Guys, I’m tired. I haven’t had more than a bus seat and a cold floor to sleep on for two nights, and I haven’t showered in three. It’s pretty great, honestly. Something about being tired and stinky has a nice charm to it, especially when you spend a semester showering and sleeping eight hours a day. It’s a nice way to remember how lucky I am to have a bed and a hot shower to go to every night. With this in mind, we hop off the Wizz air flight from Vilnius and step into the 90+ degree inferno of Kutaisi (ქუთაისი). I’m going to include the Georgian translations for things here, not because I know how to pronounce it or anything but because I think it’s one of the pretties alphabets I’ve seen. Ivana says it looks like butterflies, and I say it’s like grape vines. Either way, it’s an airy way to write any language.
It’s hot here, hot I haven’t felt since I was back in Denver last summer. But regardless we get on a little mini-van bus into the city, as the driver drives at ungodly speeds avoiding cows and pedestrians. The Russian woman in the front seat keeps gasping in disgust and fright, to which he daintily pats her knee as if to say “I got this, darling”. We get to the city, a bit overwhelmed by the heat and language and difference of everything. One of the reasons why Eastern Europe is so fascinating to me is because of its extreme difference to my own culture. I feel much more at ease in Asian countries than I do in Poland or Lithuania. Perhaps this is because of all the Vietnamese or Korean or Japanese culture I was exposed to as a child, compared to the nonexistent Eastern European culture I had access to growing up. Either way, being in these countries is usually a real culture shock for me which I don’t experience often anymore. Coming to grips with this, Ivana and I begin wandering the city to see what it offers. There’s a huge fresh foods market, which we stroll around to buy tomatoes and cucumbers and fruits. A woman hassles us to try some walnuts covered in fruit syrup. I’ve had them before in Turkey, so we say we want a couple. She responds by filling the entire bag full, to which we take out three and say that the three we are holding will be plenty. She gets mad and asks for six lari, about two and a half dollars. I know this is far too much and give her a price of 3 lari. She gets extremely mad and starts yelling, to which I give in and giver her a 10. She doesn’t have four lari hanging around, so she has to give me five back. This makes her even more angry, and I’m sure she gave us plenty of Georgian curses and swears upon all of my future children. But I’m pretty happy, I only had to pay five lari. We get to a park and start eating, and find our walnuts filled with mold, and the ones not covered in mold are too hard to eat. Shame, I should have given her even less.
I know they look like dripping intestines or a sex toy, but they’re pretty tasty when not filled with mold. After our snack, we hike up to Bagrati Cathedral and stumble in on a baptism. The priest is speaking at speeds faster than the speed of light, and the baby wails as cold water is dribbled on his head. His family members are all smiling in happy, as the baby screams in confusion. It’s a strange sight, but it’s good to see some culture. Bagrati was built in the 11th century, and features some really amazing carvings from the era. 
Photo cred to Ivana.
It’s also a good place to grab some shade and look at the city. It’s getting late, and the heat is getting to us so we head back into the city to wander around the Jewish quarter, which has some great buildings in it. 
Photo cred to Ivana
After wander for an hour or so, I decide I can’t put up with my hunger and I had to eat. I had heard so much about Georgian food is famous all over Eastern Europe, so I was trying to save myself and my hunger as long as possible before devouring a mass amount of Georgian food. We stop at a restaurant called Prague bar, and I get the two dishes I’ve been looking forward to most: Shashliks and Khinkali.
Shashliks are pretty simple, and I had my first batch in Latvia with our couchsurfing host (check out my earlier post), but it’s even better in Georgia. Ivana is a vegan, so she ordered the little plate of marinated carrots and eggplants and a delicious smoosh of spinach, onions, dill, and spices. It’s a pretty delicious vegetarian option. Now I want to get to the Khinkali’s…the oh so amazing Khinkali. I’m going to New York this summer, and one of the things I’m looking forward to most is the Taiwanese soup dumplings. This is Georgia’s answer. Gigantic soupy balls of love are twisted so delicately to make a dumpling of culinary perfection. It’s extremely messy but so so good. I eat ten without blinking, and could probably eat more if you put some in front of me. It was so worth the wait. We sit and enjoy the finally cool weather, sharing a beer and watching the world cup. Our host at the guesthouse we’re staying in offers us a bottle of his homemade wine, to which we cannot deny and thus talk with him for an hour or so in Russian about Georgian sights and life. He’s a nice guy, but we have to talk through Ivana if we want to as something to the other. The wine is good and strong, and we head in for a knockout of a nights sleep.
