Today we turned the whole time vs. money motif on its head by paying considerably extra to take a longer journey rather than a quicker one. Instead of taking a normal inter-city express bus, as most natives of this part of Europe might do, we signed up for a “bus tour.” This was a van that would take us the long way from Riga to Vilnius, following back roads to off-the-beaten-track locations.
Our driver-guide was a young Lithuanian woman, Beatrice (or Beatrix) who is a university student studying journalism in Vilnius. In addition to the two of us, three others had signed up for the trip — an American engineer from Oregon, and a young couple from Georgia (the one in Eastern Europe, not the one in the American South) who currently live and work in Moscow. We got off to a bit of a late start, as the Georgian couple had overslept.
First stop was a site just outside of Riga that had been a Nazi labor camp for Jews during WW II. The Soviets turned it into a touching memorial to those who died here from disease and poor conditions, as well as those exported to death camps. The irony of the memorial is not lost to the Latvians, who recall that the Soviets were almost equally brutal as the Nazis — they simply picked their enemies by their politics rather than by their ethnicity.
We drove on a bit longer this time to Rundales Pils. This huge palace was built in the 1730s by a German baron, the Duke of Courland, who married a lady-in-waiting to the czarina (with whom he is rumored to have had an affair) and managed to cash in by skimming off the Russian imperial treasury. For that he was sent to Siberia, so had little time to enjoy his Latvian pile, which was left unfinished for 40 plus years. It was badly damaged in the Latvian War for Independence in 1919. The palace has not been fully restored. In fact, if one looks closely it can be seen that some of the exterior windows are fake — simply painted on the outside wall. However, we were able to stroll through the well-manicured formal gardens of this “Latvian Versailles.”
Another long stretch of 2-lane road through the lush green, but table-top flat countryside took us across the border from Latvia into Lithuania. (We learned from our native speaker guide that Americans mispronounce the names of both countries: LOT-vee-yah, and Lit-WAIN-yah.)
In the middle of a field of yellow-flowered Lithuanian buckwheat is the “Hill of Crosses.” In this flat land, even a tiny knoll is significant, and some devoutly Catholic Lithuanians had erected a few crosses here as an expression of faith. When the atheist Soviets invaded they discouraged religion, and so destroyed the crosses.
In a response that was as political as religious, large numbers of crosses began showing up on the hill by night. Each time the Soviets removed them, even greater numbers of crosses showed up. Even after the Soviets gave up, in acts of defiance or devotion or both, more crosses continued to show up. Even today, anyone can bring a cross (In fact the shops just outside the fence will happily sell you any number of makes and models), but no one can take one home. It is estimated that there are now more than half a million crosses on the site. (No, we did not add to the count.)
Next stop was Kaunas, Lithuania’s second city. The old town center has several churches and a reconstructed castle, but the overall impression is of a very run-down and depressed place. We did not stay long.
The lake village of Trakai was originally on this tour itinerary, but was removed due to time constraints. However, some of the travelers on this tour had not received that message and complained, so to Trakai we went. We are glad our fellow-travelers insisted, because the reconstructed castle here was quite enchanting.
It was nearly 9 p.m. before we got to our hotel in Vilnius. We’ve had no time to look around, and we are very tired. But this is one time we are glad we traded both time AND money for an experience we would not have had if the journey had not been the destination.
Our driver-guide was a young Lithuanian woman, Beatrice (or Beatrix) who is a university student studying journalism in Vilnius. In addition to the two of us, three others had signed up for the trip — an American engineer from Oregon, and a young couple from Georgia (the one in Eastern Europe, not the one in the American South) who currently live and work in Moscow. We got off to a bit of a late start, as the Georgian couple had overslept.
First stop was a site just outside of Riga that had been a Nazi labor camp for Jews during WW II. The Soviets turned it into a touching memorial to those who died here from disease and poor conditions, as well as those exported to death camps. The irony of the memorial is not lost to the Latvians, who recall that the Soviets were almost equally brutal as the Nazis — they simply picked their enemies by their politics rather than by their ethnicity.
We drove on a bit longer this time to Rundales Pils. This huge palace was built in the 1730s by a German baron, the Duke of Courland, who married a lady-in-waiting to the czarina (with whom he is rumored to have had an affair) and managed to cash in by skimming off the Russian imperial treasury. For that he was sent to Siberia, so had little time to enjoy his Latvian pile, which was left unfinished for 40 plus years. It was badly damaged in the Latvian War for Independence in 1919. The palace has not been fully restored. In fact, if one looks closely it can be seen that some of the exterior windows are fake — simply painted on the outside wall. However, we were able to stroll through the well-manicured formal gardens of this “Latvian Versailles.”
Another long stretch of 2-lane road through the lush green, but table-top flat countryside took us across the border from Latvia into Lithuania. (We learned from our native speaker guide that Americans mispronounce the names of both countries: LOT-vee-yah, and Lit-WAIN-yah.)
In the middle of a field of yellow-flowered Lithuanian buckwheat is the “Hill of Crosses.” In this flat land, even a tiny knoll is significant, and some devoutly Catholic Lithuanians had erected a few crosses here as an expression of faith. When the atheist Soviets invaded they discouraged religion, and so destroyed the crosses.
In a response that was as political as religious, large numbers of crosses began showing up on the hill by night. Each time the Soviets removed them, even greater numbers of crosses showed up. Even after the Soviets gave up, in acts of defiance or devotion or both, more crosses continued to show up. Even today, anyone can bring a cross (In fact the shops just outside the fence will happily sell you any number of makes and models), but no one can take one home. It is estimated that there are now more than half a million crosses on the site. (No, we did not add to the count.)
Next stop was Kaunas, Lithuania’s second city. The old town center has several churches and a reconstructed castle, but the overall impression is of a very run-down and depressed place. We did not stay long.
The lake village of Trakai was originally on this tour itinerary, but was removed due to time constraints. However, some of the travelers on this tour had not received that message and complained, so to Trakai we went. We are glad our fellow-travelers insisted, because the reconstructed castle here was quite enchanting.
It was nearly 9 p.m. before we got to our hotel in Vilnius. We’ve had no time to look around, and we are very tired. But this is one time we are glad we traded both time AND money for an experience we would not have had if the journey had not been the destination.
1 comment:
I’ll try to remember the correct pronunciations. What a site the Hill of Crosses must have been and the protest they represented.
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