Doing it Prussian-style

Apparently gentlemen need to be on their guard while in Klaipeda

Klaipėda (population 161,000) is the third-largest city in Lithuania, after Vilnius and Kaunas. Known as Memel until 1925, the city was founded in 1252 by the Teutonic Order; it became part of Prussia following the Napoleonic Wars of the early 19th century, and remained so until 1923. An "international territory" under the Treaty of Versailles, Lithuanian troops marched in, annexed it and changed the name to Klaipėda (probably to compensate for having lost Vilnius to the Poles after the First World War). It's now Lithuania's only sea port, but the cobblestoned Old Town still retains hints of its German past despite widescale destruction during World War II. It was across the Danė River in New Town, however, that we rolled into the city on a rainy Friday evening and quickly settled into our room at the Litinterp Guesthouse.

The weather proved to be more cooperative on Saturday morning as we set out for Klaipėda Castle. The original fortress dates from the 13th century before being completely razed in the late 19th century. Once surrounded by a moat, the earth ramparts are undergoing a large EU-funded reconstruction project, presumably with the aim of returning the castle to a semblance of its former glory. In the meantime, visitors can check out the two-part exposition. The first section details the history of the castle itself:

Back outside, between expositions:

The other section covers the story of Memel/Klaipėda:

Note the Lenin impersonator above in this 1967 photo of a parade celebrating fifty years since the October Revolution

One of the many sculptures studded around central Klaipėda:

In Old Town the girls pose for a photo in Teatro aikštė (Theater Square). Behind them is a fountain dedicated to Simon Dach, a German poet born in Klaipėda in 1605. The girl on the pedestal is Ānnchen von Tharau, the subject of a poem by Dach (the original statue was erected in 1912 by Berlin artist Alfred Kune, but was destroyed in the Second World War). The building in the background is the Klaipėda Drama Theater, built in 1857. None other than Adolf Hitler stood on the balcony to proclaim Memel's incorporation into Germany during World War II:

Following lunch at a Chinese restaurant called Jing Bin Lou, Amber and I tagged along while Shu-E did some shopping at the aptly-named Amber Queen. After much browsing she eventually settled on a reasonably-priced ring, deciding not to sacrifice our daughter's college fund on some of the more elaborate objects:

Old Town street scene:

One of the most attractive buildings in Old Town houses the History Museum of Lithuania Minor (Mažosios Lietuvos Istorijos Muziejus):

My wife decided to relax in the sculpture garden down the street while my daughter and I went inside. A quick look up at the sky noted some ominous signs:

The museum covers the history of the region once known as East Prussia, going back to Neolithic times. The story is told through the collections of clothes, coins, maps, models, photographs and postcards. Or, in this case, an old wooden well that was used for washing clothes:

The Teutonic Knights introducing Christianity to the pagans of the Baltic region in the way they knew best:

The first individual map of Lithuania, dating from 1595:

Amber and I emerged from the museum to find the street soaked with water, the result of a brief but heavy downpour while we were inside. Shu-E was prepared, however, and "weathered" the rainfall rather well:

Lonely Planet describes this red dragon as "disturbing":

Taking a break at Max Coffee:

Lithuania's largest granite sculpture, entitled Arka (Arch), celebrating Klaipėda joining Lithuania in 1923. The engraved quote by local poet Ieva Simonaitytė translates as "We are one nation, one land, one Lithuania":

A floating restaurant on the Danė called Meridianas:

Yet another sculpture:

Back in our room to drop off some of our things before going back out to have dinner:

A memorial to local sons killed during the Soviet-Afghan War:

Our first choice for dinner, the Momo Grill steakhouse, proved to be too busy, so instead we went Lithuanian by eating at Senoji Hansa, where I had the "Hansa Fish" (rainbow trout):

On Sunday we checked out of the Litinterp Guesthouse and took the car ferry for the short ride across the Curonian Lagoon to the Smiltynė district, home to the Lithuanian Sea Museum (Lietuvos Jūrų Muziejus):

Damn, just can't seem to get away from work:

The highlight for Amber was the dolphin and sea lion show. Having seen The Cove, I have my issues with such performances, but my daughter was happy, so I spared her the lecture:

While the girls relaxed indoors after the show, I went outside to check out the Ethnographic Sea Fishermen's Farmstead, highlighted by three Baltic Sea fishing trawlers built between 1949 and 1961:

The traditional 19th-century buildings were shut at the end of the tourist season, but visitors can still get a glimpse of traditional Curonian fishing life:

 Cellar

Cattle shed, with a live German shepherd to keep the tourists out (note the white sign on the gate)

Granary

Looking across the lagoon at Klaipėda's port:

The Baltic Sea on the opposite side of the Curonian Spit:

Back on the car ferry for the long drive back to Vilnius:

A car ferry heading in the opposite direction. A few seconds later it had to veer sharply starboard and come to a halt in order to let a large container ship pass in front of its bow:

Bidding adieu to Vilnius...well, not just yet

These promos for the Modern Art Center, currently under construction, can be found in several locations in central Vilnius. Amber poses with this one in Vincas Kudirka Square

No, barring unforeseen circumstances, we're going to be here for another seven or eight months. But I am in the midst of bidding on my next post and I should know our next destination by the end of this month. Unlike my first two tours, where I submitted a list of preferences and someone in Washington, D.C. then made the decision, I'm a lot more involved at this stage in my career progression (lateral though it has been so far). Now, in addition to compiling a list of posts and positions, I also have to submit a resume and a statement of purpose, have others vouch for what a great guy I am and then reach out to people at my hoped-for future work locations and convince them of how I'll show leadership and yet follow, of how I'll make changes but not rock the boat, and of how I'll bring new ideas to the table while maintaining continuity. It's an unnecessarily stressful and time-consuming process, the result of endless committee meetings and negotiations between management and union, designed to produce a supposedly fair and balanced assignment system (only many plum jobs manage to get doled out between bidding periods, but that's another topic). If the Secretary of State were truly serious about reforming the State Department, he would initiate an overhaul of the assignment, evaluation and promotion processes, instead of attempting to carry out an ideologically-driven drastic budget cut.

The shorter days mean I'm waking up before dawn, but on the other hand I've been witness to some spectacular sunrises

You would think my wife would also be emotionally invested in the bidding process, but as usual she's taken a hands-off "you make all the decisions" approach. Shu-E would make a better bureaucrat than me, as she's more adept at making sure not to commit herself to anything should the proverbial excrement come into contact with the proverbial electric-powered cooling device. Even the idea of living in a hot, humid environment supposedly isn't a concern for her, as she could just "stay at home all day with the air conditioner on". This from a person who, despite having grown up in the semi-tropical Taiwanese climate, finds Vilnius to be too hot at times!

Frozen yogurt break while shopping at Ozas

So in the end the choice will be...probably not mine, but decided by a group of people in a dark corner office somewhere in Foggy Bottom. I won't reveal my wish list at this point, other than to say I'd like to return to Asia, though I'd also be happy with certain jobs/places in Africa, Europe or the Western Hemisphere.

Still time in get in a few more hot-air balloon rides

Fall has arrived in the Baltics, and the leaves are beginning to change color:

On a cloudy, cool Sunday afternoon (temperature 5°C/41°F), my daughter and I took a stroll through the woods of the Dūkštų Ąžuolynas Cognitive Trail, located about 30 kilometers and 35 minutes by car from our apartment building in Vilnius. To our surprise, the trail was closed to walkers due to "work on the decomposition of wood" (Google Translate), but seeing as everyone else was ignoring the prohibition and proceeding on into the forest, Amber and I did as the Romans:

The trails were lined with wooden sculptures depicting characters from Lithuanian mythology...with some also serving as playground equipment:

This one is apparently of a god who was offered rye and wheat stalks by worshippers at his mountain temple (again, according to Google Translate):

Walking through the woods and admiring the autumn foliage: 

Amber stops to read one of the many informative signboards along the trail...all in Lithuanian:

This stretch of elevated walkway wasn't in too bad of shape. In fact, the only difficulties we encountered on the trails were the occasional muddy patches:

An interesting group of spiky mushrooms. The fact that they've been left alone by normally fungi-fanatical Lithuanians suggests these shrooms might not be the kind you want to serve with lunch or dinner:

My daughter was surprised and elated to find that someone had left twelve British pence on this rock. I convinced her to leave them there:

The Dūkštų Ąžuolynas Cognitive Trail is part of a 300-hectare oak tree preserve, and is an extremely easy 2.3 kilometer-long walk that took less than an hour to complete. The path is lined with oak trees between 180 and 200 years old. There's another trail in the same area that is more than twice as long and will take three hours to complete (according to the map in the parking lot) that we'll probably tackle later this month...provided it isn't closed due to decomposing wood. Then again, we are in Rome, so...