[sample translations]haïlji, the užupis republic eng by LTI Korea Library

Sample Translations

ïlji Ha The Užupis Republic E ng l i s h

Book Information

The Užupis Republic (우주피스 공화국) Minumsa Publishing corp. / 2009 / 35 p. / ISBN 9788937482557 For further information, please visit: http://library.klti.or.kr/node/772

This sample translation was produced with support from LTI Korea. Please contact the LTI Korea Library for further information. library@klti.or.kr

The Užupis Republic Written by Haïlji

Jonas the taxi driver

An Asian male passenger stepped off the plane. The young immigration officer dressed in a khaki uniform looked astonished to see him. It seemed like they did not get many Asian arrivals in this country, to judge from her reaction. The Asian man gave her a pleasant smile as he held out his passport. The woman in the khaki uniform accepted the passport and flipped through it. There seemed to be a problem, however, and she urgently dialed a number. After finishing her call, she said: “Mr. Hal, please wait for a moment.” Two security agents arrived on the scene a moment later. They were also dressed in khaki uniforms with the addition of handguns at their sides. One of them was a giant, hulking man who looked at least two meters tall. The first thing they did was take a good look at the Asian man addressed as Mr. Hal. Hal was a clean-cut, well-dressed gentleman in his early forties. His expression was calm and intellectual and his manner suggested a naturally refined disposition. “Your boarding pass, please.” The larger of the two security guards made the request. Hal, however, only put on a quizzical expression. The big man’s heavy accent was one thing, to be asked for his boarding pass at immigration was another. He did not understand why they appeared to be so relaxed with the other arrivals, comparatively speaking, while demanding a boarding pass of him. “Boarding pass, boarding pass.”

The other security guard spoke demandingly, thrusting his palm in Hal’s face. Only then did Hal state in a polite yet firm voice state that he had already given his boarding pass to the airline staff when he boarded his plane in Amsterdam, and he did not understand why they needed it now. The two men looked slightly crestfallen by this response. It appeared that their English was too poor to understand what Hal had just said. The woman at the immigration desk explained to Hal: “You have no visa. In this case you must leave this country within fifteen days. And we can only authorize your entry if we have proof that you will leave this country within fifteen days. That is why we want to see your return ticket to Amsterdam.” “But I did not book a return ticket because I am going to a different city than Amsterdam. Surely you cannot deny my entry because I did not book a return ticket?” The uniformed woman translated Hal’s words for the other two, who looked serious once they heard what she said and conferred with each other for a while. Then they said something to the uniformed woman. The woman said to Hal: “When are you planning to leave this country?” “Very soon. Probably within the next day.” The uniformed woman looked incredulous, but she translated what Hal had just said. The two men said something to her again, and she translated their question to Hal. “Where is your next destination?” “The Republic of Užupis.” Hal’s answer was duly translated, and the two men conferred again. Only after a fairly lengthy debate did the two men give the woman her instructions as if coming to some kind of conclusion. After that they left. The woman in the khaki uniform filled out a document and asked Hal to sign it. Hal complied. Finally, the woman stamped Hal’s passport.

“If you do not leave this country within 48 hours you must report to the non-resident alien services officer at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The Ministry address is written here.” The woman handed the document back to Hal with his passport. Hal thanked the woman and took back his passport. Hal was just walking past the immigrations desk when the woman in the khaki uniform asked, as if she had just remembered: “Did you say you were going to the Republic of Užupis?” Hal said that he was. The woman asked again: “But where is that?” Hal’s expression turned to mild surprise.

By the time Hal had changed his money and walked out of the airport building, it was snowing and the air was extremely humid and cold. Unprepared for the sudden cold, Hal hastily put on the coat he had been carrying over his arm. His coat was a beautiful, well-made one but looked rather thin for the unforgiving cold of this country. It would appear that he was not used to the weather in these parts. The square in front of the airport building was as dilapidated and empty as that of a train station in some minor city. Ten or so yellow taxis were lined up, waiting for customers, while a few steps away a blue inner-city bus was waiting with the ignition on. That was all. The ground of the square was completely iced over, and a forest of birch trees could be seen in the distance. Hal stood there with a slack jawed expression on his face, as if he had never seen a smaller or meaner international airport. “Where are you going, sir?” A white-haired driver, who could not have been older than his mid-forties, came over to Hal. His English was passable.

“Užupis,” Hal said. “Užupis?” The taxi driver repeated the word as if he had never heard it before. “The Republic of Užupis.” “The Republic of Užupis?” This stumped the driver even more. Hal took a postcard out of his pocket and offered it to the driver. He said, “Here is the address. I think it isn’t far from here. You can see it’s postmarked Vilnius, Lithuania.” The taxi driver fished out a pair of spectacles from his pocket and took a long look at Hal’s postcard. Then, still holding the postcard, he approached the group of other cabbies that were standing a few steps away. He showed it to them and seemed to be asking them if they knew something about it. The other taxi drivers, who had been stamping their feet in the cold as they waited for customers, passed the postcard around and seemed to comment on it. A few of them glanced curiously at Hal. Hal was cold, too. He had set his suitcase down on the ice to pop the collar of his coat, and pulled on a pair of gloves that had been in his pocket. Then he looked around. Combined with the snow and the twilight that was rolling in, the birch trees that could be glimpsed faintly in the distance looked like they were floating in the air. Presumably there was a city behind the birch forest, as the blue inner-city bus that had been waiting for its last passenger to board was driving away from the square in that direction. The falling snow made it look like the bus was slowly disappearing into thin air. Now that the bus was gone the square felt even emptier than before. At precisely that moment someone shouted. “Jurgita!” Such was the emotion in the crier’s voice that Hal whipped around reflexively. A beautiful blonde young woman with a distant look on her face was standing there. She

seemed to have just exited the doors of the airport building. A stocky farmer in his mid-fifties carrying a large goose in his arms was running toward her as fast as he could. In other words, the emotional voice cry, “Jurgita!” belonged to the farmer running with the goose, and the person called Jurgita was the beautiful young woman. The reunion of the beautiful, poised young woman and the absurd-looking farmer looked like something out of a play. It was snowing heavily. “OK! Let’s go!” said the taxi driver, returning the postcard to Hal. He opened the trunk of the car and put Hal’s suitcase inside. Hal was still engrossed in the reunion of Jurgita and the farmer, however. The farmer was weeping now, overcome by emotion, and Jurgita was still standing with that distant look on her face. The scene could have been that of fallen royalty being received by a former palace attendant, now a humble farmer, after years of fleeing prosecution overseas. “Time to go, sir,” the driver said. Hal gave Jurgita a last look and got in the taxi. The cab was so ancient and the weather was so cold, it took a long time to start the ignition. The driver tried a few times before he opened the door of the driver’s seat and began kicking at the icy ground with his left foot, pushing the cab forward. After a few meters of this, the ignition miraculously started. Once it was running, the driver withdrew his foot, slammed the odor, and started the car. After the car started, they first passed by the other taxi drivers who were still waiting for customers. They were all tall, burly men stamping their feet and hunching their shoulders from the cold; they looked at Hal impassively as the cab passed them. Then they passed Jurgita and the farmer carrying the goose. Jurgita was still standing there looking melancholy while the farmer had put his goose down on the ice to collect her things. Drawn by the powerful attraction of her beauty, Hal turned around to catch a last glimpse of her. It seemed like Jurgita was looking in the same direction at that moment, too. There was

