A city to be seen from the water

Such is St Petersburg, we were told.  So that’s what we did.  We crossed the bridge to our waiting canalboat.

I’m saying nothing about those.

As soon as we got on board, we remembered the  low bridges!  Mind your head.

Like everyone else, we sat outside, up top, for the best photographs (not that this is a fine example!)   “On your left, you can see the Hermitage.  Notice the large windows upstairs”.

From there it was straight out onto the River Neva.  A stiff breeze was blowing and one by one, almost all of our fellow stalwarts had gone inside.  Just an handful wrapped up warm and stayed out.

The front of the Hermitage was behind us as we continued up river.

Inna, still with us, pointed out the significant landmarks, including the Peter and Paul Fortress, where the Tsars are buried.  We’ve not been there ourselves and would have liked to have visited, but the schedule didn’t allow for it.  Never mind, we had a good view.  There, next to the pavilion by the wall, is a small hut, from where the daily shot is fired at noon.

Under the bridge designed and built by Eiffel – not that you’d have guessed!

There, on our left was the battleship Aurora, which I remembered, was famous for the shot which started the revolution.  Now, that’s not bad going for a non-historian like me – I felt quite proud of myself!  It’s on such random facts that a great Trivia team is built, of course

We passed the former home of the Kutuzov family, characters we remembered from War and Peace on the BBC recently.

and generally savoured the beautiful architecture of the city.

Inna was pointing out features here and there but we were happy to sit back and enjoy the scene.  She did name the brutal building just behind here, reminiscent of a similarly brutal building in Westminster with a spookily similar purpose.  Better not say the three letters which spell it out, then.

I think this is the Naval Hospital, open to all and not exclusively for Naval Officers.

A better view of the Aurora then, in front of the Naval Academy.

Oh, and there is the actual cannon which fired the shot, with the Russian “Fortress” flag flying.

We’d turned around now and in the gloomy light of a cold – not just chilly – afternoon, we were heading back and not totally sorry about that!

Back into the canal system,  Inna pointed out the smallest monument in Leningrad – the little bird on the plinth there.

We were soon back at the pier near the church, which we’ll visit tomorrow.

Back on the bus then, to return to the ship and past a familiar sign.  Even though we know this says “restaurant” in Russian, is pronounced “restaurant” as we would say it, we still think of it as a pectopah.  Silly.

Our way back to the ship took us past the Bronze Horseman, Peter the Great, another real landmark of the city.

As you can see, home is very central here.

But our day was not over!  We had tickets for a folklore show tonight.

It was in the Naval Officers Hall.  Very grand, too!

Whilst not the best or possibly the most authentic show we’ve seen, it was colourful and fun.

The singers were over-amplified, we thought, though they were very good and those Russian bass voices…well!

You’ll guess which tune this action depicted?

There was a fun balalaika act with a member of the audience, too.

Mostly, however, it was a lot of very fast twirling, jumping, cossack dancing and lively music.  We enjoyed it!

But oh my, were we tired when we got back home last night.

I’ll just leave it to your imagination how long the queue for passport control was

Ah Russia.

So beautiful.  So different.  so infuriating.

We were first here in 1986, during the early days of Perestroika, when turning over two pages in the British Airways Holiday brochure tempted us with a tour of the Caucasus in preference to the weekend in Prague we were intending to research.  We began our adventure in what was then Leningrad USSR, during the White Nights and found the city captivating.  Well, those parts we were allowed to see, that is.  We’ve been here again since then and though we were interested to return, unlike the majority of our fellow travellers, this wasn’t necessary the highlight of our adventure.

But as soon as we’d seen where we were to stay for the next three days, right in the centre of the city, the old excitement returned and we looked forward to getting out and about.

First of all, we had to complete the formalities.  Just like India, Russia does them so very well.  Not only did we need our ship id and passport, we needed our Russian immigration form.  We’re travelling without a visa, as part of a group, so need to do as we are told and stick with the plan.  Each time we go out or come back in, we have to do the old face to face checks and oh my, does this take time!  Still, I managed a slight smile from the stern customs officer when I spoke one of the two Russian words I remembered: Spasibo!  She looked up from her computer and reminded me by replying with the other one: Pashalsta!

