Tuesday, August 6, 2024
The purpose of our trip to Klalipeda was to give us a chance to visit the Cuoronian spit. This was a geographic feature of which I had previously been ignorant. But it’s a 100km long narrow sandy spit. 50kms are owned by the Lithuanians and 50kms by the Russians (Kaliningrad). It’s one of the few places where you can look south to Russia.
We took the very regular car ferry across to the Spit. The Spit itself is a national park and you have to pay to get in (unclear what happens at night when the booths are deserted – and people do live and stay on the Spit – presumably some guest tax covers it). There is one main road through the middle of the Spit (not very main, just one lane each way) and the rest is pretty much all cycle and walking paths. As is often the way when we go on an outing, it takes us so long to get out of the house that almost the first thing we have to do when we arrive is find somewhere for lunch.
We had lunch in Juodkranté and very nice it was too – both the lunch and Juodkranté which is a smallish holiday resort.
I was very taken by the weather vanes which are a feature of the Spit (each town has its own design) but they were a bit large to buy. If you ask me, they are missing a trick by not turning them into miniature Christmas tree ornaments for the discerning tourist. Do I have a photograph? I do not.
We then went on down the Spit to Nida. What an absolutely charming little town it is. We hired bikes to avail of the fantastic infrastructure and went to the beach. Sadly, not all of us love a beach but those who do really liked it.
We then cycled along the cycle path towards Russia. There is a “nature reserve” along the border so we were stopped from seeing it. Possibly for the best.
We then cycled up to the big dune. The Spit is just basically one big sand dune. When they cut down the trees for shipbuilding in the 18th century, the sands began to shift and whole villages were engulfed. It’s quite woody now for obvious reasons.
The big dune gives a great view into Russia.
Great views all round in fact.
Sartre was here on his holidays, I think, and there is a sculpture to celebrate. I can’t say it looks like he had a fantastic time.
We went back into Nida.
Such a pretty little place. There were lots of older German tourists but otherwise not so many visitors.
We gave the bicycles back and had dinner outside.
On the way home, we stopped again at Juodkranté to go to the cemetery at Mr. Waffle’s request (I am normally the cemetery enthusiast but it has clearly rubbed off on him over the years). It’s full of graves with German inscriptions. What a complicated part of the world this is.
We drove to the (very regular) ferry at a sedate pace within the speed limit and were passed by a number of speeding Lithuanians. Lithuanian driving is adventurous. When we arrived at the port, we were literally the last people on the ferry, we made it with one minute to spare. No wonder they were speeding past me. But, you know, there was another one along in 20 minutes.
I must say the Spit was a highlight of our trip and I would love to go back and cycle the length of it (maybe even into Russia after the war?). Apparently you can fly direct to Palanga (nearby, more anon) from London. It is definitely on my list for a return visit.
Wednesday August 7, 2024
In the morning we left Michael in the flat and Mr. Waffle, Daniel and I went for breakfast. We found a trendy cafe a bit like the trendy cafes everywhere else. Grand but not exactly local. We explored the small market in the square. Klaipeda was known as Memel back when it was East Prussia and there’s a balcony in the square where apparently Hitler addressed the locals; it seems a surprisingly small and intimate venue. Following World War I, the French were briefly in charge in Memel which is why there is a building that used to be a French prefecture in the main square, honestly, weird man.
In the market there were two women speaking to each other in what sounded like French with American accents so I asked whether they were French Canadians. Mr. Waffle explained to me that this was a rather 70s expression and I certainly felt a chill when they replied, “Nous sommes Québécoises”. We live and learn. However, a black woman beside me also looking at goods turned around to them and started speaking to them in French explaining that she was from Haiti. They all seemed delighted with themselves; I did feel under the eye of the all-powerful Francophonie with this all happening within view of the former prefecture and everyone, one way or another, a long way from France. The tourists had come from a Baltic cruise boat. Mr. Waffle muttered that if he were going on a cruise, he would certainly not come to the Baltics on his holidays. A certain amount of cognitive dissonance there.
The town was a bit run down and not as nice as the places on the Spit. But grand. There was a nice area by the river.
There was the obligatory Irish pub. Named after Rory Gallagher – a bit of a deep cut as herself would say but nice to see a Cork reference. It had closed down though.
If I were to come back and I think I might, I would definitely base myself on the Spit and I would book good and early.
Anyhow, clutching our touristic purchases from the market – including a shawl for me, it’s time – we said goodbye to Klaipeda and went on our way. We stopped in Palanga for lunch. It’s a huge tourist resort and I thought it was loathsome. Not recommended. Good lunch though once we avoided the pizza restaurant by day discotheque by night venue.
And then it was on to Latvia.
In my experience Latvia has the most exciting driving in the Baltics (and that is saying something) and the worst roads. We began our trip on a dirt road, the kind of thing you might get at home for 500 metres, if there were roadworks. It went on for 17 kms. I could have done with a warning from Google maps. Saintly Mr. Waffle was driving but it was like Mad Max Fury Road. The photos really don’t convey the white knuckled horror of it all.
Anyway as we are going through this definitely inhospitable territory, my phone rings. “I have to take this,” I say to Mr. Waffle. “It’s the man about the engraving on my parents’ gravestone.” In retrospect, did I, did I have to take this call? Relaxed Cork voice rolls into the car saying, “I’m in the cemetery now, in front of the grave, I’ll just facetime you.” It is odd to be driving down a dirt road in Latvia with your parents’ grave in the car with you and your husband’s eyebrows up around his hairline. Anyway we agreed on what was needed, eventually, he was in no rush. And then he called me back again because he’d forgotten some detail, very relaxed indeed on his part. God in heaven, it was stressful. I still haven’t seen the gravestone in the flesh, as it were, I’ll keep you posted. It cost us a fortune and probably shortened my own life.
Anyhow, miraculously enough, we arrived in Kuldiga uninjured. We stopped at a supermarket on the outskirts of town and it had an extremely soviet feel. It reminded me a bit of the supermarkets in Bosnia in the 90s.
The Airbnb was nice and bigger than Klaipeda – which would not be hard – but it still only had 2 bedrooms so the guys had to share a room which they were very good about to be fair. I finally cracked and cooked dinner. A regret.
Daniel went for a run and said that people looked at him like he was crazy. Were they wrong? Surely this whole running enthusiasm must be close to, forgive the pun, running its course. Maybe it wasn’t the running but the fact that there was a tourist in town that turned heads. Kuldiga may be on the UNESCO world heritage site list but tourists are few and far between.
The rest of us went for a wander around Kuldiga after dinner while Michael dealt with the disturbing news that two friends of his are engaged. There’ll be more of that in his future.
Kuldiga was very, very quiet and a bit run down but clean with lots of interesting wooden buildings. It felt a bit like a town in a Western.
The town has depopulated slowly since the 1990s. It felt like somewhere that had once been prosperous but now was on its uppers. But still immaculate. I was very struck by how clean everywhere is in the Baltics compared to extremely grimy Ireland, Dublin in particular looks filthy compared to the Baltic capitals.
My brother rang to say that he had missed his train to Dublin, where our cat was anxiously awaiting his arrival. The neighbours fed the cat and my brother told us about his trip to the Olympics. He saw the pole vaulting world record and he met some Canadian Olympic rowers in a bar (that’s my brother). One of the rowers let him hold her medal though in the pictures he sent, he is holding one side and she is holding the other very firmly. Wise.
We spent the evening wondering why we thought it was a good idea to spend two nights in Kuldiga. More thrilling content soon. Something to look forward to.
