Category: Europe 2019

Up until shortly before our trip to Europe, we had no knowledge of where specifically in Lithuania my maternal grandparents had lived before they left more than a century ago to come to the United States. Then I found the Lithuanian Global Genealogical Society group page on Facebook.

I submitted to the group a picture of my grandparents’ marriage license, which listed the names of each of their parents. Within a couple of days, one of the group members sent me a response noting that my grandmother’s parents’ names were listed among those buried in the cemetery in Zervynos.

Wow. I was totally unfamiliar with Zervynos, but we now had a place that deserved a visit. We drove there on 24 June.

Zervynos is an “ethnographic village” located within the Dzūjika National Park, about 60 miles southwest of Vilnius and close to the border with Belarus. It was first mentioned in writing in 1742, but campsites dating from the Stone and Iron ages have been found there. As you’ll see in the video, the proximate road to Zervynos was quite narrow and ran through dense forest. The village’s isolation helped preserve its character.

In the village, the roads are unpaved and there is no running water. Electricity is a recent addition. There are 48 homesteads in the village, most of which are official ethnographic monuments. Fewer than 100 people reside there. Many visitors during the summer are kayakers on the River Ūla, which runs through the village, who stop for a look.

As soon as we entered the village, we saw the village cemetery. It’s not expansive and it took only a few minutes to find two graves with a marker behind them carrying names matching those on my grandmother’s marriage license. Buried there were Vincentas and Cicilija (Jankevičiūtė) Tamulevicius. We had found an earlier generation of our family.

Here’s video (2:59)

Are these graves proof these are my great-grandparents? Not absolutely, but they are really good evidence. Each of their birth years put them at appropriate ages to be parents of my grandmother and it seems it would be unlikely for another couple with these names and dates to exist. I’m very willing to believe the graves we saw are those of my great-grandparents and that my grandmother grew up in this village or nearby.

(Other people in the Lithuanian Global Genealogical Society mentioned that people with the same surname as my grandfather — Kašėta — lived in nearby communities. One is mayor of the local municipality district. I plan to follow up on this information. Probable more credence that Vincentas and Cecilia were my great-grandparents and it could be the basis for another trip.)

I found it especially moving to be in Zervynos with my daughter. That generational thing again. I also found it very poignant to look at the River Ūla and imagine my grandmother as a young girl playing along its banks.

This was such an unanticipated and welcome facet of our visit to Lithuania.

Lithuania, part VII: Trakai

 

St. Jonas’s Day was celebrated on Sunday, 23 June, throughout Lithuania. Also known as Rasa or Rasos (Dew Holiday) and Jonines, it marks mid-summer, the longest day of the year. (Sunset was at 10:03 pm, sunrise at 4:43 am) Lithuanians are known for celebrating the day in special ways, and at probably nowhere more special than the ancient capital of Kernave.

We drove from the Curonian Spit to Kernave, arriving late afternoon. The festivities there go on into the night and, for many, until morning. As we got there much earlier than most, we were able to park only a couple of hundred yards from the entrance, at a private residence making a few extra euros. Fewer than 300 people are residents of the town.

The rest of Kernave is a cultural reserve, an archaeological site, and yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site. About 20 miles northwest of Vilnius, it is located in the valley of the River Neris. The site contains evidence of human settlements spanning about 10,000 years. Only a very small percentage of the reserve’s 480 acres has been excavated archaeologically.

In the 13th century, Kernave was considered an important feudal town of craftsmen and merchants and served as the capital of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. To protect it, Lithuania built a complex defense system of five hill forts. Yet it yielded to Teutonic Knights in the late 14th century.

The entrance to the festival was lined with booths offering arts and crafts, and lots of alus (beer). Here’s video (2:01) of some of that.

One of the exhibits at the reserve is an “open-air museum,” reconstruction of a 13th-14th century craftsmen village. Here’s video (1:13).

 A section of the festival offered lots of food and beer options. We ate dinner there and chose traditional fare.

While the crest of the hill forts was crowded and busy, the area closer to the river was more peaceful and bucolic. As we walked down to the riverside, we saw youngsters gathering wildflowers to make a crown. One of the traditions, I believe, is for girls and young women to wear crowns of flowers and boys and young men to wear wreaths of oak branches. As night approaches, single young women and men throw their wreaths into the river. If a flower wreath and oak branch wreath float together, it means the couple will marry before the end of the year. (The tradition of wearing flower crowns remains strong and appears not to be limited to young or single folk.)

Here’s a gallery of scenes at the riverside.

 

Here’s video (1:22) of going down to the riverside and at the riverside.

As evening progressed, the hillsides filled with music and dance. Here’s video (2:36).

 At first, we thought we would stay until the bonfires, etc., which were scheduled to be lit at 11 pm. Soon after 10, however, we decided to head back to Old Town Vilnius. It had been a long day. 

