South Poles

A Lithuanian political analyst today described the relationship between Lithuania and its southern neighbour Poland as a “cold peace”. One obvious reason for tensions between the two countries is the more or less successful repeated attempts over previous centuries by Poland to put Lithuania in its sphere of influence – if necessary, by force. The forest of stone crosses standing over the graves of fallen Polish soldiers at the beautiful Antakalnis cemetery, and nearby Polish bunkers stand testament to past Polish aggression in Vilnius. While the threat of a Polish invasion is gone, and the two countries are instead militarily joined at the hip through NATO, the political relationship between the two remains tepid. Wounds take a long time to heal, and perhaps the small steps being taken to link up the two countries – a gas interconnector last week, a rail link from Warsaw to Lithuania’s second city Kaunas drawing ever closer – will help speed up the process of neighbourly reconciliation.

National stadium – white elephant

The symbolism of national sports arenas is hard to underestimate. They represent a country’s fortunes in world sports – to many, Stade de France is as familiar as the Eiffel Tower; Wembley or Wimbledon as famous as Big Ben. In Vilnius, this hulking mountain of reinforced concrete has come to represent a less welcome side of the nation – a spiny temple to public mismanagement, sitting on top of Šeškinė hill like a skeleton in the desert sands, next to the massive Akropolis shopping mall. Construction on the 25,000-seater arena started in 2008, building on foundations erected in the late 1980s, but stopped two years later due to a lack of funds. The latest reports suggest now the only hope left is to convince the EU to plug the cash gap – a tall order in post-crisis Europe. The main purpose of the stadium is said to be to host the national football team. But there is only one sport in Lithuania, and it ain’t football – perhaps mirroring the stadium’s fortunes. For the time being, it sits there as a testament to bad planning and exuberant but misplaced hopes for the future. Recently, local media suggested the site could instead host a giant ferris wheel, like the London Eye, though the remoteness of the location is unlikely to turn it into the tourist magnet that its Western counterparts have become.

Old, but no museum

The big draw in Vilnius that keeps tourists piling in around the year is its UNESCO World Heritage old town – one of the largest in Europe. Over recent years, it has been tidied up – a work that is still in progress – and a large part of it is dedicated to catering to the hundreds of thousands of visitors that pass through each month. But unlike some old towns, it has not fallen into the trap of being turned over entirely to the tourism industry. It is still a fully fledged city district, with offices and apartments, and the infrastructure caters as much to local residents as to the more temporary selfie-stick-wielding visitors. Adding to its charm is its baroque, low-profile topography, with two- or three-story houses making up most of it, with the many churches offering landmarks with which to orientate in the winding lanes. Vilnius’ old town is not pompous, and you’re unlikely to get run over by baying hordes of tourists. It’s a more low-key, classy historic centre, with a story to tell for anyone willing to listen.

Livin’ la Via Baltica

The roads of Lithuania have a fearsome reputation. In 2013, Lithuania’s headlines lit up with the dismal accolade of having the second most deadly streets in the EU – double the average. And even so, the situation had improved dramatically since the middle of last decade. Driving around, it is not hard to see why. Cars have a habit of swerving in and out of lanes, talking on the phone or SMSing, and the concept of checking the blind spot seems to have been left out of Lithuanian driving tests. Small accidents happen all the time – and if there’s a traffic jam in town, there’s usually a pileup at the front of it. There is also an unusual rule that allows cars to turn right at a red light in most crossings. Drivers taking advantage of this rule all too often consider themselves to have priority over both crossing pedestrians and approaching cars. Speed limits are, for most drivers, taken as helpful guidance, and road surfaces strike fear into the hearts of even the most sturdy shock absorbers. Lithuania also has a boozy reputation, and despite one of the lowest drink-driving limits in the EU, lax enforcement means that for many, it’s not a question if, but how many, beers it’s safe to drink before getting in the car. For drivers from countries with more rigid, rule-abiding driving syles, handling Lithuanian traffic can be overwhelming. The advice therefore is to be extra vigilant, expect rules to be broken, and bring an extra dose of patience.

Golden woods

The forests around Vilnius are glorious around mid-October, with a golden floor of leaf litter and a thinning, but equally vibrant crown of golden leaves overhead, intensifying the warmth of the autumn sun. The forests here are often clear near the ground, without the undergrowth that often obscure the view beyond a few metres that are present in many other forests. Needless to say, it doesn’t take much persuasion to put on a hat and gloves and go out for some fresh air this time of year.