Two days of no sleep add up, as the next morning we look at our phones….and it’s three o’clock. Sleep well deserved. It’s also shaping up to be 100 degrees today, so a siesta into mid-afternoon doesn’t sound like a bad plan. Breakfast is a khachapuri, had at a cafe in the central park of Kutaisi. It’s like a pizza, just with no toppings and filled with cheese. Salty, Georgian cheese on crispy bread is a good four o’clock breakfast.
Even though its 100 degrees today, there’s a warm breeze that makes it feel a lot cooler than yesterday. That’s pretty lucky for us because we’re still both getting used to the heat. After my khachapuri snack we head back to the market for some fresh veggies to fill Ivana’s vegan soul. Mounds of perfectly fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, apricots, walnuts, all for about 2 bucks. 
Today feels far less overwhelming than yesterday. Maybe it’s because I’ve finally slept, but all of this market hustle doesn’t have as much bustle. It’s good to feel like I’m adjusting a bit to this environment, and hopefully, I can get a bit more to terms with it. My Georgian language is extended to hello (gamarjoba), thank you (modloba), delicious (gamrielia), and beer (ludi)…and that’s about it. It’s a tough language, and nobody here except for young waiters speaks any English. With fresh veggies, we head to the botanic gardens to savour our fresh produce delights. 
Pretty exotic and offering some shade from the heat, the botanic gardens is a great picnic spot. 
We then head back and wander around the city, stopping into a garden restaurant with a good view of some graffiti. Some armored cars pass by, and it reminds me that theres an ongoing conflict occuring with Russia…but then again most countries have some sort of security control rolling through the city. When I was in Lithuania, there was a gigantic fleet of Polish troops coming in due to a NATO training event. It’s commonplace, but it’s still a little eye-opening. 
We stop in for some mighty fancy tasting pickles and a dumpling soup that kind of tastes like sick person soup. But not in a bad way…the kind of sick person that your mom makes when you have a cold that warms your soul a little bit. It’s a good kind of sick person food, and I eat every last drop. 
The power goes out for about 30 minutes in the entire city, so this soup picture is taken by romantic candlelight. 
Neither of us is really tired, but a day of endless wandering is exactly what we needed for our travel-weary souls. Tomorrow we’re heading to Tbilisi, which we be a (hopefully) three hour trip via a Soviet mini-van. It’s also shaping up to be 100+ degrees for the next few days in Tbilisi, which should prove to turn us into soup.
I couldn’t fit the guitar, but you can be sure I tried. This all set me back a good $40, but as I’ll be living out of this bag for more than six months I see it as a worthy investment. If you’re interested, you can check it out here: https://www.ikea.com/dk/da/catalog/products/40401878/
No trip to Eastern Europe can be complete without a Slav squat.
Buildings are beautiful, houses are cute, and it’s all reasonably affordable: as you’d expect from anywhere in the East. Honestly, Poland is one of my favorite countries in Europe. Every town I’ve visited is so charming, (relatively) non-touristy, and cheap. That’s the makeup for a great stop. 
Photo cred to Ivana. It’s extremely underrated and so beautiful. A perfect place to start a trip. We find a couchsurfer named Michal, who is an IT man by day and rescuer in his free time. And he has four cats (also rescues). You’d expect an apartment with four rescued cats to be like an episode of Planet Earth…and you’d be right. But in general, the cats were extremely loving and cuddly, and were more than willing to cover all of our clean clothes with their hair. Michal was extremely warm and welcoming, and we spend a few hours talking over a beer about music and life before grabbing some sleep for the next day’s adventures.
Photo cred to Ivana. The Užupis angel, right across from the cafe. Now we have a day in Vilnius, before taking a 6 am flight to Kutaisi in Georgia. It’s not worth finding a place to sleep, so we’ll spend the night in the airport. I call upon a local to be our guide, and it happens to be my roommate’s boyfriend Lukas. We wander around, playing out of tune street pianos and engaging in aimless meandering. 
It’s the kind of walking that has no direction or purpose, yet makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something just from the sheer kilometers you rack up. After about 17 kilometers walked, we decide we’re hungry for that oh so famous Šaltibarščiai and Zeppelins. We sit down and let cold purple soup and bomb bursting Zeppelins take their toll. 
Yes, it hurts. But it’s that good kind of hurt that makes you want more. It’s that hurt that made me come back and get the exact same thing, and probably make me get it again next time I end up in Vilnius. I’m about to explode, so it’s time to relax and watch some dogs in a public park on a hillside. 