So we joined our group, were issued with earpieces so we could follow her commentary and whilst on the bus, we listened to her instructions.  Were we wearing a heavy coat?  If so, better take it off and leave it on the bus, because no coats were allowed inside and the cloakroom would be needed.  If one person wore a coat, then the whole group would have to wait for the cloakroom and we really didn’t want that…better take our jackets off then.  (No pressure!) 

Who has a large bag or rucksack?  No bags are allowed inside and you will have to leave them on the bus.  Remember, we have to carry passports and suchlike with us?  There was a general muttering about not wanting to leave such things behind.  At that point, one of the guides held her capacious handbag up to show us the maximum size allowed: thankfully, it was larger than my shoulder bag.  Phew. Is that it?  

No!

Who has a camera?  Then you will need a permit.  Just as we were wondering if it was all worth it, she came around and handed stickers out.  At least that was easy!

I ought to have said, we were visiting the Yusupov Palace to begin with.  We knew nothing about the place except for one, important detail: this is where Rasputin was killed.  As we entered, a woman from the palace surveyed our bags and coats, pointing out one of our party who was pushing the limits rather with a “jacket”.  She let us in though, and I guess we got away with that one.

We began our visit in a series of elegant reception rooms, following closely behind Inna, our guide, and listening to her commentary on our earpieces.  As we progressed through the rooms she gave us a little background to the Yusupov family and set the scene for that fateful night.

Her stories were well illustrated by family photographs on the walls, though with all the labels in Cyrillic script, I’m sorry that I couldn’t read them, even if I could make an educated guess.

Rather than go into detail about the events of that night (which you can read here) I’ll simply say that Inna was the best storyteller!  She set the scene beautifully, gave us just enough background to each of the characters in the room and highlighted one or two known facts, for there is much speculation about what really happened that night.

Though I’d have loved more time to absorb these pictures and the letters beneath them, we were able to take in the important points from Inna.

So far, I hadn’t seen a photo of Rasputin himself though – until I turned a corner and spotted a familiar image.  Inna described him as an uneducated country priest who liked his alcohol, who had a sweet tooth and a fondness for money.

She pointed out his childlike handwriting as evidence of his lack of education.

As we went downstairs, she pointed out The Door.  This was an important feature of the story and we should take note, she said.

Downstairs in the basement was the scene of the crime.  Here sat Rasputin, with Felix, who was to deliver poison to the two things they thought Rasputin would not be able to resist.

The cookies and sweet fortified wine were there on the table, but Rasputin did not take any of it.  Instead, one of the plotters delivered a fatal shot.

Or so it was thought.

A little later, he was found, still very much alive, in the courtyard of the palace, having escaped through that door.  As Inna said, “These were no professional killers!”

Inna went on to tell us about the further details of the bungled plot to finally put an end to the Priest, including throwing him in the river (without weights) and the discovery of his body three days later in the ice on the banks of the Neva.

In addition to the photograph of Rasputin with a fatal shot wound to his forehead (contrary to the earlier story) Inna also pointed out a photograph of a British agent who, it was claimed, was sent to shoot the priest and who did the deed as instructed.

Who knows what really happened?  Not me!  But apparently there was no poison in his stomach and no water in his lungs, so it looks like he was indeed shot and even if we don’t know quite who did it, it’s a great story.

We’d have happily finished there, so good was Inna’s storytelling, but there was more of the Palace to see.  First, the glorious staircase, at the foot of which sat a heavily made up babushka, sternly supervising all that went on around her.  I was about to take her photo – or rather take a general photo of the whole hallway, when she caught sight of me and glared… I quickly turned my camera away and shot the chandelier instead!!  Oooh, these women are scary!

