Our first foray into the former Soviet bloc

At 30€ a pop, it would be wrong not to grab tickets for a birthday weekend abroad. And so I awoke to the last birthday of my twenties inside the former Soviet bloc. And it was awesome.

I didn't really know much about Vilnius. Heck, a few months back, I couldn't have told you it was the capital of Lithuania. And its status as an "undiscovered" tourist destination gave it a charm that may not last long as more people start to realize how surprisingly charming, vibrant, and affordable this little city is.

Wandering through the streets of historical Vilnius

As luck would have it, a street fair had sprung up across the city center on the weekend of our arrival. Around each twisting turn and street corner were more stands selling woolen slippers, bouquets of dried wild flowers, wooden carvings, and sparkling amber jewels. Block out the smart phones and you could easily imagine yourself transported back in time about a half millenium, when this city was the seat of power of the largest country in Europe, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. UNESCO has recognized the well-preserved medieval town center, lined with a blend of Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, and Classical architecture, as a World Heritage Site. Who knew a city could survive a half century of occupation and still look so good?

The street fair that just so happened to coincide with our weekend in Vilnius

That said, the most memorable part of our visit wasn't the charming narrow streets. In the middle of Gedminas Avenue, Vilnius's Champs Elysées, lie the former KGB headquarters, now the Genocide Museum. The museum was a powerful testament to the resilience and pride of a people oppressed by Nazis only to be "liberated" by a Communist occupation. This museum displayed the country's painful past while inviting visitors to connect and to see themselves reflected in the faces of those who had struggled through life in Lithuania in the 20th century. As I walked through the rooms, I kept wondering about the photographers who'd made much of the museum possible. Who had the presence of mind to sneak a camera into the woods and document the resistance movement of the 1940s and '50s? Who was brave enough, when faced with a mutilated body displayed by the Soviets, to document the horror for posterity? Who walked along the lines of displaced Lithuanians in their work camps and asked the workers to smile for a camera? And then, there was the museum basement: Here, the KGB political prison was preserved, complete with torture and execution chambers. To emerge from this museum and walk through the streets of Vilnius, suddenly appreciating that anyone just a decade older than me had real memories of these times, was eye-opening. The locals were so welcoming. The city was vibrant. The markets were bustling. These people had been through hell and back and here they were, cheerfully enjoying a weekend in what could only be described today as a charming little capital city. How privileged I suddenly felt.

"Even under total surveillance and brutal persecution of people with other convictions, there were those who risking their freedom or even their lives were determined to fight against the regime and protect human rights. Although there were not many of them, their resolute stand and activities served as a moral example for many others and helped to keep the hope for freedom and independence alive. [...] Lithuania is working for its future remembering the price of freedom and independence."

On a lighter note, we also explored Lithuanian culture through our stomachs. Local cuisine included lots of unexpected but surprisingly edible, even enjoyable, delicacies: acorn coffee, dandelion cappuccinos, sour dough flavored drinks, rye bread ice cream, and apple pie served in a bread bowl. There were lots of soups, especially a cold, bright pink beetroot specialty, and sour cream and potatoes were everywhere. Beer was cheaper than water-- can't complain there. And each meal finished with an embarrassingly small bill.

Lithuanian cuisine. Clockwise from top left:  a cold, bright pink beetroot soup with sour milk, boiled eggs, and dill known as saltibarsciai and a sourdough drink, kvass, in background; potato sausage and potato pancakes; fried cottage cheese dumplings with cherry sauce and sour cream; dandelion cappuccino and a typical Lithuanian tinginys (meaning "lazy one") chocolate dessert with cookie chunks; Nicolas with mini fried dough balls covered in powdered sugar; apple pie à la mode with cherry sauce in a rye bread bowl; beer: cheaper than water; a glass of surprisingly good ryebread ice cream.

In three days we had enough time to hit up most of the major tourist attractions: the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Lithuania, now a history museum; St. Anne's Church, the Gothic cathedral made of 33 different kinds of brick; the Gates of Dawn, once part of the medieval city walls; the remains of the old Vilnius castle atop a hill overlooking the old town; the self-styled independent Republic of Uzupis; even the Stebuklas ("miracle") tile, in the Cathedral Square, which marks the end of a 2 million person chain formed from Vilnius to Talinn (Estonia) in 1989 to protest Communism.

The tourist highlights of Vilnius. Clockwise from top left: Gediminas Avenue; the Stebuklas tile in the Cathedral Square; a university entryway; Castle Hill; The Republic of Uzupis; St. Anne's Cathedral; three displays of medieval Vilnius artefacts at the Palace of the Grand Dukes of Vilnius and the Cathedral doors bearing Alpha and Omega wreaths

Nicolas and me outside the Vilnius Cathedral and its free standing bell tower at the end of my birthday weekend abroad

Vilnius was an unexpectedly charming, vibrant, and fun little town. I hope it isn't the last I'll see of it.