Making pilgrimages

Chiune Sugihara 杉原千畝 (1900-1986)

With only a month to go before we bid adieu to Lithuania, a lot of what we do here becomes a "final" or "last" activity. This past Memorial Day holiday was our "last three-day weekend" here, and although we didn't embark on any overnight excursions (see last week for that), we still found ways to enjoy the time off. For me, the highlight of the long weekend was on Memorial Day Monday (a school day for my daughter), when I kept a promise to myself by visiting the Sugihara House in Kaunas, the office of "Japan's Schindler". For those unfamiliar with the story, you can click on the link below the above photograph, but in summary the Japanese diplomat saved the lives of around 6000 Lithuanian and Polish Jews in July and August 1940 by issuing them transit visas allowing the refugees to exit Lithuania, travel across the Soviet Union and reach Tsuruga 敦賀 in Japan. This he did in defiance of orders from Tōkyō, working right up until the moment he was forced to leave the country after the Soviet annexation of Lithuania. The Sugihara House was opened in 2008 in the former Japanese consulate in Kaunas, located on a quiet residential street:

Visitors can watch two short films, one on Sugihara and the other on the experiences of the Jewish refugees once they arrived in Japan, after which you are free to explore the house. Upstairs there are exhibits on Lithuania and Kaunas in the run-up to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact and the Soviet occupation, including descriptions and photographs of the various diplomatic legations in Lithuania's prewar capital...:

...but the real highlight is on the ground floor, where the focus is on Sugihara and his actions:

The highlight is the office where the Japanese diplomat issued so many of the life-saving visas:

Credit is also given to Dutch diplomat Jan Zwartendijk, who issued over 2200 visas to Jews to enter the Dutch Caribbean island of Curaçao. Many of the refugees then turned to Sugihara for the vital transit visas allowing them to use Japan as the springboard for starting new lives in the U.S., Australia and other places of refuge:

As a vice consul myself, I hope to never find myself in the kind of circumstances as that faced by the Dutch and Japanese diplomats. But if something similar should ever come to pass, I only hope that I will also have the courage and moral fortitude to do the right thing no matter the consequences.

A hot air balloon on an early-morning flight passes by our living room

On Saturday afternoon Amber and I made what will probably be our final visit to one of my daughter's favorite eateries, Drama Burger. I had the Breakfast Burger while my daughter tucked into the Two Pastrami Eggs Benedict:

In Cathedral Square, preparations were underway for the following day's We Run Vilnius road race:

Taking a coffee break at Crustum on Pilies gatvė while reading up on our next post:

Amber gets ready to tuck into a gelato on Vilniaus gatvė, but not before Dad immortalizes the moment. My daughter has learned the hard way that patience is a virtue when it comes to fathers and their recording devices:

This Harley-Davidson has an apropos license plate:

A pair of hot air balloons float over our apartment building on a bright and clear Saturday evening:

On Sunday we were able to persuade my wife to leave the friendly confines of home and venture out into the warm sunshine for some lunch. On the way out Shu-E noticed these large mushrooms sprouting from the side of a tree:

Vilniaus gatvė was closed to traffic due to the aforementioned We Run Vilnius, which was in full swing as we approached St. Catherine's Church:

In the photo above, you probably noticed the young people in traditional costume crossing in front of us (because you have an eye for detail and little escapes your attention, right?). They were leaving the Lithuanian Theater, Music and Cinema Museum, where a folk festival was in full swing:

Back on Vilniaus gatvė a troupe of drummers was serenading the passing runners:

The craft beer restaurant that I wanted to visit was inexplicably closed (so what if it was a Sunday in a predominantly Catholic society), so my wife suggested going to Vilnius' best (and only) Korean restaurant, JHK & DD's place. A hot air balloon had been set up in the square in front of the Town Hall:

As nice as the weather was on Sunday, it was too much sunshine for Shu-E's liking, so she headed home after the meal. Amber and I, however, had dessert outside of Bookafe:

And so on Monday I made the 90-minute drive to Kaunas to see the Sugihara House. However, that wasn't the only thing I did in Lithuania's second-largest city, for I also drove over to Christ's Resurrection Basilica, a colossal edifice the construction of which began in 1933. It served as a Nazi paper warehouse and then as a Soviet radio factory before finally being consecrated in 2004:

On an earlier visit to Kaunas with the family in September 2016, I had walked to the church from our hotel, but as a Sunday service was in procession, I didn't take any photos of the interior. Things were a lot quieter on a Monday morning:

The viewing terrace was also open this time, so I rode the elevator to have a look from the roof. Truth be told, there isn't a lot to see from up above in this part of Kaunas:

The last time I was there, the road around St. Michael the Archangel Church was torn up due to a construction project. The square is now finished, though work is still in progress on one of the streets leading to the church (the one I walked on, of course):

If the church looks Orthodox, you're right - it opened as a Russian Orthodox house of worship in 1893, but was reopened as a Catholic church in 1991. Unlike two years before, the interior was open so I went in to have a look:

Back in Vilnius, after dinner I took my daughter back to her school for the opening of its international festival, celebrating both the 25th anniversary of the school and the 100th anniversary of Lithuanian statehood. Following the ceremony, Amber and I checked out the various country display booths, including the United States...:

...Lithuania (where the party was in full swing)...:

...and China, where my daughter was reluctant to let it be known she is a native Mandarin speaker:

Posing with her swimming coach and a student at the...you can figure out which booth:

A good time was had by all:

A last hurrah

Family portrait atop Ladakalnis

One of the greatest conceits among hipsters/travelers is that, along with ensuring "authentic" dining experiences, the only way to see a country is to visit its "real" parts. I was reminded of this recently by a post on Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree forum in which someone mentioned that they would be "traveling true Japan" for about a month. When I queried where exactly was meant by "true Japan", another person chimed in to say "not so tourist orientated Japan", only for the original poster to completely undermine their supporter by listing all the places he/she intended to visit on their trip - Tōkyō 東京, Kanazawa 金沢, Takayama 高山, Kyōto 京都, Kōya-san 高野山, Miyajima 宮島 etc. Far from being off the tourist route, OP intends to damn the torpedoes and jump right in with the sightseers! And when you think about it, they're right - only 9% of the Japanese population still lives in those idyllic rural backwaters that we often consider to be the "real" side of virtually every country. So if you want to see the "true" Japan, spend your time in the cities, and then go out and rub shoulders with "real" Japanese tourists in all the famous sightseeing spots. 