The Yusupovs were the #2 family in St Petersburg at the time and their home was furnished in the most elegant fashion of the time.

They entertained lavishly and this room, the Gobelin room, was hung with “tapestries” on each wall.

Except they weren’t.  Tapestries, that is.

Closer inspection revealed them to be painted canvas.  I think they were always so – perhaps genuine French tapestries were unavailable then and this was the next best thing?

 

There followed a series of elegant, private rooms used by the family.  This was the Princess’s bedroom, with a secret door to the “crystal staircase” leading to the Prince’s quarters.

Each room was lavishly decorated with no expense spared when it came to decor.  The most skilled craftsmen were employed to paint the ceilings and they in particular were absolutely stunning.

Each one different in style and giving a completely different feel to the room.  this one was described as Russian Wedgewood.

One room had a beautiful wooden floor, echoing the extravagant chandelier which hung above it.

And this little arrangement in the corner of a sitting room was highlighted.  In particular, our attention was drawn to the circular table in the front right corner, which has a glass top.  In there, the Yusupovs would place their latest jewellery acquisition for visitors to admire.  I think we got quite a good picture of what life was like for this very grand family.

Next door to the sitting room was the ballroom, and here were fragments of the crystal staircase.

It had been broken up at some point, but elements were reused here, in a more public setting.

Pride of place in the ante room next door was a portrait of the Grand Duchess Xenia Yusupov herself.  Xenia had born a Yusupov and kept her family name even when married, for there was no son to carry the family line further.  She was quite the beauty, wasn’t she?

During her times, the wealth of the family was legendary and as evidence of this, we were shown pictures of a couple of rooms, including the art gallery.

As for many wealthy families, however, times became hard and though some pictures now hang in the Hermitage, others were sold.

The treasure room next door had a series of family portraits and we could put faces to the stories we’d been hearing throughout our visit.

There among the little things was an invitation.  Oh, what it must have been like to have been at that wedding, eh?

Before we left the Palace, there was just one more surprise.  Xenia had been a bit of an actress and had loved the theatre.  With plenty of room in her palace, the best craftsmen and architects at her disposal, what might she do?

Put a staircase into the “Roman room” of her palace and build a theatre!

It’s full size, seats 170 people and the stage is as large as the auditorium we were told.  We also heard that it was used in the latest BBC adaptation of War and Peace, which we will perhaps watch again as a result of being here, for several names cropped up during our tour today.

What I found most surprising is that the Yusupov Palace is right in the middle of St Petersburg.  There are no grounds, just a courtyard, and the canal is right opposite.  From the outside, it looks grand, for sure, but it’s like many other canalside building and gives little hint of the treasures inside.

We weren’t done for the day yet, either.  We hopped back on the bus as far as the bridge by the Church of the Spilled Blood, from where we boarded a boat to explore the canals.

I’ll continue the story in the next post.

Next stop, Helsinki

We were just one of quite a few ships heading in the same direction this morning, under the early morning cloudy sky.

I love the skies at sea and this morning’s was a stunner.

We sailed through small channels and groups of islands and finally came to a halt when we could go no further!  Short of parking right in the middle of the Fish Market, it’s hard to imagine a better spot.

The lads were out on a jolly and waved as they went by.

Our tour began with a short drive around modern Helsinki.  We’d been here before a few years ago and it was surprising how familiar it seemed.

Our guide, Marya, spoke about the Helsinki residents’ unfavourable reaction to the “kindergarten art” in the park, but said everyone felt pressured to like it because not only had it been done by a world famous Japanese artist, but the considerable expense had been paid for by taxpayers’ money.  Never mind, she said, it will soon be gone.

Autumn has arrived in Finland and there was certainly a chill in the air as we set out.  An extra layer was needed for the first time this trip.

We were driving 50km east from Helsinki, to visit the second oldest settlement in Finland: Porvoo.

It’s a quaint little town on the banks of the river and today, it was still and quiet.

I’ll get my rant over and done with and promise not to mention it again: I dislike ugly yarn bombing projects almost as much as I hate that European habit of fixing locks to bridges.

