Old Town Hostel - Klaipeda, Lithuania - 11:40 pm

My nose is runny and my eyes feel all swollen and my throat is a bit scratchy. These are not good things.

On the flip side, I'm in Klaipeda (pronounced: K'lie-peh-dah) which is pretty nice. Well, actually, its not so nice. Maybe it is nice and I just haven't had a chance to really see the real essence of it yet. Nah, it's not that great. As you can see, I'm a little uncertain about how I feel about this place - and this whole country.

My mom and dad are on some sort of romantic getaway right now and I can't reach them. I haven't spoken with them since my camera and other stuff was taken. And now that I'm a little under the weather, I really just want to talk to them. So, mom and dad (or anyone who is in touch with them, please relay this message) - call me.

Lithuania isn't a nice place for a vacation - that is for sure. At least not yet. Maybe give it another 5 to 10 years and you'll have another Prague here or something like that, but for right now, its great appeal is in its authenticity and its knocked around ruggedness. I have a greater sense of what it must be like to live in Lithuania than I have picked up in any other country. I think that this is because most other major, developed cities have a well defined 'Old City' that serves as a great separator between tourists and citizens.

Lithuania is one big, giant, gangling old city. They even bill the old city of Vilnius as the largest old city in Europe. Well, no shit - it's the entire city. Over-traveled places like Stockholm and Prague have practically put up walls around their old cities as if to say to tourists, "Come on in! You're gonna love our adorably authentic market place!" That same wall, to the locals, says "Beware, senior citizen tour groups have invaded!" - the locals wisely keep their distance.

Lithuania has no such walls.

Anyhow, when I arrived in Klaipeda a few hours ago, I immediately set out to find the famous Sand Dunes of the Curonian Spit. I saw the spit, but I never made it to the sand dunes. I got on a ferry to the spit (which only cost about 15 cents, by the way) but apparently it was to the wrong part of it. Disenchanted, I ferried back to the city and found soulice in a trusty old beer and a hearty dinner.

At my dinner, I was randomly joined a German couple - a fascinating German couple. The husband, a former German Parliament member, and his wife, a current German Parliament member, told me all about their experiences with German politics since the reunification. Its interesting stuff that I have gone into much greater detail in my personal journal, but just suffice it to say, I've never before meet people with such a dedication to the ideal of "freedom." It was more than a little inspiring. Here was a intelligent, politically active couple that has had their entire professional life based in the reality of freedom and the denial of freedom. Interesting stuff.

Sigh, I can see that this is a pretty uneventful post, so I'll just end it with a quick, funny story from last night. Right after I finished writing my entry last night, I went to my room and got ready for bed. While putting my stuff together for the morning, I heard a strange sound - a sound just like the sound that an angry deaf person would make when trying to speak. I jumped up and turned around and, to my ample surprise, there was a half naked, deaf man standing behind me with a less than amused look on his face.

After a few moments, I finally realized that this guy was deaf and that his very agitated state was not conducive to helping resolve the situation and letting me get to bed. I grabbed a pen and paper and walked with him out to the hall. He grabbed the paper and immediately scribbled his frustrations at me. This guy, apparent, had set his "Lonely Planet - Eastern Europe" book down on my bed some time in the morning. When he returned to the room later that night, it was no longer there. Then, when my shuffling around in the room woke him up (I still don't completely understand that one), he seized the opportunity to confront me for my apparent theft. Among other things he wrote to me in his initial angry opus was the fact that it isn't nice to pick on deaf people and that I am rather "cheeky." Seriously, he called me "cheeky."

The thing is, when I got to the room, the bed was totally cleaned off and none of his stuff was there. I have no idea what happened to his book but I do hope that some day, he and his book are gloriously reunited. But seriously, you haven't lived until you've been called cheeky by a fuming, deaf guy.

I need nyquil. Goodnight.

-euroschlep

ps: I bought a replacement camera, so pictures will start rolling in again soon.

¶ 12:58 PM