Ivana and I are pretty tired now, but we still want one more Lithuanian beer before heading out. We go to the popular bar Šnekutis and grab a list beer with Lukas. We’re all a little bit tired, and Ivana and I haven’t showered since we left Denmark. But in a way, that’s part of the fun. Being dirty and carrying an oversized backpack for 17 kilometers through a city isn’t everyone kind of vacation, but I’d say it’s a pretty good one for me. We finally get to the airport for a few hours of sleep. Now, we wait for our 6 am flight to Georgia, and who knows what awaits us there…
There’s a little ‘cave’ made of sandstone where people have been chipping away and signing their names for decades. And there’s a funky jazz saxophone man playing for change in the background. His toots echo off the cave wall, and Šarūnas strikes a pose.
My ‘invisible selfie’
The Baltics are more famous for brick castles, compared to the stone monoliths you see in Western Europe. The ochre mixed with evergreen make for a great palette. We walk around the castles and decide it’s time to head back home to Lithuania for the night. We pull the long haul drive of 3:30 hours back to Kaunas, where we buy a kebab before heading to Šarūnas’ dad’s sauna house. Kind of like a summer house, sauna houses get a lot more use (maybe because there isn’t much summer) up here in the north. It has the same basic amenities as a summer house, with bed and all. So we take a nighttime drive to the house, located out in the countryside next to where Šarūnas’ grandparents live. We open up some beers, light a mosquito candle, and watch the stars.
This is by far the prettiest spot we’ve been to on the trip. The clouds are tempestuous, creating a combination of red, green, blue, and grey that come together in perfect harmony. 
The lake are so pristinely clear and serene, which is quickly ruined with the introduction of swarms of tourists. Trakai is most likely one of the most touristy places in the Baltic’s, and for good reason. It’s right next to Vilnius, and offers calm views mixed with interesting history. A ticket to see the castle will set you back 7 euros, but it’s pretty worth a visit. If you’re not into spending the money you’re allowed to walk around the outside of the castle which is equally gorgeous.
Šarūnas decides to try out some torture equipment.
Walking back down the hill, I go through the ‘country’ of Užupis. A bunch of artists decided they wanted to make their neighborhood a country, so they typed up a constitution, printed their own faux Euro currency, and made themselves a Republic. It’s a hip part of town with a lot of graffiti and art installations and is definitely worth the wander. Afterwards, I walk around Vilnius a while, meeting up with Kotryna, another roommate living here, and her boyfriend. We go to the museum of genocide, built in the old KGB interrogation chambers. If I thought the 9th Fort back in Kaunas was depressing, this museum brought it to a new level. The center for mass interrogations and executions of political prisoners, this museum is located right across from a perfectly calm park with a public library in it. Quite the juxtaposition. Kotryna and her boyfriend Lukas are musicians, so we meet up with Šarūnas and head to a gig where some of Lukas’ friends are performing. Vilnius is a far more relaxed and underrated city than Rīga is. It offers great architecture, good prices, and a far more laid-back vibe than most other European capitals. It blends the cool vibe of Berlin with a more cute vibe of Prague, on a very walkable and enjoyable scale. But honestly, I think I like Vilnius because I had no expectations beforehand. I didn’t even research any sights before coming. I just let the locals steer me, and that gave me the best time possible.
The town is famous in Latvia for having a waterfall, where people beat the heat and wet their feet. I’m not sure what I expected but it’s a pretty cute waterfall. Almost like a large scale version of those little water features they have at the doctor’s office. 
That’s a bit harsh, but it’s definitely lovely and worth a visit. The town was hosting a skate park competition, with hipsters, roller-bladers, and skaters alike showing up to participate and show off their chops.
I have to apologize and say that I’m absolutely horrendous and taking photos in cities. The thought of it honestly makes me squirm a little bit. When I’m on a mountaintop, I feel like a National Geographic photographer about to see California Condor eggs miraculously hatch out of an Aztec ruin. Carrying a camera around a city makes me feel like another tourist photographing a building that’s had several thousand photos from every possible angle. Does that make me a bit of a snob? Perhaps. But if you’d like to see more photos of Rīga I may kindly direct you to Google images, for they have photos better than I could ever take.
You’ll likely be onboard with a hoard of German tourists and Lithuanian elementary students feeding seagulls, so take out some bread and enjoy. 