I mean, putting all that effort into knitting socks that no-one will wear?

OK, maybe I’ll forgive a little bunting…

Anyway, restrained rant over, here we were in the main market square, outside the old town hall.  I was immediately struck by the palette of colours here.  Surely, no coincidence that the sky is all part of it?

We listened to stories of the history of the town, of the fire which spread rapidly from the kitchen of a poor woman who fell asleep whilst making some fish soup, causing the Mayor to impose a ban on wooden buildings thereafter.  It didn’t work though: people here were too poor to be able to afford stone and simply gathered up the remains and recycled them into the next generation of houses.

The Scandinavian style is so attractive and I couldn’t resist taking photographs of small corners which caught my eye.

We were wandering up the main street, peering into attractive shops on either side, each one with cute window displays aimed squarely at visitors.

I imagine Porvoo is particularly lovely in the Winter, when a Christmas Market is here.

Though at the end of the main street, it became clear that just beyond the old town, a modern city is just across the road.  Not that we needed anything there – we’ll just turn right around and stay with the pretty!

And that’s exactly what we did, spending an hour pottering about, in and out of the small shops and doing a bit of window shopping.   I spotted this cute display of Moomin related goods – always a favourite with me.

Just around the corner was a Moomin dolls house in the shop window (sorry about the reflection).  There they all were: Moominmama and Moominpapa and is that Little My sitting on a chair?

Sweet!

With unlimited funds and a bottomless suitcase, I could have brought a great deal home with me!

Perhaps it’s as well some of the shops were closed: we didn’t have to question whether we really wanted to pay that much for a set of salad servers, however lovely we thought they were. (85 Euro)

Admiring a few cute samples in the knitting shop, I could also have left a few Euros there as well. Mindful of the conversation with our friends last evening, concerning the size of our yarn stashes, I resisted.

We were simply happy to be here, to have time to linger and take photographs, to spot lovely things and to stroll around.

Just as we noticed the roof fits into the colour scheme,

We looked down and noticed that the cobblestone path does as well!

Keeping an eye on the time, we made our way up to the small cathedral, where a memorial stands to a local artist.  Albert Edelfelt.  His name was new to me, but his work hangs in the collections of worldwide museums.  Of course, I had to look him up!

The little cathedral was locked, sadly, so we couldn’t see inside and had to content ourselves with trying to squeeze the whole thing into a picture without stepping too far back and falling down the hill!

Instead, we walked slowly down, watching carefully so as not to turn an ankle on those tricky cobbles.

Overlooking the yarn-covered bridge, we spotted a poem in the water.

It’s easy to see why Porvoo is such a popular place for visitors.  We’re glad we came here.

As we drove back into Helsinki, we were reminded of what life must be like here in winter, as Marya pointed out the two ice breakers over there on the opposite side of the harbour.  There are four in total, working almost constantly during the Winter months to keep the navigation channels open. 

We were reminded of the cold weather once more when we made our final stop outside the Lutheran cathedral in the city.  Last time we were here we learned about the ice fair that’s held in this square every winter, when a replica of the church is made out of ice.

Brrrr.

For us, it was almost time to return to the ship, so bidding farewell to Alexander II in the cathedral square, we decided to make our own way back.

It wasn’t that hard to find our way!

Back on board, our friends told us that their guide had played Sibelius’ Finlandia as they drove back to the ship.  Actually, as we walked back across the Fish Market it was playing in my head too, provoking one or two memories and bringing a tear to my eye, as it usually does.

I think it’s Friday?

I know we are in Latvia, though.

In Riga, to be precise.

We didn’t have to set the alarm this morning, for we were not due into Riga until 10.  So, by the time I opened the curtains and took a breath of fresh air, our pilot was sailing alongside.

We enjoyed our breakfast sailing up the river, sitting outside with our friends, noting the different landscape on each side of the river: a heavy industrial scene on one side; green countryside and forest on the other.