Thank goodness we made that decision. As we left the town of Kernave, we saw that cars had parked on both sides of the narrow street, forcing only one lane and one-way traffic, fortunately the way we were going. At the nearest intersection, police had closed the turn to incoming traffic. We drove for a couple of miles, at least, past stopped bumper-to-bumper traffic. I cannot imagine how difficult it would have been to leave later. Almost gives an incentive to stay through the night.

The next morning, the street outside our apartment, normally filled with people, was pretty empty at around 8:30 am. Seemed as if quite a few people stayed up late on Midsummer Day.

 

Lithuania, part VI: Zervynos and a generation found

 

Some pictures and a video that didn’t quite fit into previous posts.

More of the lagoon.

A community library

As mentioned earlier, in late June this far north, the days are very long. I also talked about the popularity of basketball in Lithuania. There was a basketball court next to our hotel, still active close to my bedtime. Here’s a brief video (0:50).

Lithuania, part V: Midsummer Day

 

At our hotel, the television received several channels, but only Lithuanian or Russian, with no programming in English. I find that television, through shows and maybe even more so through commercials, offers a interesting look at the cultures of countries.

Here are some samples from Russia and Lithuania. (I apologize for the muddied sound. I just shot video of the television broadcast. And where can I get a suit like the Lithuanian singer wears in the opening segment?)

Lithuanian television (3:17)

Russian television (1:55)

Juodkrantė: potpourri

 

Our hotel in Juodkrantė did not serve breakfast, so on our first full day on the Curonian Spit, we went to a hotel/restaurant nearby that Julia had found online. We went there for almost every meal thereafter.

Juodasis Kalnas (“Black Mountain”) offered morning buffets or a-la-carte ordering and hearty, but sophisticated, fare. 

Photos in the gallery below show mushroom risotto, duck breast, ham and cheese omelets, squid, and more. The pairing of drinks in the gallery was beer for me and kvass for Julia. Kvass is a traditional Eastern European fermented beverage which has as its main ingredient rye bread. While fermented, kvass has very low alcohol levels (0.05-1.55 percent).

We had one of those “small world” moments at Juodasis Kalnas, with a twist. In Berlin, waiting for our flight to Vilnius, we had sat across the aisle in the waiting area from a young man, who asked if we were Americans. Chatting, we learned he had been born in Lithuania, but came to the U.S. at the age of five and lived with his family in upstate New York. He was visiting family in Lithuania. As we boarded the flight, we wished each other well. A few nights later, eating at the restaurant, we noticed a family group at a nearby table. Suddenly, one of the family members got up and walked over to our table. Yup, same young man as in Berlin. This time, we learned his name was “Chris.” We figure we’ll run into him someday in San Diego.

At a different lunch location, Julia ordered her usual still water. This brand, I guess, could be considered ultra-skim.

Juodkrantė: Local TV

 

Our “room” in the Hotel Kurenas, Juodkrantė, was a two-bedroom apartment on the ground floor, looking out on the lagoon. Our front windows are at lower right in the photo above, and gave us the view in the photo below (that’s our rental car).

Here’s a gallery of pictures of the interior.

 

Juodkrantė: Juodasis Kalnis

 

The Curonian Spit is a 60-mile-long sand dune peninsula that separates the Curonian Lagoon from the Baltic Sea. The southern end of the spit is in Kaliningrad Oblast, Russia, the northern end in Lithuania. It is a UNESCO World Heritage site shared by both countries. 

On our full-day tour of the spit, 22 June, we headed south. We approached the border with Kaliningrad, gave it a look-see, and turned around. Visited a nearby beach, which offered a no-clothing-allowed section, and each of us stuck our feet in the Baltic.

After lunch back in Juodkrantė (“Blackbird”), Julia wanted to go for a swim. I didn’t. We split up, with her walking to a nearby beach and me driving back down south to the Parnidis Dune. When we met up later, Julia said she wouldn’t describe her time in the Baltic as a “swim.” It was more like a “workout.” The strength and frequency of the waves often made it difficult for her to stand and required lots of effort to stay up. My experience on the dune was much more placid.

Here’s video (2:36).

For many decades, perhaps a couple of centuries, grey herons nested on what locals call Heron Hill, near Juodkrantė. Within the last 45 years, though, the herons have been nearly supplanted by cormorants. There are now an estimated 2,000 cormorant pairs and 500 heron pairs in one of the largest bird colonies in Europe. Both species are protected so there has been no effort to counter the cormorants. As you’ll see in the video (1:50), the biggest impact of the birds has been on the trees.

Also nearby is the Hill of Witches. Once the focus of pagan rituals before Lithuania was converted to Catholicism, the hill is now festooned with wood carvings of figures from regional folklore, including many devils and witches. As the Curonian Spit has seen artists colonies develop, Lithuanian artists began carving the sculptures and placing them on the hill beginning in 1979. Here’s video (2:45).

