I showered them with 20-cent coins.

Ducked into a tea house and drank a pot of something called The Lord Henry. Used books and records lined the walls. Marvelous patterns and colors.


Climbed the hill to the castle to see things from above. Long, winding road up, up, up, a magic hill to the castle. The day was warm, and bright; people from all over the world were breathless and happy. Selfie sticks were extended and bristled like the pikes of the invading Turks must have once.

I watched a cat clean himself high in the castle wall, I watched a crow empty a trash can. I loved that crow. A bag of pistachios was too heavy for him to get out, so I took it out for him. He kept a respectful distance while I did this and when I turned my back, I heard the scattering of a hundred shells on the stone.

Sorry, cleaning crew. I was in love.

Beautiful long views of the city glowing as the sun lowered itself. There was a funicular, and I sang an Italian song at it but I didn't ride it down. I walked back the way I came and remembered the balloons.

Dogs and families. Children dressed like animals. Salons. Beards.

Cheated on the crow and gave my affection to the Church of St. Anne, a gorgeous old brick masterpiece that looks like it will fall on you and stand forever all at once. Schrodinger's cathedral.


Like most things of genuine significance, it was difficult to get a photograph that really captured its essence or the way it made me feel, so I bought a magnet.

Floated to where I thought the balloons (remember them?!) had come from and found myself in Uzupis, a cute little side-community dedicated to cats and freedom. Kind of an artist's colony apart from the city, but like most of these types of places, rapidly gentrifying.

Or so it seemed to me. And, since I've been run out of Atlanta, Brooklyn, and soon Seattle for just those reasons, the signs are familiar to me. I say this without malice (but with melancholy).

Uzupis is known as the "Lithuanian Williamsburg," a term I think is meant affectionately and in reference to ten-years-ago Williamsburg. Nice and gritty with tea shops and used book stores and a giant constitution fixed to a wall proclaiming this an independent and free state in which people are required to be kind.

As is necessary in such places, there is a large restaurant serving "Tibetan food." When you buy the hip neighborhood kit, the first thing out of the box is the Tibetan restaurant.

I drank more tea and read for a while.


Watched the sun commit suicide and walked back to St. Anne's to see how the brick looked in a different light. Made myself laugh thinking Church of St. Anne sounded like Church of Satan if spoken quickly. Wondered why I'd never thought about that before.

Had dinner and some gross bitters at a tourist trap. Nasty herring but great beetroot soup. 33% of the meal was just fine. The waiter wanted me to drink more, but it was gross, but I'm the girl who can't say no, so it was one more shot of yucky bitters. Vacation.

My rationale was, it would probably take years before I acquired a fondness or taste for it, so I had better get started.

The apartment is kind of a long walk from the action, so it was kind of a long walk home in the dark. Which I did not mind. As I was heading away from it all, walking toward the Old City were well-dressed gangs of high-cheekboned miscreants with heartstopping haircuts. They were gathering for a rumble in the disco.


In the morning, Asta was cooking cottage-cheese dumplings and Donatas was sorting bolts, screws, and caps. Her ingredients were carefully organized by the side of the stove. His car parts were kept carefully organized in plastic containers.

Clean light shone on these beautiful people and their organization.

They leave for Belgium soon.

The car parts are for if something goes wrong. The dumplings are for me.

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