The Curonian Spit. My favourite spot in Lithuania

A romantic place with candles and wine glasses in the night, a lighthouse in the background and endless hills of sand, accompanied by forests of divinely smelling pine trees. This is how I see my favourite spot in Lithuania – the Curonian Spit (also called the peninsula of Neringa). The Curonian Spit is a strip of sandy land between the Baltic Sea and continental Lithuania. I am not the only one to think that this place is very special, it has a National park status and is also recognised by Unesco. The writer Rokas Flick nicely called it “A Nordic Sahara” in his novel.

It is so narrow that from the highest points you can see water on both sides: the Baltic Sea on the right, and on the left the laguna, which is a sort of big lake. These dunes used to move a lot in the past, and, sadly, some historical fishermen villages have been buried under the sand. People made a lot of effort to grow some vegetation and prevent the dunes from moving so much.

There are four villages inside this National Park of Neringa: Juodkrante, Pervalka, Preila and Nida. Since I was born, we used to spend all summer holidays in a summer villa in the woods and playing on wild beaches. When I go to the Curonian Spit, I always say that I am going to Nida. It is just my habit. Actually, I stay in the middle between Pervalka and Preila, two much smaller villages. Somehow, I feel most connected with Nida even if physically I stay a  few kilometres away. Nida is the most known in the Curonian Plit, the oldest, the biggest. This is where I used to meet my friends. But I would not call any of them better than the other, they are all great. Actually, this year (in 2020) I was overwhelmed how much renovated and cosy the smallest two villages, Pervalka and Preila, became.

The wild lonely beach of most of my summers is probably the main reason why I love calm and peaceful holidays, I adore getting out of beaten paths, and I don’t get impressed by the very renowned, but crowded and chaotic (how I see it) beaches of Rimini, Miami or Honolulu. On my beach, if one can still see the colour of the swimming suit of the closest neighbour, he/she is too close and walks further away. It is ridiculous, I can see it now but this is how it has always been.

My beach still has the finest sand but is not cleaned from stones like the official beaches.

Also, there is no paved street, bars along the way, or people selling ice-cream on the beach. What is maybe a nightmare for some, is a paradise for others.

This August, it felt a bit different. At least 20 cars were parked around our sandy road in the woods. People, mostly with dogs, or those who prefer sunbath naked come by car from further away to more empty beaches to get their highly desired privacy.

One of the most special things about Curonian Spit is something I cannot photograph: the smell. As soon as you crossover the canal with the ferry and land on the Curonian Spit, you get surrounded by pine tree forests. It smells divine. Something like a Christmas tree but also mixed with the salty sea breeze and added warm sand flavour. It never gets too hot, therefore the air is super light. Pure light-weight oxygen with a summery breezy pine aroma. If I could pack this smell into some candles, these would be my favourites.

I spent in Curonian Spit the first thirty-one summers of my life. After four years of gap, I am back, slowly walking the sandy hills in Nida and I cannot stop whispering the song about the Nida’s lighthouse (Mamontovas “Nidos daina”).

“Mom, how to get to the lighthouse? We used to walk with my school friends everywhere here and up to the lighthouse but now I forgot the road”. My mom glares at me and asks all the names who was that “gang”. “I did not know that you all used to meet here”, she says. Oh, mom, you do not know many things… but I have the most precious young age memories from the Curonian Spit. And we were such a cool and I would say an intelligent gang of good kids. Even being teenagers we had a lot of respect to this place, nature and its romantic, calm vibe.

But I don’t know many things either. “Why a few times we had to run and hide from some people on the beach when I was a little girl?”, I ask my mom. At first, she does not understand. She forgot that I was already alive and able to remember things from the Soviet times. I clearly remember playing on the beach, probably 4 years old, and out of sudden running through the clumsy sand towards bushes and forest behind them to hide. Once we were lying on our stomachs behind the hill and watching people pass by (little did I know, those were government people). It happened a few times at least. With my grandparents and my parents. They did not tell me details but as a child, I could still perceive some panic in adults faces. It was before 1990, before Lithuanian independence and back in Soviet times. “We could have to get arrested if we were caught sunbathing on the wild beach,” she says. It was prohibited. Not a big crime to sunbathe on the sand, but nobody wanted to have problems. I didn’t know that story but she says that my father was caught once and even got hurt on his back with a sharp metal tip of the gun by a Soviet military soldier. For sunbathing! Those were the Soviet times and travelling or simply walking anywhere you wanted was only a dream.

In general, back then all Curonian Spit was closed zone for most citizens. My mom is still not clear if it was because of several Soviet military stations located along the Curonian Spit, or because of the sea which could have been seen as a gate to escape. The Baltic Sea is not so big, and on the other side there was Sweden, representing the whole Western world, and most importantly Freedom. After Nida, quite close there is a border with Russia. Currently (in 2020), it is closed.

In spite of the fact that we had family members living in Nida, and, later, that we were allowed to use a summer-house which belonged to the company where my father worked (actually to Soviet government – there was no other type but public companies in the communistic Soviet Union), our family, in order to visit Nida, still had to apply for special permission from the government and Soviet police. It was not granted at all that we would get it. However, even people with the special permission to enter the Curonian Spit were not allowed to mingle outside five little villages – resorts and their official beach territories. But our house was outside the villages, and the walkable beach was only the wild one. Apparently, my family risked a bit going there.

In 2020, the peninsula of Neringa is open for everybody, though it is a National park and the number of hotels is very limited. I note that due to limited places and more people willing to spend a few days here, it became the most expensive place in Lithuania. More and more people appreciate calm holidays on this sandy peninsula. I refuse to call it posh, I hope it will not become a place for rich people. I rather see it as a place of art people, actors, singers, writers. There is some activity organised like a jazz festival, some romantic music concerts, but the most listened melody is one of the sea waves and breeze passing through pine trees, birds, maybe some bicycle passing, here and there kids playing, a ball arching the beach net. It is the most peaceful place I know.

I went to the sandy hills (also called dead desert) between Pervalka and Juodkrante villages. There was a family on a caravan from Italy. Exotic guests in this land. Neringa is not (yet and I hope never will be) an international touristic place. A handful of Germans visit the Curonian Spit each year. For centuries, this land belonged to Prussia. Now, it belongs to my dreams. I wish to come here more often.

With love from Neringa.

Visited: every summer in 1983-2015, last time in August 2020

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