2012_09_28 Vilnius, Lithuania to Bialystok, Poland

The Ecoline bus has a stewardess who fusses with tickets and passports
and even serves coffee, tea, beer and snacks at a price on the double
decker bus from Riga to Vilnius. Brigitte had given me apples from her
yard for my trip; it was coals to Newcastle, apples are everywhere. I
took a bus to the suburbs where my new hosts, Swanus, in software, and
Dalia, an accountant, their three kids, the terrier pup named Balto
(after the Jamaican gold medal winner) and beautiful Himalayan cat
live in a roomy new house with a huge yard. Svanus is still adding
insulation to the two car garage. The girls cheerfully gave up their
bedroom to me and by 8 am the next morning the house was empty save
the animals and me.

Again, trusted with keys, I found the bus stop to the city, shopped
for groceries, socks at a Humana thrift store and Lonely Planet books
on Bali and staying healthy in India. Svanus and Dalia were generous
with their computers - my Kindle Fire is jumpy and limited - and tried
to help me master Picasa web where hundreds of my photos languish.

I found the beauiful Old Town and Cathedral Square but felt lonely at
the two art museums I visited. The tourist season must have passed
with the summer. Svanus told me most Soviet art was destroyed when the
USSR came to an end but one enterprising capitalist gathered up the
sculpture and made a park in a swamp.

It was terrible to learn that 91% of Vilnius' Jewish population was
murdered during the war. Many partisans fighting the Soviet occupation
from the forests died too, awaiting rescue from the West. Young and
dedicated, they lasted an average of 2 1/2 years and their photos,
living and dead, are displayed in the old KGB prison ("Kuhguhbuh").
The display of the declining numbers of the
Jewish ghetto made me wonder how so many could be herded and killed by
the Nazis.

Downstairs were tiny holding cells with no place to sit; cells with
bare bunks and 15 layers of paint on the wall to obliterate the
scrawls of the prisoners. There was an outside exercise yard, a water
torture room, solitary confinement and an execution chamber in a
sub-basement.

Svanus told me his grandfather was deported to Siberia and died there.
Some years ago he and his father travelled there to retrieve his bones
and bury him in Lithuania. He said he had never seen such poverty. Our
deep discussions gave me a sleepless night!

One early evening at the computer I noticed a hot air balloon out the
window and ran outside to see half a dozen drifting and landing
nearby. I found out it was a common sight, but a highlight of my stay.

My next stop was Bialystok, Poland - I like the name (remember Max
Bialystok of "The Producers"?
Teenaged Emilie had seen my couch request and wrote that her mother
Beata (Beti) would like to host me. She met me at the bus station, a
psychotherapist coming from a group therapy session with female cancer
survivors. We drove to her lovely flat in a high-rise on Waszungtona
Street and chatted in English and French as  she  made a lovely
three-cheese salad. She and Emilie are vegetarians. Emilie's pooch
would bound three feet in the air in anticipation of going out. Beti
gave up her cozy bedroom to me, saying, "It's okay!" and "Dobje"
("Good") over the phone.

I walked the dog to nearby palace gardens and along the major
pedestrian street, armed with a map. Emelie returned from her camping
trip with a bad cold but insisted on showing me the palace and two
modern art galleries which left us puzzled. She loves to study
Japanese! Her father lives in Connecticut and I convinced her to drop
the second "C" from that state. She brewed a delicious remedy of warm
milk, garlic and honey. We wanted to tour a primeval forest nearby but
the weather turned bitter cold and I took the train to my next stop,
Warsaw, in a shabby car filled with cycists and bicycles.

How lost and lonely I would have felt in these countries without the
warmth and hospitality of my Couchsurfing hosts!