Leaving lovely Latvia, we headed to Lithuania. After a relatively long day on the road, we happily arrived in Klaipėda where we’d booked a wonderful apartment on the 28th floor of a high-rise, overlooking the city and seaport—the country’s major working port. Wanting a quick, light dinner, Larry went nearby for one of our favorite cross-cultural experiences: grocery-shopping. Collecting items, Larry attempted to purchase a ½ bottle of wine, which caused quite a kerfuffle. The obviously exasperated cashier wrested the bottle from him and, using very effective non-verbal communication, conveyed that he’d committed an international faux pas! We googled to learn it’s illegal in Lithuania to purchase alcohol after 8 p.m. After narrowly escaping the Klaipėda Kops, we fixed a celebratory charcuterie board with Larry’s hard-earned harvest. And, our host had left a bottle of grape juice as a welcoming gift. So, we poured it in champagne glasses to toast Last-but-not-least-Lithuania with not-wine-but-just-fine.
After all that excitement (Ha!), we enjoyed a slow Sunday morning—feasting on the yogurt, fruit, and coffee gathered from Larry’s brave shopping expedition—before venturing out midday to take the ferry to the Curonian Spit National Park. (An actual ferry, not like the fancy ship we took from Finland.) Oh, my! What a wonder-full day. Exiting the ferry, which took about 20 minutes, we drove the 30 miles or so through the four villages, stopping along the way and ending in Nida, the largest village.
The short, scenic drive was immersive: Sun-dappled, deep forest. Winking glimpses of waterways with bevies of swans gliding on the surface. Wild flowers, contemplative quiet, such simple serenity. We stopped in each village for food and local sites: Witches Hill—ambled on a long walk in the forest with coven of wooden sculptures that convey ancient stories; Panides Dune—marveled at the mighty and fragile dunes, with an overlook of Russia; Nida Village Park—strolled the waterway promenade along the park, stopping for the requisite photo and song with (the statue of) Vytautas Kernagis, singer-songwriter considered the pioneer of Lithuanian sung poetry. After a serene, satisfying day, we savored the scenic drive back to the ferry, which took us back to town. Then, we drove the short distance to our apartment for a late repast and restful evening, whilst watching the sun slowly sink into the sea.
The next day, we drove to the capital, Vilnius. On the way, we stopped for a coffee and traditional pastries at a roadside café. Then, we stopped in Kaunas for a tasty lunch and a stroll around town as several groups of traditional folk singers and dancers regaled us. Then, we drove to the Old Town section of Kaunas where a local festival with music was happening. We stopped for an espresso and pastry at a small art gallery/café. There, we had a wonderful conversation with Dom, a local staff, who’d done a gap year as an au pair for a family in Georgetown, KY. Serendipity makes it a small world.
After our espresso, pastry, and Dom boost, we continued on to arrive in Vilnius early evening. Our new home involved parking our car using a car elevator! Eek! New experience. We parked the car, entered our centrally located apartment and didn’t use our car again until we left. We enjoyed another quiet evening and slow Sunday morning.
Then, we ventured out over the next few days to explore the compact, interesting Old Town of Vilnius. Cobblestone streets, ancient castles, grand cathedrals: We meandered, imagined the history, and, were drawn into shops where we, of course, became convinced of the power of AMBER: the ubiquitous souvenir throughout the Baltic, but especially in Lithuania.
Our days in Vilnius were easy, enjoyable, and edifying. In our exploring, perhaps our favorite moment was the discovery of the Seek-and-Find stone tile bearing the word stebulkas (magic). This small tile in the expansive Cathedral Square commemorates the ending spot of the human chain—linked in 1989 between Tallinn (Estonia), and Vilnius by two million Latvians, Estonians, and Lithuanians—to protest Soviet occupation. The tradition is to make a wish by doing a clockwise 360-degree turn on the tile. Superstition forbids revealing the exact location. So, like much of the magic in travel-life, you must seek-and-find and enjoy the magic of the journey.
