I headed to Kaunas today, my final capital of the trip, in Lithuania. Vilnius is the current capital, but I decided to not go there because of some schedule changes; Kaunas was the old capital so it still counts.
Before I checked out, I went to Salaspils Memorial Ensemble (about 30 minutes outside of Riga), which was built to honor and remember the victims of Fascism – sort of. Salaspils was the largest concentration camp in the Baltic states during WWII, operating from 1941 to 1945. Around 15-20,000 prisoners went through the camp. Estimates say 2-3,000 died from the conditions, with about 50% of those deaths being children.
The memorial opened in 1967, with more components added in 2004.
It includes the inscription “To honour the dead and as a warning to the living. In memory of the Jews deported from Germany, Austria and Czechia, who from December 1941 to June 1942 died from hunger, cold and inhumanity and have found eternal rest in the Salaspils forest.”
The memorial itself was beautiful – you walk through a quiet forest on a curving path, so you can’t really see anything. Then suddenly you see this huge wall – 325’ long. The idea of the wall is the border between life and death. The rest of the memorial is on a field behind the wall, which you can’t see until you really step down and under the wall – and then you see these mammoth sculptures stretching to the sky.
The memorial is stunning, and what the Nazis did to the Jewish population is horrific. The majority of the Baltic States’ 300,000 Jews were killed, as were 35,000 Lithuanians, Latvians and Estonians by Nazi Germany.
But history is complicated. This memorial was actually built by the Soviets, to distract from what they themselves were doing to citizens of the Baltics.
The Soviets were sending anyone they were afraid of to “work camps,” (concentration camps, but not the even more horrific extermination camps), similar to the very work camp they were now memorializing at Salaspils. They’re more commonly referred to as Gulags, when the Soviets build them.
Ages of deportees ranged from 9 months to 95 years old. Babies were born on the train to Siberia. There are also multiple files on children sent to Siberia alone – they would be held hostage, to try to get the parents out of hiding. It’s hard not to think of all the examples of ICE using the same technique.
There is a belief here that the most dangerous people in the world are scientists, poets, and young children – because all are driven to ask the question “Why?” Soviets weren’t just kidnapping those that openly spoke in support of resistance – they were taking anyone who might. Anyone who was capable of independent thought was an enemy of the state.
There were a few major large scale deportations, the first known as the June Deportations in 1941 (which was about 60,000 people). June 14th is honored in all three Baltic countries today as a day of remembrance.
The next large scale attack is known as the March Deportations, in 1949. That event (which lasted 5 days) took another 95,000 people. Soviets didn’t even pretend that laws had been broken, and that these people had done anything wrong – they were just sweeps of people, regardless of facts and laws, with different communities given quotas to fill. All in, the estimates from 1941-1949 is that Soviets kidnapped/displaced/murdered about 10% of the total population. No one I’ve met here in any way wants to minimize the horrors of what Hitler did. They just also seem to want us to know that Stalin did horrific things too, and those things should not be minimized or forgotten.
Quotas of people to kidnap. Children used as pawns to try and capture their parents. No crimes committed by these people, no laws broken, no rights respected. Remind you of anything happening in the United States? This past year in Minneapolis has been exhausting, and this all is a horrible reminder of why you have to fight back. As tired as we are, we can’t let it get worse.
I’ve had three people specifically know “Minnesota” so far. One knew of Kirby Puckett (and was very disappointed that I knew nothing other than he was a baseball player), and two knew about what had happened in Minneapolis earlier this year. One literally gasped when I said Minneapolis, and asked “where your President killed the nurse?” Yes, indeed, where they murdered Alex Pretti. She told me Minnesota is like Lithuania, we are willing to fight. Though all of the countries fought in the resistance, Lithuania was the biggest thorn in the Soviet’s side. I showed her some photos from our resistance, and shared how scared I was each and every time I blew my whistle, and then she cried. So then I cried. (Also tissues in the Baltics are very rough.)