no telling if she had been looking at Hal, however. Jurgita soon disappeared out of Hal’s line of vision. The taxi sped away in the direction of the birch forest. As they were passing through the birch forest, the driver turned on the radio. The program was entirely in Lithuanian, which Hal could not understand a word of. He guessed that it was the news. Once they were out of the forest the landscape gave way to the suburbs of the city. Dreary apartment complexes and factory-like grey buildings began to appear. The bleakness of the landscape was softened, however, by the illusion created by the snow and twilight that made the buildings appear as if they were floating in the air. Hal looked out the window, looking mildly excited at the prospect of soon reaching his destination. After running smoothly for ten minutes or so, the taxi suddenly seemed to hesitate. Then they took the highway. There was still snow on the road as if it did not see too many cars. Vast expanses of snowy lots spread out on either side of the road with dingy apartment buildings standing behind them. Hal’s expression turned to one of incomprehension at the unexpected turn they had taken. The driver, too, had lost the confident expression he had when they left the airport. He was craning his neck to read all the signs as if he was lost, even though it seemed highly unlikely that anyone should get lost in this area. “Could you show me the address again, please?” the driver finally asked, stopping the car in the middle of a deserted road in the outskirts of the city. Hal took the postcard out of his pocket and handed it over. The driver took his spectacles out again and peered at the postcard for a long time.

After a while he put away his spectacles, started the car, and began driving

slowly. He looked back and forth, reading all the signs as if he expected to see Hal’s address at any moment. Hal watched his antics in disgust. Did he honestly believe they would find the Republic of Užupis in this deserted area outside the city? While the driver thus engaged

himself, the meter was running higher and higher. “Please wait for a moment.” The driver stopped the taxi in the middle of the road again and pulled the hand brake up. Then he got out of the car and began walking across the expanse of snow to the dingy apartment building in the distance. He clearly thought he had found an excellent mark in Hal, a foreigner. Three people were standing in front of the apartment building across the snow-covered lot and the taxi driver approached them, saying something. Left alone in the taxi, Hal cracked a smile: he knew what the driver was up to and was going to watch and see exactly how far this was going. The radio was still playing its incomprehensible program and the numbers on the meter were clicking steadily up. The clock on top of the meter indicated 4:47. This reminded Hal to take off his watch and reset the time. A hacking cough escaped him. He had not noticed before but the air was freezing cold and it was wet inside the taxi. The car was so ancient it seemed like the heater was broken. But then something caught his sight. A burly man in his mid-fifties was crossing the snowcovered field, carrying a large antique grandfather clock on his shoulders. His clothes were faded and tattered and he looked very tired, as if he had been carrying the heavy burden for a long time. He cut a strange figure, leaving deep footprints in the snow as if he were carrying a coffin. Hal watched the man with eyes full of curiosity. The taxi driver was walking back to the car now. He and the man with the grandfather clock crossed paths on the way. The driver acted like he did not notice the other man, however. The man with the grandfather clock seemed equally oblivious. They marched their respective ways silently, without so much as a passing greeting. “Sorry,” the driver said when he got back to the taxi. And he was just starting the car when another taxi appeared from the opposite direction. Hal’s driver eagerly stopped the car again

and, holding the hand brake, opened the window and stuck his head outside to wave at the other driver. The other taxi stopped next to them. Its window went down and a very young driver who looked to be in his mid-twenties stuck his head out. Then the two proceeded to converse in a language Hal could not understand a word of. Hal’s driver passed Hal’s postcard to the other side, and the young taxi driver looked at it for a long time before finally stepping out of his car. Hal’s driver took this as a sign to get out of the car as well. The two continued their conversation outside their cars. The young taxi driver took his cell phone out and made a call. It seemed like they would never be finished talking. The meter was running the whole time. Left alone in the cab, Hal waited patiently until a sudden wave of drowsiness made him nod. He was probably still jetlagged. Trying to shake off his sleep, Hal shook his head and gave a huge yawn. “OK!” The driver got back in the car after what seemed like an eternity. It was much darker now. Hal finally snapped at the back of the driver’s head. “You’ve had enough play for today, don’t you think? So let’s get going.” Hal’s words had a noticeable effect on the driver, who stiffened and looked wide-eyed. He made no answer, however, pretending he had not understood. Instead, he turned the car and began driving immediately. Soon they were passing the previous bleak, dreary landscape, and Hal gazed out the window with an expression that now resembled apathy. It was already night outside. The taxi drove on in the darkness for a long time after that. At one point they stopped in front of a railroad crossing. A black freight train was passing over the tracks. While the seemingly endless freight train rushed past, Hal dozed off in the backseat. After some time Hal started out of sleep and raised his head to see the lights of a city outside the window. There were almost no people on the streets, however, as everything was

covered with snow. Hal’s taxi was driving around the square in front of an elegant, white building lit by floodlights. Hal asked what the building was. The driver gruffly replied that it was Citizen’s Hall. Perhaps he thought it was unfair that Hal had called him out for his ruse before he was willing to give the game up. The taxi drove all the way around Citizen’s Hall square and through a dark, narrow alley and came to a bridge. Hal caught a glimpse of a sign saying, “Airport 6km.” They had been driving in circles for over an hour to come just six kilometers. They crossed the bridge and the car finally stopped. It seemed like they had reached their destination. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk to get Hal’s suitcase. Hal got off, too. The taxi had stopped at an utterly deserted street, poorly lit by feeble street lamps. The heavy snowfall showed no sign of letting up in the lamplight. “That’ll be eighty-five litas. But for you, I only ask for sixty. We got a little bit lost on the way.” The driver said, setting down Hal’s suitcase on the snowy sidewalk. Hal was still looking around his surroundings blankly. The driver continued in a defensive voice: “But it was not my intention. I am a professor at the university and I drive this taxi on the side. That is why I am not familiar with the roads.” He was clearly lying about not knowing his way but there might have been some truth in his claim to be a university professor. His English was too fluent for a taxi driver. “This is not Užupis,” Hal said in a tight voice. The driver gestured to the old three-story building next to them and said confidently, “No, it is. This is Užupis.” Looking again, there was a tiny neon sign saying “Hotel Užupis” on the wall. Hal slapped his forehead and exclaimed, “No! I said I want to go to the Republic of Užupis, not Hotel

