Riga, Grey Skies and a Quick Thaw

When I woke I could hear the sound of the old lady snow clearer scratching away at the pavement below and I thought this sounded promising so I rushed to the lobby where I knew Micky would be waiting following his early morning walk.

He assured me that there had been some snow but unfortunately it had recently turned to rain and this had washed away the two or three inches that had fallen earlier that morning.  Was he teasing? I couldn’t tell but a step outside confirmed that the old lady was simply scraping away the dirty brown slush that remained in the taxi rank.  I certainly would not have predicted this but the temperature had continued to rise and the snow that only two days ago looked a permanent feature had almost completely gone.

After breakfast Kim cleaned her boots and emptied the shoeshine machine of all of its wax and polish for at least the third time and we walked again through the art nouveau district then through the parks to the city centre.  This time we had to negotiate sprawling puddles of melted snow and the whole place was suddenly less attractive.  The Orthodox Cathedral was less impressive under a grey sky, the statue at the top of the Freedom Monument looked unhappy and the guards at the base were miserable.  The canal was no longer frozen but at least the ducks had somewhere to swim again.  Now and again some bits of blue sky skidded past but there was never enough to replace the leaden grey skies.

So we needed to find some things to do inside.  First we went to the little café at the House of the Blackheads and then we went inside to the see the museum.  This building was completely destroyed in 1945 and there were photographs inside to prove it.  In fact most of the Town Hall Square outside had been reduced to rubble but had all now been replaced.  The restoration was truly impressive and the building had been completely rebuilt in its original style.  Inside there were exhibits that had miraculously escaped the pillage that had accompanied the various occupations.

After the museum we went for lunch and because of the weather we prolonged this stay longer than we normally would.  Micky gave an informative talk on sheep shagging and Christine contributed to this with an impressive repertoire of lamb impressions.  We had some rambling and reminiscing conversations ranging from ‘what we used to do in the snow’ to the boring things we did as kids including such glorious pastimes as I Spy books and car number plate spotting.

After only a single glass of wine Calamity Christine got up off of the bench and whilst getting her leg-over got tangled up in Micky’s sleeve which resulted in a dramatic headlong crash to the floor.  As if this wasn’t funny enough she spun round, sat up with an accusing glare and shouted “MICKY!” which drew the attention of everyone around.  And he hadn’t even touched her!  Luckily she was unhurt and we were joined in our amusement by all of the other customers in the place.

It was still gloomy and we needed more indoor activity so we walked out of the centre towards the shops and on the way we passed through some streets that were yet to benefit from the city regeneration project.  Here there remained the legacy of the communist era, some original buildings bearing the scars of abandonment and neglect waiting their turn for refurbishment and other ugly functional concrete buildings added during the occupation period.  The Russians especially liked concrete and had added acres of hideous grey cement to the city, overwhelmingly dreary and the most unsightly blots on the environment and hopefully now all waiting their turn for demolition.

There was no chance of improvement in the weather so we made our way back to the Skyline bar for what had become our late afternoon refreshment break.  The lounge lizard was there again and there were more Brit-louts behaving badly in one corner but we didn’t let this spoil it for us.  Because of the weather we stayed there for the rest of the afternoon and had some tasty and reasonably priced plates of food and a final drink or two and enjoyed some last views of Riga.

Back now to that brilliant idea to book and pay for the transport to the airport in advance.  A taxi arrived at the agreed time we piled in and set off to the airport.  It was observant Kim who first noticed that this was not the same driver that we had made the arrangement with so whether he treated himself to a bottle of Balsam and stayed at home tonight or turned up at the Albert and wrote us off as generous time wasters we will never know.  Micky did his best to explain that we had paid in advance but the driver was not responsive so he had to be paid as well!

At the airport Kim played Miss Marple when she spotted some doubtful looking characters checking in with empty bags that thirty minutes later were suspiciously bulging and a quick examination of the rubbish bin into which they had discarded some litter confirmed that they were cigarette smugglers.

We arrived home five minutes ahead of schedule and then the airport and the immigrations conspired to hold us up for forty minutes to compensate for this.  I felt a complaint coming on and challenged the immigration staff for an explanation into this unacceptable treatment and an apology for the delay but naturally received neither.  Finally there was a second fiasco at immigrations when the staff tried to identify passengers from the Riga flight in a search for the smuggled cigarettes.  They should have asked Kim, she knew exactly where they were.  It was a pantomime and a complete failure with a procedure that leaked like a damaged sieve but thankfully it was only cigarettes they were looking for and nothing more sinister.

It had been a good four days and on the way home I reflected on the highlights which for me were the snow, the art nouveau area, the beach at Jurmala, the Spa, the Skyline bar and the amusing taxi Russian taxi driver.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Riga, A Brilliant Taxi Idea

That evening as we walked back into the city for dinner it was obvious to us that the temperature was beginning to rise rather more quickly than we liked and the firm snow that had been a joy to walk on earlier was turning to a rather unpleasant watery slush.  Whilst crossing a road Kim did a doctor Foster and spectacularly stepped into a puddle, not quite up to her middle but certainly up to her ankles.  We all assumed that carried away by the beach experience earlier she really did think that she could walk on water.

