Thursday, June 21, 2012
BE 3000: vilnius
So, we've decided that this hostel - Jimmy Jumps House - is really creepy. Perhaps it's because we are staying in a construction site, and have to bypass three stairwells to get to our room. All of which are dank and dark, and the room lies away from the main part of the house.
It feels a bit rapey.
It also smells like waffles upstairs and feet downstairs. Waffles and feet. It's a bad dichotomy.
We set out to take in the sites of wonderful Vilnius. Lithuania virtually had it's entire population completely wiped out, and now there are only something like 25 listed Jewish families that live there.
First stop was the Jewish ghetto, which is now in the middle of the Old City and while full of ghosts and a copper bust of a famous rabbi, today it was the helm of tourist clustering.
Also found two stoners have a chouff behind the Jewish ghetto.
We sat for lunch in what could only be described as Provence in Lithuania. The sun was out, I was getting a tan, and we found a Franco-Belgo restaurant with little white tables tumbling onto the streets. We sat drinking pinot and eating courgettes in the sun and it literally felt like we were in the south of France.
There are so many cathedrals here. Yeah, most of Europe is chokkers with cathedrals, but especially here, due to the Catholic influence. During Communism, many of these places were seized and turned into radio stations. Or in some cases, 'atheist museums.' Isn't that crazy to imagine? Communists are just so extreme. Why? I mean couldn't they just have used the churches as ...a flower shop or storage vessel?
Then, while pottering around we discovered this amaaaazing vintage store. Most second hand or charity stores are a bit haphazard, cramped and depending on where they are located, can either contain a whole load of junk, or amongst the detritus, you'll find that Christian Lacroix handbag for a few pounds.
Lithuanian second hand vintage stores? A freaking marshmallow-unicorn infused DREAM. I have never. They smell good (vanillary), they have good music on in the background (important when shopping), everything is dry-cleaned, colour-coded and well looked after. And there is simply mounds of choice. Rail after rail.
By far the best thing - it's unforgivably cheap.
They had a suitcase bulging with silk scarves, equivalent to 50p each. The Dove bought a silk blouse, and I went a bit mental (read: felt like I'd swallowed a handful of mushrooms, I was so excited), and got scarves, a blouse and the most prize item of all:
A jacket. So retro you could brush your teeth with it. A member of the KGB's wife had to have owned it. That wonderful orange-brown pattern as seen in scatter cushions in Standerton. Afrikaans tartan. Looks like the seats of the London Overground. Two quid. Basically there is NOTHING imperfect about this jacket. In fact, it's not a jacket. It's a movie. It's an EPIC.
We found another similar store the next day and also went fucking ballistic. I felt high ruffling through the clothes. It was a frenzy.
And it's currently my favourite and most controversial item of clothing I possess.