Learning to Love Lithy

Learning to Love Lithy

LEAVING is so much harder than COMING.

And she fell in love in Moscow...

Over the summer I was looking forward to the 9-day Russia trip more than I was looking forward to coming to Lithuania in general. And it finally came…

All 30-something American students went, broken up into what the European interns called “comrade groups”…to remind us of Communist times, I guess? Kinda weird…
Five-hour bus ride to Riga, the capital of Latvia, and then an overnight train to Moscow, with four of us crammed into a sleeping cabin. We hit the Russian border after nightfall, and the border guards hopped on to check us all. After asking us where we were hiding our boyfriends, one of them pronounced my name just like my Russian grandmother does, which made me miss her, but reminded me how much fun it was going to be to find my roots in this huge country. It was amazing to wake up in Moscow.

I wish I could say that I have the Russian language mastered because of my mom’s side of the family, but I am so far from it. The interns (our group leaders who all spoke Russian—thank goodness) taught us how to memorize the first few Russian letters in each of the metro stops that we would need to know. But the metro stations are crrrraaaaaazzzy in Russia—to the point where we’d all hold hands in hopes of all making it into the same car. Besides it being the most insane metro system in the world, it’s also the most beautiful. Some of the stations even had chandeliers and marble statues in them!


The first night we went to a Russian circus, where my previous thoughts were confirmed: Russians are insane. But I can say that because I am Russian…so I guess there’s a little of that in me too :) Turns out the Russian version of Britney Spears was headlining the whole circus performance, so that was pretty neat except that none of us knew who she was prior to the show. Trick dogs, horse gymnastics, acrobats, dancing bears, elephants, monkies, etc. They know how to do it all. But they didn’t use safety harnesses for anything…even when they were hundreds of feet in the air. Crazy. Maybe I’ll join some day.

When we left the circus it started to snow! Our first snow in Europe…there is something energizing about falling snow. I loved it. And I actually forgot how cold I was for a few minutes.

The following days were filled with Russian Orthodox churches and museums. Usually you have to pay to take pictures in each building, but everyone loved my camera, so they would pay for me to take it inside, which was nice. One of my favorite new scents is the way the incense, oil and candles mix together in the cathedrals.



St. Basil’s Cathedral

That night we went to вднх (pronounced VDNKh), which is basically a huge territory with different exhibitions from each of the former Soviet republics, showcasing what they’re proud of from their countries.
There we rode the biggest ferris wheel I’ve ever seen, where you could see all of Moscow from up high.

Meanwhile, I had family trying to find me. :) Probably the most exciting thing about being in Russia was having relatives to meet up with. Except for the fact that they don’t speak English. Apparently on their quest to find me, they ran into another group of study abroads and said something along the lines of, “Glkhsdlhiojlsadgkljlsoasfdfwekjiwe…Madeline Jacks?” So they knew to call me, and I grabbed my friend Robyn and we piled into the back of their car. This was the start of the best night I had in Russia. We had dinner with my grandma’s cousin, her kids, their kids, and their kids…four generations living in one flat. And they just kept speaking Russian, even though we understood none of it. The oldest woman started pulling out pictures and more pictures of me when I was five years old. They gave us gifts…I have the most beautiful ring from Moscow now. We drank real chai, ate amazing food, and had the best time. The weirdest thing was that two of the women spoke Spanish, so I could understand them, and Robyn could speak with them. Go figure.

Before taking us back to our hostel, Sergei drove us around Moscow for an hour so that we could see what it looks like at night. During this time, the other study abroad students were having a tour of the metro stops…so we definitely lucked out. Moscow is gorgeous by night. It is huge…like 15 million people huge. At one point we were in some alley trying to find the hostel when a black Bentley pulled out of nowhere and sped off down the street. Robyn and I both turned to each other and mouthed, “Maffia?” You never know…

They shut down all of Red Square the next day just to open up Lenin’s mausoleum. FYI, he’s dead but not buried. And I saw him with my own eyes. Creeeeeeeepy.

