Lithuania

A couple of weeks ago I told you about my road trip across Europe with a bunch of Swedes. In movie terms, it was pretty much like Euro Trip, minus any sex clubs or high speed trains -- except one that almost hit us.

 

I just got back from road trip #2. Nine Lithuanians, two identical 1978 Ford Consuls, and me. I'd call it The Cast of 'Dazed and Confused' Hot Rods Through the Set of Deliverance, but in rural Latvia.

 

I still need to look up the Lithuanian translation for "you've got a real pretty mouth."

 

First off -- Lithuanians. If I had to describe them in one word, that one word would be Absolute Fucking Misfits. It's like I was transported back in time to high school, when Siamese Dream was the hot new album. Chain wallets, Doc Martens boots with flourescent green laces, and black hooded sweatshirts with Anarchy symbols and patches all over them. The driver had a shaved head but one big dread coming out of the back -- the punk version of a mullet, the best of both worlds.

 

Road Trip Day One: Within the first hour, we've already stopped for a cigarette break 6 times. It is nice to pull over and stretch, but these guys sure do smoke a lot and I wonder how long it will be before we get from Vilnius to our destination town on the Latvian coast. They've already drank about four cans of beer each, as well.

 

We are on the highway. I'm really enjoying myself as Bowie blares on the stereo and out the window is a floating cinema of forest, crumbling farmhouses and smoke from the tires as the driver regularly peels out to show off the Consul's muscle-car credentials. Suddenly we pull over and some talking occurs between our car and an out-of-nowhere car that was waiting on the side of the road.

 

I am totally confused, but the conclusion I come to -- as we drive further and further down a dirt road through thick, uncharted forest -- is that someone tipped us off and we'll be squatting for the night in an abandoned house in the forest. My first squatting experience!

 

Turns out, I'm wrong. The house is a hostel in the woods. The mysterious driver works there, and drove out to the highway to meet us and lead us to the place. We spend the night sitting by the fireplace, drinking, (they) speaking a mile a minute in Lithuanian and (I) just sitting around smiling and pretend-laughing every time every one else laughs for real.

 

Day Two: It's about 40 degrees out. Perfect conditions for me to take a dip in the nearby lake. Everyone looks bewildered for some reason, and nobody joins me. Ah, they must have already showered this morning, I conclude.

 

It hails later in the day. We drive through delapidated farm towns where people visibly slaughter and cut up pigs in their front yards.

 

We continue the cigarette-stop-every-fifteen-minutes trend. We stop at town churches and ring the church bell then scamper off.

 

We drink Black Balsams, a local liquor made with 100 herbs. It tastes like Fernet Branca.

 

The driver does a lot of 'donuts' with his car. I thought that only happened in movies.

 

Later on the second night, the driver also decides it would be amusing to drive down a dirt road with no headlights on. Within 15 seconds the car plummets off the road and into a 6-foot ditch. With the car completely on its SIDE, I wonder to myself "should I act serious right now, or can I wallow in the black delight of this situation?" I choose the latter, and everything ends up fine as all the town folk come out to help us get the old Ford back on the road. We keep the lights on from now on.

 

Anyway, although it was a nonstop blast, I was beyond relieved when the road trip safely concluded at 2 AM that same night. I then spend a couple of days checking out Lithuania's jaw-dropping capital, Vilnius, and then hopped on a bus to Poland.

 

My whole time in Lithuania, I couldn't wait to leave. My final night there, I and 3 friends plan to eat dinner at a local brewpub famed for excellent beer, a food menu serving every conceivable body part of a pig, and a steady clientelle of skinheads. When we arrive, I'm delighted to find that the beer is so good it alters my perception of what beer can taste like, the menu also lists chicken, and everyone here tonight has hair. Later when my friends walk me to the bus station, I'm really sad. Like every European city I've been to, I started out disliking Lithuania but realized I was in love with it at the end.

 

Before Lithuania, I was in Latvia.

 

Before Latvia, I was sad and bitter to leave Sweden, which I thought was heaven. I remember my ferry ride from Stockholm to Riga on a ship called the Regina Baltica -- built in the 1950s and not updated since. Every single person on the boat was clearly not Swedish. Nobody ever smiled. Everyone chain smoked cigarettes, and every square inch of the boat was the Smoking Section. It was a rude awakening.

 

The highlight of the boat ride was when I won a music-trivia contest in the Lounge. The prize: a bar of white chocolate the size of a license plate.

 

It's 7 AM right now and I didn't sleep last night, that's why I'm rambling incoherently about Baltic scowlers and white chocolate.