Vilnius, Jerusalem of the North
True free will among the elderly
I wake up with the optimistic idea that today must be better than yesterday, if only because it can't get any worse: my episode Duel has been critically bad, and it’s highly unlikely I’ll undergo something similar, at least for the rest of this trip — which can't be much longer, by the way, for I am about to enter Poland and in about two weeks or so I'll arrive back home. To guarantee myself a good rest and overcome my anxiety, last night I took a good dose of stupefying pills, the hard stuff; so, it was long past noon when I woke up today, and only because the cleaning lady was banging on my door. Since it was a bit too late for hitting the road, and a rainy day, I chose to play tourism and stay here until tomorrow.
Today I don't feel like looking for alternative places nor the unbeaten track, so I just take the recommended route in the tourist city map. But before that, I pop into a patisserie and indulge myself to a honey-sweetened ginger brew (a regional speciality I came to love long ago) plus a tasty vol-au-vent. As I am sitting, enjoying my cup, a customer comes it, an old lady. Being saluted by the assistants, she doesn't bother to answer nor even look at them; instead, she goes to the counter and begin checking all the pastries behind the showglass, inspecting them slowly from end to end. Then, upon deciding that nothing interests her, she turns back and walks her way out, not saying goodbye nor looking at anyone, leaving the door open, exactly the same as cats do: they mind their own business and care for no one. Certainly an odd person; and nonetheless, she has made me realize how much I envy, oftentimes, the attitude of elderly people towards society. They're perhaps the only ones who can afford to be genuinely sincere. Not expecting much from this life any more, not trying to charm nor captivate anyone, they can't care less about what others may think; they've already left behind the time for vanity or enticement, competition or boast; whichever their role in life was, they have either already played it, or accepted their time is over. Except for their beloved ones (and sometimes even to those), they don't mind to disappoint others, to be disliked. Of course not all old people are like this, but I believe that only among them can we find the paradigm of true free will, way above primary impulses — mostly reproductive. The rest of us are in some way or other noticeably influenced by our instinct and ambitions, which prevents us from being ourselves.
Vilnius, despite the growing tourism, its university and being a UNESCO world heritage, still preserves the charm of the old times, and the signs of the socialist failure are still fresh.
A sputtering tramway stops by me. When the dislocated doors open, I see the coach operator: she is a beautiful, fresh, glowing, big blue-eyed young lady, blond as wheat. In my country a girl like that would be an actress, a model or, at the very least, a receptionist in some luxury hotel. Here in the Slavlands beauties drive tramways.
This Jerusalem of the North — as Napoleon allegedly named it after the many Jews living here in those times — is today almost taken by Polish and Russians, and those are the languages —besides of course Lithuanian— I most hear around. As a matter of fact, those nations have for centuries contended over this city, and the time is still fresh when Russians and Poles in Vilnius outnumbered the natives. Since the middle ages and up to our days, this has been one of the most charismatic enclaves in Eastern Europe; but today, seduced by the big commerce, international franchises and shopping centres, it's quickly moving with the times and losing its uniqueness. Like everywhere else, in fact. Soon it will be just another bulwark of consumption... to the great joy of its citizens.
Uzupis is a neighbourhood they jokingly call an ‘Independent Republic’, and is separated from the rest of the city by the quiet and peaceful river Vilnia, whereof the capital name comes. Watching this almost idyllic river, surrounded by greenery, at the foot of the Seven Hills, I can't help thinking that, had I had something like this in my childhood, what a thrill it would have been! What an amazing, unbeatable scenery for us suburb boys to run teenage adventures!