It’s worth noting here that the entire time we were in Russia it was below freezing and I couldn’t feel my fingers until we were back in Lithuania.

That night we hopped on another train to St. Petersburg…

Soviet Leftovers

Enough about all of these other countries. I should be telling you about Lithuania! I am daily amazed at how recent its history is—so recent that it often creeps its way into the present, reminding me of how thankful I am for America and my freedom. If you want to hear about the history of the United States, you read a textbook. In Lithuania, you can talk to anyone over the age of 15 and they’ll tell you how it really was before their independence.

Lithuania had a rough fate throughout the 20th century. During WWII, they were passed back and forth between Germany and the USSR. There were mass deportations of tens of thousands of Lithuanians to Siberia—not a happy place. Many of my current classmates’ grandparents or parents were part of this tragedy.
Communism is the Sorrow of the World
(CCCP is USSR in Russian)

We had the chance to visit The Museum of Genocide Victims. The building was actually a former KGB prison, which was in ACTIVE use until August of 1991—NOT very long ago. It was scary and bleak, fully equipped with water-torture or wet punishment cells, as well as execution rooms with glass-paneled floors. When we looked down we could see the remains and intimate possessions of those who were killed there.

In 1989 (right after I turned three years old—just for some time perspective), Lithuanians joined hands with Estonians and Latvians to create the largest-ever mass protest in the Baltic States. Over TWO MILLION people held hands in a human chain that covered over 400 miles, stretching from the capital of Lithuania to Estonia, two countries over. One year later Lithuania proclaimed their independence—the FIRST of the Soviet-occupied states to do so—but Moscow wasn’t so thrilled about this so they killed 14 unarmed civilians. In 1991, when I was gleefully starting Kindergarten, Moscow finally gave Lithuanian its independence, even though the KGB didn’t leave until 1993.

You can feel the effects of Communism everywhere here. Every building looks the same—tall cement block structures. They are the perfect example of Soviet leftovers—old army barracks converted into ugly flats.
You could easily walk through the center of the city for an hour without making eye contact with anyone or seeing another person smile. Old babushkas sit hunched over on most street corners, trying to sell apples or hand-knit socks for pennies a piece. It’s all incredibly depressing, but oddly intriguing at the same time.

I’ve never been a history buff, but it’s inescapable here. I had the honor of taking my roommate out to talk about what the Soviet occupation was like for her in Uzbekistan (near Asia), since it’s a Muslim country. She shyly looked around the restaurant and leaned in to whisper, “Actually, I have never called it an ‘occupation’…everyone in Uzbekistan thinks of it as the ‘golden age.’ I miss it very much.” Her country was so poor before the Soviets took over that the free education and medical help was seen as a blessing, and not at all like a brutal occupation, which is how most of Eastern European still sees it. Oh the things they don’t teach you in World Civ…

4-day in Sweden ;)

For Westmont’s four-day weekend, some of us flew to Sweden :) The bus ride from the airport to the actual city of Stockholm took up almost two hours of which we were not aware of ahead of time, but I’m so glad we did it because the countryside was gorgeous…the lakes, the forests…I kind of wish the bus driver had just dumped us on the side of the road to walk a ways.

It rained the entire main day of our stay, so we opted to educate ourselves by hitting up the National Museum, which had an incredible exhibition of Swedish modern design items. They had a retro-style grand piano on display…and you weren’t allowed to touch it. It just about killed me.

The men in Stockholm seem to like each other a lot. We went to a trendy restaurant called Kronet the first night, and laughed when we were seated very closely between two very friendly tables full of all guys. One of my friends made a comment that it was almost like they ran out of other seating and had to seat us in the “men only” section. We turned to look at the rest of the huge dining room and realized that she really wasn’t joking…every table was full of all guys—no women but us in sight. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining though…

After that we went to a really cute coffee & chocolate house owned and operated by all gay men, and decked out in rainbow flags...but they make the most amazing white chocolate cheesecake.

