It was unseasonably warm and sunny in Lithuania that weekend, and the people we met there were even warmer. The food was delicious: hearty, healthy, and heavy on pickles and beets (my favourites). We ate until we couldn't move and sipped on thick Lithuanian beer all day.
When sunset came we painted dozens of eggs, as our host (our friend's father, who happens to be quite a famous Lithuanian artist) presided over the festivities. We sat around a huge stone fireplace, roasting bananas in the hearth, and the artist recounted Lithuania's history and his personal recollections of growing up in the Soviet era.
On Easter Sunday we played traditional Lithuanian Easter games with our eggs, knocking them against each other and racing them down hills. The Canadians among us hid eggs for our Lithuanian friends to search for among the trees.
And every few hours we would pause and gaze around us, in awe of the historical poet's cottage we were staying at.
Months later it feels like it was all a dream, but it's certainly an Easter we'll never forget.