Klaipeda is like a time warp. Stark concrete buildings and people who look like they are still under Kruschev’s thumb. Women are squat, stocky in droopy housedresses, men are loud boistrous, singing and slapping one another on the back in comradeship. It is afterall Saturday night and we are being serenaded with Lithuanian drinking songs.
Drive from Vilnius was easy on a “freeway.” We are off to explore the Corian Spit tomorrow. Weather has turned hot. The abundant parklike green of frequent showers in Vilnius has been replaced by weeds, wilt and diminished hope.