Ski-lift recycling

High on the crest of one of the steep ridges that stretches through Pavilnių regional park towards the Neris river stands a testament to Vilnius’ creative spirit. Lonely and forgotten, a rusty metal structure stands overlooking the Northern Vilnius suburbs. Once, it had probably been conceived as a structure for a ski lift. Now, its rusty bars have been painted with cheerful neon colours, surprising any ramblers in this part of the woods with a splash of bright green, blue and red. A bigger metal structure further uphill, which would have contained the hoisting mechanism for the lift, has also been daubed with neon-spray designs. Down the left, a slope opens up down the hill, and another a bit further along, suggesting that the plans for a modest downhill skiing facility here were quite far advanced – or perhaps it was even up and running at some stage. Now, the clearing in the otherwise densely forested hills offers a magnificent view of the Sapieginės hills, and the suburban sprawl beyond the banks of the Neris to the northwest on this spot.

Craigslist, IRL

In Vilnius, old-fashioned bulletin boards are very much a thing. Each block of flats has a board like this outside the front entrance, with a mosaic of adverts and notices. They range from the esoteric, like lectures on old world civilizations (in Lithuanian and Russian); mainstream advertising fare like driving lessons; and strictly homebrew notices like offers for 500ml pots of honey. In an age of Facebook groups, craigslist and eBay, in one of the countries in Europe at the digital cutting edge, good old tear-off paper stubs still have a certain clout, it seems. Even without “like” buttons, follower counts or search engine optimisation.

Taking the Užupis

Užupis Res Publica is one of the more hyped tourist attractions in Vilnius. The neighbourhood, on a bend in the Vilnia river a stone’s throw from Vilnius’ old town, is labelled in the brochures as a self-declared free state of bohemians and rebel spirits. Copenhagen’s Christiania often mentioned in the same breath. City guides label it as a place of artists hanging out in bohemian cafés and quirky galleries decorated in graffiti on park with the works of Banksy. But let’s get one thing straight – if it ever was such a Christiania-esque free zone, it’s now thoroughly gentrified. These days, it’s about as counterculture as London’s King’s road, and you’re more likely to run into a company director, ambassador or minister (or get run over by their Porsche SUVs as they pull out of the driveways to their luxury loft conversions). Not that there’s anything wrong with that per se, and Užupis is still a charming place for a Sunday stroll. But let’s just be clear that the artist free-zone myth peddled to tourists doesn’t match reality these days.

Train to Trakai

Trakai castle is neither in Vilnius, nor a ‘hidden gem’ as such, but still deserves a post. Just over half an hour’s train journey from Vilnius the main attraction is the brick-and-stone castle – which saw its heyday around 1300, when Lithuania was one of the largest countries in Europe. There isn’t much to say about it that the tourist guides haven’t – the castle is beautiful and interesting to visit, the lakes surrounding it are wonderful in their own right. The town next door is home to exquisite restaurants and tourist-souvenir shopping heaven, but it is just as nice just to stroll along the waterfront and marvel at the charm of the old wooden houses. Some posts on this blog will inevitably fail to be original either in terms of the photography or content, but rather serve as a blogging equivalent of a re-tweet – endorsing something that someone else has already pointed out. This is one of those, so if there’s a day to spare in Vilnius, Trakai would certainly deserve being on the to-do list. And everything there is to say about the place is a quick web-search away.

Spaceship-chic in Justiniškės

One chapter of Vilnius few visitors will see, unless they go out of their way, are the Soviet “microdistrict” style apartment block suburbs. This one, Justiniškės, in northwest Vilnius, is probably my favourite, and the reason is simple – the hulking concrete towers lined up in rows, like the backlot of a dystopian 90s sci-fi flick that never got made. Some might call them plain ugly, but I think this kind of brutalist concrete architecture has some charm – perhaps in the way that a child’s painting is charming, but rarely beautiful. But it would be a mistake to think that these districts are necessarily dodgy. Justiniškės is a perfectly tidy, affordable place to live (a 50 square metre pad will set you back 250 euros a month) with a large green belt cradling it to the west. efficient transport links to the centre, spanking-new playgrounds, and even a Facebook community page. It’s admittedly not going to be the place most people would dream of living in, but it’s not a place with burning bins and no-go streets.