Užupis!” The driver looked worried by Hal’s outburst and squirmed uncomfortably. Hal soon composed himself, however, and took a 100-litas note out of his wallet and handed it to the driver. “It doesn’t matter. It’s already late. I suppose I could spend the night here and go tomorrow.” The driver finally relaxed. He began rummaging in his pocket for change. “Keep the change. Consider it a tip for your magnificent scam,” Hal said disinterestedly, waving the money away. At first the driver looked incredulous. Soon, however, his entire face lit up with delight. “Oh! Thank you! Thank you. You are very generous. You are a true gentleman.” The taxi driver was enthused, bowing and scraping in front of Hal. Hal, however, still looked distinctly displeased. “If you want to go to the Republic of Užupis I will take you tomorrow morning. I have no morning classes tomorrow.” The driver handed his card to Hal. “My name is Jonas. May I ask what is your name?” “Hal.” “Oh! Mr. Hal, you are my true friend.” The driver said. Then he got in his car and drove away as if someone was chasing him. Hal stood in the middle of the empty street for a while, looking at his surroundings. He could not make out much in the heavy snow and the dark. Still, Hal stood in the snow for a while, looking for something. Finally, he picked up his suitcase and opened the door to the Hotel Užupis.

The people at Hotel Užupis

Hotel Užupis was a typical old-fashioned European inn with a bar on the ground floor and rooms upstairs. Hal opened the doors to find himself in a dark hall. Somebody was singing in what sounded like—but was not quite—a soprano. Intrigued by the song, Hal looked around to see where it was coming from. Once his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that the hall was full of people and that clouds of cigarette smoke hung thickly over their heads. Hal looked startled to see so many people at once, having seen hardly anyone on his way from the airport. He spied the singer on a stage across the hall, a rail thin man who sang as he played some kind of medieval European instrument. A few couples were slow-dancing to the music in the center of the hall. It was surprisingly quiet for the number of people gathered there, except for the music. At first glance it appeared to be a private concert. A closer look, however, suggested it was not. Most of the people were watching the dancers with a gloomy look on their faces or were seemingly lost in thought, silently drinking or smoking. Hal stood there for a moment, taking in the odd atmosphere, before moving to one of the few empty tables left. When Hal sat down all the people sitting nearby turned to him at once. Granted, the sudden appearance of a snow-covered Asian lugging a giant suitcase must have come as a surprise in this kind of place. There was a table of five having a drink next to Hal and they all looked at him with expressions full of curiosity. One of them, a woman in her early thirties, looked especially surprised to see Hal. She had large eyes and a pale face. Her hair was a very dark black that made her face look even paler.

A waiter approached Hal. Hal asked for a room first. Thankfully, there was one available. After booking the room, he ordered a glass of Palanga. Hal happened to order Palanga by chance. He was looking at the tables around him, wondering what to order, when one of the party of five sitting at the next table, a burly man with a red beard, had raised his glass of red liquor to Hal and given him a thumbs-up. Charmed by the gesture and the mischievous smile that accompanied it, Hal asked the waiter, “What is that?” “Palanga.” “A glass of Palanga, then.” The group at the next table burst out laughing when they heard Hal’s order, and the man with the red beard nodded with a satisfied expression and gave Hal the “OK” sign, holding up his index finger and thumb in a circle. Hal returned the gesture with a smile and a nod himself. At that moment, he still believed that Palanga was a kind of red wine. The people sitting at the next table had not addressed Hal directly yet. Apparently they were not bold enough to strike up a conversation with a strange foreigner outright. It was clear, however, that they were extremely curious about Hal. The most obvious was the pale woman with large eyes who had looked so surprised to see Hal. She did not participate in the conversation, but sat quietly smoking her cigarette in cautious motions. There was no mistake she was paying attention to Hal, however, as she would look straight at him with her large eyes from time to time. After a moment the waiter came back with the key to Hal’s room and a glass of Palanga. He offered to carry Hal’s suitcase up to his room, but Hal said that it was all right, he would do it himself. He clutched the handle with one hand as he said so, as if it contained something precious inside. The waiter replied that he could suit himself. The waiter was about to leave when Hal called him back.

“Do you know why this hotel is called Užupis?” The waiter shrugged, taken aback by the question. He had no reply to offer. Hal asked again. “Do you know when they built this hotel?” The waiter shrugged again. “I don’t know anything. I’ll ask the owner.” With that, the waiter went over to the bar. He went to a fat, middle-aged man standing beside it. The waiter gestured at Hal several times as he asked his question, and the middleaged man said something, also glancing at Hal. He guessed that the fat, middle-aged man was the owner of the hotel. After a while the waiter came back to Hal. “The owner does not know why this hotel is called Užupis, or when the hotel was built. He does not know because the hotel changed hands many times before. But he says that the hotel was built at least two hundred years ago. There are records that Napoleon used this hotel for his cavalry officers when he stopped here on the way to invade Russia.” One of the women sitting at the table next to Hal snickered at this, as if she had never heard such a ridiculous tale. She looked to be in her early thirties and was wearing rectangular black horn-rimmed glasses. It may have been the effect of the glasses, but she looked sharp-witted and clever. She could have been a high school math teacher. Anyway, to judge from her laughter the waiter’s story seemed to be less than reliable. Hal still thanked the waiter. The waiter looked slightly embarrassed as he replied, “You’re welcome” before hurrying off. Once the waiter was out of sight, the woman who looked like a schoolteacher leaned towards Hal and said, “Don’t believe anything he said. This hotel was built after Lithuania gained independence. Probably the Russian mafia had a hand in it. They still like to make up these stories for Japanese tourists like you.”