It was all looking very interesting and we looked forward to getting ashore to see the city.

We had an excellent parking spot!

We had chosen a city tour, beginning with a bus-based overview but followed by a couple of hours walking.  As we drove from the terminal, we were surprised at the grand buildings.  Most of these in the “quiet part” of the city were built towards the end of the nineteenth century or early 20th and now featured as hotels, offices and some apartments.  Very nice indeed,

Riga has still got a few signs of the old Soviet days here and there, but these are few and far between.

We left our coach by the bridge and wandered into the Town Hall square, amidst a lovely collection of what looked like very old buildings,  However, though they looked old, most were renovations or total rebuilds of what stood there before the war.  What was especially annoying here was the exhibition of photographs of Slovenia.  Not that we have anything against the place, but we hadn’t come to see those, we’d come to see what lay behind them.  What with the very bright sunshine and the photographs, it proved difficult – no impossible – to get a decent picture of the Black Head House, the red brick facade behind.

Restored in 1990, the gable end was spectacular, but I’m afraid you’ll simply have to take our ward for it.

Opposite the medieval hall, then, was the classical Town Hall.

and in stark contrast, the Soviet-era building behind us, some kind of college we thought.

As we moved on to our next stop, I snagged a quick snapshot of the Black Heads house and cursed those pictures of Solvenia once again!

We walked in and around the city for the next couple of hours, stopping every so often to take note of a landmark and to listen to a story or two.  Gita, our guide was great and brought her city to life for us.  In front of this church, we learned of the architect sitting on top of the golden rooster up there at the top of the rather vulnerable spire, drinking red wine.  As he threw the glass down, he wished for his spire to last as many years as the pieces of shattered glass – except the glass landed in a passing hay cart.  When that spire suffered a strike of lighning some years later, the next architect took particular care and threw his champagne glass more carefully, ensuring it shattered into hundreds of pieces!

We saw fragments of old city walls

picturesque corners of the old town

and places that we might return if we had the chance

We were blessed with amazing weather once more, though out of the sun, there was a chill wind.

The Opera house was looking grand and standing here, Gita told us about the rich music and dance tradition of Latvia.  We have shared some of it of course, with Andris Nelsons conducting the Birmingham Symphony Orchestra and his wife Kristine Opolais, who sings with the Met Opera from time to time. 

The Freedom monument is quite a landmark here and offered another focus for a few stories of the Soviet days, when no-one dare hang around nearby for fear of the consequences.  But these days, it provides a place for Latvians to celebrate special days in the calendar, though depending on one’s heritage, they can differ.  The varied history of the country has resulted in family divisions, with some members being conscripted to the German forces, whilst others found themselves on the opposing Russian side.  Such sentiments linger long.

On we went then, past the Guildhouses, now concert and exhibition halls,

past the black cat cafe, where a potential guild member was blackballed and showed his disdain by placing a cat facing the Guildhall.  Originally, the cat was facing away, with its raised tail pointing towards the institution but a recent renovation turned it 180 degrees and into a more polite position!

Riga has many fine Jugendstil or Art Nouveau buildings, and we stopped in front of this one to note some of the features.

You might guess I’d love the two fine bears sitting on the balcony?

But I also liked the apprentice, sitting on one of the pediments, studying his books and hoping to join the guild himself one day.

Standing in the next street, Gita gave us a couple of shopping/souvenir tips before setting us loose for a half hour.  Latvian Balsam is apparently the drink to cure all evils, though heaven knows what it tastes like!

She recommended Laima, Latvian chocolate, too.  (yes of course we bought some!)

and Latvian amber.  But since we satisfied our amber needs in Klaipeda yesterday, you know where we headed, don’t you?!  Back to the mitten shop for a bit of Latvian knitting

Had I more time, I might have succumbed to some linen, but now I know I can get it at home (thanks Marion!) we moved right along.

And so we moved on, through more narrow streets, past more landmarks and other beautiful buildings.