We had an adequate but by no means memorable meal at the Lido and as we were discussing snow prospects we were almost immediately disappointed to see people coming inside and shaking rain from their coats.  A dash to the street confirmed the worst, the temperature had risen and it was raining.  We were not prepared for this and had to beat a hasty retreat from the city centre back to the Skyline.

Sadly the place was different tonight.  The casual and relaxed ambience that we had all enjoyed had been replaced by a rowdiness, which accompanied the arrival of the boozy Brits on stag weekends.  What a great shame.  The forty-year occupation of Riga by the Russians has now been replaced by the weekly invasion of loutish gangs from Essex and Lancashire, people who do not know how to behave when representing their country abroad and visiting a European cultural capital.  I think I know now how the Romans must have felt when the  barbarian hordes gate crashed their party.

The arrival of these undesirables clearly also brings out the local low-life.  Some of the girls were pretty but obviously hookers and the bar was populated by sinister looking local men who looked as though they had been left over from the KGB era.  One man in particular acted very strangely.  He was a solitary lounge lizard but insisted on occupying a prime location meant for four.

We temporarily joined him but he made us feel uncomfortable and we moved on when alternative seating became available.  He acted shiftily, especially when he ordered a sumptuous plate of food and then left it in full view while he played hide and seek behind a pillar.  He was obviously important because the waitress was fiercely protectionist about his seat but eventually when a group moved in on the table he reappeared to reclaim his sofa with a teasing grin.  We left early and returned to the cocktail bar at the Albert, it wasn’t such a good location but at least it was quiet and tonight there was a better atmosphere there.

On the way home we had spotted the taxi driver who had taken us to Jurmala and back and in a moment of brilliant planning we approached him and booked him to pick us up tomorrow and take us to the airport.  Just to make sure that he turned up Micky paid him in advance and we all thought that this was very clever.

Furthermore he was still confident that we would see more snow overnight and we trusted in the meteorological prediction that we all wanted to hear and went to bed.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Riga, Frozen Beach and a Health Spa

After breakfast we took a mini-bus taxi to the seaside town of Jurmala, which was another bargain at only 15 Lats.  It was a sunny morning and we walked through some houses in various states of disrepair and renovation towards the beach.  The houses were fascinating, mostly made of timber and in contrasting styles that suggested that the owners had had fun building them in a competitive way each determined to eclipse the efforts of their neighbours.

These were once grand seaside villas accommodating only the most wealthy Russians who used to like to come here for their summer holidays and we were relieved to see that thankfully many were being restored, rather than being demolished to make way for modern structures.  The town has an official list of four hundred and fourteen historical buildings under protection, as well as three thousand five hundred wooden structures.

The last time we had seen Jurmala beach was in June sunshine when Micky claimed it for Lincolnshire by raising the County flag.  Then it was a wide expanse of inviting caramel sand and gentle seashore so we were amazed to find it now covered in ice and snow.   We had been told stories of a freezing sea but I don’t think we altogether believed them so to see this was truly awesome.  The sea had frozen at high tide and formed into extraordinary natural ice sculptures well over a metre feet deep and topped with an inch or two of undisturbed crunchy snow.

We clambered over the ice to the sea line and even Christine got brave and released her vice like grip on Micky’s arm.  The sand was frozen solid too, I imagine the sea was cold but of course no one was brave enough (or insane enough) to try it.  We walked along the frozen shore and enjoyed every minute of kicking through snow and picking our way along tracks made of ice. None of us had seen a beach frozen solid before and none of us had walked on water before either.

Back off the beach we walked through more timber houses and stopped for coffee at a friendly little café with a comforting ethnic atmosphere.  Here Mickey announced forty-eight hours without a cigarette and we all admired his achievement of going from a daily narcotic experience of fifty to zero in one go which I guess takes some doing even with the assistance of nicotine substitute tablets.

One of the main reasons for going to Jurmala was to visit the health spa at the Lielupe Beach Hotel again with its saunas, Jacuzzis and swimming pools and with the opportunity to have a relaxing massage. Kim, Christine and I opted for this option while Sue and Micky elected for more snow walking instead.

This was well worth the visit. We started off in a salt sauna where by rubbing salt over the body we proved that it was possible to remove about twelve layers of epidermis in under two seconds.  That really did sting.  The hot steam room was nice but Christine left the door open and let all of the heat out.  Next was the volcanic heat of the hundred and ten degrees sauna where molten magma bubbled away menacingly in the corner of the room and the only way to combat the sizzling heat was through the liberal application of handfuls of ice down the swimming costume.  The Jacuzzi was relaxing and the swimming pool had a variety of bubble bath zones and a sunken bar but no barman.  Kim and Christine left me and went for a massage and I did another circuit of all of the attractions before changing and rejoining Micky and Sue.

