Jazzing up the last weekend

Moron that I am, when the embassy asked for a volunteer to “deliver remarks” at a jazz festival in a port city three hours away on my last Saturday in Vilnius, I offered. Somehow my mind skipped over the whole “you will speak in front of hundreds of people” to “free trip to Klaipeda, with music.” I skipped the lede for sure. But I did it, introducing (more or less) Karl Frierson, an American jazz musician based in Germany. (He’d served in the Army, was stationed there and “never left,” he told me.)

It wasn’t the first time I delivered remarks on behalf of the ambassador to Lithuania, but it was the first time I intended to. The previous time, a couple weeks ago, I had thought I was “representing the embassy,” not delivering remarks. When I discovered that I was, I was terrified but got through it.

That one was a much smaller, but more significant: it was a Holocaust memorial. I’m right where the Holocaust happened, and it’s been made more real to me this tour. Belarusians, Lithuanians, Poles – these were people who were slaughtered. In Lithuania, other Lithuanians collaborated with the Nazis to do so, which is why events to remember the victims are so important here. (They hated the Soviets, so they sided with the Nazis.)

Those remarks were pretty scary to deliver, but there weren’t near as many people, like 50-75. I was nervous, but not terrified. The jazz event, while not as solemn or crucial to bilateral relations, would be hundreds of people, some of whom spoke English! (There was a translator at the Holocaust event.)

But I made a day of it, traveling with a colleague. It has been raining here for awhile, so a day in the sun was out because the sun wasn’t but we did go up to Palanga again and walked the beach in a drizzle. Just as we were coming off of it, the skies opened so we ducked into a restaurant for some good Lithuanian food and then headed down the half hour in the motor pool Ford.

We got to Klaipeda a bit earlier and had intended to wander around the riverfront, but we wanted to make sure we knew where to go, which took awhile. Somehow we managed to take a really long way around and didn’t want to risk being late if we took off again, so we just hung out there, assuming wrongly that it was going to start when we’d been told.

It didn’t, so we could have gone back about town, but it was fine. It was a festival, so there was stuff to see. Heck, I could have even lined up for a Johnson and Johnson shot and had a COVID test with rapid results right then and there. But I declined; I’d still to have one tomorrow.

The first act, who was of Asian descent but had been born and raised in Klaipeda, was pretty awesome, although I would not have classified her as jazz. Of course, “jazz” is fairly loosely defined, and the music poster depicted a guy in a cowboy hat riding a saxophone like a bull, so go figure. But this singer – I forget her first name but her last name was Liu – was not remotely country, although she physically and vocally reminded me of Lari White. She was more new age-y, but I liked it.

And focusing on her music gave me something to ponder rather than, “How did I get in here?” which I kept repeating all night. I mean, what had I been thinking?

The shows, we thought, were an hour, meaning I’d go on at 7, but it wasn’t until after 7:20 that someone came to tell me they’d get me later. I think she was supposed to end at 7:30 or something, but she wound up finishing close to 8.

None of that mattered for the crowd, though, because they were having a good time. I, on the other hand, was getting more and more nervous and also starting to wonder if I’d be able to make the 3-hour drive home that same evening.

The people at an embassy who speak are not normally the people who write the words, so it wasn’t like I was supposed to wing it or anything, but I’d practiced and practiced the “remarks” and they still sounded jilted. (Seriously, who starts with “Dear listeners!” So, by the time I actually did it, I kind of went off-script, but it was basically the same thing.

Still, I was terrified, and shaking like a leaf. I got through it and stepped off. And the funny thing was, Karl Frierson, wasn’t even there yet, I don’t think. It’s not like I announced him and he appeared in a cloud of smoke or anything.

He did come in, and I found him right away (it wasn’t crowded backstage) and said hi. He’s originally from South Carolina and I’m a Florida girl so we chatted a bit, and then I headed back to my table and colleague.

Unfortunately, because he went on much later than we thought he would, we could only stay for one of his songs, but I really enjoyed his voice. And it was much more fun after stood up in front of all those people.

I am gladed to have faced that fear, but I am not anxious to do it again.

Auschwitz, with a grain of salt

I finally got a “vacation” this past week, darting off to Poland from Saturday until Thursday. I had to be back before Friday or I would have lost my hotel room for the weekend.

Flying in the time of COVID stinks. Going there was really not a problem; I bummed a ride from a colleague also heading out and no one even bothered to look at my vaccine card. Coming back, though, it was nuts. I thought since it was EU to EU there was nothing involved (I mean, hey, the way there was EU-EU, too) but I had to log on to some site in the airport and get a QVC code and then when I went to check in with the airline staff (none of whom were wearing masks), one asked why I’d done it. I pointed to another one and said, “He told me to.” I have no idea. Boarding the plane, they were looking at everyone’s QVC code, but not mine – I just got shooed onto the plane back to Lithuania. Getting off, though, they looked at multiple things from everyone. As if something had changed from boarding to deplaning.

Anyway, I spent two days in Warsaw and then took a train to Krakow, spending two days there before heading back for the last night in Warsaw before heading back. I should have thought to just fly back from Krakow, but I think I would have had to go through Warsaw anyway, so whatever.

The highlight – or lowlight, however you want to view it – was Tuesday, when I did a package Auschwitz-salt mine tour.

