In Riga with Diga (and Rick)

DATE: March 2005
LOCATION: Riga, Latvia

We (Mom and Dad are in town) just spent a few days in Riga. Now I know you’re probably asking, “Sarah, what on earth would draw you to the capital of Lativa?” Actually let’s face it; what you’re REALLY asking is, “Where in the heck is Riga?” Well, it's easy (why I went, not where it is. I’m not going to tell you where it is…look it up). We actually wanted to go to Barcelona, but the tickets were pricey. We went to the Ryan Air website and found the cheapest fare to a city we hadn’t been to yet. Riga was featured in National Geographic Travel magazine last summer, so we thought we were set! Let’s just say we found out quickly there is a reason tickets to Riga were so cheap. It was cold. REAL cold.

We booked a bed and breakfast outside of city center. It was a huge new wooden house in a neighborhood full of old mansions. It was the highlight of the trip. The proprietress was Diga Daga, and living with her was her husband (we think) a Kiwi named Rick. Also in the house was Diga’s mom whose name we never learned; she was introduced as, and referred to throughout by everybody as Diga’s mom, and since she didn’t speak any English, at least not that she let on, we couldn’t ask her. She made amazing jam, reportedly the best in the world. Not having tried all the jam in the world I can’t confirm the claim, but it WAS darn good jam. The house was enormous, and filled with the craziest assortment of furniture, paintings by Diga, and other curios like a huge paper mache globe Rick was doing something with. There was a cuddly but very needy dog named Sara, a schizophrenic black cat named Nelson Mandela, and a shy cat named Cinderella. Nelson Mandela was a known cereal killer, known to attack unsuspecting boxes of cornflakes at every opportunity.

We arrived late on a Thursday night, were picked up at the airport by Diga’s son-in-law who drives a cab, and spent the first evening drinking copious amounts of cheap Latvian beer with Rick. We got up early, but not too early to a huge breakfast; eggs, ham, potatoes, fresh rolls from the oven (with Diga’s mom’s jam), cereal, yogurt, and huge crepes filled with lemon and honey. No need for lunch! One look outside and we were in no hurry to leave the coziness of the house. The only other guest in the house was a pudgy gay German named Martin. He was the epitome of every stereotype, both German and gay. He came to Latvia every couple of months, and always stayed with Rick and Diga. There were pictures of him on the wall like he was family. Finally, at some point in the late morning, after a rousing breakfast conversation with our very international crowd, we bundled up and walked to the trolley. It was about 30 cents for a 25 minute ride. We ended up at the main train station, which was right next to the central market, a series of zeppelin hangars, each with a different theme. The meat hangar, the cheese hangar, one was almost half pet food! They really like their pets in Latvia. Surrounding the hangar were open air stalls. Insulation in hangars isn’t so good, and hanging from the edge were some of the hugest icicles I’d ever seen. Apparently every year several people are unlucky enough to die from icicle impalement. After scouring the market, we headed toward downtown. The temperature was so low we didn’t make it far before being forced into a café and ordering hot chocolate.

Our next stop was the Museum of Occupation. As far as a low-budget sort of third world museum goes, it is quite well done. Not exactly uplifting, but informative and telling. You never stop learning. When you think of the horrors of the Soviet Union, the situation in the small but independent country of Latvia isn’t normally what comes to mind. From there we went to the Cathedral, and, since Jan Kline was with us, we had to go up the church tower. It was possibly the coldest I’ve ever been in my entire life. The temperature was already in the teens…add a brisk wind off the water and some altitude to it. It was an amazing view of the city. The river was frozen solid as far as we could see...and it isn’t exactly a small river. The city isn’t the most picturesque, Soviet occupation seemed to have that affect on places.

We started to walk again, but again, didn’t make it far. We found the Dickens Pub, what appeared to be the ex-pat hang out. We had some British beer and traditional black bread that was fried in garlic butter. There were several soccer games on, and given the good beer, cold weather, and comfortable surroundings we stayed quite awhile. We found in our guide the restaurant we wanted to try for dinner, unfortunately, there didn’t appear to be a good way to get there except on foot. We bundled up, and forged out into the cold. There were several detours into supermarket and couple other stores along the way to get warm. Our destination was heralded as the VERY BEST traditional Latvian food. It was only okay--I'd hate to try mediocre Latvian food. Lots of pork, and heavy potato dishes. We were all kind of full from the bread at the pub.

Parts of the city are beautiful, chalked full of art deco buildings and sidewalk cafes. As you can imagine, enjoying both of those things would have been more rewarding in warmer weather. The Soviets built some ghastly buildings, but the town center seemed well preserved.

Saturday morning had us eating the same huge breakfast, but sadly, there was no Martin. Apparently he sleeps very late with some regularity. We ate until we heard our arteries clog, bundled up, and braved the ½ mile trek to the tram. First stop was the Guildhall. We were trying to find a show to see, and went several places trying to find one. Most things sold out. I guess there isn’t much else to do. After checking several places, we ended up with Requiem tickets at a cathedral. After we got tickets we wandered through a sort of art museum, that was haphazardly put together in a basement. We then found ourselves in the main square with an ice skating rink. There were a few vendors selling paintings. In the summer this place is probably packed. We stopped for more hot chocolate at a swanky place with swanky prices. The chocolate was more like sludge.

From there we went to the far end of town to what we referred to as the junk market. Stall upon cramped stall, with pile upon pile of soviet era everything. And probably lots of stolen stuff too. We bought some old Russian money and mom got some Soviet era certificates. They had a shiny red case with a gold hammer and cycle. Then we went back to the big market and got some honey. I actually think we really just wanted to warm up a bit. We got a small painting, then ducked into yet another coffee shop in effort to defrost. We then were enlightened (and defrosted) by the museum of navigation. Pizza Jazz was where we made our scene at dinner before the concert. The concert was amazing, and packed. And cold.

Sunday. We sat with Diga and listened to her life story, and stories she told about the neighborhood from the Soviet era. Fascinating. We had done all there was to do in Riga. I’d read the beach was close, but with the weather, it seemed silly. The problem was we didn’t have anything else to do. Mom brought forth the Soviet memorabilia and wanted translation help. Diga’s Russian was rusty, so she said she needed some time to work on it, but that it would be a fun project for the day. Martin finally surfaced, said we absolutely must go to the beach, and gave us good directions. Seriously--what does Martin DO here all the time? Actually, I don't really want to know.

The train to the Baltic beach was old but sturdy. Once there we wandered the main street enjoying the sun--although it was melting ice and making everything treacherous. Now, time for the actual BEACH. As we got closer and closer, there were none of the normal sea noises of waves crashing or birds pillaging. As we came up over a hill, and onto what was probably sand (hard to say with all the snow), we figured out why there was no beach noise. The sea was completely frozen!!! As far out as we could see. Freaky. We ran out onto the frozen water (insert Jesus comments here) and slid all over giggling like school kids. Apparently in late spring with the ice melts, it is a sight to behold. Huge ice "castles" float away glinting in the sun. We headed back, buying amber jewelry (as you do) and got back on the train to town--then the late flight back home.

I think I like Riga. I'll let you know when my brain defrosts a bit more.