Hal nodded understandingly and replied, “But I am neither a tourist nor am I Japanese. I am only passing through this country on my way to the Republic of Užupis.” The woman asked incredulously, “Where did you say you were going?” “The Republic of Užupis.” This reply sent the woman into hysterical giggles for some reason. The rest of her group wanted to know why she was laughing, and she explained something to them in Lithuanian. Now the entire group was laughing out loud. So loud, in fact, that they attracted the attention of some of the other tables. One of the party, however, the woman with the large eyes and pale face, continued to look utterly serious as she smoked her cigarette. Hal sat there wondering why he had become a laughingstock. The schoolteacherish woman in the black horn-rimmed glasses said to him when she had regained her composure, “Užupis is here. You are already in the Republic of Užupis.” She began laughing again when she finished, and the other members of the group except the woman with the pale face and large eyes looked like they were ready to start laughing again, too, as they waited for Hal’s response. Hal shrugged, as if to say he did not understand the reason for their frivolity. That was when one of the party, a black-haired, black-eyed man in his late twenties or early thirties, interrupted. “Please excuse our rudeness. But you must understand, these people are laughing at you for a reason.” Perhaps it was the look in his black eyes that did it, but there was something serious about the young man who spoke in a measured voice. And his English was quite acceptable. The black-eyed man continued: “The people in this city call this place Užupis, meaning ‘the other side of the river.’ It is the worst neighborhood in Vilnius. But then the poor artists living here decided to call it the

Republic of Užupis as a joke and declared themselves an independent state. They celebrate this independence on April Fool’s Day every year, everyone in Vilnius knows about it. Even the president of Lithuania comes to celebrate the event. So they are all laughing because you say you are going to this Republic that was created as a joke.” Hal looked glum as he listened to this speech but he did not say anything. The woman in the black horn-rimmed glasses burst out laughing again at his expression. Hal waited for her to finish before opening his mouth to say, “A fake Užupis Republic, how interesting. But where I am going is not some kind of joke republic, it is the actual Republic of Užupis.” Hal took a postcard out of his pocket and continued, “This is a postcard sent from the Republic of Užupis.” The postcard was a black-and-white photograph of an elegant castle erected in the middle of a lake. The castle in the picture looked like it was carved out of marble, exquisitely and elegantly worked. A flag of unknown origin flew above it. Behind the lake there was a view of snowcapped mountains that looked every bit as majestic as the Alps. The postcard itself seemed very old, with all of its corners rubbed worn. The black-eyed man studied the postcard for a while but shrugged, unable to identify the castle in the photograph. Hal explained, “This is the palace of the President of the Republic of Užupis. It’s written right here.” A closer look at the postcard revealed that it indeed bore the legend “Presidential Palace of the Republic of Užupis” in the lower right-hand corner. The woman with the black hornrimmed glasses, who had been studying the postcard with the black-eyed man, seemed to have forgotten her mirth. The black-eyed man showed Hal’s postcard to the others at the table, explaining something in Lithuanian. The red-bearded man and the lanky blond man sitting next to him lowered their faces over the postcard to study it closely. Only the woman with the pale face

and large eyes kept smoking impassively. After a fairly long time bent over the postcard, the red-bearded man raised his head and shrugged. The lanky blond man who had been studying it with him also raised his head and asked, “Trakai?” The red-bearded man shook his head vehemently in reply. Hal, who had been watching them, asked the black-eyed man who was sitting closest to him, “Where is Trakai?” The red-bearded man overheard Hal’s question and shook his index finger slowly back and forth as he said, “No Trakai. No Trakai.” The others burst out laughing at his broken English. The black-eyed man explained to Hal, “There is a medieval castle about thirty kilometers away from here called Trakai. But it is not like this picture. Trakai is built of red bricks, but this castle is marble. And there are no mountains in Lithuania like in this picture. Most of all, the flag is different. This is not the Lithuanian flag.” This seemed to remind Hal of something. He flipped the postcard and showed them the stamp. “You can see the design of the flag here.” There was the mysterious flag in the background of the stamp that Hal pointed to, with a half-length portrait of a beautiful young woman holding her arms out wide illustrated in the foreground. The woman in the stamp looked eerily like the woman named Jurgita that Hal had seen in the airport. The black-eyed man studied at the stamp for a long time before showing it to the others. Most of them, however, only cocked their heads or gave it a dismissive shrug. The redbearded man let out an appreciative sigh, impressed by the beauty of the woman depicted on the stamp. The others laughed and teased him for it. “It seems like the Republic of Užupis you are looking for is not the Užupis we know.”

The black-eyed man said presently, his eyes and voice completely serious. Hal looked exceedingly worried by this statement, like someone who had suddenly lost their way. Observing Hal’s change of expression, the black-eyed man asked, “But why did you come to this country? This is Lithuania, not the Republic of Užupis.” “I was told to go through Vilnius, Lithuania. They said the Republic of Užupis is not far from here by taxi, right after the border. It’s written here, too.” Hal said, showing the writing on the postcard to him. The black-haired man peered at the postcard to read what was written on it. He soon gave up with a gusty sigh, however. It seemed like the postcard was written in an alphabet that was completely alien to him. “This is the only place where you can cross the border by taxi. By your own admission this must be the Republic of Užupis you are looking for,” said the woman with the black horn-rimmed glasses. She looked mischievous as she said it, as if she was ready to burst out into laughter again. Seeing the expression of concern that crossed Hal’s forehead, however, she seemed to check her laughter. This concluded the first conversation between Hal and the members of the table next to him. Hal sat quite still, looking rather devastated, before he reached for his glass of Palanga. The red-bearded man at the next table raised his glass as well in a silent toast. Hal returned the toast and proceeded to drink the entire glass in one go. Unlike what he had expected, Palanga was not a red wine but a fiery liquor. Hal’s face crumbled up spectacularly. A roar of laughter went up from the table next to him. The redbearded man looked very pleased with himself as he offered Hal a handshake. “My name is Rovenas. You?” Hal shook his hand and said his own name. “Hal! Welcome to Lithuania!” the red-bearded Rovenas exclaimed. Then the woman with the black horn-rimmed glasses, her expression as mischievous as before, held out her hand to

Hal and said, “My name is Aistė. Welcome to the Republic of Užupis!” Hal shook hands with her. After that, the black-haired man introduced himself as Arvydas, and the lanky blond man sitting next to Rovenas introduced himself as Marius. Finally, the pale woman with the large eyes who must have been in her late twenties or early thirties held her hand out to Hal with a short, “Vilma.” After Hal had shook hands with all of them, the black-eyed Arvydas suggested that he join their table. Hal accepted happily and moved over with his empty glass and suitcase. “Where do you come from?” Aistė asked from her seat next to Hal. “From Han,” Hal replied. The others all looked suitably impressed. “Hun? Whew, that is far!” the lanky Marius muttered as if to himself. “Hun! Great country!” the red-bearded Rovenas said. It seemed like Hun was the Lithuanian pronunciation of Han. “Bopajiang,” Aistė murmured, as if to herself. By Bopajiang she meant Jang Bopa, the world- famous Han movie star. The group continued to gabble among themselves about what a big and marvelous country Han was, to judge from their tone. “But I love Užupis better,” Hal interrupted. “Why do you want to go to Užupis?” the black-eyed Arvydas asked. “Because Užupis is where I was born, and I am an Užupis citizen.” Hal said, fishing a family photograph out of his pocket. The faded black-and-white photograph showed a middle-aged man sitting bolt upright, his expression somber, formally dressed in a suit decorated with medals, and a handsome, tastefully dressed woman sitting next to him. In front of them stood a boy who must have been five or six years old and a girl who looked to be a year or so younger. A flamboyantly mustachioed, tall man in his early thirties stood behind the middle-aged couple, striking a pose. Their clothing and the rich