As you can imagine, Auschwitz was gut-wrenching. We visited both I and II, standing right on the sites where thousands of Jews were murdered at once multiple times a day. We saw the warehouses that had been found filled with sorted goods, such as one for luggage, one for eyeglasses and one for shoes. Over 300,000 pairs of shoes had been found at the time of the liberation. That’s not how many there were total; that’s how many were found. The Nazis had offloaded stuff as it came in, even – and I did not know this – using the hair they shaved from the Jews for weaving into textiles. There was an entire storage display of human hair. It was absolutely horrifying.

It’s hard to imagine that kind of hate, but there it was; brick building after brick building, each one built for 700 Jewish (or Roma) women or men, but holding over 1k of them, six to a bunk. We saw the spot where the Germans would shoot any misbehaving prisoners. I just can’t comprehend it. Over a million people killed in that facility, right on the edge of town.

We walked for about three hours, and it was pretty hot. All I could think of was that the Jew were forced to walk that far to the factory before they worked 10- to 12-hour days. And as hot as it was, it gets that cold in the winter, and darkness comes early. I honestly cannot imagine. The guide said the fences were electrified and that people would commit suicide by throwing themselves on them.

Since I knew I wouldn’t have been able to handle both Auschwitz and Schindler’s factory in one day – just too much – I opted for the tour that went to the Wieliczka salt mine, which is just outside of Krakow. I took as many pictures as I did in Auschwitz, but it was a bit cheerier. First, we descended 60 meters or something like that down; it was 53 flights of 6-7 steps each. I was towards the last in my group and was humming “Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go” the whole time – I have no idea how I managed without bursting into song, because the whole experience screamed for it.

The mine was incredible. Honest to God, I had no idea the “salt mines” in “off to the salt mines” were a real thing.  I thought salt came from the ocean, not underground. By the end of the tour, we had walked three hours, finished over 130 meters underground and the tour guide said we’d only covered 1 percent of the whole thing. The thing was huge. For the tourist part, they had set up displays that included statues and such, all made of salt. The flooring in many parts was made of salt blocks. There were even multiple cathedrals underground, with everything carved out of salt, including a replica of “The Last Supper” and a life-size statue of Poland’s favorite son, Pope John Paul II.

It was a nice way to end the day; I knew the morning would be emotional but had no idea what the salt mines were all about. I went in with no expectations and it was a pleasant surprise. Even lunch was pretty good.

I stayed in AirBnBs the first four nights, two in Warsaw and two in Krakow and it was fabulous having a kitchen again. Unfortunately, rice apparently isn’t a thing; that’s what I wanted to cook but the grocery store I went to (a tiny one) didn’t have any, so I opted for pasta and a salad. It was just nice to be able to turn on a stove.

My housing was in Old Town in both cities, but Old Town in Warsaw is really a Disney-eque version, because all of Warsaw was leveled and has been rebuilt. But it’s been done nicely and I had a great stay, walking around everywhere. I got a bus pass for 24 hours but someone still surpassed 30k steps; I’m not even sure how that happened.

The only museum I went into was the Polish museum; it went back to Abraham, so that was pretty cool. I went to the Uprising museum but the guides said it was best for hard-core history buffs so I skipped it. Mostly I just walked and took pictures, which is what I usually do.

Krakow was more authentic old town, and again, my housing was right there. The windows were open and I could hear the horse-drawn carriages clomp-clomping down the street. It was a nice break.

The trains were fine other than setting off in the wrong direction and turning a 15-minute walk to a hotel into a 30-minute walk, everything was good upon return to Warsaw. Since I’ve now reached some kind of ultra-special level at Marriott, I sprung for the Westin for the last night, although, unlike in Vilnius, I declined to get the rate with breakfast. It was a good decision. With my newfound specialness, I was welcomed with open arms and informed that I now get breakfast, so that was nice. Even nicer was a coupon for a dinner in the restaurant downstairs, an upgraded room and a massive bowl of fruit upon arrival. We are talking banana, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, cherries, pomegranate, fig, apple, orange, grapefruit, kiwi and a plum, assuming I am remembering them all. I gorged and then took a walk.

The dinner menu was limited but perfect: I could pick two items off an abbreviated menu. I opted for “chicken with seasonal vegetables” and a “tart with fruit.” Well, again, it was a farmer’s market. The chicken itself maybe half a breast and seasoned nicely, sitting on a small bed of mashed potatoes. The veggies mirrored the fruit basket: so many varieties, but just a couple bites of each: one asparagus stick, maybe 3-4 strings of beans, some kind of carrot and zucchini cut into a cylinder, broccoli, cauliflower … possibly more. It was so much. Then dessert, I could not locate a tart, but again was hit with a massive fruit pile, but this time it included watermelon, pineapple and at least three other melon kinds, plus other stuff. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much non-meat in one 24-hour span than I have in my life. But eat it I did. It took forever, but I sat in that hotel bar and paced myself. By the end of the evening, the only things out of all three services that I didn’t eat were the apple, orange and banana. Since they packed well, I took them back with me.

Once home, I still have my Marriott status, and the kind folks at the Courtyard moved the bag they stored for me into my new room, which they deemed an upgrade. I kind of had to laugh at that because, well, it’s a Courtyard. There’s really not an upgrade. The room is five doors down from the other one and its mirror image. However, they did leave me a piece of pie, four cherries with whipped cream and some other kind of berry. I could get used to this.