The cobblestone streets of Vilnius old town. Evocative, eh?
I last set foot in Lithuania in September 1993. Back then I was at the start of an overland journey I thought might take me all the way home to New Zealand. I’d flown from London to Helsinki, taken the ferry to Estonia, train to Latvia and then the train to Lithuania. I was travelling with a Kiwi whose name (I think) was Matthew. I remember how we met (in a Palestinian hostel in Jerusalem) and realised we both lived in Forest Gate (a nondescript East London suburb) and liked blues. Something else we shared was the reality that both our 2-year Commonwealth work visas were going to end by late 1993. Inevitably, we needed to make plans on how we were to head home.
Matthew had given this more serious thought than me and wanted to travel to Asia via the former Soviet Union. Sounds like a plan. One thing, his father – a widower – was going to join him for some of the journey. OK. I had a French girlfriend at the time and mentioned it to her. She liked the idea, so it was to be the four of us. And then, on a long weekend in Wales, she and I fell apart without so much as an argument. I was devastated at the time but, looking back, realise I got lucky – of all the women I’ve dated she was the most volatile: to have found myself in relationship meltdown while in Russia or Iran would have been far more stressful than in Wales.
So we three Kiwis set off together, Matthew’s father being, to my mind, a typical suburban Kiwi bloke (personable if rather dull). Helsinki, Tallinn and Riga all turned out to be a bit like Matthew’s father (pleasant enough if lacking distinctive character) and none made much impression. Backpackers hadn’t then ventured into the Baltics in sizeable numbers so there was the constant effort to find places to stay, as well as cafes or restaurants – this wasn’t a surprise to me as I’d already travelled in Romania and Bulgaria where communism hadn’t yet been replaced by a market economy. Tourism was new to the region, although Tallinn had an inkling that its old town would be following Prague (then just starting to boom) into a tourist favourite. Then we got to Vilnius and I had to catch my breath.
The shadow of the Soviets still hung over Vilnius – the last Russian troops only left a few weeks before we arrived – and the city was rundown, semi-derelict in parts, yet its old town was striking. Here were narrow, cobblestone streets, baroque churches and buildings that creaked with age. The Soviets obviously had no interest in preserving historic buildings and I sensed that these streets and alleys and the buildings and courtyards that stood on them were considered as markers of a decadent, non-communist past, an area condemned to ruination.
Lithuania emanated beauty yet bled history, you could sense this even if knowing very little about the nation. It was in the air we breathed, an atmosphere of trauma alongside one of relief, hope. Which was understandable, back then Lithuania was just two years independent and still finding its feet. Also, if Lithuania is known internationally for one thing its the genocide of the nation’s Jewish population when under Nazi rule (1941 – 1944). Seemingly 95% of Lithuanian Jews were murdered (over 100,000) – and their murderers were, for the most part, Lithuanians who happily did the Nazis’ dirty work.
It wasn’t only Lithuania where locals were happy to be Nazi stooges: Romania, Croatia and Hungary were enthusiast fascist states whose politicians (and many members of the public) embraced the opportunity to engage in the collective murder of their entire Jewish populations. Roma too – let’s not forget that the Rom were marked alongside the Jews by Hitler for complete extermination. Even in Poland, a state that suffered so brutally under the Nazis, some Poles were happy to grasp the opportunity to murder a Jewish populace they had long discriminated against.
This noted, Bulgaria and Albania – while Axis states – didn’t join in with the savagery. I’ll now note that genocidal behaviour isn’t limited to these central, Balkan and Baltic nations, humanity is, as Kant noted, a crooked timber. Waging carnage against a minority could (and does) take place in our so-called ‘civilised’ states (as the genocide underway in Gaza and the West Bank demonstrates).
Anyway, back in 93, as we wondered about Vilnius I noted how the former Jewish ghetto appeared to have been left as something a ghost town – traces of signs in Yiddish could still be seen on walls – and the experience was a living history lesson, one matched by all the emblems of Soviet rule (you would still find statues of Lenin and the red star emblazoned on monuments). Back then we relied on Lonely Planet Eastern Europe for tips on where to visit/eat and nations like Lithuania were given a sketchy outline – pre-internet travel guides, being researched, written and printed in different years, were anything but up-to-date.