Juodkrantė: Hotel Kurenas

 

On Friday, 21 June, we hit the road. We would spend the next couple of days on the Curonian Spit, a narrow 60-mile long peninsula on the western edge of Lithuania.

First, we needed a car. I walked from Old Town that morning to the Vilnius bus station, to catch the shuttle bus to Vilnius Airport and the Hertz office there. As in Berlin, people in Lithuania use public transportation a lot. Here’s a gallery of pics from the Vilnius bus station.

Drove a Volkswagen Golf back to the apartment. My iPhone directions, however, once it got close to our location, said I was not permitted to drive any closer to it. Pilies, the street on which we were, was defined as limited to “pedestrian” traffic, I assume. When Vilius first drove us there, slowly through lots of pedestrians, I asked about that and he said it was a pedestrian street “unless you need to drive on it.” Okay. (Interestingly, Google’s directions, which Julia used, brought us all the way to the location.)

After wandering about for a bit, I was able to recognize some buildings and found my way.

We left Vilnius for Klaipėda, the port city at which we would take a ferry to the Curonian Spit. The drive was about 200 miles to Klaipėda, nearly all of it on Highway A1, the main east-west highway in the country. A1 is divided, four-lane, speed limit 80 miles an hour (in summer). I sometimes felt as if I was driving in New Hampshire.

Julia had found a hotel in Juodkrantė, a small resort village (720 permanent residents) about halfway down the Lithuanian portion of the peninsula. It was a beautiful setting, with the Curonian Lagoon just across the street.

Here’s video (1:42) of the road trip.

Everything went great on the drive. Except for one event. As we drove along a two-lane road in the center of the peninsula, the car in front of me suddenly braked hard and pulled over. But there was no space for him to get entirely off the road. With the butt end of his car taking up about half the lane and a lorry approaching from the opposite direction, I had to slam on my brakes. I avoided contact with the car in front, but another lorry behind me was not able to avoid contact with our car. “Damage” was very minor — a small, shallow scratch (it sounded worse). The lorry driver, somewhat agitated, didn’t speak English. Calculating the situation (language, absence of police, level of damage), I said things were okay, we shook hands, and returned to our cars. Meanwhile, the instigator of the situation had taken off. (Long story short, I was worried about what charges I might face with Hertz and there were none.)  

We had stopped at a mall in Kaunas for lunch. After spending a couple of days in Old Town, I was surprised, frankly, at the MEGA Mall. It was a pretty good indication of why Lithuania is classified as an “advanced high-income” economy. Here’s video (1:27).

Lithuania, part IV: Curonian Spit

 

Called  Senamiestis in Lithuanian, Old Town Vilnius was named a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1994. It is described as one of the largest medieval old towns in Northern Europe. Covering 887 acres, its cobblestone streets are lined with historic structures from as far back as the 16th century and feature some of Europe’s most classical architectural styles — gothic, renaissance, baroque, and neoclassical.

For our first full day in Vilnius, 20 June, we asked Vilius to give us a tour of Old Town, relying on his knowledge rather than a guidebook. It was a good choice. He was also able to convey some of his personal experiences and background as he had lived for 35 years under Soviet rule. 

Vilnius University occupies a large part of Old Town. Founded in 1579 by Jesuits, the university enrolls more than 22,000 students. Its buildings feature 13 distinctive courtyards. On our walkabout, we came across what appeared to be a gathering of students and families either pre- or post-graduation from one of the university programs.

Prominent on campus is the university’s Church of St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist, also known as the Church of Saints Johns. Rolls off the tongue, eh? The church’s tower was built in the 16th century and is separate from the church itself. We climbed to the top of the 226-foot-tall tower and had some wonderful panoramic views of Old Town and the city beyond.

This video (2:49) covers the first part of the day’s tour.

Leaving the university, we strolled through narrow streets lined with restaurants, shops, and churches. This video (1:53) ends with a visit to a woodcarver’s shop, with many weird and wonderful works. I was attracted to a chair in the form of an eagle (duh) and wanted just to take a picture of it. A sign had said one euro for pictures. I paid the owner — the carver, I assume — but he insisted I don some garb, carry some menacing pieces of woodwork, and pose in the chair. Okay.

We exited Old Town for a brief spell, leaving through the Gates of Dawn (just a gate now and the only “gate” in or out of Old Town). Heading south for a bit, toward the railway station, we picked up some blueberries and strawberries from a farmers market. Then we came upon a pretty funky area, featuring a lot of street art. Perhaps the most prominent, at least lately, is a drawing of Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump “shotgunning” a joint. (I believe that is the correct term for two people exchanging smoke with their mouths.) Originally, the drawing showed the two kissing, but it was vandalized. When the artist redrew it, he altered the exchange.

