The canola was in its spring bloom in the Baltics in May. The vast fields of vivid yellow against the brilliant blue sky created a natural Ukrainian flag.
Yellow and blue flags are omnipresent across Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. The Balts are incensed and frightened by Russia’s unwarranted war against their fellow former Soviet state. Large protest installments are blockaded outside the Russian embassies. Blood is on Putin’s hands, the signs read.

The Balts stand as irreproachable examples of the destructive and heinous nature of the Russian government’s incursion.

“You can never trust the Russians,” a new Latvian friend told us emphatically. “You never trust them!”
The small Baltic governments are sending whatever aid they can to Ukraine. Latvia is confiscating drunken drivers’ vehicles and sending them to Ukraine. “We could be next if Ukraine loses,” our friend said. As in WWII, they are counting, praying, on the U.S. world power to help them save their democracies.






It was a realization for me that America chose what it saw as the lesser of two evils to ally with in WWII. As soon as that war ended, we began the Cold War, and we sure did take our time with that cause. The gratitude for the U.S. is palpable in these countries and the hope is nearly desperate.



Indeed, the Balts suffered immensely under Russian control in multiple periods of time. And, in between, they suffered mightily under German control. Their freedom has been in very brief periods and is currently fiercely held. They’re watching Russia like hawks, and they’re praying Americans will stand behind them because they believe Russians know no end.
One of our drivers pointed between the vibrant yellow canola fields to the lush green farmland, intermittently punctuated by a lone oak tree and often marked by a large cross (often stone) near the road.
Locals know each of these trees by the surnames of the families that once owned and farmed the surrounding land. The oak trees once grew next to their homes until the Soviets occupied the countries and nationalized the land, meaning people no longer lived on or owned their farms and properties.
The Soviets relocated or deported them. Their homes were destroyed, leaving the lone oaks to mark where they once lived.
Our Lithuanian driver, Lennis, said his own grandfather had his farm taken. He was allowed to continue farming it for the Soviets, but he couldn’t live there. Each year, KGB records from 70 years prior are released by Russia. The family finally found that the KGB had a file on his grandfather, but don’t know why he wasn’t deported to Siberia.
Previous to him, Lennis’s great-grandfather also farmed that land. But he was conscripted, forced to fight for the Russian czar for 25 years. Twenty-five years.
As World War I evolved, the Baltics swung from Russian to German control, and finally achieved a very brief time of independence. That ended when it again came under Soviet control, then Nazi occupation during WWII, then back to the Soviets.
The Soviets killed and deported tens of thousands of people that had been forced to fight for the Nazis; the Nazis wiped out Jewish quarters and killed and deported tens of thousands of people that had been forced to fight for the Soviets.
The abhorrent stories fill the impressive, sobering Occupation Museum in Riga, Latvia.
The black Soviet-looking building full of the horrors the Balts endured is out of place in the city’s beautiful old town. Its contents are central to the Balts’ current frame of mind. Its contents are absolutely gut wrenching and eye opening.



But the courage they show is incredible. These people are crying out to the rest of the world to recognize human evil.
In northern Lithuania, the Hill of Crosses stands as a monument of the peaceful endurance and the desired religious freedom of the Lithuanians. It also became a continuing silent protest against the Russians. The amazing undulating collection of thousands and thousands of various crosses, packed like bristling hair on the modest hill, is stunning in its simplicity.






But its history is the true inspiration. The Soviets repeatedly bulldozed this place and all traces of religious teachings. (In the Baltics, they turned churches into atheist museums where they taught the evils of religion.)
But the faithful repeatedly recreated it. They snuck undercover in the night and replaced the crosses, never allowing them to disappear – as so many of the people did.
It wasn’t new to the Balts. In Latvia, we learned that in 1577, 300 Latvians chose to blow themselves up in the Siege of Cesis Castle rather than face the Russians and Ivan the Terrible. This mass suicide by four barrels of gunpowder is now an extremely poignant moment in an animated history told in the castle’s still-incredible ruins.
In Estonia, there is a strict Estonian language requirement test to remain in country. A young Russian driver we met, who had been critical of the Russian government via social media, had not been able to pass it and was terrified of his return to Russia and his likelihood of being conscripted into its army to fight in Ukraine.
On visa to study in Estonia, Boris, 26, had finished his BA and had an Estonian girlfriend. But because they weren’t married, he was scheduled to be deported in June.
His great-grandfather was a Soviet scientist who helped with the cosmonaut program.
All Russians aren’t bad, Boris told us. But some bad Russians can stay in Estonia because they can speak the language, he said. He was driving Bolt, which is a Baltic type of Uber, in a Mercedes E class paid for by his parents.
“I don’t know what to do. I can’t go anywhere else. The government has my passport,” he said. “If I’m sent back, I’ll be conscripted and I’ll have to go to fight.”
Another new Lithuanian friend told us about how he and his wife had planned to go to a large tourism promotion event in New York prior to the Russian invasion. The Baltics were on course at the time to continue to skyrocket in tourism.
They planned to leave their two children with family. The world was normal.
Then the Russians invaded Ukraine.
Then their world fell apart. They couldn’t leave their children for fear of never seeing them again. They stockpiled provisions in their basement and they are waiting, afraid Russia will invade them next.
This person took us around for a day. He shared his history, which for him is current.
When he was a child, he and his parents took busses to be a part of the “Baltic Way” on Aug. 23, 1988. In the waning days of the Soviet occupation, 2 million Balts joined hands to form a human chain through all three states to protest Soviet occupation. It was a bold, courageous move given the repercussions that could have resulted under the authoritarian regime. But for some reason, the Soviets allowed the states to slowly emerge over the next few years.
Solidarity protests were held in cities worldwide, and the Baltic Way is credited with stimulating the German reunification process.
Our friend told us how he heard the Soviet bombing in the night and of his fear. But his pride in being part of this enormous chain was empowering. Adam and I recollected seeing news reports on the human chain, but I’m not sure most Americans can now appreciate the bravery it took to make that happen.
Just a few years later, these heroic people obtained their freedom. I hope they keep it.
Some asides:
Beaver was an unexpected menu item. Beavers are abundant in the Baltics; they have a beaver hunting season. They also have cages around trees near waterways, so the beavers don’t destroy them. They’re pesky buggers, and not too bad on the palate.





Residents of a portion of Vilnius in Lithuania have taken their love of democracy to another level.
They created their own.
The Republic of Uzupis is an art colony full of shops, restaurants, and residences. Here, anyone can just declare their role: mayor, councilman, clown.




There is even an Uzupis Constitution, which includes 41 inalienable rights. Many are funny, such as the right for dogs to act like dogs. But there is also the right to be happy, and the right to be unhappy, the right to have faith, the right to not fight back, and the right to not surrender.
We randomly experienced an extremely joyous moment in Latvian history.
Tiny Latvia, population less than 2 million, happened to be playing the U.S. in the World Hockey championship. Large screens and seating filled the main square. And people. Tons of people, singing and chanting and cheering.
We got seats at an outside restaurant and watched the fun. The game went into overtime and the Latvians scored! The crowd went absolutely wild, jumping, screaming, hugging, crying.



Let me put this in perspective. It was like a very small high school team of only local boys beating the Pittsburgh Penguins with their national lineup of superstars.
The following day, tens of thousands filled Freedom Monument square and brought their third-place team in like conquering heroes.