(May 23rd – May 26th, 2026)
“Eeh svay—kah–tą!…?..?”.
The two young women, one a brunette dressed eloquently in flowery pastels, the other a blonde darkly robed with a punky façade, looked at each other then back at me, a smile inching slowly from the corner of their mouths.
-“Į sveikatą”.
We toast.
They return speaking to each other in Lithuanian.
It was my first half hour in Vilnius after a seven hour bus from Parnu, and I had just come out of my hotel and walked into a market hall across the street that vibrated with energy from the small crowd hanging out on the front stoop as the late spring sun slowly sank into the horizon of the tiled rooftops. A stylish bar inside had one seat available on the corner which I took to settle in while making a game plan for the evening ahead.
Having broken the ice and given them some time to carry on between themselves, I re-engaged with another attempt to see if they happened to speak English.
“How’s your day going?”
-“Great. We’ve been drinking since 2pm.” Responded the nearest women to me, named Rūta, as she began rolling two cigarettes of loose leaf tobacco with the care and effortless precision of an artisan. Not being a smoker, I found this oddly attractive. I don’t think I have ever seen an American woman roll a cigarette in my life. It’s undoubtedly a little badass, come on.
“Oh, nice. Quite the day. Are you celebrating?”
-“Yes, our renewed friendship. We hadn’t spoken for years.”
“Well, indeed. That’s certainly worth celebrating! Į sveikatą!”
From there, with growing rapport, I discerned quite a bit about their history, career travails, and more relevant to me, their tips for places to check out in Vilnius and general background to life in Lithuania. Specifically, I learned that Lithuania is home to the international Pink Beet Soup festival (Šaltibarščiai), and that Vilnius was founded by Grand Duke Gediminas after he dreamt of an iron wolf while on a hunting trip there, believing this forbode the strength of the area for future fortifications. As a music aficionado, they also suggested to me a visit to Lucille’s Blues Bar and obligatorily insisted that I try cepelinai, Lithuanian stuffed dumplings.
Thanks Chat iRT (in Real Time)!
My hunger brewing, I finished my beer and set off into the labyrinthine arteries of the historic city center in search of cepelinai as the final glow of the sunset dimmed its hue on the golden tree tops and church spires.
The restaurant Rūta recommended had finished serving food but they pointed me along to another quaint spot on the edge of the Town Hall square. Warm weather and beautifully illuminated baroque facades gave a touch of Starry Night to the evening. People were out and the vibe was delightful almost everywhere I walked.
Warm and delicious, topped with bacon bits and sour cream, what I thought might be cepelinai was exceptional and filling. Turns out, instead I ate koldūnai, a type of ravioli like flour dumpling stuffed with meat and mushrooms. Yet I would prevail in an attempt the following day to locate the meat-stuffed potato dumpling, cepelinai. Both earn high accolades as comfort food if there ever were any. I recommend.
In the conversations around me I started to pick up on more Russian being spoken. Like all the Baltic states, there is a significant ethnic Russian minority, but also a growing number of exiles. The border with Belarus is only 30 km (18 mi) away and many Belarussians have fled since the crushed popular uprising in Belarus in 2020 protesting the results of the internationally-deemed rigged re-election of Aleksandr Lukashenko, the country’s President since 1994.
Similarly, many Russians have also sought refuge abroad since the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, fleeing an elevated campaign suppressing free speech, civil rights, and political discourse, in addition to fears of falling into the dragnet of a military draft. It is a strange feeling to be in such a beautiful, liberal place of the West, so close to populations so repressed. Freedom is keen to be taken for granted until it’s no longer had, usurped by intimidating armored security personnel and their detention vehicles. I read Alexei Navalny’s memoir, Patriot, last year, and it was immensely moving. The courage and idealism of his leapt off every page. His conviction resolute. One could only hope to stand for causes so noble in the face of certain defeat, but few are ever willing to pay such an ultimate price, perhaps rightly so; yet without such individuals in history, progress is oft never obtained.
Appropriately satisfied on Koldūnai, I carried onward now in search of Lucille’s. It wasn’t hard. Classic blues guitar riffs showered into the street as I got closer, and I made my way into the tight, appropriately blue-lit bar. The beautiful thing about music is, when its good, you feel at home just about anywhere you may be. The ultimate international language.
