To start this post, I need to go back in time some. I got so caught up with the engagement story that I forgot to make note of a few things I did before going to Warsaw.
One night, I went to Milda’s house and prepared spaghetti for her family. Milda’s parents were very welcoming and kind enough to let me use their kitchen. On my behalf, Milda asked her mother if Lithuanian women trust men in the kitchen. She said no and laughed. Well, I gave it my all, and the spaghetti turned out great, despite the Lithuanian’s lame excuse for pasta sauce (it’s really just ketchup). It was fine because I always load up my sauce with sliced, fresh vegetables. During dinner, when I spoke with Milda’s parents, I realized she is partly so interesting because her parents are very worldly. Her mother is a professional Opera singer, and this career took her to Venezuela for a time, as well as Chicago and New York. Because of their time spent in Venezuela, they spoke mediocre Spanish like me, so that was the third language at the table. If you had told me before I flew to Lithuania that I would make spaghetti for a Lithuanian family and we would speak Spanish throughout dinner, I don’t think I would have believed you. When discussing her career, it was revealed to me that Milda’s mother is quite talented (she is able to sing quite challenging pieces, that in my ignorance of Opera, I have never heard of). But the timing of her career was unfortunate because Soviet occupation in Lithuania largely limited her travel. She said she would win competitions in Italy, but since she was only allowed in the country for a single day, she could not accept her award the next day.
After this delightful meal, we went to Tamsta club to see one of the guards who works at the Embassy play in his funk band. The band was really a pleasure to listen to, though their songs were very simple. I could tell that the musicians were really holding back on their instruments. Of note was the saxophone player who was “scratching” via the app. on his iPhone. I have to admit it sounded pretty cool and fitting. The vocalist for the group was easily the skinniest girl I’ve ever seen in my life—verging on 2-dimensional and clearly unhealthy. But she had a big, big voice, and the simple, almost childish English lyrics really played to the minimalist sentiments in my heart. While I was at the club, I also met some of the young professionals working at other embassies. Someone at the Norweigan Embassy reached out to create a master-list of all the interns working part-time in Vilnius, and I suggested on the listserv that people come to see the funk band. I particularly remember the Spanish people I met; it was nice to hear that husky tone of voice again. Hopefully I will meet with the rest of this group in the future.
Okay, now let’s fast forward to this past week, after my trip to Warsaw. Early in the week I met with Jore and her friend Giedre (forgive me for the missing accent marks over vowels). Jore’s mother is a university professor, and she often comes into the Embassy. She asked if I would consider meeting her daughter so she could practice speaking English. I told her I was looking for friends, so it would be my pleasure. What a gift was this introduction! We met in my favorite, small cafe. We talked about the differences between schools here and at home because they are in the process of studying for their university entrance exams. We also discussed Jore’s photography, Giedre’s acting, and films—I told them about my not-so-secret passion for horror films. After departing, we agreed to meet again.
Just a quick note that I went to The Dubliner on St. Patrick’s Day. An Irish ex-pat owns the bar. Everywhere I’ve been, I’ve found a bar like this. There’s always a niche for a place like this in the market. I had a Guinness and met some of the contractors who work at the Embassy. I’m still not sure why, but the power kept going on and off in the bar, sending us into near darkness each time. It was kind of funny because the place was so busy. I didn’t stay long; for some reason I was bored and slightly depressed. This is the problem with seeing Mallary; immediately afterwards, the normal, tepid conversation I have with people is dissatisfying. Does that sound arrogant? It should. If there were awards for quality conversation, we would win them.
I met with Giedre again to go to an art exhibit. They were featuring the Fluxus Art of Jurgis Maciunas. This Lithuanian went to live in New York City during Soviet occupation in Lithuania. During his time there he developed an art ideology that denied art as a commercial good and promoted the idea that anyone could be an artist; in his own words, he aimed to “demonstrate artist’s dispensability.” Personally, I fear he may have succeeded; I have commented on other posts about how one can still make an honorable profession of being an artist in Europe, but this is an ever more challenging profession to maintain in the U.S. I did enjoy the humor in his work, though, and his concept of “happenings,” which were sudden, unannounced street performances. Jurgis was friends with John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and they sometimes assisted him in his artistic endeavors. After enjoying the exhibit, Giedre and I had coffee, and I found the good conversation I was seeking. I was surprised how much we had in common, though I was close-minded to think an ocean of separation would make people consider love and life differently. I remember her specifically commenting, “When I fall in love, I think I could spend 24 hours straight with that person and never leave the house.” I encouraged her to not give up on this notion, though it may just be a dream now. Mallary and I suffer time apart because we act on some external suggestions that it is healthy to be separate; I really believe we would be content spending all of our time together. From conversations Mallary and I have had with people, this is clearly not a universal—but if Giedre wants it, she can find it.