For those going for a massage the hotel had a curious layout that required a semi-naked trek through the public areas with only an undersized towel to preserve modesty and spare blushes.  Kim and Christine also had to share a lift with hotel convention guests who were as amused as they were to find themselves sharing an elevator with two scantily clad brazen English women.  No design prizes for the hotel architect then!

Afterwards we walked around the town some more and then went for a late soup lunch in a cozy little café on the main street where we had Solanka soup and cheeseboard.  The weather looked promisingly snowy and the latest edition of the Baltic Times confirmed this.  We were certain of more snow as we took the prearranged taxi back into Riga under heavy grey skies and we went once again to the Skyline bar.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Riga, A Pedestrian’s Guide

Replenished with hot food we resumed our walk through the city and made for the old Jewish Quarter called Little Russia, which took us through the market on the way.  This area of the city was interesting for consisting of buildings constructed of timber that are fighting a losing rearguard action against decay and neglect and caught in a catch twenty-two situation, too expensive to repair and restore and too culturally important to be demolished.  If something isn’t done soon it is almost certain that Mother Nature will have the final word on the matter.

Adjacent to this area was the Academy of Sciences building, constructed by the communists in the style of the Seven Sister’s Skyscrapers in Moscow and although impressive in its appearance was seriously ill conceived in respect of location.

The sky was still clear so we decided to make the Skyline bar for the sunset, which the guidebooks described as not to be missed.  We walked back through the market, this time through the old zeppelin hangers that had been converted into a huge indoor market with an impressive array of produce.  The meat looked especially good and Micky (being a butcher by trade) gave us a guide to the cuts and the comparative costs to those back home.

On the way back we passed some currency exchange kiosks and Micky panicked because he had already spent about twenty Lats today and he felt the need to convert more sterling just to restore the size of his wad and to be on the safe side just in case the inflation rate hit 1000% overnight.  He became even more concerned when the first kiosk had run out of Lats!  Christine was fortunate not to be arrested when she hung about outside looking suspiciously like a bank robber under a black hood and neckerchief auditioning for a starring role on Latvian Police Five.  The rest of us moved on and kept a discreet distance away not wishing to be involved in a potential incident with the authorities if by chance she had been caught on CCTV.

Walking around Riga is quite safe so long as you keep to the pavements and watch the traffic signals carefully because the drivers are not very pedestrian friendly if you inadvertently stray into their road space when they have priority.  Walking back to the Hotel Latvia we used the pedestrianised central reservation of the boulevard style road, which at one stage required a perilous negotiation of an intersection.

Four of us strode confidently across ignoring the nearby line of traffic waiting at traffic lights with snarling engines and drivers scenting blood with right foot poised to hit the accelerator pedal and lunge forward at the first hint of green.  We made it (but only just) but Sue had hesitated and got caught almost mid way across in a stream of traffic that heavily resented her presence on the highway.  “Hold on” she screamed but I’m not sure if it was directed at us for uncharitably leaving her behind or at the drivers moving in for the kill.  Anyway she judiciously retreated to safety, waited for the lights to change and then carefully but quickly made her way across to join us.

Riga has a curious system for pedestrian crossings, which is designed to deliberately confuse the foreign visitor.  For the person on foot standing at the pavement edge the pedestrian light turns green and it is their turn to go but the traffic ignores this and continues to hurtle uncontrollably forward almost daring the confused visitor to try his luck.  This is followed by a moment or two of nervous hesitation and jerky indecision and then a hokey cokey leg in, leg out test of willpower to see whose nerve will break first, the driver or the pedestrian.

Not a bit of this roadside performance is remotely helpful however unless the pedestrian is prepared to take a deep breath and a massive leap of faith and put a foot down firmly and confidently on the carriageway as though playing a game of ‘chicken’, because it is only at this point that the traffic is finally obliged to stop.  Reassuringly it almost always does but I wouldn’t recommend trying it in front of a Riga tram, which seem to be excused from all of the most sensible traffic regulations and weighing in fully loaded at a little under fifty tonnes or so just might take a bit of stopping.

The Skyline Bar is a great place to relax in the early evening after a day sight seeing and a good spot for watching the sunset and it is the place to be seen with modern trendy furniture and décor that suggests a level of exclusivity to this place that is in contrast to its total accessibility.    It is easy to just wander in off the streets and take the external lift to the top and you are in the best cocktail bar in the city.  One of the best views is from the men’s toilets where there is full length window and the panoramic view from it is quite stunning.

Getting one of the seats by the windows is essential but can be a chore when the place is busy and competition is fierce, and you really need one that looks to the west to enjoy the stunning view of the City and the Russian Orthodox Cathedral that stands nearby.  Sometimes you have to sharpen elbows, wait and stay alert for window seat opportunities but it is worth the effort, especially if there is a sunset to be seen and with a view like this it really doesn’t matter when the service is slow.