Speaking of Thorn Tree, I'm reminded of another poster, an Australian woman, who wrote long ago to say how happy she was to be going to that "undiscovered gem" known as Taiwan. "Rachel" (I seem to recall that being her name, but even if memory fails me, that's her name from now on) didn't appreciate it when I responded by pointing out Taiwan has a very robust domestic tourism industry, reinforced with thousands of annual visitors from neighboring Asian countries such as Japan, South Korea, Malaysia, Singapore etc. (and, of course, China). She, in turn, replied by writing that even if all the places she intended to visit were packed with tour buses and tourists, she wouldn't mind as long as she would be the only Westerner there. In her mind, Taiwan hadn't yet been sullied by Western influences, and I only wish I could've been there to have seen her reaction when she came to face-to-face with all the 7-Elevens and McDonald's upon setting foot for the first time on Formosa.

Back on the subject of Japan, a friend from college days currently visiting the country posted on Facebook that while the U.S. is suffering from yet another school shooting spree, in Japan bicycles are left unlocked. I understand (and completely agree with) the point he was trying to make, but I couldn't help but remember the weekday morning I went out into my neighborhood in Komae 狛江 to do some shopping, only to return a short while later to find my (now ex-)wife's bike had been stolen from in front of our apartment. Bicycle theft is not uncommon in Japan, and drawing conclusions by looking at unlocked bikes in Kyoto is like Michael Moore checking Canadian front doors to see if they had been secured (see Bowling for Columbine). Senseless, violent blood baths do occur from time to time even in a place like Japan (I recalled these three - here, here and here - right away, and let's not forget the sarin gas attacks in Matsumoto 松本 and Tokyo), but (thankfully) they happen far less frequently than (sadly) in the United States, and as a result of sensible gun laws, rarely involve firearms. But I'm always bemused when people get annoyed at having their rose-tinted illusions about Japan (or Taiwan - see Rachel above) punctured by my real-life examples. I could go on by mentioning the Canadian colleague of mine in Taichung 台中 who was upset after my having encouraged him to read Alex Kerr's Dogs and Demons, but enough about Asia...

...this post is about Lithuania and what was possibly the last weekend getaway of our two-year stay here. According to Lonely Planet, Aukštaitija National Park is a:

"...natural paradise of deep, whispering forests and blue lakes (that) bewitched this once-pagan country."

And LP's hyperbole isn't far off the mark. We rolled into Ignalina mid-afternoon on Saturday and checked into Žuvėdra, a small hotel on the shores of Lake Paplovinis (see photo above). While my wife relaxed in the room, my daughter and I drove around four kilometers to Lake Lūšiai, one of the 126 lakes that dot the national park:

Once there, we embarked on a nature-themed walking trail:

Amber took this critter pic:

This particular wooden viewing area was in danger of sinking into the water:

Back at the hotel. According to Wikipedia, the city of Ignalina's name is derived from two lovers named Ignas and Lina:

Dinner time. The Žuvėdra's restaurant is popular with locals and visitors alike - I had the house pizza, washed down with an Utenos beer:

"Žuvėdra" means "gull" in Lithuanian - my daughter caught this visitor to the restaurant's sun deck:

After dinner, we took a walk. The girls crossed the small bridge to the other side of Lake Paplovinis and then turned back, but I continued around the water on my way back to our room :

A graceful swan rests on the surface:

A couple of fishing boats in the early evening hours:

As breakfast service didn't begin until 0900 on Sunday, I took another walk around the lake in the morning soon after waking up:

With a population of only 5300, it wasn't surprising the center of Ignalina was empty at around 8:30 on a Sunday morning:

Breakfast time, finally:

After checking out, we returned to Lake Lūšiai so Shu-E could have a look...:

...then stopped in Palūšė to have a gander at Lithuania's oldest wooden church, built in 1750 without any nails:

A service was being held at the time we arrived, but ended soon after, allowing us to have a look inside:

This massive abandoned building was once the Palūšė tourist center:

The drive going in and out of Aukštaitija National Park passes through some beautiful forest, meadow and lakeside scenery, but attempts at taking photos from the car weren't very successful at conveying that beauty:

Stopping off at a picnic area:

The highlight on Sunday was the short walk up Ladakalnis Hill, once a pagan site for sacrifices to the Goddess Lada, the Grand Mother who gave birth to the world (whether those sacrifices involved human victims, the signboard didn't say). A total of six lakes can be seen from its lofty summit 176 meters (577 feet) above sea level:

My wife thought the flowers were worth letting family and friends back in Taiwan know about:

A middle-aged biker couple pause under the stately tree on the top of the hill:

On the way back to Vilnius we came across a stork tending to its nest:

And so endeth what was in all likelihood our last weekend getaway here. Lithuania is a beautiful country and I'm glad we could see as much of it as we have in the relatively short time we've been here. Do yourself a favor and pay a visit to the Balkans. Just do me a favor and don't blather on about getting out of Vilnius and seeing the "real" Lithuania.