On Saturday, I walked to Tamsta club twice. In the afternoon, I went to their music shop beneath the music club. I spent two hours playing different guitars. I was surprised how much I’ve missed my guitars since I came here; I really regret not bringing one of my own. Because I have lonely, down-time in my apartment most nights, my fingers itch for activity. Well, after trying many guitars, I realized I had to buy one. I was pleasantly surprised by the prices, so this was possible. Because of the strength of currency exchange, quality guitars are significantly cheaper here. But quality wasn’t what I was after. I found the cheapest one I could and took it for a ride. It did everything I wanted; despite its small body it had a big sound, and it could handle being down-tuned for slide play. I fell in love. The price tag was 175 lt., but I only had 100. The guitar had obviously been dropped by its previous owner, and the body had been repaired with wood glue. I explained with my nicest smile that no would ever buy this except for a kid who only planned to play it for five weeks. After the women working in the shop whispered in Lithuanian, they agreed. I even convinced them to throw in the slide for this price. I played most of the afternoon and all day Sunday—already penned a few songs I’ve been hearing in my head the last few weeks. Last night I learned John Prine’s “Dear Abby.” Check it out if you don’t know it. (Thanks again for that album, Dad.) Once it warms up a bit here, I’ll play on the street one day.
On Saturday evening, I returned to Tamsta to listen to Jonas play in his rock band. Yes, two different people who work at the Embassy played at the same club in their respective bands. But the setting was completely transformed. Instead of a young, hipster crowd for the funk band, there was a respectful, politically charged audience for Jonas’ band. Poliarizuoti stiklai (it means Polarized Glass) has been famous in Lithuania for several decades, but they were very popular during Soviet occupation. Jonas told me they used to get in trouble for singing in Lithuanian. One could tell how politically and socially important this band was. The average age of the person at this rock concert was probably 50, and these people knew every word. Other people from the Embassy were pointing out current and former members of the Lithuanian Parliament and Ministries. Our Ambassador even showed up, which I thought was ace. She really goes out of her way to show support for the entire Embassy staff, even in their personal endeavors. I would have enjoyed the concert no matter what because I am growing to care for Jonas, but his band seriously rocked. He styles himself as a rockabilly guitarist, and the group’s songs were driven by fun rhythms you could dance to. Of course, I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but my friend told me they are very positive—looking forward to things getting better when the Soviets leave. Now the words have a new meaning. They also played new songs to debut an album. I really hope to see Jonas play again before I leave Vilnius. I wanted to note something really different about concert culture here. After a fan-favorite was played, they would continue to chant the chorus after the song finished, and the band would play a verse of the song again! This happened many times, and it made me ponder how such practices come into being.
Administrative note to myself. Someone I met told me that when Mallary and I go to Florence we have to visit Ari’s Diner. Supposedly this Ari knows how to show Americans a good time; he is from Philidelphia, came into a little money, and decided to set up an American diner abroad. Sounds like a great life; we’ll have to visit this place.
On Sunday, Jore invited me to bus out of the city and see a Lithuanian Pagan ritual to welcome the spring. It snowed again yesterday, but I still think it worked. I won’t pretend to understand this culture, but I can say that I enjoyed listening to the traditional songs and dancing with strangers. We met her friend, Asta, and the three of us took a walk through the park. I saw the Vilnia, roiling with the weight of melted snow. I really wanted to swim, but the current looked very dangerous. So, I found a twisted, moss covered tree to climb. The air was so sweet here. My mind loves the city, but my lungs miss the country. And speaking of sweet smells, I asked the girls to identify their perfume, so I could find some for Mallary. Of course, they wear like ten different types, so who knows which one I like. Mallary, I bet they would take you shopping if you want. Hopefully I will have pictures from this day soon.
I’m getting increasingly more depressed that I won’t see Lithuania in the summer of fall. I will have to come back one day. If I had any credit, I would get a loan and buy an apartment in this city so fast. There are beautiful four bedroom flats in old town for $200 thousand. I want to invest here before it becomes Paris or Prague. And I must see summer and fall here—summer for the weather, fall for the mushrooms.
I owe a quick shout out to Mom and Dad for the Resees filled box I got for my birthday!
Not sure when I will write again; this is becoming increasingly difficult, but I am committed. It would be easier if I didn’t feel like I was near death at all times. My antibiotics ended Sunday, and now, on Tuesday, my throat is starting to hurt again. Not good. I have the plague or something. Maybe I need to drink Lysol to finish this once and for all.
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