setting of the room made them look like characters out of a late 19th century painting of a nobleman’s family. “This man is my father. He was Ambassador of Užupis to Han. Of course, this was a very long time ago. But while Father was stationed as ambassador in Han, my country Užupis was annexed by its neighboring countries. Father never saw his own country again and lived the rest of his life in Han as a refugee. But my country Užupis has gained independence again. This is why I want to go back.” This had a sobering effect on Aistė of the black horn-rimmed glasses, who murmured, “Is it possible that there really is a Republic of Užupis that we don’t know of?” The red-bearded Rovenas chimed in. “It is true that many countries have gained independence recently. Like Lithuania. Maybe there is a country called Užupis among them.” Hal continued to point to other figures in the photograph, explaining who they were. “This is my mother, this is my younger sister, and this is me.” “This cute little boy is you?” Aistė marveled, looking from the boy in the picture to Hal and back again. Hal continued. “And this is my uncle. He is a poet. Although I am not sure if he is still living...This is the last picture of our family in Užupis. After we took this picture the four of us, except my uncle, went to live in faraway Han.” The black-eyed Arvydas translated for Rovenas and Marius, whose English was not as fluent. Rovenas muttered in his broken English, “Maybe we know if we ask Vladimir Schatunowski.” Arvydas nodded as if Rovenas had a point. “That’s right! For this kind of problem, there’s no better way than to ask Vladimir Schatunowski.”

The name reminded Hal of something and he exclaimed, “Oh! I think once I heard my father mention a man named Schatunowski. Wasn’t he a playwright?” Arvydas cocked his head. It seemed like the man was not a playwright. Hal hurriedly corrected himself. “Oh! Not a playwright, I think he said he was the conductor of the National Užupis Orchestra.” But Arvydas only cocked his head again. So he was not a conductor of the orchestra, either. Hal tried again, in a less than confident voice, “If he’s not a playwright or a conductor, perhaps it is someone with the same name. I think the Schatunowski my father told me had a lame foot. From polio as a child.” Arvydas finally cried out excitedly, “Yes. Vladimir is lame in one foot. Although I am not sure if he had polio as a child. So you know Vladimir, too. Vladimir is a great scholar. Here in Lithuania people believe that there is nothing Vladimir does not know. Vladimir can tell you. If there really is a Republic of Užupis, and if so where you can find it.” While Hal and Arvydas were engaged in this conversation the red-bearded Rovenas said, in his broken English, “There is nothing Vladimir does not know. Except for women.” The rest of the group burst out laughing at this announcement. Hal laughed along, although he had not been listening to the joke. Vilma had kept silent this whole time, despite the merriment of the others, and looked worried now. “You should meet Vladimir,” Aistė pressed Hal. Her voice and expression were completely sincere now, without a hint of the mischievousness that had marked them before. “But how would I meet him? I am a foreigner.” The lanky Marius said something in Lithuanian then. Aistė translated to Hal, “Vladimir is coming to Mr. Eggers’ house party tonight. You can meet him there.” Arvydas chimed in. “Yes, we came here tonight to have a drink before going to Mr. Eggers’

party. Why don’t you come with us? You will meet Vladimir Schatunowski there.” Hal looked worried as he asked, “Is it far?” The red-bearded Rovenas interrupted in his halting English, “Very near, very near. Five minutes walking.” “But I wasn’t even invited…” Hal’s voice trailed off indecisively, prompting Aistė and Rovenas to sing out almost at the same time, “No problem, no problem!” Suddenly the music changed into a lively polka. Apparently the vocalist had finished with his forlorn medieval ballad. People were pouring out into the center of the hall that had now turned into a dance floor. That was when the door of the inn opened to admit four or five snow-covered men and women, who grooved to the music as they made their way across the hall. The snowfall seemed to be going strong outside to judge from the amount of snow piled on their heads. The four or five newcomers trooped over to Arvydas and his friends and greeted them with exaggerated gusto. They seemed to know each other well. The liveliest person in the group was a burly man in his late twenties who was sporting owlish glasses. He offered a huge hand to Hal, shouting above the music, “My name is Andrei!” Hal shook his hand and said, “My name is Hal.” His voice was buried under the loud music, however. Arvydas leaned over and shouted something in Andrei’s ear. Presumably he was introducing Hal. “Oh! Hal! Welcome to Lithuania!” The burly Andrei shouted as he shook Hal’s hand up and down vigorously. Then he took out a flask and poured something that looked like vodka into Hal’s empty Palanga glass. He

raised his flask high and shouted, “Kanpai!” Still somewhat bewildered by all of these strangers that had appeared out of nowhere, Hal said “Kanpai!” and knocked back his drink. Andrei patted Hal on the shoulder with a satisfied expression, shouting, “Good! Good!” Arvydas leaned over to Andrei then and said something loudly in his ear. Andrei nodded enthusiastically as Arvydas talked. In the end Andrei shouted to Hal, “Amigo! My Hun friend! Let’s go, to Mr. Eggers’ house.” “Now?” Hal asked, looking startled. “Of course. To party like crazy!” Andrei shouted. And then he shouted to the others, “Let’s go!” Arvydas and the rest of the table all stood up. Hal got up, too. And he picked up his suitcase and followed them outside.

Mr. Eggers’ house party

Andrei and the others chattered loudly as they walked away from Hotel Užupis and into the night streets. It had stopped snowing but it was almost impossible to see anything in the heavy mist. To add to Hal’s confusion, the streets of the old city were tangled like a maze. Some of the streets did not have any lamps at all, so it was pitch dark. A newcomer could easily get lost here. Hal took note of the names of streets and shops whenever they crossed another corner, so as to not get lost when finding his way back to the hotel. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Andrei asked, throwing his arm around Hal’s shoulders. Hal

wondered what he was referring to but replied, “Very beautiful.” Andrei smiled proudly and launched into a passionate speech. Hal could not make much of it, however, as he had trouble following Andrei’s accent in English. He said “Napoleon” several times, but Hal could not tell if he was saying that Napoleon had lived in this city once, or if Napoleon had fallen ill in this city. What he could tell was that the old town of Vilnius had been inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Hal nodded, saying that it was easy to see why. The party had crossed the square and was passing in front of a cathedral. An old crone that had been sitting in front of the cathedral scurried towards Hal and began clamoring for something. Hal looked bewildered to be singled out by the strange old woman who had accosted him out of nowhere. “Don’t mind her. She’s a beggar. It’s because you’re a foreigner,” explained Aistė, who had been walking next to him. Finally comprehending the situation, Hal took a note out of his pocket and gave it to the old woman. Listening closer, he could hear the low sound of the congregation reciting mass behind the doors. The old woman must have been waiting to beg for money when the people came out of the cathedral. “Ačiū! Ačiū!” the old woman exclaimed rapturously, drawing the sign of the cross over Hal and kissing his hand. That was when two other beggars came rushing over to Hal. Andrei bellowed a warning at them but they clung to Hal desperately. Hal gave each of them a note, too. “You must be a millionaire or a fool to give those beggars a hundred litas,” Aistė chastised him. “That old woman reminded me of my mother. There is an old Užupis saying that Mother always repeated to me, ‘Be charitable to the poor and a kingdom you shall gain,’” Hal said defensively.