Robyn and I got a kick out of singing ABBA songs while walking downtown, seeing as they originate from there. Unfortunately, we never found a place that served Swedish meatballs. Perhaps it’s just a myth…Oh, and Swedish fish (the candy, not the salmon) are not as good in Sweden as they are back home. What a let down.

Everyone spoke English surprisingly well, and it’s a good thing because the Swedish language is crazy. The words seem to be on average 8 syllables long. We would try to pronounce the first two syllables as best we could, and then jokingly finish the word off by mumbling something along the lines of “…berginshvnadnkampsvanksdregen…”

Slow Day

This was my first weekend not spent in another country, and I'm really enjoying the R&R time. Heidi sent me a beautiful letter with the strict instructions that I was only allowed to read it if I tucked myself away in a dark and mysterious corner of a local tea house. So...this afternoon I walked to The Black Cat, an old tavern famous with rumors of Hitler having dined there often.
The restaurants and tea houses are beautiful here. Many look like they are straight out of medieval times, with dimly lit basements full of nooks and crannies and antique sofas. I will miss them the most when I find myself sitting in a too-well-lit Starbucks or CBTL.

Three Days...Three Countries

Last weekend I started to really love the other study abroad students. Everyone is so very unique...and I don't say that lightly. When you throw all 30 of us together on a charter bus for a 10-hour ride through Latvia and Estonia, it's like a toned-down version of Road Rules...and I loved every minute of it.

We stopped at the Hill of Crosses first. Although Lithuania was the last European country to adopt Christianity as its religion, I think it has the highest density of crosses on the continent.

People come from far and wide to place crosses here, both out of grief and celebration.

Our first night was in Riga, the capital city of Latvia. Our hostel had a sound system in place above each door—permanently set to a techno/80s channel. Sweetness.

Our last two nights were my favorite though. We drove to Tallinn, the capital city of Estonia, and stayed in the Old Town. Cobblestone streets and ancient architecture with medieval undertones...small underground specialty shops that felt more like dungeons than retail stores...and a beautifully quaint wool market with old ladies knitting mittens as you try them on. We splurged here.

It was frustrating to hear so many of the study abroads shouting things like, "It's just like Disneyland!" No. Disneyland came after.

Went to an Irish pub the first night in Tallinn, where my love for live music was confirmed over and over again. It just does something to me. I can't really explain it.

The exchange rate is around 12:1, so it felt really weird paying 200 krones for something that should be under $20. We ate dinner at a restaurant called Olde Hansa that was straight out of the middle ages/the viking era. Everything was lit by candles, the food was enormous, and I don't know what any of it was called.

On our 10-hour bus ride home (awwwww, I called Lithuania home) a group of Californians had at least a 20-minute conversation about In'n'Out while we ate apples we picked ourselves and passed a jar of Nutella around the entire bus. Good times.

The Unmatchable Experience

After serving my time in prison (see below), we went to Toms’ godfather’s house for his god-sister’s 16th birthday dinner. They live in the country outside of Liepaja on a pig farm, and besides the smells, it was one of the most picturesque places I’ve ever visited. It was just a small family cook-out, but I learned how to crack/eat crawdads which was a victory in and of itself.

I wish you could all meet “The Godfather,” as we called him. Harold is a large, loud Latvian man whom I'm thinking is always somewhat drunk. He prides himself in knowing English, but after listening to him ramble for a while, we realized he really only knew a couple of curse words and loved to drop the name “Arnold Schwarzenegger” as much as possible. BUT, turns out he is known for running one of the only old-fashioned, Russian-style bath houses in Latvia, a.k.a. a big wooden shed with burning hot rocks in it and way too much steam.

Boys’ turn first. After 15 minutes of melting, they all streaked past us, young and old alike, and plunged into the pond beside us. Alice, the birthday girl, announced it was now the girls’ turn. She spoke perfect English and graciously walked us through the whole process, explaining that the only reason that all of her girlfriends still had their towels on was because we (the modest Americans) still did. With a sigh, we muttered something along the lines of, “When in Rome…” and stripped down too.