It is supposedly designed to resemble a Manhattan bar but as I have never been to New York I am unable to confirm whether it has achieved this objective.  The place has a relaxed atmosphere and a friendly ambience and it certainly doesn’t have Manhattan prices with generous cocktails costing on average less than a fiver.

There are many suggestions for the origin of the word cocktail, almost as many as the choice of drinks available at the Skyline Bar.  Some say that it was customary to put a feather, presumably from a cock’s tail, in the drink to serve both as decoration and to signal to teetotallers that the drink contained alcohol but my favourite is that after a cock fight it was customary to mix a drink with a different shot of alcohol for each remaining feather in the winning cock’s tail.

At the bar we found a grandstand seat by the window and settled down for the sunset that we estimated to be due at four-fifteen.  We got that wrong and had to wait until five-to-five but there was a pleasing atmosphere in the bar and we watched the last puddles of sunshine laying on the rooftops of the city until the sun quickly dipped below the horizon and it went dark.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Riga, Winter Snow in the Old Town

In the morning the sun was shining and the roofs of the buildings opposite were still covered by a white blanket of thick snow with a cold frosty sparkle that just shouted out ‘Winter’.   Outside the hotel front door an old lady was efficiently clearing the snow from the taxi rank and the footpaths by scraping away with an oversized plastic shovel that seemed to be difficult work but most effective.

Micky was up first of course and I found him in the hotel lobby having returned from dawn patrol and still digesting the cabbage pasty that he had experimentally ordered, recklessly consumed and immediately regretted in a coffee shop around the corner.  It didn’t spoil his appetite though and we all enjoyed the hotel’s generous hot buffet breakfast.

First of all today we reacquainted ourselves with the fabulous Art Nouveau buildings that were all quite close to our hotel.  There had been a lot of restoration activity since we were last here and the pace of regeneration to repair years of neglect was very impressive.  The buildings looked different this time bathed in soft winter sunshine with snow on the roofs and when we had done enough neck craning to peer upwards towards the statues and friezes we left this part of the city and walked once again through the spacious parks towards the city centre.

The snow was still mostly undisturbed and looked sensational in the bright sunshine.  The canal, which runs around the city, was frozen solid where hooded crows were scavenging unsuccessfully and stranded ducks were optimistically looking for running water. After an aimless wander through the parks we were unsure of our position and we left navigation to Kim who was confident that she knew where we were.  

And rather surprisingly she was correct and after another park we emerged at the Freedom Monument just in time to see the eleven o’clock goose-stepping changing of the guard ceremony where the young soldiers that had stood there in the cold for the last hour looked mighty relieved to see their replacements.

Next to the monument was the Russian Orthodox Cathedral, which had also been recently restored in an ugly duckling transformation from a grimy communist grey to a resplendent sandstone yellow under black domes with gleaming crosses.  The renovated brickwork was clean and sharp with red brick stripes and elaborate white columns soaring into the immaculate blue sky above.

Russian Orthodox Church buildings differ in design from most western type churches because interiors are decorated with many sacramental objects including holy icons and murals covering most of the walls. Some of these images represent the Theotokos (Mother of God), the saints, and scenes from their varied and interesting lives.

Sue, Christine, Kim and I went inside but I think Micky feared either religious conversion or divine retribution for past sins and he stayed firmly outside.  He missed a treat.  The communists had closed the cathedral as a place of worship and had converted the building into a planetarium but the place was surely more heavenly than ever now that it had been returned to its intended purpose.  The interior was bright and cheerful, was adorned with shining icons and smelled of sweet burning incense and to one side there was a service of some kind attended by a standing congregation who were in a very solemn mood.

Last time we came here there was corpse laid out in a casket and we suspected that this might be a funeral service but I wasn’t tall enough to see over the shoulders of the congregation and I though it rude to intrude to close to the front because of a macabre interest.  The service was attended by nuns in black robes and pointy hats who looked like extras from the Lord of the Rings and was led by a priest in a lavish scarlet and gold robe.  We stayed for a while to satisfy our curiosity and then left to find Micky who was still outside but maintaining a safe distance from the Cathedral doors.

At the market square we watched people skating and strolled through a small winter market and then we got lost again and based on her earlier success (which I put down to beginners luck!) we let Kim have another attempt at finding the way to the House of the Blackheads which we had identified as a likely place for a drinks break.

We looked out into the town hall square and tried to identify the position of the web-cam to see if we could establish if it was genuine or not but we couldn’t.  There was a lot of snow clearing activity with a man in a tractor with a snow plough working quickly and efficiently to clear the square and he made a really good job of it too.  The city clearly had an efficient risk management strategy with a comprehensive snow clearance plan.

