More About People

July 13


I had quite different people experiences today. Yes, I still stick with my initial generalization of people being unfriendly and unapproachable and maybe that’s what caused me to be feeling lonely today. I camped last night in the Zemaitija National Park. I had this idea of me camping in my national park and it would be beautiful and peaceful and I would be at one with nature and maybe I’d feel some tribal roots beating in my inner being. (Ok. I’m exaggerating just a little bit, but I was being open to such experience, you never know). Anyway, it’s not what I’d expected. The park is beautiful, yes and the nature wild and tame at the same time. The little enclaves of villages or farms are weathered and wonderfully old and simple. There’s a definite sense of culture there with their totems and little shrines all carved out of wood. But the people have quite a different idea of camping and experiencing nature. I turned down the first campground because there were way too many people there. Far too noisy, far too loud. I ended up finding one on the other side of the main lake that was on the back field of a farm. The lady and I discussed the terms each in our own language and with hand signs. There were less people here and I considered an area where no one had yet pitched a tent. Instead, I chose the area where some families had set up thinking I could hear the language and not be such a loner.

Well, two people actually came over to talk to me. One man asked if I wanted help pitching my tent. I accepted even though I was practically done but I was impressed. Later, after I’d eaten and was reading my book, a father and daughter who were kicking a ball around together ended up in my ‘territory’ and so he struck up a little conversation. The first guy spoke English and the second German. So that was very lovely.

Otherwise the experience was not so much fun. Their idea of camping is much different than mine. They're very loud. People talking loudly till very late. A group of young guys having a drinkfest. I’m not sure they ever went to sleep. They were still drinking and staggering around at 7 in the morning and playing hip hop on their car radio loud and earley and then going for a joy ride across the farmer’s field. And all this on a Sunday morning! They camped up in that loner section I’d considered. Good thing I had decided against it. There was a wedding going on at the little hotel down the way. It was very loud and even after the music had stopped at around 2 you could hear singing for hours after that. Part of that was kind of fun to imagine. I think there may have been one quiet hour all night. I was glad to leave there and after all that I felt lonely.

I decided to walk around Platelai, the main town. I hadn’t seen the church or the manor or the witch’s ash tree when I drove through the day before so I went to do some exploring. On my way back to the car I heard a woman say something in English, though she seemed to belong to the house I had just walked by. I asked her. Turns out she and her husband are missionaries from Canada and her name is Karen. She invited me to come for lunch though they’d go to church first. So I went to church too. I realized it was the perfect thing for getting over my lonely feeling.

The church service was interesting. The church rather was interesting. An old wooden board church, built very simply but inside it was furnished quite ornately. Catholic. The service followed the lilt of a Catholic mass. I, of course, didn’t understand a thing but Karen had printed the readings out for me in English. The music was sung mostly by a choir though some congregation members joined in on the things they knew. There was a bit of a feel of the shaped-note singing tradition which I found cool. I was easily able to pick up the tune or a harmony and would hum along. The little, old lady, babushka oma sitting next to me was so sweet. She realized who I must be when Karen brought the readings over to me (a visitor who didn't understand the language). She chit chattered with me and took my arm and hand at one point too and gave it a squeeze. It was almost like we were kindred spirits. The first pew I went to sit down in I’d been kicked out of because I was sitting in someone’s seat. Apparently some people have actually paid to have their own seat!

Lunch with Karen and Randy, their granddaughter and their son-in-law, was very nice. So hospitable. Interestingly enough they are evangelical pentacostals who have converted (by choice) to Catholicism and go to this very old, traditional Lithuanian church. I don’t imagine that happens very often. They’re in Lithuania through an inter-denominational group though and work with young people mostly and are setting up a retreat centre in Platelai. I was very glad to meet them and it came at just the right time.

Then I headed to the south end of the park where there is a Zemaite museum. Zemaite is a very famous writer from the late 18, early 1900s from Zemaitija. I learned, in a very comical way, that her name was actually Julija but her pen name is Zemaite. This museum is in the middle of nowhere and you take a forest dirt path to get there. A man I asked for directions was very friendly and showed me the way, his wife then explained a bit to me in English…she having understood that I understood and he still trying to insist on explaining was cute too.
When I arrived at the museum there was a group of women having tea out on the porch. They invited me to join them and they fetched one of their husbands who had a bit of German knowledge. He had learned it 50 years ago at school. He knew enough though that we were able to make heads and tails out of several conversations and the tour through the museum. They were very sweet and we laughed a lot. They made tea out of some freshly picked herbs, and I had to have some of their homemade bacon and cheese. And the cheese with homemade jam on top. That tasted amazing and cherries in the backyard were ready to pick and be eaten.
They were intrigued with my Schemeit/Schemaiten story. I’ve told a few people of our theory about how the Schemeits got their name and mostly I’m met with skepticism. But they were quite intrigued and thought it was cool that Zemaite and I practically had the same name. We had a very lovely afternoon. And though it meant I didn’t see as much of the park as I’d intended to, it didn’t matter, because this was just perfect.