After a few minutes, the girls ran out of the bath house in front of everyone and jumped into the pond just like the guys had—with nothing on. I was not a fan of this plan. Something else that I was not a fan of was the apparent Latvian “ritual” that the birthday girl told us about, where Harold, her DAD, comes in during your second sauna session and beats you with Birch branches. The whole co-ed nakedness thing is simply not an issue in this culture. If you want more details about the night, e-mail me…it was quite the intercultural experience.

Toms told me later that if I ever wanted a weekend away from the dorm or just needed time to relax, his mom was very insistent that we come stay in their flat whenever we want. What a gift.

Prison Time in Latvia

My roommate Zane (sounds like Zahn-eh) is from a small town in Latvia called Liepaja (sounds like Leah-pie-uh). There are two other girls and two guys from the same town who all hang out with us, and when they talk about Liepaja, they sound similar to how I sound when I talk about Santa Barbara (oh the love…).

A little over two weeks ago, Toms (sounds like Toh-ums) announced that he was taking my friend Ashley and I home with him for the weekend. It was more of a “just so you know” rather than a “would you like to come?” kind of thing. So five dollars, two hours, and one passport stamp later, I was in a new country with five Latvians whom I’d met about one week prior. Toms’ mom met us at the bus station, and he told us later that the first thing she said to him was, “Wow! I’m so surprised! I was expecting American girls to be fat…but your friends are so…small.” After awkwardly translating the greeting, he said we should take it as a compliment.

I loved the food his “Granny” made for us. I have no idea what it was, but it reminded me of something my grandma would make for me. Good memories.
During dinner Toms explained that his dad was on sick leave from work because he broke his leg falling off his bicycle when he was drunk about a month ago. Within minutes of the story being told, we heard a noise outside, and there he was, the man himself, teetering up to their house on his bicycle…WITH a full-leg cast on. What a champ.

After dinner we all climbed into the smallest car I’d ever seen to drive over to Toms’ fifth floor flat where we’d be staying for the weekend. The perpetually drunk, broken-legged man ended up driving. Not so sure how that ended up working out, but it did. Ashley and I each had our own rooms in the flat. It was so nice to be out of the dorm for a mini-vacation. Our friends paid for everything. If we even tried to return the favors they yelled at us or ignored us.

Saturday morning the Latvians all got together to decide what they were going to “make us do” that day…and we kept hearing random English words like “prison” and “jail” thrown into the mesh of Latvian language. Toms pulled the car up in front of a daunting, old brick building with barbed wire surrounding it and a large authentic-looking WWII guard in a Russian uniform.

He walked over to the car, literally pulled Toms out of it and yelled something in another language. I knew it was at least kind of a joke because Toms was kind of laughing as he got back into the car, but the whole thing was still very weird. Toms started the car and asked us if we minded buying the guard cigarettes before we went in because then he promised he’d “go easy on us.” Not having any idea what that might mean, we willingly went and bought him cigarettes.

Back at the prison they had our group line up and march through the gates with our hands behind our backs. The rest of the two hours spent inside that prison was just a long and semi-painful blur. The guards were constantly shouting instructions in Russian, which my poor roommate would try to translate under her breath before they’d yell at her for talking. They had us doing push-ups on the gravel outside, then squatting like ducks with our hands behind our heads for up to half an hour (that, for me, was the worst). They marched us back and forth through the dark halls and up disintegrating staircases deep inside the building somewhere and then shoved way too many of us into a tiny tar-coated cell.

It was supposed to give you a true-to-life experience of what it would have felt like to be a prisoner in occupied Latvia prior to their independence from the USSR. True-to-life is an understatement. Ashley and I decided that this would be so illegal in the States…and surprisingly, our Latvian friends agreed.
Educational experience nonetheless. We met one of the guards after our trip through hell was over, and he was actually a really sweet guy/very attractive. :)