Next stop was a trip to the top of a church tower to see the city from an elevated perspective and from here we could better appreciate the patchwork quilt of coloured roofs and pastel facades looking even more attractive under the snowy mantle that decorated them.  Luckily we didn’t have to climb to the top and there was an attended lift that raised us to the summit.

We had ten minutes at the viewing platform which was about nine more than we really needed considering how cold it was with a bitter wind that felt like icy needles being driven into our faces; so we were careful therefore that we didn’t miss the descent when the lift came back to collect us and return us to the ground floor and back to the street.

Back at street level we strolled through a little restored medieval area called the Konsenta Veta that had been converted into a hotel, restaurants and small shops.  The shoppers amongst us were seduced into an amber jewelry shop but Micky and I successfully resisted the temptation to accompany them inside.  They took longer than expected so after we had organised a search party to rescue them it was time for lunch and we went to the Lido again which thankfully was serving this time; we choose our seats and then enjoyed a cheap and rustic lunch of bread and soup.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Riga, A Baltic Winter

After the first visit to Riga I made myself a promise to go back one day but I didn’t expect it to be quite so soon.  Returning to a place for a second time is something I have vowed not to do if I can possibly avoid it mainly because there are forty-five countries in Europe and I have only so far been to thirty-0ne.  But with cheap flights helping me to shorten the list of places left to visit I decided that it would do no harm to take another look at Latvia.

I found the 1p flights to Riga in September and snapped them up immediately, Micky and Sue did the same and Christine signed up for the trip a little later on.  We had been to Riga before in a pleasantly warmJune and really liked the place so we were keen to return and see the city in the grip of a cold Baltic winter.

In the couple of weeks before the trip we kept our eye on the BBC Web Site weather pages and were disappointed to see that the conditions were changeable and that we could not reliably be guaranteed the snow and the cold temperatures that we really wanted to see.  This was unusual because Riga in January should be very cold indeed but this year the temperatures were unpredictable and that made us anxious.

There was also a useful Web-site with some web-cam pictures that as the trip got closer encouragingly showed streets covered in snow, but we weren’t absolutely convinced that these were genuine and we began to suspect that they were recordings of what the tourist office wanted people to see rather than representing reality.

We travelled to Stansted Airport by taxi, which at £30 each seemed a bit expensive to go eighty-five miles compared to the 1p airline flights to go one thousand two hundred.  To put that into perspective I calculate that if we were going to the moon it would cost £42,150 by Cockrams Coaches but only £1.99 by Ryanair.

When we landed in Riga the airport was covered in snow because there had been a big fall during the day and the snow ploughs had piled it high along the sides of the runway.  This looked very promising.  We found a taxi and had an entertaining ride into the city along untreated roads covered in snow and ice and with a driver bursting with testosterone who was determined not to make concessions to the conditions as he picked his way through the traffic in an over confident way that made us grateful to arrive at the Hotel Albert in one piece.

After we had all settled in we assembled in the lobby and set off on foot into the city.  It was cold and the snow was delightful, new and undisturbed but not too thick to make walking difficult.  The city authorities hadn’t started to tackle the clearance plan yet so everywhere we walked was through fresh virgin snow and especially through the park that took us into the city past the Russian Orthodox Cathedral and the Freedom Monument.

Because we had been here before we had a good idea of direction and we knew that we were heading for the Lido for a cheap but substantial meal.  Sadly when we arrived there the food was finished and after an unsuccessful conversation to identify an alternative establishment with the most unhelpful barman in Riga we went back to the streets to see what was available.  It was only half past nine but the restaurants all seemed to be closing down for the evening so we had to settle for TGI Fridays, which to be honest wouldn’t have been our first choice but turned out to be extremely good and unexpectedly the food had a predominantly local rather than a corporate flavour.

After dinner it was off to the skyline bar at the Hotel Latvia, twenty-seven storeys high and the tallest building in the country with a cocktail bar on the twenty-sixth floor giving panoramic views of the city.   On the way back Christine slipped and tried to plunge head-first through a plate glass window, knowing how accident prone she is we were relieved therefore that after that she clamped herself onto Micky’s arm for safety.  At the Hotel we found a window seat and we spent an enjoyable two hours experimenting with new cocktails.

The prices were nicely inexpensive and the vodka must have been cheap too because on an adjacent table there were two extremely drunk local men sharing the last remains of a bottle under the watchful eye of an attentive hotel security man who looked as though he had stepped from the pages of a Len Deighton novel.

Later we walked back to our hotel through the snow.  This was snow as I remembered it when I was a boy, not the stuff we get now that disappears almost as soon as it hits the ground.  This was the sort of snow that you can go confidently to bed safe in the knowledge that it would still be there in the morning.  So we did.