Heavy stop, of course, which I think made getting onto a bus and the next step even more jarring: Rundāle Palace. The others on the bus were VERY excited, but I have recently developed an aversion to big white buildings covered in gold.
It was built in the 16th century, owned by a handful of rich people, and then a new rich person tore it down in 1753 and rebuilt a new, bigger and fancier, palace. It is now a museum.
The driver asked what I thought and I shared that I’m not really a “palace” kind of person. He said yes, he could see that about me. It might be the stain on my pants, I’m not sure.
Not long after, we crossed into Lithuania.
Then, we were off to cross the border into Lithuania to the Hill of Crosses. It is a famous Catholic pilgrimage destination, and a site of resistance against the Russians. (It turns out, the entire region was a site of resistance.) They think the first cross was placed here in 1831, as a way to mourn victims that had died in an uprising against Russia way back then.
There’s no practical way to count, but estimates are that there are over 100,000 crosses here now. Most are new-ish though, because the Russians actually destroyed the site 3 to 5 times (records are messy). The wooden crosses were burned, and any made of metal were melted down to be reused. The last time they completed leveled the area was 1975, with ongoing harassment until 1985.
Each time, however, Lithuanians just came again – even though Russians started guarding the site, arresting everyone they saw, etc. The Lithuanians would sneak in every night, adding more, until eventually the hill was rebuilt again. The Pope (John Paul II) even visited in 1993 (after the fall of the USSR) and honored the site.
About 75% of the Lithuanian population identifies as Catholic. The locals say though that the idea is that all faiths are welcome – they say the doors to the place are always open to everyone, because there are no doors to this church at all.
I knew what to expect – I mean, the name kind of gives it away? But I still was caught off guard, when I actually saw it.
But then the closer you get, the more “holy crap” you say to yourself. (and then you start wondering if you’re allowed to say holy crap here.)
All different kinds and different styles. There is a huge hill, and then there are like 20 pathways on the hill, but it has also spread beyond the hill itself.
My great-grandmother Esther was probably the last “good” Catholic (sorry Grandma Tootsie) in the family line. I knew about this place in advance, and though I’m not religious, I decided to add to the crosses. You can buy some onsite when you enter, but I brought some from home. An uncle had given me these earrings when I was young; I haven’t worn them in 35 years or so, but it also didn’t feel right to get rid of them (until now).
I found a Celtic knot necklace that actually opened, so you could put something inside of it. I thought it was a nice way to honor Great Grandma Esther (the Irish certainly know a thing or two about religious persecution and general oppression) and my lineage.
I didn’t see an area that seemed “Irish” so instead I searched for a simple wooden cross to leave our family’s contribution.
From there, we went to Kaunas – which had been the capital but got demoted somewhere along the way. It’s now called “the heart of Lithuania.”
Hello is Sveiki, Thank you is Ačiū (sounds like you’re pretending to sneeze with a little kid, and you say Ahhh CHEW!), and Please is Prašau. Latvian and Lithuanian are closely related, but just because you speak one doesn’t mean you can understand the other – they say they can understand about 1% of the other language. Thankfully, I don’t speak either, so there’s no confusion. The Lithuanian alphabet has 32 letters.
There are churches everywhere (at least here, people actually use them), but also lots of little shops and restaurants, and street art. It has a great pedestrian only road through Old Town that I wandered around on for a bit.
The hotel is a bit odd. There’s no elevator, and I’m on the 4th floor, but that’s not that shocking in Europe. But there’s no staff. Last night, I got an email saying I needed to put a credit card on file before arrival (I had paid in advance), which I thought was annoying, because normally I’d just add it at check in. Then, right at check-in time, I got an email telling me the building door code and my room door code. There’s no reception desk.
At today’s closest point, I was about 195 miles from mainland Russia. I’m now closer to Belarus, which is Russia-light. Any “deal” where you’re buying something from Belarus actually means you’re buying something from Russia, and I was told today that only a fool would think otherwise.
There is another piece of Russia, where Kaliningrad is, over to the west – I’m also about 155 miles away from Russia in that direction too.
