I did manage to catch the bus over to Leliunai and the Ceramic Museum yesterday morning and was sitting on the doorstep when they were scheduled to open at 1000 hours. And still sitting there at 1045, with only the wood carvings in the property’s front garden to look at. Caught the 1050 bus back to Utena and went to use the internet at the tourist office.
Regarding food, where could I go for dinner my first night in town?
“Kauke,” Aushra said. “It is close to where you are staying and nice and calm.” Perfect. I didn’t fancy crowds or chaos. But what should I try that’s typically Lithuanian cuisine?
“Cepelinai.”
Aushra asked the next day how my dinner had gone.
“Great, but unfortunately no Cepelinai,” I said.
“Oh, that is a problem.” Since I was joining both Aushra and her colleague Laura for dinner that evening, they would take me to somewhere I could try the recommended dish.
“We have problem,” Aushra said when we’d sat down and ordered drinks at UAB Saulimas. “They do not have Cepelinai tonight.” As an alternative, Balandéliai was suggested but she and Laura weren’t entirely sure if this was in fact a traditional Lithuanian dish.
“Ah, we have a problem,” Aushra said when the waitress returned for our order. “They do not have Balandéliai, either.”
Twenty-one year old Laura sat across the table and began to get annoyed when the waitress asked what she’d like to order.
“She asked for pizza,” Aushra translated what Laura said to the waitress, “If they have it.”
Laura even went as far as asking if she could go downstairs to the supermarket, buy Cepelinai and have the restaurant cook it for me.
“Don’t they know we have a guest here who wants to try our food?” she said. It was difficult for any of us not to laugh at the situation.
Never mind. Pizza was fine and I’d try Cepelinai at the homestead in Sudeikiai today.
“Ah, Miss Victoria, we have a problem with your lunch today,” Aushra said when I arrived at the tourist office today to hitch a ride with Rasa.
“We have called the homestead but they are full the entire week and cannot even fit one person in for lunch today. But, you know,” she paused, “the place we went last night had Cepelinai just now when I was there.”
I was there in heart beat and couldn’t wait to see what all the fuss was about Cepelinai.
Sadly, the fuss is nothing but a anemic-looking fatty glutinous glob of what’s apparently potatoes stuffed with a rather measly amount of meat—what kind I have no idea—surrounded by oil and grease and decorated with a large blob of sour cream.
Have to say it’s one of the most disgusting food items I have ever had the misfortune to taste. It’s tasteless, in fact. I ate as much as I could of the doughy substance and while I finished my glass of wine watched what was left of the dollop wobble like a jelly every time someone walked passed the table.
Yum, yum.
Utena, home of Utenos beer and a big hulk of a rock which was erected to commemorate the town’s founding in 1261.
Just having difficulty now trying to figure out how to get up to Latvia for “V”. Think I’m just going to go to Ventspils on the coast and be done with it.
Aushra and Laura, the girls at the tourist office in Utena are amazing and doing everything they can to assist me. I think I’m driving them mad. We’re going out for dinner this evening (to celebrate them getting rid of me soon, I think).
I need to get a bus from Utena to Panevezys and then another to Riga, the capital of Latvia. I’ll stay there for a night and then catch another bus to Ventspils.
From Berlin I caught the overnight sleeper train to Warsaw then switched trains again. Thirty six hours after leaving Copenhagen I arrived in Vilnius, Lithuania, where I checked into the Fliaretai Youth Hostel (www.filaretaihostel.lt) for one night. The hostel is clean and cheap (less than 10 Euros per night) and is located ten minutes walk from the Old Town, in the Uzupis district.
I had to laugh when one of the guide books I read compared the deshevelled Uzupis neighborhood to Copenhagen’s Christiana district. Having only been in Denmark a couple of days ago, I think it would be safe to assume that the residents of Christiana would think the buildings in Uzupis are like palaces next to their dilapidated warehouse homes. They’d also be bored titless since there doesn’t seem to be any of the personality, activity, color, people, music, or drugs that they’re used to. (I may be wrong, though, since I didn’t stick around long and am just judging a book by its cover).
Seeing the dozens of swaying drunks around, though, there’s definitely plenty of alcohol in Vilnius. When I got on the Number 34 bus from the station to the hostel, one very kind gentleman peed on the seat in front of me and then ever so thoughtfully offered it up to the next drunk that stepped on board. He sat down to enjoy the ride and didn’t seem to notice the disgusting dampness seeping through his clothes.
And churches? Seriously, just how many churches does a tiny city need? There’re over 100 of the buggers. They’re everywhere you look. I don’t think the Guiness Book of Records was around at the time when they were built, between the 13th and 18th Century, so I’m not sure what the residents were striving for.
Anyway, onto Utena.