I don’t recall much else of the two or three days we spent in Lithuania. Lots of forest, attractive people with little access to the consumer goods we took for granted, and a genuine sense of optimism: the Russian yoke was gone and they finally had their own nation – and a fledgling democracy (their first elections had been held in late 19920. As our train headed into Russia I thought how someday I’d like to return to Lithuania.
A monument to the murdered Jews of Lithuania at Paneriai.
And so I (finally) did. In the three decades that have passed I’ve rarely met a Lithuanian citizen, don’t recall hearing any Lithuanian music, reading a Lithuanian author or seeing a Lithuanian film. Obviously, I’ve not been trying very hard. I am aware Lithuania’s now part of the EU and Nato, a firm supporter of Ukraine and far more developed than Romania, Bulgaria and the former Yugoslav states, while avoiding the far right populism that’s engulfed Hungary, Slovakia (and is powered by Putin’s fascist Russia). Latvia, the neighbour that shares the closest linguist and cultural similarities with Lithuania, has been haemorrhaging an increasing percentage of its youths – who head to Western Europe to seek work – and Lithuania, while also experiencing a brain drain, is faring better economically.
Actually, Vilnius appears to be booming. The ruination has given way to a facelift across most of the old town: plaster and pastel-coloured paint has been applied so giving a bright, decorative appearance to churches and buildings. There certainly are a lot of churches (Catholic) and there are also now a lot of tourists. I was aware Tallinn had become a hot spot but didn’t quite expect Vilnius to be heaving with everything from organised tour groups to hipsters checking to see if it could be the next influencer hub (Lisbon, Barcelona and Berlin now being overrun).
Having arrived really late on Thursday night – thanks to Ryan Air (the only airline flying London - Vilnius, I normally avoid them) running several hours late – I was forced to rise early as I’d registered for a Friday morning walking tour to re-familiarise myself with the old town. Truth be told, I barely recognised Vilnius, it now resembled many popular visitor hubs with many tour groups being guided around the sites and plentiful bars, cafes and restaurants to serve such. The lingering sense of sour Soviet decay having long ago been banished, the ruination from the WW2 era now smoothed over.
Our guide, a young man who announced that you needed a degree to qualify for his job, had his history down pat, even if he was far too vague on the genocide of Vilnius’ Jewish community, suggesting the mass executions largely took place as the Red Army drew near. In fact, they began as soon as the Nazis took control of Lithuania in 1941. Yes, he admitted that Lithuanians were involved in the killings – they actually conducted most of the executions - but, as is often the case in former Eastern Bloc nations, he seemed uncomfortable with the brutal reality of Lithuanians’ enthusiastic participation in genocide, shuffling on his feet as he tried to find reasons why this might have happened.
What appeared to upset him more was the Lithuanian government’s refusal to embrace gay marriage (unlike their Baltic neighbours). He warned any gay couples in the group not to be seen holding hands in public, homophobia remaining rampant. Interestingly, the walkers were truly international – the Philippines, Mexico, Estonians, Germans, Canadians and such. Only a mother and daughter were also from the UK. And the mother had grown up in China – while I grew up in NZ. Great Britain? Something like that.
Satlibarsci soup. It tastes better than it looks (and comes with potatoes!)
Post-tour I took lunch in Etno Dvaras, a popular restaurant serving traditional Lithuanian cuisine. Lithuanians’ love the potato even more than the Irish and I ate zeppelins (cepelinais), rugby-ball shaped parcels of thick potato dough stuffed with pork (they also love the pig) and served with sour cream and crackling sauce. Stodgy and not very tasty. I also had a plate of cold beetroot soup (saltibarsci), which wasn’t bad. And a pint of dark beer (just okay – the options were lager, wheat or dark). I was hoping for something akin to stout or porter but it was more akin to John Smiths or one of those ales that are on tap in the UK. Too sweet for my liking. The rest of the day I spent wandering the old town. Which means dodging all the other tourists who, like myself, were also intent on sight seeing.
Everywhere I went church tour groups queued outside specific places of worship – pilgrimages must be a growth factor for the travel industry as recent sojourns in Montenegro and Uzbekistan have also led me to encounter many who travelled just to visit a holy site – while couples browsed cocktail menus. The Jewish ghetto bears monuments to those who were murdered yet now appears to be full of apartments that Lithuanians live in. The sense of lingering history I once found here has now all but vanished.