Once on the spit, you can either drive and stop in the picturesque villages on your way to Nida, or take the bus directly there. As we have a car, we decide to take the former and wind our way through artistic communities of small wooden houses. I wanted to stop into every little village but knew I had to stop myself somewhere. When we reach Nida, we indulge in some local smoked fish and dark bread. Lithuania has some of the best dark bread I’ve ever tried. Denmark and its dark rugbrød have sustained me through college, but Lithuanian dark bread is on another plane of existence. Sweeter and somehow darker than the Danish kind, it makes any health bread you buy at Whole Foods look like a piece of Wonder Bread. Probably for a fifth of the price, too.
Happy with our lunch, we head to the ‘top’ of Nida where you can see the Russian border. It’s an expanse of sand as far as the eye can see, and apparently one of the more quickly moving dunes in Europe. They’ve got the kind of sand here that you would expect to find in a souvenir jar from Hawaii. White, and silky smooth. It’s the kind of sand you wish you could cover yourself in constantly or make a robe out of. I don’t think that can be said for most kinds of sand around the world.
We consider making a dash for the Russian border, but I’m not interested in getting into prison on espionage charges. Call me old-fashioned. Next, we head to the hill of witches. Weaving through trees and clouds of mosquitoes, we find giant wooden totems appearing as we go. As the name suggests, witches live in this forest. I guess they turned a couple unsuspecting fishermen into carving as they were flicking off mosquitoes, as a lot of these sculptures just looked like trapped salty men. 
The silence is ever striking again, as leaves rustle and my stomach craves more smoked fish. I can’t help but wonder who built all of these, but all I can do is be happy someone did.
This last one’s my favorite. It’s like the little guy was playing peek-a-boo when he suddenly felt his blood turn to sap.
Most of any Lithuanian/Latvian road trip will look like this. Pastoral, and pine trees everywhere. We eventually get to our hosts, just thirty minutes North of Latvia’s coastal city Liepāja. I didn’t feel the need to stop in Liepāja, as I was so excited to meet some local Latvians. We arrive to Kal, our fantastic host who would take us in for the night. The couchsurfing network is always such an amazing way for me to reaffirm my faith in humanity. Strangers can give absolutely everything to each other. I always find my self in these situations with couchsurfer’s where they’re just a little too nice, and I feel utterly spoiled. But honestly, I try and spoil all of the couchsurfers I host so I guess it’s okay in the long run. We arrive to a barbecue, warming up and ready for some Georgian shashliks. If you don’t know what those are, you will soon. Georgia is going to be the next big thing, and so will their cuisine. But shashliks are pretty simple, just marinated beef, pork or chicken roasted slowly of freshly charcoaled wood. Put meat on a fire and it’ll taste good. Damn good. No need for potatoes or dill here, kids. Just a bit of natural seasoning from charcoaled pine. 
They’re not done until they’re pretty much blackened, so I head out for a wander while the shashliks brown and Šarūnas opens some beers. Having grown up on a farm his whole life, Kal lives with his wife and mother while studying at a University in nearby Liepāja. He’s 22 like me, but they keep a much more fit lifestyle than I ever could. He and his wife are preparing for a six-hour bike ride North the next day. It’s probably more like an eight-hour journey for a normal person, but Kal says “You have to go fast, or else the mosquitoes get you.” He’s a fascinating guy, and the fact that he has chickens makes me even happier. 
I feed the chickens some table scraps and keep wandering. I see that this is just a cozy, farming community. The kind we all occasionally wish we could quit our jobs and move to, but never do. 
The shashliks are getting ready, so I head back and help out cutting homemade pickles and other assorted tasty things before diving into charred meat served on a sword. Latvian beer flows just as smooth and uniquely as the kind from Lithuania, and is even cheaper. Saving ten cents makes a beer that much tastier. Beers are emptied, shashlik swords are stripped and stacked, and we share the evening together talking about travel and dreams. I’m never certain how to repay these amazing couchsurfing hosts, but usually being curious and curtious is enough to leave a great impression with the host. At the end of the day we all just want to put a smile on each others faces, and you don’t need much to do that. The night moves on, and we decide the best action to take is to walk through the village and explore. It’s getting late, but as with everywhere in Northern Europe in June the sun doesn’t go down until 11 or so. We have enough time to see the sites, and Kal’s wife takes us to her father’s secret beer garden. The combination of those three words are so rarely used, but so instantly gratifying. Once we arrive, the sun has finally gone down but we sit in the wooded secret garden eating the first strawberries picked ‘just over there’. We stargaze and talk, until our eyes can gaze no more. This is exactly the local experience every traveler dreams of. Warm, loving hosts that are just as curious about you as you are about them.
The Weekend Rambler 