“But if word get out that you’re giving beggars a hundred litas, all the beggars in Vilnius will come after you,” Arvydas said disapprovingly. The pale, large-eyed Vilma said nothing, but kept watching Hal’s every move. Suddenly the piercing noise of an alarm filled the air. It was coming from a car parked in the street. The car’s automatic burglar alarm had gone haywire and was shrieking whenever somebody so much as walked past it. One of the party aimed an exasperated kick at the bumper of the car. The alarm beeped even louder. Everybody burst out laughing. Mr. Eggers was a big, jolly-looking man in his late fifties. He shouted something goodnaturedly as Andrei and the rest of them came trooping in, laughing and chattering loudly. Hal had no idea what he said, of course. It could have been, “So you drunks finally decided to show up!” He guessed that because Mr. Eggers said to him in English, when he had shaken hands with everybody in Andrei’s group and finally came to Hal, “Why, I don’t think I’ve seen this drunk before.” So Hal smiled and said, “This drunk just came from Vilnius Airport a few hours ago.” Mr. Eggers roared with laughter at this comeback and slapped Hal on the back approvingly. He nodded as Arvydas explained Hal’s mission to him in detail. Finally Mr. Eggers said warmly, “Welcome, welcome, Mr. Hal! Drink all you want, Vladimir Schatunowski is coming later. It is an honor to have a guest like you from such a faraway country, and I like to think Lithuania produces enough vodka for its guests to have a good time.” And so Hal inadvertently became a guest at Mr. Eggers’ house party. Hal followed Andrei and his friends into a spacious hall. What greeted them was a strange sight. Thirty or so men and women were standing around a circle watching something. There was no sound of the usual din of a party; no music or laughter, only breathless silence. At first Hal thought that they must be watching an arm-wrestling match, or perhaps a game of dice or cards. But it did not seem like they were watching arm-wrestling or gambling.

If it was an arm-wrestling match, the spectators would have been cheering on their favorites, and if it was a gambling table there was a noticeable lack of smoking and cursing. “I can’t believe they’re at it again,” Arvydas muttered darkly. Hal, curious to see what was going on, went up to the crowd and craned his neck over their shoulders. What he saw instantly transfixed him. The crowd was standing around a small table with a revolver on it. Two men who looked to be in their mid-thirties sat across from each other at the table, wearing equally resolute expressions on their faces. The spectators waited for their next move with baited breath. It seemed like that they were playing Russian roulette. Presently, the man on the left picked up the revolver and spun the cylinder hard. Then, looking grim, he placed the muzzle against his head. Hal closed his eyes, unable to continue watching the terrible spectacle. There was the clicking sound of the trigger being pulled but no gunshot. An empty chamber. “Wow!” The crowd cheered. The man who had just pulled the trigger breathed a sigh of relief as he laid the revolver back down on the table. Then he picked up the shot glass of vodka in front of him and downed it in one go. The other man, in the meantime, had been awaiting his fate with his eyes closed. Somebody filled his glass with vodka. Only then did the man open his eyes and pick up his glass, staring at it as if it were his last drink on Earth before raising it to his lips and knocking it back. A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Finally the man picked up the revolver in front of him. He spun the cylinder hard, once, and cocked the gun against his temple with a slightly exaggerated expression of resolution. That was when a woman in the crowd began giggling uncontrollably. The man holding the muzzle against his temples let out a whoosh of a snigger, too. Then he suddenly turned the gun on the woman that had laughed and fired it at her. Click. The entire crowd burst out

laughing, and the man started shooting at everyone. Each time the revolver only made an empty clicking sound. A few of the crowd pretended to fall down after they had been ‘shot.’ The revolver had been unloaded from the beginning. Mr. Eggers pried the revolver away from his boisterous guests and took it upstairs just as loud music began to play. A disco ball flashed as everybody began to shake their bodies to the music. There was a lot of clapping and joyful whooping and suddenly the party was on. Hal, however, stood against the wall with a glass of wine in his hand, unable to mingle or join in with the dancers. A few curious folk wanted to talk to him, the Asian who had suddenly showed up at the party, but most of them did not speak enough English to carry on a conversation. He managed to have a half-decent conversation with a young man who said he studied computer science at the university, but soon lost interest when the young man launched into a long-winded story about how he had learned computer programming at the university and was a considerably advanced programmer but nobody in Lithuania, unlike Hal’s country, ”Hun,” appreciated computer programmers, so he was never going to get a job anywhere. The other guests that showed an interest in Hal were three young women who looked to be in their early twenties, sitting close to each other on a sofa across the room. They giggled and stole looks at Hal, intrigued by his presence at the party, whispering among themselves continuously. All three of them were pretty, vivacious girls, but apparently none of them had the courage to walk over to Hal and strike up a conversation or ask him to dance. Hal, for his part, had no intention of talking to them either. He had come to the party to speak to Vladimir Schatunowski, who should be arriving at any moment. In the end it was Hal’s friends from Hotel Užupis that had brought him to the party— Arvydas, Rovenas, Aistė, Marius, and the bespectacled Andrei—that kept him company. For instance, the bespectacled Andrei would sing out, “Oh! Hal, my friend from Hun! What a marvelous night, isn’t it?” whenever he caught sight of Hal. Andrei was always saying