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More posts about Riga…

Jurmala by Train

Jurmala

Riga – The Skyline Bar

Works outing to Riga

Riga- Lunch at the Lido

Rosa Klebb’s endurance sightseeing tour of Riga

Sigulda, Latvia

Latvia Dining – a Chronic Case of Indecision

Jurmala, Latvia

Riga sightseeing

Riga – Festival of the Family and a BBQ

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Latvia dining – a chronic case of indecision

Our next destination was the Turaida Castle and Museum, which we went directly to after we had been reunited with the mini-bus that had temporarily misplaced us and had been waiting at the wrong place to meet us after our cable car ride.  We were collectively worried about this in case his patience had been put to the test again and would trigger another angry driver explosion but he was calm now and the short journey was uneventful.

The castle and museum were well worth the visit and as the weather continued to improve our charming guide entertained us with tales from Latvian folklore, which she delivered in good English that was sometimes punctuated with amusing mispronunciations and some inappropriate vocabulary.  We enjoyed the stories all the more for that.

After leaving Turaida castle, the bus took us to a great log-cabin restaurant called Kungu Rija which s means “The Landlord’s Barn.”  The restaurant was built according to old Latvian construction traditions and at this stage of the visit we enjoyed Latvian canapés and accompanied this with a chaotic debate about what to do tomorrow.  Alona was desperate to please everyone so worked hard to achieve a consensus that proved hopelessly optimistic.  This took some considerable time and once completed required the tour guide to handwrite for everyone an individual and personal itinerary for the next day.  This was a nice touch but was probably going to be a complete wasted effort knowing how chronically afflicted we all were with changeable minds.

I’m afraid that Alona wasn’t a very quick learner and no sooner had we ended the tortuous deliberation about tomorrow than she prompted another about where to eat tonight, and that proved equally as painful.  I am a great believer in the democratic process but sometimes someone just has to make a decision.  I could sense that some of us were getting irritable so I was grateful that on the fourth recount following a confusing voting procedure that we finally agreed to stay at this location and order dinner.  I was only too pleased that the restaurant staff that witnessed the pantomime were bestowed with unnatural amounts of patience and didn’t close the place in despair because this was a very good decision indeed and we enjoyed an exceptional meal and washed it down with an appropriate amount of alcohol.

It had been a long day so that evening the Maritim group stayed at their hotel and had an early night, except for Nick who was planning to go clubbing with David, Mark and Alona, and Alona’s cousin Christina.  We met them in the cocktail bar at the Hotel Latvia for pre-clubbing drinks.  David and Mark got in the mood with some B52s and some tequila shots and because I knew that they could handle their alcohol I gave Nick some advice on sensible drinking which I was to discover later that he completely disregarded.  Alona and her cousin were dressed to thrill and David and Mark had already fallen in love with Christina who tonight clad in her best party attire looked quite stunning and they were both completely bowled over by her.  With hormones in overdrive they competed with each other for her attention and it was amusing to watch them using their charm, and sometimes their elbows as they competed for advantage over each other.

They invited us to join them at the nightclub and I confess that I was tempted but in the end wisely declined because I imagine that most of the girls at the night-club were there in part to get away from their fathers and probably wouldn’t be particularly delighted to find themselves on the dance floor with someone else’s, especially one with an embarrassing dancing style based on a curious uncoordinated medley of shadow boxing and goose stepping moves that was perfected in nightclubs in the 1970’s and remains marooned there for eternity.

Riga, An Endurance Sightseeing Test

We drove back to the city to rendezvous with our Latvian guide for the afternoon who was going to take us on a walking tour of the city.  We had no idea when we started the tour that this experience was designed as a severe endurance test based on the welcome to the Soviet Army initiation week for new recruits.

She was a lovely woman, and rightfully very proud of her city but she hadn’t fully made the transition out of the ‘do as you are told’ communist era and she pushed us through the city at a punishing pace, even at one time refusing a perfectly reasonable request to stop for a just a brief moment to purchase cold drinks .

We saw all of the major tourist sites including the House of the Blackheads where we were chastised for buying postcards from a street vendor because she considered them too expensive; the Cathedral, where we took a ride to the top of the tower and marvelled at the view over the city; the house of the Black Cats with its graceful feline art nouveau statues; and the city main square with an inviting selection of pavement cafés where sadly we were not permitted to stay and sample the wares.  After an exhausting afternoon we eventually said a relieved goodbye to Rosa Kleb and to celebrate our liberation looked for a bar to sit and recover from the ordeal but sadly the weather had changed very quickly and some threatening black clouds were rolling in and it was starting to rain.

We sheltered for a time while we had a tedious deliberation about transport back to our respective hotels and dining arrangements for later in the evening.  I knew that there was going to be trouble when Alona revealed her plans for a table dancing restaurant and Kim’s jaw dropped like a brick.  There was only one thing to do, go into the canvas topped open air bar and have a drink, which we did while the others continued their debate about proposed evening activities.

