Travel and Lithuania Day 1: The Place Where It Rains
On the road again
Wednesday was a travel day. Bags packed, Elizabeth and I left the apartment early in the day to get to the airport. I had a flight out at 8 AM going to Vilnius, Lithuania with a connection Frankfurt; hers to Seattle was later, but it was easier on us both to travel to the airport together.
My flights and connection were pleasant and uneventful. It gave me plenty of time to reflect on the trip a bit, about how my great grandfather left Vilnius more than 100 years ago to find a new life, and here I am going back to at least get a taste of the place he forsook. I also thought about the enormous privilege I'm enjoying: an American woman of some means hip-hopping across Europe on vacation. I'm very much aware, especially in current economic conditions, of what a special thing it is I'm able to do because of my nationality, my income, my position in the world. As I sat in Frankfurt Airport, I also found myself considering the fact that I was surrounded by people who speak other languages more fluently than they do English, whereas I speak native English and a smattering of French. I was truly aware that, in this situation, I'm the foreigner.
Wheels down in Lithuania
I arrived in Lithuania at 1:55 PM and found my way from the airport to the train station. I had to stop to get Lithuanian money because Lithuania, while it is a member of the EU, is not a member of the Eurozone. At the cash machine I withdrew some litae, glanced at it quickly (I still haven't really had time to study it and see what I'm handling), and headed out. I had to take a train from Vilnius to Kaunas, where skidspoppe lives. I caught the 2:45 departure, an old Soviet train, blocky and basic with big windows and hard, vinyl-covered benches. It was, as Skids described it, the slow train. In the end, it was the right train because it meant I got to see a lot of territory at a leisurely pace, and what I saw was lovely.
I was surprised by how lush the landscape is. Once you leave Vilnius, the landscape turns rural almost immediately. Autumn has arrived. While most of the trees surrounding the lakes that dot the shallow valleys are still green, there are patches of red and gold that would satisfy the most dedicated leaf-peeper and make it all look a little like a painting. The farms we pass look like something out of a storybook, each with one strategically placed black-and-white cow lounging in a pasture, the picture of pastoral serenity. The villages we pass include small, old houses that have clearly seen better days but, in the aggregate they too, look like illustrations out of children's books. The transitions from rural to industrial and from industrial to rural are immediate--not fleeting, but dramatic. By the time I arrived in Kaunas, I'd gotten an interesting overview of this southern central part of Lithuania.
Talking science fiction
A friend of Skids' met me at the train in the pouring-down rain (apparently "Lithuania" means "the place where it rains"), presented me with an umbrella, and then took me by bus to the university where he teaches; he had class, which is why he couldn't meet me. It's a class on film, and this session in particular focused on science fiction. He'd asked me if I had a particular favorite, because he screens a movie after each class for the students if they choose to stick around. I nominated "Forbidden Planet," which he acquired. He asked me to speak about the movie a little bit, so I introduced it and, after the film, got up to talk about it and its context in culture and in science fiction. After that, Skids, his friend, a couple of his students, and I went out for a late dinner and some chatter. When we finally got back to the apartment--in the pouring-down rain--we talked a little and then I just passed out.
Wednesday was a travel day. Bags packed, Elizabeth and I left the apartment early in the day to get to the airport. I had a flight out at 8 AM going to Vilnius, Lithuania with a connection Frankfurt; hers to Seattle was later, but it was easier on us both to travel to the airport together.
My flights and connection were pleasant and uneventful. It gave me plenty of time to reflect on the trip a bit, about how my great grandfather left Vilnius more than 100 years ago to find a new life, and here I am going back to at least get a taste of the place he forsook. I also thought about the enormous privilege I'm enjoying: an American woman of some means hip-hopping across Europe on vacation. I'm very much aware, especially in current economic conditions, of what a special thing it is I'm able to do because of my nationality, my income, my position in the world. As I sat in Frankfurt Airport, I also found myself considering the fact that I was surrounded by people who speak other languages more fluently than they do English, whereas I speak native English and a smattering of French. I was truly aware that, in this situation, I'm the foreigner.
Wheels down in Lithuania
I arrived in Lithuania at 1:55 PM and found my way from the airport to the train station. I had to stop to get Lithuanian money because Lithuania, while it is a member of the EU, is not a member of the Eurozone. At the cash machine I withdrew some litae, glanced at it quickly (I still haven't really had time to study it and see what I'm handling), and headed out. I had to take a train from Vilnius to Kaunas, where skidspoppe lives. I caught the 2:45 departure, an old Soviet train, blocky and basic with big windows and hard, vinyl-covered benches. It was, as Skids described it, the slow train. In the end, it was the right train because it meant I got to see a lot of territory at a leisurely pace, and what I saw was lovely.
I was surprised by how lush the landscape is. Once you leave Vilnius, the landscape turns rural almost immediately. Autumn has arrived. While most of the trees surrounding the lakes that dot the shallow valleys are still green, there are patches of red and gold that would satisfy the most dedicated leaf-peeper and make it all look a little like a painting. The farms we pass look like something out of a storybook, each with one strategically placed black-and-white cow lounging in a pasture, the picture of pastoral serenity. The villages we pass include small, old houses that have clearly seen better days but, in the aggregate they too, look like illustrations out of children's books. The transitions from rural to industrial and from industrial to rural are immediate--not fleeting, but dramatic. By the time I arrived in Kaunas, I'd gotten an interesting overview of this southern central part of Lithuania.
Talking science fiction
A friend of Skids' met me at the train in the pouring-down rain (apparently "Lithuania" means "the place where it rains"), presented me with an umbrella, and then took me by bus to the university where he teaches; he had class, which is why he couldn't meet me. It's a class on film, and this session in particular focused on science fiction. He'd asked me if I had a particular favorite, because he screens a movie after each class for the students if they choose to stick around. I nominated "Forbidden Planet," which he acquired. He asked me to speak about the movie a little bit, so I introduced it and, after the film, got up to talk about it and its context in culture and in science fiction. After that, Skids, his friend, a couple of his students, and I went out for a late dinner and some chatter. When we finally got back to the apartment--in the pouring-down rain--we talked a little and then I just passed out.