Saturday I took the train to Trakai, a large lake an hour west of Vilnius. Lithuanian trains are excellent value and pretty regular. I note this as food/drink is close to the prices we pay in the UK, which means that Lithuanians, whose wages aren’t that of Western Europe, must find eating out expensive (3 euros for a flat white, 5 for a beer, 12+ for a main course etc). This could account for why Lithuanians are so slim – I rarely saw an overweight local while here. Slim and attractive, both males and females are ridiculously good looking. Trakai is also beautiful, home to a huge lake with a castle that is Disneyesque. I walked around the lake in the bright sunshine and wished I’d bought swimming gear as many locals were boating and taking a dip.
Trakai castle. Pretty as a picture.
Back in Vilnius I decided to seek out the city’s record shops. Well, of course. First I came across Viniloteka, a shop stocked with new and used LPs (plus some used CDs and cassettes). As often seems the case in the former Soviet bloc, heavy rock is favoured – posters on the wall of Led Zep, Queen, Pink Floyd, Hendrix etc – but the shop’s stock was comprehensive with decent soul/funk, lots of rap, jazz (including Soviet Jazz) and more. I asked after 45s and the clerk showed me where the boxes were hidden – here were lots of T. Rex, Queen, Rod Stewart, Creedence Clearwater and such. Most appearing to be German pressings. Nothing for me although on the wall was a copy of Grant Green’s Feelin’ The Spirit LP. Green was a leading jazz guitarist and this 1963 LP is on Blue Note and priced at 91 euros. While I would love to own a copy that’s too rich for this crate digger (and its a stereo issue, not the original mono – just in case you’re suddenly thinking of heading to Vilnius to grab it for yourself).
Then I found Ragaine Baltik Shop, a folk art/music shop that had lots of new LPs, some used LPs (and 45s) and new CDs and cassettes (all by Lithuanian/Baltic artists). Alongside the music were striking ceramics, and wall hangings and art pieces and textiles – what a good combination for a boutique shop. Sondra, the very helpful clerk, explained that Ragaine is a pan-Baltic arts organisation that runs its own record label (Dangus) and many of the releases in the shop were by Lithuanian artists. And they stocked all genres: metal, punk, electro etc alongside folk and classical.
When I confessed to knowing nothing of Lithuanian music – Estonia’s Arvo Part, the contemporary classical composer, is the only Baltic musician I can name – Sondra started playing me local artists, including a polyphonic group Ugniavijas, and gifted me a double CD Baltic Postfolk Alternative on Dangus. Listening now as I write this the two CDs contain both delicious acoustic music and the kind of Enyaesque-ethno kitsch (wailing voice, massed synthesisers) that so bedevilled Irish folk in the 1980/90s. I asked as to whether they had local Roma recordings but Sondra wasn’t aware of any. I’d also asked our walking guide about the local Roma community and he could only offer that they had had a settlement out by the airport but this had been destroyed and they were rehoused. Due to “drug dealing and problems like that.”
Old school style: Lithuanian musician at a medieval market.
On Sunday I took a 90-minute train ride to Kaunas, Lithuania’s second city. On arrival I made the mistake of getting on the first bus that arrived outside the train station – the driver waved me on when I tried to ask if bus went to the centre – and eventually ended up getting off in some godforsaken outskirt of the city. Realising I was a long way from the centre I asked a seriously handsome Lithuanian youth on the bus what to do and he advised me to get off, cross the road and take a bus from there.
I did so and, at the bus stop, the one woman waiting didn’t speak English. Two women arrived, one of whom spoke a little English but it turned out they were new to Kaunas, being Ukrainian refugees (there are some 80,000 in Lithuania). Eventually they worked out that we were all at the wrong bus stop so we walked to another, got a trolley bus and they told me where to get off. Thank you and victory to your nation against Russian fascism, ladies!