After a while we were conscious that we were left alone and it appeared (to our relief) that we had been forgotten and they had all made their way back to their hotels without us.  No such luck.  After a while David came back to find us and we were reunited with the Hotel Albert contingent.  I could tell that Kim was getting somewhat irritated and another unnecessary discussion about taxi passenger arrangements didn’t help matters or improve her humour so I was extremely pleased to get back to the hotel without a major incident.

It didn’t take long for Kim to decide that she wasn’t going to the table dancing restaurant and I wasn’t especially keen either, but this put me in an awful dilemma.  I wanted to stay with her but as tour leader felt obliged to meet up with the others.  We washed and changed and met in the bar and I hoped that she might change her mind, but she did a Margaret Thatcher and refused to turn and so, reassured that she was comfortable about being left alone for the evening I took a taxi into the city and joined the others.

Kim had displayed better judgement than me because the place was awful – loud, cheap and with young girls employed as female enticement to dance in the window in bikini tops and draw in the leering stag parties.  This was sexual exploitation and I didn’t like it, they were roughly the same age as my own daughter and it occurred to me that I would hate it if they were my children and I was somewhat ashamed to be there.  I ordered my meal and paid for it but left before it arrived and I walked back swiftly to the Hotel.

About half way back I realised that I wasn’t really sure where I was going and although I knew that I was close I felt a little uneasy in the heavy shadows of the buildings where I imagined danger to be lurking in every suspicious corner and I decided to complete the journey by taxi so located one and asked for a price.  If I was anxious about being mugged on the street I should have been more bothered about the taxi driver:

“How much to the Hotel Albert? I enquired

“5 Lats” 

“5 Lats, that’s ridiculous, it’s less than half a mile, I’ll give you 2”

“5 Lats”  I decided not to argue and got in but then tried again: “Look, I’ll pay you 2 Lats, that’s fair” 

“5 Lats”

“That’s ridiculous!”

And then I realised why I would not get the fare for 2 Lats and also had it confirmed for me just what sort of hotel I was staying at: “If you can afford hanky panky at the Albert you can afford 5 Lats for a taxi!”

Actually, they weren’t quite the exact words that he used to express his suspicions about my motives but feel free to work them out for yourselves.  I indignantly pleaded my innocence and when we arrived I paid up and called him a robber, he laughed out loud as though in total agreement with the total accuracy of my character assessment and drove off pocketing the result of his sting.  Actually the journey was only about two hundred metres so at the official basic rate of 1.5 Lats and .5 Lats per kilometre he made a handsome profit on that trip of about 215%!

Riga – Lunch at the Lido

We arrived and were delighted to find the sun shining and a lovely warm day to greet us when we left the arrivals hall and were met by Alona and the mini-bus that she had arranged for our transport.  We went first to the Maritim Park and she ordered us to check-in and return immediately to the bus.   We had to explain to her that as we had been travelling for eight hours or so that we needed some time to freshen up and therefore wouldn’t be able to proceed with the planned tour without a little rest and recuperation.  Finally it was agreed and the remainder of us left the Maritim group to change and get ready whilst we went to the Albert to do the same.

We had a short debate about the alternative choices of shower or beer and  after satisfying myself that personal hygiene was not a problem I predictably went for the alcohol alternative and returned down to the bar and had a glass of Cesu Alis – a fine local beer. I reflected on the minor disagreement on tour itinerary times and it was then at about this time that I had my first misgivings about the possibility of tensions in the group, so I had another glass of Cesu Alis to see if this would take them away.  It certainly helped.

The Hotel bar wasn’t especially busy and I became conscious that the barman was particularly attentive and he kept winking and nodding in my direction in that screwed up face sort of way that people adopt when they are trying to attract attention.  I hoped he had an unfortunate affliction, worried he might be gay and wished hard that Kim would hurry up and join me but then I realised that he was trying to draw my attention in the direction of two young women sitting in the window; I still took a while to catch on but when Kim finally arrived she was astute enough to work out that he was enquiring if I required the services of a prostitute!  That was thoughtful of him but when Kim arrived he realised that I wasn’t in the market for a tart and he moved on.   Riga is allegedly the place to go if you like to pay for your women and later we were to discover that this hotel was sex city central.

The mini-bus returned and the party was reunited to begin a guided tour of the city that started with a bus trip that due to the confusing one-way system circumnavigated the city at least three times.  Some actually fell asleep and woke three times to see the National Opera House and made the reasonable assumption that we had sat in a traffic hold-up for thirty minutes or so.  The mid-day sun was hot and made life in the mini-bus a bit of a challenge and I for one was glad when we arrived at our lunchtime destination, the Lido, which is an out-of-town garden centre sort of attraction that is centred around a self service restaurant in a unique type of wooden building called a guļbūve that was built using specially selected hundred year old Latvian fir-trees and is said to be the largest of its kind both in Latvia and in Europe and I for one was not going to dispute this piece of information.

