I Have Been to Ignalina
Last year around this time, I visited Ignalina, Lithuania, on a sunny, warm Saturday afternoon. Ignalina is a city of about 5,600 people. During Soviet times, there was a nuclear power plant there. The plant (which apparently bore similarities in design and construction to the one at Chernobyl) was shut down as one of the conditions that allowed Lithuania to join the EU. The train from Vilnius took a couple of hours, passing through small towns and lots of productive-looking farmland.
Upon arrival in Ignalina, a half-dozen people exited the train with me and quickly dispersed into the town. I started wandering.
I walked up and down the main streets. There weren’t a lot of people around. I walked up and down most of the other streets. Not a lot of people there, either.
I didn’t see anything that would be traditionally considered interesting.
There were apartment buildings, and small houses. A few stores, an auto repair shop. A woman walked by on the sidewalk. Two kids played in a yard. Everything was clean and neat. Just outside of town, there was a nice lake, surrounded by nice trees.
After wandering for a while, I was getting a little hungry, but I realized I hadn’t seen any restaurants. I walked up and down a few more streets: seriously, no restaurants. Even in places where you’d expect them, like around the town square and near the train station, no restaurants.
(After my visit, I searched “restaurants Ignalina” and TripAdvisor’s link said “We’re sorry, Ignalina doesn’t have any restaurants.” I just checked again, and it still says that.)
I did find a Maxima grocery store, so I went in and bought some smoked fish, bread, and a large can of Svyturys beer .
I walked back to the nice lake and had a nice picnic. A guy was fishing from a boat. Another guy rode by on a bicycle.
Reflectively enjoying the peaceful scene, it struck me that I hadn’t seen any motels in town, either. This prompted me to hustle back to the train station, to make sure that I didn’t miss the last train back to Vilnius. (TripAdvisor lists a few “inns” but none that a wandering American would recognize by sight as lodging.)
The train arrived. I had been in Ignalina for four hours.
Back in Vilnius, most Lithuanians reacted to my day-trip with bemusement:
“I went to Ignalina on Saturday,” I’d tell them.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, it was on the train line, and I hadn’t been to that part of your country.”
“What did you do there?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh. Yes. I don’t know anyone who’s been to Ignalina.”
Others were, at first, a little indignant: how dare I waste a day in such an uncelebrated place? I’d quickly tell them that I’d also been to Nida (celebrated for Baltic Sea beaches and dunes and a national park full of wildlife) and to Druskininkai (celebrated for arboreal quaintness and an abundance of spas), and they’d be satisfied that I’d experienced the Lithuania of which they were proud.
Either way, it became as aspect of my identity: “This is Ed, he’s a visiting American professor. And he has been to Ignalina.”
That’s right. I have been to Ignalina. I didn’t see anything that would be traditionally considered interesting. But it was delightful. And it is now part of who I am.