Kaunas’ centre is very flat – Vilnius’ is gently hilly – and the old town rather dusty and decrepit. It actually reminds me of what Vilnius was like 31 years ago. The new town – which simply extends from the old town on the same pedestrianised stretch – was certainly not dusty and decrepit. Indeed, it was very lively on a Sunday afternoon: the old town’s left for tourists – the new town is where Lithuanians come to shop, promenade, drink and eat ice cream: they love ice cream, I don’t think I’ve ever before seen so many ice cream shops. Happy families, older people surely amazed at how affluent their society now is, young people wearing contemporary fashions and unaware it wasn’t always this way… this is Lithuania today. Oh, Lithuania is also hot: 27 on Sunday. I got scorched as I wandered Kaunas.
Lithuania’s not a multicultural society in any sense – and I wonder if it ever will be? Its also, as our tour guide informed us, not gay friendly. Jews and Roma have good reason to approach with trepidation. Things may change - growing up in New Zealand, with a population then of 3 million (Lithuania’s is currently just under this), I came of age in a reactionary, homophobic society that valued conformity while priding itself on the forests and coastline. Well, NZ changed into a more inclusive, tolerant, multicultural society and so might Lithuania, it being an ancient land but a young nation.
If I lived here I’m sure I’d hunger for live music. Sondra told me that there’s a major Lithuanian music festival held every summer and I saw posters for Coldplay’s forthcoming stadium dates (not that even if music starved I’d want to see Coldplay) but I didn’t sense a great deal more live music. That said, I did pass a blues bar with a local band playing in, witnessed a medieval market where blacksmiths and other crafts people sell their goods while dressed in tunics and flowing dresses: here a few local musicians were dressed up and pretending to be troubadours of old (for us tourists/Game Of Thrones fans). I did see one band play while wandering Vilnius. They were performing as part of back-to-university-week as the stage was in a square in front of a baroque church and youths gathered. At the same time I observed classes of smaller children being herded into the baroque church the stage sat in front of – the kids’ induction right now being to Christ, not rock.
Any Lithuanians’ reading this recognise the indie band and know their name? I’d like to give them credit, especially if they go on to win Eurovision (a national wound - apparently - as Estonia and Latvia have both won).
The band – three male musicians with a female vocalist/rhythm guitarist – were cut from the same cloth as Wolf Alice and English Lesson, capable players and confident on stage. The vocalist sang in Lithuanian so I’ve no idea what the songs were on about. I’ve never been keen on indie but this young outfit played it with verve. All of which is to say that while Lithuania is beautiful – and home to beautiful citizens – I doubt I could live here.
On Monday morning, before heading for the airport, I took the train from Vilnius to Paneriai, a nondescript small town only ten minutes west. Here’s where the Nazis and their stooges murdered 70,000+ people (massacres also happened in Kaunas, and other towns). The Nazis decided against building a death camp in Lithuania, instead they decided that Paneriai’s pits (these were built originally for the railways) would serve their awful purpose.
One of the Paneriai pits. Prisoners were herded into them then shot by fascists who stood around the brim of the pit. Originally the dead were buried in mass graves yet, when it became clear that the Nazis might lose the war, their bodies were dug up - by prisoners - and burned so to destroy the “evidence”. Hard to believe such evil took place in such a peaceful forest.
The destruction of what was once known as “the Jerusalem of the East” saw 95% of Lithuania’s Jews slaughtered, the majority in this wooded glade. The genocide that stains this nation is documented over several memorial sites, the information carved into stones in Lithuanian and English. There is a small exhibition space, but its closed on Mondays (as are all museums in Lithuania). No matter, the path is well marked and the memorials range from one the Soviets built in the early 1950s – they destroyed a 1948 monument built by surviving members of the Jewish community (Stalin’s stooges ensured their memorial opaquely honoured “Soviet citizens”), it still stands with the red star on top (surely one of the few left in the Baltics) – to contemporary memorials with declarations in Lithuanian, Russian, Hebrew, Yiddish and English. As noted earlier, history bleeds in Lithuania.
Each of the pits (where massacres took place/mass burials occurred) is marked and, on a beautiful morning with the sun shining, birds singing and the temperature at 22, I walked these trails and pondered on why we humans can be capable of creating both great joy and awful cruelty. Then I got my train back to Vilnius where I purchased pastries to eat in the airport.
Why does a towering statue of Tony Soprano stand alongside Platform 1 at Vilnius Railway Station? No idea. I do know I want to see the HBO doc’ on The Sopranos.
Passed to Lithuanian American friend. Lol re Coldplay ! Agree
Have to say not tempting me to visit