From Lithuania Diary:
From the missile base we drove to the Hill of Crosses, a hill in Lithuania where millions and millions of crosses have been erected. It's quite a strange sight indeed. It was bulldozed multiple times by the Soviets, yet sprouted again each time. There are crosses on crosses on crosses. Our old but trustworthy BMW shared the roadways with dozens of hitchhikers angling for rides, with horse-drawn wagons, with people marching to who-knows-where along the roadside, with tractors, with the long-distance busses, with kids selling mushrooms, each with a huge assortment in an overflowing basket.
On Saturday I rented a bicycle and took the ferry from Klaipeda down to the Curonian Spit, cycled to the fine-grain whitesand beaches, waded in the cold waters of the Baltic, searched for amber but found only what must be "fool's amber," some amber-colored hard stone that also washes up on the beaches. Bicycled all day through the forests, to the huge dunes, nearly to the russian border. In the forests Lithuanians pass quietly, gathering mushrooms: pensioners, children with manifest elfen genes, middle aged people too. They have baskets overflowing with huge mushrooms. You don't see them till you stop and then you notice them gliding through the forests. Watched the sunset over the Baltic.
On the ferry back to Klaipeda I saw in the port, highlighted by the setting sun, the vast Scandlines ferry, the ferry that sails daily from Klaipeda to Karlshamn, a Swedish city near Kristianstad, down in the southern bit of Sweden by Malmö. Malmö is the way home, and here was a ride, so close at hand. ...
( maps of southern lithuania and the baltic region )