After the set, I took some fresh air in the back courtyard and captured some photos of rising moonlight reflecting off the buildings. I heard a small group of people speaking English and smoking cigarettes. I pulled up a chair and joined them as they offered to share some french fries one of them had just brought.
An aspiring voice actor, the bar manager, and a mutual friend who had spent time in California were all very welcoming. Later, the barman also joined, a 19 year-old film student and guitar player from Jammu and Kashmir in Northwestern India. Before long, the bar had closed and we continued on with deep and engaging discussions about culture, love, music, and philosophy until nearly 4am as the sky began to brighten from the encroaching dawn. A generally joyful group, the proximity again to Belarus, Russia, and current events, did bleed into some of their concerns of daily life – just days before they all received text alerts about possible errant drone debris from interceptors crossing Lithuanian airspace.
Still, the vibes, music, and spirit of a Saturday night in the good company of their friends was paramount. As I walked back to my hotel, I was pleased with the people and conversations I had in this first great night out in a new city.
The following couple days were delightful in Vilnius. Lithuania was the first country on this Journey to Nowhere in Particular that I had not visited before, yet had always been curious about. The old town, similar to Tallinn, Estonia, is very well preserved and dates back to the 14th century. Situated at the confluence of a couple of rivers and a few conspicuous hills rising out of a forested plain, it is a logical location for an ancient city to have taken root. Impressive churches anchor leafy plazas and narrow cobblestone alleys lead to tucked-away lively cafes, colorful works of art, and tasteful graffiti. Cross a bridge or two and one ends up in the bohemian paradise of Uzupis.
I later gained views of the contrast between the old and new cities from the hills of the Gedeminas Tower and the Three Crosses, the latter having been built originally in the 17th century to commemorate the legendary martyrdom of Franciscan monks by the hands of local pagans in the 14th century. The crosses suffered from a cycle of destruction and reimposition over time between degrading materials and changing political empires, including the Soviet occupation which generally erased religious icons as a course of State worship. To the benefit of the Soviet legacy though, they had also reforested this previously barren hill as a place for recreation of the proletariat, and it does now make for a joyful forested mountain climb and stroll just outside the center.
Outside of soaking up the impressive history and monuments to past kingdoms and empires, the music scene continued to define my experience and engagement with locals. I casually passed outside of a music hall one early evening, curious as to if a show was about to begin despite it being only 6pm. A middle-aged blonde woman in a regal blue dress asked me if I was looking for something.
“No, nothing in particular. Is there music here?”
“Yes, a Polish band is playing for free as part of the Vilnius Jazz festival. You should go inside! I am waiting for a friend. “
Noko crushed it. A modern jazz, psychedelic rock fusion, these guys were spectacular. When in doubt, one can always use more saxophone in their life. On my way out, I encountered the woman again and thanked her for the encouragement. Her name was Diana, and she made mentioned of another performance her friend and her were going to later that night. We exchanged info and agreed to meet there.
Cécile McLorin Salvant played in the National Drama Theater of Lithuania and was top notch. I was ensconced in the powerful vocal play of her voice with the rhapsody of her accompanying band. The venue was glorious, as well. Afterwards, Diana, her friend Davila, and I checked out some of the national art displays in the foyer. After satisfying their curiosity about what an American was doing in Vilnius and receiving their praise for finding my way so quickly into local culture events, I thanked them for providing me the avenue to do so.
After three nights, I hardly wanted to move on. Vilnius was surprisingly delightful and engaging. A contact through Couchsurfing was reaching out to meet up and the barman from the first night at Lucille’s was asking if I wanted to play guitar the following evening. These are normally the cues I take to alter course when traveling and extend time somewhere. Alas, Vilnius and my next destination of Gdansk, Poland, were only to be pass-over stops in route to visiting with another best friend in Berlin for the following weekend.
Staying or going was already an initial test to the open-ended philosophy of this trip, but being so early on and still resolute with certain foundational goals to arrive in Georgia by early July, I knew it better to carry on. After all, I can always come back, knowing now it most certainly would be worthwhile to do so. Plus, I already have a few contacts to reach out what that time comes.
Į sveikatą!!
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