Video (1:30)

Lithuania, part III: On the road

 

Lithuania is, admittedly, not well-known. Julia recently ran across the rather cheeky ad for its capital above, so they’re working on it. Lithuania’s a small country with a population (2.8 million) smaller than that of San Diego County. In its history, it has had major ups-and-downs, including dominance by Poland, Russia, and the Soviet Union. Now a member of the European Union and NATO, Lithuania is classified by the World Bank as a “high-income, advanced economy.” Wi-fi in Lithuania is public, free, and among the fastest in the world.

Lietuva is the southernmost of the Baltic states, south of Latvia and Estonia. It is at about 55 degrees north latitude, placing it north of the entire contiguous United States (lower 48). It is bordered by Latvia, Belarus, Poland, and Kaliningrad.

Baltic tribes were united in the Kingdom of Lithuania in 1253. In the 14th century, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania was the largest country in Europe, extending from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea, consisting of current Lithuania, Belarus, and Ukraine, as well as parts of Poland and Russia. In 1569, Poland and Lithuania formed the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which lasted for more than two centuries. Neighboring countries then encroached and dismantled the Commonwealth, with the Russian Empire annexing most of Lithuania by 1795.

(My mother’s parents emigrated to the U.S. in the early 1900s. Their 1912 marriage license lists both of them as having been born in “Lithuania, Russia.”)

As World War I came to a close, Lithuania proclaimed its independence in 1918. In World War II, the Republic of Lithuania was first occupied by the Soviet Union, as part of its nonaggression pact with Nazi Germany, and then Nazi Germany. It was re-occupied by the Soviets as they drove the Nazis west and Lithuania became one of the Soviet “republics.” In March 1990, a year before the formal dissolution of the Soviet Union, Lithuania was the first Baltic state to declare its independence.

Not so fast, Soviets said. At the beginning of 1991, Moscow demanded that Lithuania relinquish its independence and restore its Soviet-drafted constitution. On January 13, 1991, pro-Soviet forces attempted to take power, seeking control of the Vilnius television station. Thousands of Lithuanians had gathered around the station. Using Soviet tanks, the pro-Soviet forces broke through the crowd, killing 14 and injuring more than 700, and took the station off the air. The situation in all the Baltic states was tense and unresolved until a failed coup in Moscow in August 1991 led Boris Yeltsin to accept their independence on September 7, 1991.

Lithuania was among the last European countries to be converted to Catholicism in the late 14th century. Soviet occupation after WWII closed churches and did not permit public exercise of religion. The most recent census showed more than three-quarters of the population identifying as Roman Catholic. Lithuania was an important center of Jewish scholarship and culture from the 18th century to WWII. Before the war, nearly 100,000 Jews lived in Vilnius, the capital, nearly half of the total population, and worshiped at more than 110 synagogues. Of the more than 220,000 Jews living in Lithuania in 1941, almost all were killed in the Holocaust. The current Jewish population is only a few thousand.

Perhaps the most frequent connection Americans might have with Lithuania is through basketball. It is Lithuania’s most popular sport and is considered the national sport. (I asked Vilius, our guide, where I might find a Lithuania soccer shirt as a gift. He looked at me askance and said Lithuania’s soccer teams were terrible. “You should get a basketball jersey!”) Lithuanian national teams are very successful and several Lithuanians have played in the NBA. (I still keep a memento of the Lithuanian Olympic team that won bronze in the 1992 Olympics.)

Eighty-four percent of those living in Lithuania, according to the 2011 census, are ethnic Lithuanians speaking Lithuania. About 6.6 percent are Polish and Russians 5.8 percent. Menus often were in Lithuanian, English, and Russian. Nearly all road and traffic signs were in Lithuanian and English. Lithuania is bordered on the northwest by Kaliningard, a Russian protectorate. We found Russian more common when we were near Kaliningrad. 

Vilnius
Also sometimes referred to as Vilna, Vilnius is the capital of Lithuania and its largest city, with about 570,000 residents.

According to legend, Grand Duke Gediminas, after hunting in the area where Vilnius now is, had a dream of a huge iron wolf on a hilltop howling as loud as a hundred wolves. He asked a pagan priest the meaning of the dream and was told the wolf represented a castle and city that would be built on that site. The city that followed was at the confluence of two navigable rivers and surrounded by forests and wetlands that were difficult to penetrate, making it more defensible against Teutonic Knights.

The Soviets built up several “minor-districts” on the outskirts of Vilnius, featuring large, grey, rectangular, high-rise apartment complexes. Despite that, only one-fifth of Vilnius’s 153 square miles is developed, the rest being parks, public gardens, lakes, etc., making it one of the “greener” European capitals.

Except for trips to and from the airport, Julia and I spent all our time in Vilnius in Old Town and I will post soon about our Day 2 tour.

Lithuania, part II: Old Town tour