something like that to everyone, however, shaking hands as he worked the crowd briskly, so it could not be said that he was going out of his way to pay attention to Hal. The red-bearded Rovenas and the lanky blond Marius took the trouble to see that Hal had enough to eat and drink, but their English was too limited for them to chat for a long time. Marius, in particular, was so distracted by a doll-like Polish girl called Namyne that he soon forgot all about Hal. Namyne, on the other hand, seemed to be more attracted to Hal in the beginning, asking Hal all sorts of questions about “Hun,” why Hal had come to Lithuania, if Hal was married or single. When Hal did not show any interest in her, however, despite her quite fetching looks, she soon moved on to flirting with a man who said he was a correspondent for a German newspaper. Marius, who spoke no English or German, still hung around her but was mostly ignored. The clever Aistė was in great demand. When she remembered Hal she spoke to him in French, things like, “Ç a va?” (“Are you all right?”) or “Amusez-vous” (“Enjoy yourself”). Soon, however, she found herself surrounded by the handsome, well-built Mark who worked at the US Embassy, a French television producer named Jerome, and a Lithuanian MP named Simonas. So it was that she, too, forgot all about Hal. Only the black-eyed Arvydas stayed relatively close to him. Arvydas also gave Hal a tour of Mr. Eggers’ house. Mr. Eggers’ house, from what Arvydas showed Hal, was an old but considerably imposing mansion. It had a rambling yet elegant feeling to it. The lighting was too dark, however, for him to make out the details. They only saw up to the second floor because the floors above that were closed to save on the heating bills. On the tour, Hal remarked that it seemed like a very old house. Arvydas replied that it was built in the 17th century. This time Hal remarked that Mr. Eggers must be very rich. Arvydas shrugged. Hal took this to mean that Mr. Eggers was not very rich. So Hal asked how Mr. Eggers had come to possess such a large house if he was not very rich. Arvydas suddenly lowered his voice and said, almost in a whisper, that Mr. Eggers had come into possession of

this house not because he was rich, but because he was ”a good businessman.” Hal looked nonplussed by this answer, so Arvydas went on to explain what he meant. According to Arvydas, this house used to be the private residence of a commanding officer when Lithuania was occupied by the Soviet forces, and that Mr. Eggers had snapped it up with ”amazing business sense” when it was vacated after the independence. Hal nodded as he listened. Arvydas continued that after the independence, Mr. Eggers started a distribution business that became quite successful, giving him the money to buy a newspaper called Lithuanian Freedom News, but these days his distribution business was being edged out by Russian mafia-backed competitors and the newspaper was struggling to keep afloat, leaving Mr. Eggers in considerable financial difficulty. Hal asked, as if it had just occurred to him, who used to live in the house before the occupation if the house was built in the 17th century. Arvydas replied that he was not sure of the details, but he had heard that a very old and important family used to live here before the occupation and who then fled abroad when the Soviets annexed the country. At that point, however, the well-meaning Arvydas was forced to take leave of Hal. A group of people who introduced themselves as actors of the Lithuanian National Theater had rushed over to Arvydas and whisked him away as if there was some urgent problem they needed to consult with him immediately. Arvydas, it turned out, was a playwright and director. Before he was dragged away, Arvydas told Hal not to worry and enjoy the party—he would call him as soon as he saw Vladimir. Once Arvydas was gone Hal was left to himself again. The next guest that approached him was a man from Minsk, Belarus. A musician named Rimas who looked to be in his late thirties. He had been standing by himself wearing a dejected expression on his face--another foreigner with no one to talk to, even though Belarus, unlike Han, was right next to Lithuania--when he decided to approach Hal. Rimas seemed to have some Asian blood in him

as his shaggy hair was a dull black, his skin was very tan, and his mustache thin and pointed like portraits of Genghis Khan. His English was rusty but functional. Also there was something genuine about the way he spoke and looked. Hal asked him what kind of music he played. Rimas replied that he played traditional Belarusian music. Then he took a postcard out of his pocket that showed a photograph of a group of musicians playing instruments that Hal had never seen before. Hal guessed that the photograph must have been taken at a traditional Belarusian concert. Rimas pointed to a man playing an instrument that looked like a harp, but was clearly not a harp, and identified the musician as himself. The musician in the photograph, however, was much younger and cleancut than Rimas, so much so that Hal found it hard to believe the other man was telling the truth. Hal studied the postcard for a long time before asking Rimas if he had come to Vilnius for a concert. Rimas replied that he had not though he usually visited Vilnius once a year around this time. Hal asked him if he came to Vilnius to visit family or relatives or friends. Rimas hesitated for a moment before saying that he did have a friend, and that he always stayed at that friend’s house when he came to Vilnius, but he had not come to Vilnius to meet that friend. Then he asked Hal what he was doing in Lithuania. Hal replied that he was going to the Republic of Užupis and passing through Lithuania on the way. Rimas nodded understandingly. This prompted Hal to ask if Rimas had ever heard of the Republic of Užupis. The other man replied matter-of-factly that he had heard about the Republic of Užupis in Belarus, and that the Užupis Republic was one of the countries like Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia that had recently gained independence. “O, Rimas! You do know! Could you tell me everything you know about the Republic of Užupis?” Hal said, slightly out of breath. Rimas replied, looking at Hal quizzically. “The Republic of Užupis used to be a very big country with an old history. Ruins of

ancient Užupis are found everywhere in Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, even Poland, Romania, Belarus, and the southwest of Ukraine. Of course, it was reduced to a small country like Lithuania when it gained independence.” “O, Rimas! But where is it?” Rimas gave Hal another quizzical look and did not answer. Hal hurriedly defended himself, “Of course you do not understand. I say I am going to the Republic of Užupis and I cannot even tell you where it is, it must seem very strange and foolish to you, but…….” Hal was ready to go on, but Rimas nodded as if he had already anticipated and understood what Hal was going to say next, and mumbled, almost to himself, that he had heard about the Republic of Užupis in Belarus and that there were people that used a funny language called the Užupis language. He added that he had heard that the Republic of Užupis existed somewhere between the border of Lithuania and Belarus. At that moment, however, the pale-faced, large-eyed Vilma, who had disappeared from the party at some point, walked up to Hal. Rimas stopped mid-sentence when he saw her, looking stunned. Hal looked annoyed by Vilma’s appearance, as he wanted to hear what Rimas was about to say. Vilma pretended like she had not noticed anything and sweetly asked Hal to dance as if they were old acquaintances. “O, Vilma! My Belarusian friend Rimas was just telling me something very important.” Vilma, however, was hearing nothing of it. She threw her arms around Hal’s neck and positively dragged him to the dance floor. As Vilma bore him off, Hal looked back and saw that Rimas looked rather downcast. Hal frantically gestured to the other man to stay put for a moment. And then he began dancing the tango with Vilma. When he turned around on the dance floor he saw that Rimas had disappeared. “Where did Rimas go?” Hal wondered out loud after their dance, peering about the hall. “Let him go. He must be somewhere,” said Vilma, taking Hal’s arm and walking him to a