I had expected the choice of food in Latvia to be somewhat limited so this place was a real eye-opener.  The service areas were set out with a gut-busting selection of high quality food, every type of meat imaginable of course but also vegetables and salads, dips and sauces all presented in a mouth watering way and with eyes bigger than bellies there was, to be honest, far too much food choice for hungry people with empty stomachs.

For a first visit the vast array of fare made decision making very difficult but eventually we all selected a meal and after a bit of a scramble to find a table for ten we enjoyed our food and a glass of beer.  It was delicious food and excellent beer but we couldn’t linger too long because our insistence on a freshen-up break earlier had put Alona’s itinerary at risk so we were allowed only a very brief look around the gardens and the craft shops after lunch before we were obliged to quickly move on.

 

Riga, Jurmala by Train

Not one of the World’s great train journeys.

We have been to Jūrmala both by mini-bus and by taxi before but this time we decided to travel by train.  Thankfully this only involved a journey of about thirty minutes or so because take it from me – this was not the Orient Express and certainly not one of the great railway journeys of the world.

Latvia’s national railway company is Latvijas Dzelzceļš but the development of the Latvian railways since independence in 1991 has not been a great priority for the Government and due to lack of investment the system has suffered badly as a result.  Many trains are poorly maintained and delays are common, but luckily for us the routes to the satellite towns and villages around Riga on an electrified line generally have a better service than the intercity and international routes.

Riga’s central station is Centrala Stacija and although it has been modernised in a fashion it still appears stark and authoritarian with an alarming absence of modern customer care basics.  I shouldn’t complain however because to put things into some sort of perspective the return journey to Majori was only one Lat, twenty-five cents, or about £1.40 in real money.

We found the platform and the waiting train in its bright blue and yellow livery and got on and found a seat and one thing that can be said about Latvian railways is that they are punctual because this one left dead on time.

This train was not the best one that I have ever been on; it was utilitarian, grey, uncomfortable and a living testimony to finest Russian engineering and style.  The interior of the carriage was a no-frills affair with hard bench seats and a complete absence of modern travelling refinements.  It was grubby and without charm and it creaked and groaned as the tired old engine pulled the carriages out of the station and away from the city over the river Daugava and into the outskirts of the city that were a total contrast to the cosmopolitan city centre.  Here it was easy to understand why people from Latvia give up a life in their own country to go and live in Lincolnshire.

Progress between worn out stations was painfully slow and the train passed through suburbs strewn with litter and rubbish and with a marked absence of civic pride.  About half way to Jūrmala there was a huge estate of decaying communist high-rise apartment buildings that had probably been constructed hastily in the 1960s to house the seven hundred thousand Russian workers who were sent here by the Soviets to colonise Latvia in a deliberate policy of Russification.   Life must have been quite good for these privileged colonists under the old regime but when Latvia gained independence in 1991 they were in for a shock because it only granted automatic citizenship to those who had lived in the first independent Latvian state, between 1918 and 1940.

There was good reason for this because Latvia had suffered hugely under Soviet rule. During the Stalin years thousands were arrested and sent to Siberian labour camps, or simply executed for being part of the Latvian partisan groups who opposed occupation. To replace them, hundreds of thousands of Russians, Belarussians and Ukrainians flooded into the republic and the Latvian language was squeezed out of official use.  Latvians were resentful citizens of the USSR and by 1991 they comprised only half of the population of their own country, while in Riga itself only a third were Latvian.

Today, the government is determined to revive the Latvian identity and it says that it’s policy towards Russians who immigrated here during the Soviet period is aimed not at punishing them for the sins of the Soviet regime (as some allege) but at ensuring that they learn Latvian and integrate fully into the new society.  In order to naturalise, Russians must take a test in Latvian, and pass an exam about Latvian history, in which they must ‘correctly’ answer that the country was occupied and colonised, not liberated, by the Soviet Union in 1945.

The train lumbered on and a lady ticket collector examined our tickets.  This appeared to be a throw back to the Soviet days because each carriage had it’s own ticket inspector, which seemed to be a very generous staffing allocation.  There were not many tourists on the train and the announcements were made in impenetrable Latvian and the stations had a confusing absence of any helpful place names but luckily there was an old lady sharing our bench seat who guessed that we travelling to the town of Majori and gave us helpful advice on where to get off.

And getting off of the train was another interesting experience because there was no platform in any sort of fashion that we would recognise and it was necessary to leave the train down steep steps that stopped about fifty centimetres from the tarmac and involved a final jump that only the most able bodied would ever be able to manage.  There were no signs of measures to combat disability discrimination here I can tell you.  In fact, on account of the lack of engineering refinements on board, the whole railway journey experience seemed fraught with danger and this was well illustrated by a sign on the heavy metal doors that seemed to indicate that male passengers in particular should be careful not to trap delicate bits of their anatomy in between the closing doors as this could be very, very painful indeed.  And to emphasise this the letters can be rearranged into that well-known warning ‘tite bals nastie’.