In 2004, I visited all 25 countries in Eastern Europe. You'll find the blog entries from that trip here. In 2008-2011, I returned to see what had changed since that time. With these two visits, five years apart, I accumulated enough material for my 750-page book, The Hidden Europe: What Eastern Europeans Can Teach Us.
This blog now has many excerpts from The Hidden Europe. But who the hell reads anymore? Just look at the best photos from Eastern Europe!
This map reflects how I define Eastern Europe. Eastern Europeans love to deny that they're in Eastern Europe. I tackle how and why I define Eastern Europe the way I do in the Introduction of The Hidden Europe.
Places I saw and recommend in Lithuania: Vilnius and Kaunas. If you have extra time, visit the Curonian Spit and the Hill of Crosses.
When I finally arrived in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, I was blown away by its beauty, history, and elegance. The streets are enchanting and its architecture is spectacular. Founded on Gediminas Hill (which has a thirteenth-century castle on it), Vilnius’s Old Town is a maze of adorable streets with baroque churches everywhere you look. It was built on a swamp and some of the buildings are below street level. The Aušros Vartai (Gates of Dawn) is the only surviving gate of the original nine that encircled the city. The only reason that particular gate is still standing is that it has a Virgin Mary icon embedded in it. Russians feared destroying the gate, believing that God would punish them. Of course, God punished them anyway when He let communism happen.
After straying a bit from the main tourist spots in Vilnius, I accidentally entered another country. Few tourists know that there is a separate republic in a bohemian district of Vilnius. It is neither as well known as the Vatican, nor as serious. In fact, it’s a complete joke. A few years ago the people of Vilnus’s Užupis district declared independence, forming the Užupis Republic. Its people elected a President, wrote an anthem, and designed four flags (one each season). They have a not-so-grand palace, an army of 17, and a national holiday (April 1). On April Fools Day, comical guards protect the bridge and stamp everyone’s passport.
Places I saw and recommend in Latvia: Rīga, Cēsis, Gauja National Park, Turaida Museum Reserve, and the secluded beaches near Liepaja.
Rīga is one of those towns that give you a sore neck. It’s hard not to spend the whole time craning your neck to scrutinize every intricately sculptured church. In fact, every building is a work of art. If you know where to look, you’ll see Rīga’s famous whimsical melnais kaķis (black cat) on the top of an elegant yellow building. Inviting alleys, cobblestoned streets, and quaint cafés are everywhere. Rīga prides itself as being the jewel of the Baltic. In 2014, it will serve as The European Capital of Culture—a perfect choice.
There’s something to learn from every building. For example, from the mighty Daugava River you can see three steeples dominating the Rīga’s skyline. Built in 1211, the Doma Baznīca (Dome Basilica) is still the biggest cathedral in the Baltic. It had the largest pipe organ in the world in 1884. UNESCO recognized Rīga’s new town (which isn’t that new) as showing off some of the finest examples of Art Nouveau. Gargoyles, goblins, and ghouls seem to watch you wherever you go. St. Peter’s Church is an 800-year-old Gothic masterpiece. The Rātslaukums (Town Hall Square) has the colorful House of the Blackheads, which was built in 1344 and recently had a fresh makeover. It’s seems like an important building, but it’s just where the Blackheads, a guild of unmarried foreign merchants, hooked up with chicks hundreds of years ago.
The Blackheads had another good tradition a few centuries ago that, unfortunately, has gone away. When a Latvian joined a guild, they started out as a tradesman. After spending three to five years as an apprentice, Latvians would travel for three to four years. After those years of wandering, they returned to make a masterpiece in their area of expertise. If the masterpiece was noteworthy, then the apprentice would be accepted into the guild. It’s a pity we don’t do this today. Our educational system underestimates how much young people learn by traveling.
Finland is nearly a perfect society. Everything works. Cities are clean. There is no crime. People are nice. It’s just that the winters suck.
Finland is big and empty. It is 80 percent of the size of California, yet has 14 percent of the population. Most of the five million Finns live in the south, around Helsinki, to enjoy the country’s best weather, which is horrible most of the year. According to a worldwide 2010 Gallup poll, only five percent of Finns thought global warming was a threat to them—that was the lowest rate on Earth.
Few Americans know exactly where Finland is. The answer is simple: it’s where Santa Claus lives. Really. Rovaniemi is a quaint town on the edge of Lapland, the northernmost region in Finland, and is Santa’s global headquarters. However, St. Nick was officially born in Korvatunturi (meaning “Ear Mountain”), which is even farther north. Santa Claus thought that Korvatunturi was a bit too chilly, so he set up shop a bit south of there in Rovaniemi. That’s like moving from Houston to Dallas to escape the heat.
Although most of the world agrees that Finland is where Santa Claus lives, not everyone believes that Finland is part of Scandinavia. Looking at a map, it seems like Finland is in Scandinavia, along with Sweden and Norway. However, Finns told me that Scandinavia has little to do with geography and more to do with the historical, cultural, and linguistic heritage that Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and Iceland share. They said that if you must slap a label on Norway, Sweden, and Finland, then call them Nordic countries. Telling a Finn that he’s from Scandinavia won’t insult him, but telling him that he’s from Eastern Europe will.
Still, maps don’t lie—Finland is directly north of the Baltic states. Given that the Baltic states are solidly in Eastern Europe, that means Finland is in Eastern Europe. Of course, like all Eastern European countries, Finland will vehemently deny that they are in Eastern Europe. Finns will cry that they are in Northern Europe, and that Eastern Europe is a “political concept” that only includes countries that used to be in the Warsaw Pact. Despite their denials, I figured that two weeks in Finland would be a nice warm up for the “real” Eastern Europe. It’s ironic that my “warm up” almost froze me to death.
Read more by reading the preview of The Hidden Europe: What Eastern Europeans Can Teach Us.
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