long, dark corridor outside the hall. There was a bench there, where Vilma seated Hal before she returned with two glasses of champagne. “You dance very well,” said Vilma, still slightly flushed from the exercise. Hal only shrugged. He noticed there was another couple further down the corridor locked in a passionate embrace. It was Namyne of the doll-like pretty looks and the German correspondent. “You should not trust Vladimir Schatunowski,” Vilma said. Hal gaped at her, completely at a loss as to why she would say such a thing out of the blue. Vilma continued: “You must not meet Vladimir Schatunowski.” It took a while for Hal to respond. “Why?” “Because….. Because he despises foreigners. He is a nationalist extremist.” “But that hardly seems like reason enough,” Hal said, and Vilma looked like she was thinking over how to phrase her next explanation. “They say that he goes out of his way to harm foreigners.” “How?” Hal shot back, and Vilma struggled to formulate a response before saying evasively, “I don’t know exactly how. As I said, I only heard it from other people. I heard that one foreigner committed suicide after meeting him.” Hal shrugged again. Vilma shut her mouth, seemingly having nothing more to add. “But your story is so vague. I cannot see any reason from this story why I should not meet Vladimir. I am not trying to start some kind of grand venture with him, I just want to ask him if he knows something about the Republic of Užupis,” Said Hal, and Vilma countered in a slightly hysterical tone of voice and expression, “Are you really going to the Republic of Užupis?” “Of course. It is my country,” Hal replied. Vilma’s face fell as she let out a deep sigh.

“Of course I cannot discourage you from going to the Republic of Užupis, if it is your country. But you must not ask Vladimir Schatunowski about the Republic of Užupis.” Hal stared at Vilma with an uncomprehending expression on his face. Vilma continued: “And of course you will ask again why you cannot ask Vladimir Schatunowski about it. And then I will tell you again that it is because Vladimir is a nationalist extremist who despises foreigners. And if I give you this answer you will reject it again saying that it is not enough reason. I can only say to you again that there was another foreigner who asked Vladimir about the Republic of Užupis, and that he committed suicide afterwards. What does it matter? You do not believe me anyway,” Vilma said, looking heartbroken. Hal, however, only looked at Vilma with an expression of confoundedness. Vilma took Hal’s hand and cried, “Oh, poor stranger! You know nothing about this country. You have nobody, nobody that will truly help you. But do not worry.” Vilma paused before continuing. “Tomorrow you will come to me. To ask for help. Come anytime. I will help you. I will protect you. I will be your friend, if you want. I will be a friend as sweet and true as a wife.” Hal, who had been listening patiently until this, broke in. “Why are you trying to help me?” Hal’s question gave Vilma pause before she replied, “Because….. Because you are different from other people. You are honest. Like all people who look for the Republic of Užupis are.” Hal started at her words. “Do you mean to say that you have met someone looking for the Republic of Užupis before?” Vilma, however, did not reply to Hal’s question but brought Hal’s hand to her cheek. Her large eyes were brimming with tears at that moment. That was when they heard it. The majestic yet sorrowful strains of a piano sonata began

floating through the air. Hal raised his head in amazement. “Do you hear that sound?” Hal looked around, trying to determine its direction. Vilma, however, looked like she had not even heard the sound. Hal rose from his seat like one possessed by the piano music. The next moment he had vanished into the hall. Vilma watched Hal’s disappearing back with an expression of reproach on her face at being thus discarded so summarily. Inside the hall people were talking in small groups or dancing to the music. Nobody was playing the piano. Actually, there was no piano in the hall. Hal gave a quick look around the room and went back to the corridor. The sorrowful Vilma was still sitting there, and further away the Polish girl Namyne and the German correspondent were kissing passionately against the wall. The piano kept playing. Now feeling thoroughly harried, Hal tried a door this time. It opened to a room he took to be the kitchen. Inside there were a few people smoking marijuana. One of them was shaking his head from the effect of the drug. Then there was a couple ensconced in another corner of the kitchen, sharing an intimate moment. The man was caressing the woman’s black-stockinged thigh with one hand.

Hal walked across the room and out to the terrace.

Several people were smoking cigarettes on the terrace. One of them was the red-bearded Rovenas. It was snowing outside the terrace. “Hey! My Hun friend!” Rovenas called out, waving exaggeratedly. That was when the sound of the piano rang out much clearer than before. “Such a beautiful night, isn’t it?” This pleasantry came from the bespectacled Andrei. Hal had no time for them, however. With every passing second the music was swelling to a crescendo.

“Where is this sound coming from?”

Hal asked. Rovenas did not seem to understand

Hal’s English, however. Hal craned his neck outside the terrace and looked up. The sound of the piano was coming from the floor directly above the terrace. Having thus determined the location of the player, Hal swiftly made his exit. Hal walked through the kitchen, past the corridor, and back to the hall. People were still dancing or engaged in conversation. Hal began running up the staircase in the middle of the hall. The three pretty young girls in their early twenties that he had seen earlier were sitting on the stairs, chatting, and they giggled at Hal’s sudden appearance. The way to the second floor was also through a long corridor. With each step he could hear the sound of the piano rising passionately towards a climax. Hal quickened his step until he finally reached the salon where the piano was being played. It was a fairly large drawing room for receiving guests. One side of the room was completely taken up by windows that offered a magnificent view of the snowy night outside. On the other side of the room was a grand piano, which was being played by the exceedingly beautiful and elegant woman sitting in front of it. Hal started the moment he saw her. She was Jurgita, the woman he had seen in the airport that afternoon. A good-sized man who looked to be in his fifties stood behind her, holding a glass of wine in one hand. Soon Jurgita’s piece came to an end. Jurgita, however, continued to sit completely still on the stool, an expression of sorrow transfixed on her face. “Bravo!” The man in his fifties who had been standing behind Jurgita put his glass down on the piano and clapped. Jurgita, however, remained as still as a statue, looking as if she was mourning some distant past. The man in his fifties began placing kisses on her cheek and throat. Jurgita did not budge an inch. Strangely enough, neither of them had noticed Hal’s presence yet.

That was when Arvydas came up behind Hal and shouted, “Hal! Vladimir is here!” Hal stood there like one in a dream; however, his eyes fixed on Jurgita. “Now we can find out where the Republic of Užupis is,” Arvydas said, clapping Hal on the shoulder.

Jurgita started at Arvydas’ words and turned around. Her eyes met Hal’s, who was standing some distance away as he gazed at her. The man in his fifties was still nuzzling Jurgita’s throat, however, completely oblivious of both Hal and Arvydas. Jurgita took no notice of him but continued to gaze at Hal with sorrowful eyes. “Vladimir is waiting for you. Let’s go,” Arvydas said, practically dragging Hal by the arm. Hal kept looking back at Jurgita even as Arvydas led him away. “Do you know what she was just playing on the piano?” Hal asked, but Arvydas seemed not to have understood. That must have been why he said, “That man is the president of a Danish airline. He’s a friend of Mr. Eggers.” Hal said with an edge of annoyance in his voice, “No, I mean the piece that Jurgita just played. It was the national anthem of the Republic of Užupis.”