Zjutraj na enajsti dan sem se zbudil v Vilni. Malo nejasno mi je bilo, kako, a počasi so se podrobnosti prejšnjega dne le izrisale in spomnil sem se dolge in utrujajoče vožnje iz Varšave.

On the morning of the eleventh day I woke up in Vilnius. I felt a little uncertain about the events of the previous day, but slowly the details of the long and exhausting drive from Warsaw became clear.

Vilna je nenavadno mesto. Ima čisto samosvoje posebnosti in dušo, ki je druga mesta nimajo. Ljudje so zabavni in prijazni, povsod so rože in veselje in ostanki davnih poganskih dni, ki nikakor nočejo iz skupnega spomina tega naroda.

Vilnius is an unusual city. It has a unique feel and soul to it that other cities lack. The people are funny and very nice, there are flowers everywhere, and happiness and the remnants of ancient pagan festivities that somehow refuse to leave the nation’s collective memory.

S svojo svojeglavostjo in sploh ne neprijetnim jezikom, ki je prav blagodejno deloval na ušesa po ostri Poljščini, se mi je Litva že prvi dan prikupila in se hitro povzpela na visoko mesto na lestvici mojih najljubših krajev na naši Zemlji, kjer še zmeraj ostaja.

With it’s national headstrongness and not-at-all unpleasant language that really soothed my ears after the harsh Polish bark, Lithuania really endeared itself to me on the very first day and quickly rose to be one of the best countries on my list of personal favourites.

V Vilni sem bil ravno na večer najdaljše noči v letu, in zabava, ki so jo meščani priredili na ulicah, je bila neverjetna.
Naslednje jutro sem se zbudil pozno in se nekaj ur vozil do Baltske obale, kjer sem spet zaspal.

It so happened that I was in Vilnius on the exact night of the Midsummer festival, and the party the locals threw in the streets was quite incredible. 
I awoke late the following morning and spent several hours driving to the Baltic coast, where I promptly fell asleep again. 

Zjutraj sem avto zapeljal na trajekt do peščenega polotoka, ki zapira dostop do velike večine Litvanske obale.
Le nekaj manj kot 50 kilometrov ga je na Litvanski strani (preostanek je Ruski). Teh 50 kilometrov je poraščen, peščen, skoraj nedotaknjen in zaščiten raj na Zemlji.

On the morrow I drove my car onto a ferry that took me to the Curdonian spit, which is a hundred kilometers of sandy wonderland divide equally between Russia and Lithuania. It’s a hundred kilometers of overgrown, sandy and untouched Heaven on Earth. 

Peščene sipine, gosti gozdovi, zeleni travniki, kilometrske plaže in obilo življenja. Kraj kamor bi se z veseljem vrnil še kdaj.

Sand dunes, thick forests, green meadows, miles of beach and plenty of life – it’s a place where I’d gladly return given the chance.

Naslednji dan sem jo mahnil proti Latviji (še zdaj ne vem zakaj sem tako hitro zapustil državo, po kateri se mi je ves preostanek poti tožilo), a na poti me je čakala še ena znamenitost:

The next day I headed towards Latvia (I still don’t know why I left the country I longed for for the rest of the trip so quickly), but there was one more stop I had to take on the way:

Unikatni Hrib križev, ki je natanko to, kar njega ime sugerira. Je hrib (v bistvu grič), posejan z križi. A tudi tu se kaže Litvanski nagajivi duh. Čeprav je bil hrib v osnovi kraj, kjer so Litvi, ki niso našli trupel svojih svojcev, pustili simbolične križe in hodili tja moliti, so med rusko okupacijo so vse križe, ki so bili tedaj na griču, Sovjeti podrli, grič pa zastražili in zaprli. A uporniški Litvi so se vsak večer splazili mimo straže in na hrib sejali nove in nove križe, ki so rasli kot gobe po dežju. Danes naj bi jih bilo tam skoraj sto tisoč, a po moji oceni (če bi se šteli še vsi majhni obeski in podobne drobnarije) jih je tam še bistveno več.

The unique Hill of Crosses, which is exactly what it’s name suggests. It’s a hillock covered, and I mean covered, in crosses. It’s one of the marks of the Lithuanian spirit. Though originally a place where grieving family members placed symbolic crosses for people whose bodies were never found and prayed, it became another symbol of the unbending spirit of Lithuania when the Soviets came and demolished it. Though it was guarded, the locals crept past the guards each night and planted new and new crosses to show their deffiance. Today there are supposed to be nearly a hundred thousand of them there, though by my reconing there’s a lot more.

Mnja, in pa štorkelj je bilo ogromno… Litva je krasna.

Also, storks were in abundance. I love Lithuania.

 dwr