Marriages: Lithuanians seem to indulge enthusiastically in marital performances. Innumerable brides were sighted during the course of a single weekend, and the number of prospective brides enrolled in what appeared to be bachelor parties taking place in broad day light was also impressive. Such parties apparently involve groups of scantily clad girls roaming the streets of the city and addressing innocent bystanders with propositions which I could not clearly understand. It was all rather bizarre. On a more normal vein, one of the things that the newlyweds apparently like to do here is to attach a padlock with the couple’s name and date to the gates of one of the bridges over the Vilna River. A nice touch (though perhaps a pair of handcuffs would make a more appropriate marital symbol).
Odd couples: Many Lithuanian women seem to go through great pains in order to look like super-models, and while walking on the street they seem to be on their own private, imaginary runway. Lithuanian men, on the other hand, look rather more carefree and light-hearted about their own appearance, and seem perfectly content with a sleeveless shirt, shorts and a pair of slippers. This disparity leads to some rather odd couplings, and one can only imagine what a photographer like Martin Parr, the author of “Bored Couples”, would do if he ever came to Vilnius.
Finally, one cannot fail to notice the archways embedded in many buildings, leading to inner patios, which, sometimes, lead themselves to other passages and further patios, wormholing across the city, allowing you to shortcut swiftly from one neighbourhood to another.These patios, like many other buildings in Vilnius, often look somewhat run down, if not outright abandoned, with piles of debris scattered around and the grass growing freely, sometimes actually from the inside of buildings. 
It may look rather unusual at first, though I actually found something familiar about these sites, maybe because the backyard of the home where I grew up has itself fallen into a similar state a disrepair for quite some time now, mirroring the joint collapse of my parents, her growing indifference to the outside world, his long slide into forgetfulness. Yet, I can’t help thinking that there is something blissful about this silent and irrepressible eruption of vegetation that not even the heavy stone slabs can withhold and that, in some places, seems poised to engulf the human constructions forever.
postcardsfromvilnius 