- Sitting in the Minister of Information’s office, being asked what I suggested his country do to gain admittance to the European Union.
- Being left in The Colonel’s car in the middle of Soviet block housing for hours in the freezing cold while my Dad and The Colonel delivered care packages to people.
- Pounding on my Dads’ aunt and uncle’s door unannounced at 1am, and staying up for four hours with them and their daughters as they prepared an impromptu family reunion party.
- Hiking up to the top of a cobblestone path on a broken ankle to get a view of Vilnius, panorama-style.
In rereading this entry, and the previous entries about my trip, I’ve realized it may sound like I am whining. Far from it.
This was an experience I am grateful for. Traveling with my Dad to his homeland enabled me to understand him so much better. Seeing the museums, eating the food, hearing the music, all rendered a terribly potent appreciation for my heritage far more than before.
Meeting the incredibly warm, hospitable, funny, and smart people has made me proud to be called Lithuanian.