Žmonės is the People magazine of Lithuania (the name even means "people.") I don't know how they found out that I was going to South Korea to support my Kalnų Ereliai skier Ieva Januškevičiūtė in her second Olympics (I really should have asked) but a few weeks ago I got a request in my inbox for an interview. Of course, I agreed (who doesn't want to be in People magazine?) And just a couple of days before I took off for Seoul, the issue came out on the newsstands.
How a Sunday photography club spawned a friendship with photographer Šarūnė Kajietė that led to a book editing opportunity that blossomed to an article in Lithuanian Heritage about a farm-to-table restaurant in Užupis.
The idea for Adrenalin started with an email from Del Olsen to a few interested parties. The subject line read, “A Crazy Idea.” In the email, proposed putting together a consortium of like-minded dinghy sailors (Del sails International Canoes) to purchase a boat fit to race to Hawaii. The response was as fast and as sure as a summer squall: Not so crazy an idea after all!
By early Fall 2014, Del along with I14 sailors Greg Mitchell, Kirk Twardowski, and Andy Bates had found the boat they wanted, a Custom Santa Cruz 50 built in South Africa and currently residing in Southern California. Adrenalin was in good shape with an extensive inventory of sails and a lengthy racing resumé—she can be seen in the Disney documentary Morning Light at the start of the 2007 Transpac. By Thanksgiving, Adrenalin was at the dock at the Richmond Yacht Club, which is where I met her. I told Del, “If you need a good snacktician, I’m raising my hand!”
In Sochi, we measured everything in hot dogs. The concessions inside the Olympic venues were limited, to say the least, and the hot dogs were the most appealing. A “classic” hot dog with ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise was 150 rubles. The specialty hot dogs, which included the “Brooklyn,” covered in melted cheese product and bits of bacon, and the “Manhattan” with ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise, as well as fried onion bits and pickles, cost 200 rubles. Because it's extremely difficult to comprehend that an American hot dog covered with baked beans (the “Boston”) could cost over $6 in Russia, we simply ignored the conversion rate and measured the world in specialty hot dogs.
In Lithuanian, the word užupis means “beyond the river,” though the Vilnelė River, which divides Užupis from the Vilnius Old Town, is more of a winding creek. In 1997, a group of bohemian artists and writers declared the neighborhood independent and founded the People’s Republic of Užupis. Independence Day is April 1st, and a sign marking the entrance to the district features four distinct symbols including a smiley face and the Mona Lisa warning you of “art ahead.”
There are ducks in New Zealand that mate for life. I don't remember their name. The female has a white head, and the male a black one and we first saw them while kayaking in Milford Sound. In Christchurch, they stroll through the Botanic Gardens in pairs, resting in the sun on the banks of the Avon River.
Christchurch has been accused of being "too English"... but that is precisely what I like about it. A European city of turn-of-the-century stone buildings with cozy sidewalk cafes and quaint English punts taking tourists along the river, situated on the shore of the South Pacific and protected on the west by the Southern Alps.
I spent the 2009 Southern Hemisphere winter coaching young ski racers at Turoa Ski Area on the south side of Mt. Ruapehu, New Zealand.
Mt. Ruapehu is famous for its crazy, nasty weather and I got a taste of it last Friday. At the base of the ski area, it was raining, but at the top of the first lift, it was snowing with visibility limited to about fifty meters. We'd already missed two days that week due to bad weather, so we had to take what we could get. At least it wasn't windy.
After more than five years of living, working, and enjoying life in Vilnius, it is time for me to move on. By the time this magazine goes to press, I’ll already be in New Zealand, where I will spend the “summer” coaching a local ski club. I do intend to return next winter to Lithuania to coach the Kalnų Ereliai ski team and hopefully to resume writing this column, but for the moment, it’s time for this little lietuvaitė to pack her bags and learn to speak Kiwi.
Six months after packing up my apartment in Colorado, I was finally on my way to my new home in Vilnius. I was moving on a hunch. I had no apartment, no job, and only a few contacts, but I had a passport and a gut feeling that told me my future was in Lithuania.
“Why?”
It was a question often asked. Why would a nature-loving ski racer want to move to a country with long, dark winters and no mountains? Why would an American want to move to Lithuania? I went through a whole list of responses: I always wanted to live in Europe, Lithuania will soon be part of the European Union, I don’t want to be a nature or sports photographer, I’m tired of cramming my feet into ski boots. Finally, I just answered, “Why not?” And that usually satisfied even the most curious inquisitor.
