Though this blog has been mainly about sights, thoughts, impressions and events during my stay in Vilnius, a collection* of final lingering thoughts on Lithuania wouldn’t be complete without the people that make the place what it is: Lithuanians. Over the year, the archetypal Lithuanian – a stereotype that of course applies fully to noone in the country – started to emerge. Lithuanians don’t laugh much, and are happy to admit so in stone-faced way. But they have a killer sense of humour. Quite literally. Dark and often with a fair helping of gallows’ humour to match even the most choleric British self-deprecating sarcasm machine. Which is, of course, very funny, making the absence of hearty laughs rather odd. Lithuanians are also incredibly honest. Forget your bike unlocked for a day and chances are that you’ll find it right in the spot you left it. Lithuanians also have an almost obsessive urge to save you a penny: go to the supermarket without a loyalty card, and the cashier will holler out down the queue for someone to swipe theirs, so you don’t miss out on the discounts. Lithuanians dress impeccably and soberly – eschewing the bling and daring cuts that characterize the style further East and South. Lithuanians also find it odd that someone would voluntarily come settle down in their little corner of planet Earth. Perhaps – a reflection on the fact that one in three Lithuanians lives somewhere else. They are not the type to say hello in the street, but for the most part they like to show solidarity when they can – the culture is not to lick up and kick down, but to help a brother or sister along. Lithuania is undeniably, and almost extremely monoethnic. Anyone that is not white stands out immediately, which can be a frustrating experience if you are the only black, maghreb, arab, asian or latino in the village, so to say. All in all, Lithuanians are as friendly and charming as you might hope for, and the ones that I met enriched my visit to this little country immensely. So ačiū dear draugiai for sharing your country with me, and I hope to come back again soon! Gerai? Gerai!
* What is “Dozen to go? To wrap up the blog, I have picked out a dozen of the things during my year in Vilnius that I am most likely to carry with me in my memories of the place. They are in no particular order, and in any event any effort to rank them would amount to comparing apples with oranges.
An effort to capture the essence of Vilnius in a shortlist* would be doomed without mentioning the constant state of upheaval that the city is in. 
An obvious, but necessary inclusion in the Vilnius bucket list is the city’s famous old town, or 
As the sun sets over the Vilnia river valley, bathing the slopes in golden evening sun, the lanterns turn on and the clinking of glasses mixes with the steady hum of the stream gushing over a waterfall at the Belmontas riverside restaurant. I will never claim to be an expert on the Vilnius dining scene, but after sampling a few of the top recommendations, I will stand by my previous comment that Lithuanian cuisine still has a lot of room for improvement. But that is not the same as saying that Vilnius doesn’t have some fantastic dining spots, and so here is a mention to the restaurant with the unrivalled best scenery in Vilnius – the Belmontas riverside grill. The spacious alfresco restaurant is cradled by the Vilnia rapids after they have tumbled over the Belmontas mill dam, offering a gentle acoustic backdrop, and I’ve spent enough posts on this blog going on about the beautiful scenery. There are plenty of cozy places to go downtown, of course, and if you keep an eye out for signs to “vasaros terasa” – summer terrace – you can expect to be treated to a great experience in one of Vilnius’ many courtyards. But Belmontas easily takes the top prize for location even among stiff competition, and the food is not something to be wowed about, but as far as grills go it is very tasty and slips down well with some of the locally-brewed beer. And for the kids, there’s even an enchanting playground at the far end of the restaurant to keep them entertained.
Georgia, or Gruzija in local lingo, holds a special place in the heart of Lithuanians for reasons that presumably go beyond a love of good wine (Georgia’s wines are not to be sneered at, for sure). Vilnius and Georgia’s capital Tbilisi (not, as some might have assumed, Atlanta) are “twinned”, and among the exquisitely carved wooden houses in the venerable Vilnius district 
In Vilnius, there’s a constant renewal of the infrastructure – housing, roads, and all the other brick-and-mortar features of everyday life – which is constantly renewing the creaking old stock of Soviet era craftsmanship with modern versions. Unfortunately, it is not always the case that the replacement constructs are built to last in the same way that they were back in the olden days, and it quickly starts to become evident that while Lithuania is pouring money into replacing old with new, there is less willinginess to maintain the new stuff, even in a culture that has an instinct for mend and repair rather than the throwaway consumerism of the West. Nowhere is this more evident than in the playgrounds. Vilnius is not short of playgrounds – mostly the basic set from the Nordic staple brands like Hags or Lappset – but many of them are worn to the bone, and badly in need of a sprucing-up, even though they were likely put in place in the last few years.
If the thought of 
The top gimmick for this summer in Vilnius is without a doubt the “Dinner in the Sky” on Rotušės aikštė – town hall square. The event ran for only five days, between 3-7 August and a sunset dinner would have set you back 99 euros per head, while the pleasure of sipping a cocktail suspended 50 metres above anything solid would set you back only 29 euros. The concept is in its fourth year running in the Lithuanian capital, so clearly people are up for a memorable meal served up by star chefs Giulio Terrinoni, Deivydas Praspaliauskas or Josué Vergara. The one question I still have is: after a couple glasses of bubbles on the ground, an agonisingly slow ascent and a full dinner up high, strapped into a seat with heavy duty straps, swaying gently back and forth in the breeze, what do you do if you start feeling the urge to go for a tinkle?
Scattered across town, Vilnius is adorned by these strange-looking sculptures of phones. Some are encased in an egg-shaped cover, like this one, and others are in little shrines, particularly in public parks. I can only imagine that it’s some kind of pagan heritage thing to do with a communication god called “Teo” (which is written on the phone thing). Joking aside, it is amazing that some of these public payphones still exist. I have not seen the cards for sale anywhere, and the latest reference I could find on telecom incumbent Teo’s annual reports dates from 2009, when they said that 1838 payphones were still up nd running, down from 2440 the year before. In 2012, meanwhile, regulator RRT said that 98 percent of respondents to a survey did not use payphones, and 10 of the 17 people that did said the number of phones available was completely sufficient. They may not be in use, in an age of ubiquitous mobile handsets, but their presence on the streets triggers interesting questions from kids, who of course have no clue as to why you’d stick a phone on a string, and then leave it outside in the rain.
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