We stood in the centre of Riga to admire the cathedral.  How did I know I was standing in the centre?

That bright sunshine made taking photographs really tricky!

We admired the front of the former bank on the corner here, complete with bullet damage

and we learned of the Latvian preference for catching every bit of sunshine by sitting outside as much as possible.  “Until their beer freezes over”, said Gita.

The Swedish Gate led to another historic area – I had totally lost my bearings by now.

So I took a picture of the name of the street, just so I could work out where we’d been.

This was a typical medieval street, slightly curved, cobbled (each farmer visiting the city was asked to bring two stones from his fields or he’d be refused entry) and draining to the middle.

When we stopped in front of this unassuming building, we wondered what story we’d hear next.  No story though: this is the Latvian Parliament.

It’s hardly a grand entrance, is it?

From there, we had just one more street to explore.  Three old houses, known as the three brothers,

Here’s the oldest, 15th century, I think we were told.

Right behind us was the last church of our tour, whose unique feature was a test for those who had seen it.  Have you ever seen a bell hang outside a church steeple?

Well yes, in Riga of course.  The bell is still there but is no longer rung.

Feeling weary and with sore feet from all those cobbles, we were quite glad to catch sight of our bus again.

But as I looked out of the window, we could have walked it home!

We woke up in Lithuania

And as we have never been here before, it warranted a loud “ker-ching” when we stepped on dry land!

I poked my nose out first thing this morning and was glad to see what looked to be another lovely day outside.

I soon stepped back in though, because it appeared we were being observed!

We went out to join our tour group after breakfast and found there was a delightful welcome party to greet us.  It’s always lovely to arrive somewhere new to a musical accompaniment: this group were playing tuneful Lithuanian folk songs.

We drove out of the port area and the first thing to be pointed out was the old castle mound – no castle left now, but it seems a new one is planned and who knows what we might see there in a few years time?

We’re actually in Klaipeda – or were, until we drove out through the suburbs and into the countryside.

We were heading for Palanga, a small old town not far from here but with one clear difference.  Palanga had always been Lithuanian, whereas since the 15th century, Klaipeda (Memel) and the surrounding countryside had been part of Prussia (and subsequently Germany, of course).  Asta, our lovely guide told us stories of that time and of life under Russian administration, when life here had been very tough indeed.  The rich and varied history of this area is a lot to take in, though my Hero and the family historian back in England enjoyed a text conversation as we drove along.

Shortly, we arrived at the park gates in Palanga.  The Palace had been built in this lovely parkland by Count Feliksas Tiskevicius and his wife with their family of ten children. Sadly, their home had been taken over during the war and they all had to flee to safety, but now, it is publicly owned and operates as a museum and public park.

Just inside the gates was a sign, but as we don’t speak Lithuanian, we had no idea it was announcing an open air exhibition of communication-related plant installations.  As we walked towards the palace, we came across them one by one and soon worked it out.

Little groups of mailboxes caught our eye to begin with.

I thought them pretty neat and really well maintained.  Asta said she thought the greenery was refreshed every so often which would explain how they looked so fresh.

A little further along was the postman’s bicycle and another mailbox.  It was just about 9am by now, so the shadows were very dark – sorry about that.

The last one before we entered the palace gardens was this “quill pen”, very cleverly imagined, I think, with an ink pot and sheet of paper alongside, too.

From here, the palace looked splendid and the gardens surrounding it were at their best in the sunshine.

Everything was spick and span and taking Asta’s advice to walk straight past the “witch’s house” without stopping, for fear of what might become of us, we headed straight up the steps and into the palace.

Here’s Asta, dressed as the Countess, to whom she was related in some way.  She was a great guide!

Whilst waiting for someone, I spotted this charming   ?weathervane?  in the ticket office. I have no idea what it’s made of nor if it has any use whatsoever.  I just love things like this and had to take a picture of it.

At the top of the first flight of stairs we entered a small reception area and on the wall were portraits of the Count and Countess.  Several were interested to know what became of them and Asta did her best to explain.

