This was in some respects a difficult trip. The weight of WWII and the genocide of Lithuanian Jews hung heavily on all of us as we learned that Kaunas once had 25 synagogues but now had only one; that Vilnius, the capital city, had over 100 synagogues and now had only one; that Lithuanians had collaborated with the Germans in rounding up Jews into ghettos and slaughtering them; that over 97% of the Jewish community in Lithuania had been killed (over 250,000 men, women and children).
When we visited the Tolerance Center in Vilnius (which was devoted to Lithuanian Jewish history), we learned that the president of Lithuania apologized in the 1990s for the atrocities but was condemned by a number of newspapers for supposedly undermining the cause of Lithuanian nationalism. When Mark read this, he started crying, saying he wanted to leave Lithuania; he was only comforted when a museum employee assured him that this incident represented the view of only a small minority of Lithuanians.
Nonetheless, Bill and I were troubled by the visible signs that Lithuania didn’t seem willing to integrate fully the history of its Jewish population and genocide into its national narratives. So the National Museum in Lithuania included, as far as we could see, no mention of Jewish contributions to Lithuanian culture. The KGB Museum or as it is called “The Genocide Museum” described the brutality of both the German and the Soviet occupation of Lithuania but included almost no mention of the Holocaust. Lithuania’s Holocaust museum was a small house shadowed in a park. Because it was undergoing renovation, we weren’t able to see it.
In the basement of the KGB museum were the interrogation rooms where Lithuanian nationalists who were deemed a threat to the Soviet Union were imprisoned or killed. (Engraved on the side of the building, in fact, the names of those killed in the building.) The museum captions noted that the cells were painted frequently to make it more difficult for the inmates to communicate with each other by marking the walls.
Especially disturbing was the padded prison cell. The first floor showcased the German and Soviet invasions of Lithuania, as well as the tactics used by the Lithuanian resistance, and the top story focused on KGB surveillance techniques as well as life for Lithuanian political prisoners. What I found most moving were the mementos painstakingly handcrafted by Lithuanian prisoners sent to Siberian work camps.
Since Lithuania didn’t gain its independence from the Soviets until 1991, most people born before that period didn’t learn English. A number of young people we met, however, did know English.
Some of the most memorable aspects of the National Museum included an exhibit on Lithuanian folk music featuring instruments that we had never seen before—afterwards, I (Bill here) wanted to find out what these instruments sounded like. Also showcased were ragged remnants of the uniforms worn by Napoleon’s armies as they passed through Lithuania in the early 1800s.
I wondered at first why political prisoners seem so often to be detained in basement cells. Probably the lack of sunlight in a basement cell is considered dispiriting, and thus is a tool meant to break the inmates. Presumably the basement location helps hide the sights and sounds of such prisoners from the public. Or perhaps the people who run such prisons feel secretly ashamed and seek to conceal it as much as possible from themselves.
Lithuanian Nationalists Uniforms and Weapons, KGB or "Genocide Museum."
Diaries and photo albums made by Lithuanian Nationalist prisoners in Siberian prison camps, KGB Museum, Vilnius
The Holocaust Museum in Vilnius
The plaque identifying the Holocaust Museum in Vilnius
The front door of the KGB or "Genocide Museum"
Walter in front of a diorama of the Battle of Grunwald, National Museum, Vilnius
Lithuanian Nationalists Uniforms and Weapons, KGB or "Genocide Museum."
Diaries and photo albums made by Lithuanian Nationalist prisoners in Siberian prison camps, KGB Museum, Vilnius
The Holocaust Museum in Vilnius
That's Walter at the bottom; he nearly fell into the Skagerrak Strait, which connects to the North Sea. (I had said the North Sea, but Bill said it was technically the Skagerrak Strait. We're still debating.) 
See, mom, there are older people who go on rigorous hikes:) We're getting you hiking poles for X-mas! When we reached this viewing spot, instead of contemplating the rugged beauty of the vista, the first thing Mark said was, "Where are the waffles?" We had heard from other hikers that there were cottages that served waffles and ice cream near the look out spot, and as we hiked down the rocks, we found the cottages where Mark and Walter promptly gobbled up two servings of waffles and raspberry jam.