She told us that the Countess loved roses and suggested we look out for them around the house.  I spotted only this one and one other,

although the family rooms overlooked the semi-circular rose garden, which she enjoyed too, we were told.

The Count’s study was the room of a young man, with his desk facing the window out onto the garden, too.

It was attractively staged, with an open book and map (battle plan?) left open on his desk.  From here, we went though to the staircase and climbed to the next floor, where there is now an Amber Museum.

Here was a wealth of information about Amber, one of the key local products and the foundation for many myths and legends of the region.

It was really well displayed with magnifiers and lights to enable us to see the trapped insects and other such phenomena.  But as Asta advised, any yellow piece with a scorpion inside is definitely plastic!

There were other displays of historic amber, mostly found in tombs having been buried with the owner.  Women were buried with useful things too, such as amber spinning whorls.  This area is also known for fine linen and I imagine spinning was a common occupation.

How interesting that the women were buried with the tools and useful things whilst the men got the jewellery, hair combs and suchlike!

We exited through what Asta called “the trap” – the giftshop – though it was interesting to see some of the jewellery made with black metal, rather like the iron designs we’d seen in Schwerin.  I don’t know what metal this was and didn’t really want to get into conversation about something I wasn’t going to buy.

It was time to head out through the Countess’ rose garden and back to the park entrance, spotting some of the installations we missed on the way in.

I guess pencils are a pretty effective means of communication

but we are in the 21st century and perhaps SMS is quicker?

There were envelopes with interesting contents.

and finally, a cute little mossy postbox I’d spotted on the way in but failed to capture with my camera.  Can you see the birds (messenger pigeons?) in the tree?

Having see the palace and the park, we drove a short distance to the old town of Palanga, which turned out to be nothing like as interesting as we’d hoped.

Asta had told us it’s a resort town and on this Thursday morning, it looked pretty deserted.

We took a short look in the (catholic) church before taking a stroll along the “main street”.

Lined with restaurants (closed) and souvenir shops, it wasn’t really the kind of place to detain us long.

Though I did take a picture of a lovely picture.

I also took a picture of written Lithuanian, which we were told (and which you surely knew already) is one of the oldest languages in the world and is most closely related to sanskrit.

As we returned to meet our group, I noticed that, had we headed in the opposite direction, we might have come across something a little more interesting.  Never mind.

We returned to Klaipeda, where a cold beer awaited us.  Sveikatą!

Thereafter, a quick zoom around town with Asta, who told stories of the great fire, which hit this row of wooden warehouses badly.

This river had been so crammed with ships, she told us that you could cross it by stepping from one ship to the next, and that as the city burned, people came and sat here, by the water and cried.  One of those people was said to be Heinrich Schielmann who went on to discover the treasures of Troy.

A little further along, we came upon the cat.  “This is a cat for men”, she said.  I’ll leave it to your imagination what is promised if you rub the cat’s tail and won’t say whether I encouraged my Hero to give it a try or told him there was no need

The streets here are all named after the businesses which are to be found there.  So, I know the cat is in Shoemaker’s street, but have no idea what these two signs mean.

Around the corner is the stature for ladies – the mouse, who listens to our wishes and grants them.  Well, yes, of course I gave it a go!  It’s not every day that opportunity comes along.

Back into Theatre Square we went then, where a monument to the German poet Simon Dach had a statue of his lost love (who happened to be his best friend’s wife).  hmm.

And that, was that for Klaipeda.  Pretty nice all round and as we said to Asta, we knew nothing of her country until today and how pleased we were to be here in her company.

She pointed out the statue of the small boy waving goodbye, but he was already attracting a great deal of attention, so we thanked her and came inside.

She gave us each a card and a small souvenir of Klaipeda in the form of a bag of amber chips.  She had told us how these can be soaked in alcohol and a teaspoonful of the resulting elixir will work wonders of any ailment.  Now we have the magic ingredient, maybe we’ll give it a try.

What a great day!