Riga, Latvia - 2 days in the Baltics

Latvia - Riga (13 Feb - 15 Feb 2006)

“Where the hell is Riga?” That was the first thing Jodie said to me when I suggested we jet off to the Latvian capital for a two day city break. “And why on earth would I want to go there?” was the second.
I was prepared for both questions. “Riga is the capital of Latvia. It’s near Russia, and I’ve looked—”
“Russia!” said Jodie, clearly incredulous. “You want me to go to Russia in February! No way. Not a chance. I’m not going to bloody Russia.”
I laughed, expecting this very response. “Look, Latvia’s not Russia, Jodie. It’s only near it. Besides, it looks like a really—”
“No.” And then she walked out of the room.

* * *

Approaching Riga International Airport on a dark February evening, I noticed the snow outside for the first time. It was blowing past the wing in ferocious streaks of white. I turned to Jodie, wondering whether to tell her. After all, it had taken some hard convincing to get her to go to Latvia. I recalled our second conversation on the subject. “Come on, darling,” I said. “It’ll be an experience if nothing else.”
“Really?” she answered. “So convince me to go to a place I’ve never even heard of.” She stood, hands on hips, waiting for my best effort at persuasion.
Taking a deep breath I told Jodie about the beautiful medieval old town, and the modern bars and restaurants surrounding it. I described the parks and monuments, then showed her a picture of the Hotel Latvija, the tallest building in Riga. I could see Jodie was impressed with how it looked. “And do you know the best thing about it?”
“Go on,” she said, interest piqued.
“It’s got a bar on the 24th floor called the Skyline. It overlooks the whole city. ”
Jodie’s eyes widened. “Ooh, that does sound nice.” But then her face furrowed. “But won’t it be cold in February?”
This was the only potential stumbling block in my plan. Jodie was right. Riga, in February, would be freezing. In fact, the previous February had been down to - 28 ° C at one point. To convince Jodie to go, I needed to tread carefully.
Look,” I said. “Yes, it’s going to be cold. But if we wrap up warm, we’ll be fine. And the snow might even add to the whole trip. Everything will look really Christmassy.”
Jodie looked unconvinced, but even so, told me to go ahead and book it. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” she added. “If I don’t like it in Latvia, you won’t get me to anymore of these weird countries I know you’ve been looking at.”
Clapping my hands in glee, I said, “You won’t regret it, I promise!”
I booked it the very next day. On the Air Baltic (the national airline of Latvia) website, return tickets were on offer for the bargain price of £142. I purchased them without delay. And on the Hotel Latvija website, a two night stay, including breakfast, was £140. We were off to Latvia.

Touching down at Riga Airport at 7:20pm local time, I regarded the snow and ice outside. Nowhere looks warm and inviting in the dark. Even less so with a blizzard blowing and an aeroplane from Uzbekistan parked at the stand next to us. “Where have you brought me?” said Jodie, peering grimly towards the terminal.
I answered immediately. “On an adventure of discovery. Trailblazing a path for others to follow.” We collected our hand luggage and left the plane.
Going through passport control (complete with KGB style military guards) we entered the modernized airport lounge. Cafés selling trendy coffees and chic people buying the latest perfumes greeted our gazes. It was so far removed from our expectations of the former Soviet Union that it was actually quite surreal. Latvia seemed ultra-modern and vibrant; a world away from people queuing at street corners for stale bread. Waiting to collect our luggage, I couldn’t wait to experience what Riga had to offer. Even the minus eight temperatures outside couldn’t quell my sense of adventure.
I turned to Jodie. “Ready to brave the cold?” She nodded, putting on her hat and scarf as we headed for the exit to hail a taxi. As soon as we stepped outside, the freezing temperatures hit us - a blast of ice enveloping every exposed inch of skin instantly. "Jesus Christ!” I said. “It’s fucking bitter out here!”
Hailing the nearest taxi (a red official airport one) we climbed inside. After pointing to the address of our hotel, I asked the driver how much it would be, hoping he’d understand me. “Five Lats,” he answered immediately. I nodded in acceptance. With an exchange rate almost identical to British Pounds, five Lats seemed a fair price - certainly cheaper than in the UK. We set off at high speed.
Sitting in the back, we regarded the outskirts of Riga. In the gloom, it looked fairly eastern bloc and nondescript. Half a mile further, and a few things became visible - unreadable road signs, billboards and petrol stations with strange logos. To me, this was the reason for travelling - the sheer differentness of everything.
With a sudden veer to the right, we were on a dual carriageway, snow whooshing across the highway in icy flurries. On the radio, a woman sung a western song in a foreign accent. In the distance ahead, we could make out central Riga. Ten minutes later we pulled up outside our place of stay - the Hotel Reval Latvija.

In Soviet times, the hotel had been an eyesore - a place where every room had surveillance bugs installed to monitor the political leanings of its guests. Nowadays, it looked the modern hotel it was - a safe haven for a weary traveller to relax.
I paid the driver (my first transaction in the local currency) and felt another blast of cold air as we left the car. As quickly as possible, we entered the large hotel foyer to reach the warmth inside
Inside, things were positively balmy. And even better was how everything looked. A gorgeous bar on our right; a posh-looking restaurant to the left - the Hotel Latvija was an upscale place to stay. We checked in and took the lift to our room.
It was better than our expectations. A well-stocked mini bar and heated floor tiles in the bathroom made it almost luxurious. And for the first time since we’d set off from Manchester Airport, Jodie looked truly happy. “This is lovely,” she said, surveying the room. “I think I’m going to like Riga!”
Half an hour later we were downstairs in the bar. I had a pint of premium Latvian Lager, while Jodie had a glass of fine red wine. The total cost was three Lats (roughly three pounds at the user-friendly exchange rate) and then we crossed the room to the adjoining Esplanade Restaurant. The meal we had was top notch clobber. Afterwards, satisfied; we felt it was time to see the famous Skyline Bar.
After getting the lift up to the 24th floor, we stepped out only to be disappointed. There was a sign on the door saying it was closed for refurbishment until April. Let down slightly, we went instead to the bar on the ground floor again, soaking up the Latvian ambience once more. We went to bed soon after, weary from our day of travel.

The next morning, our only full day in Latvia, we got up bright and early. After a quick peer behind the curtains, I could see snow everywhere. When Jodie joined me at the window, her reaction surprised me. “It looks so pretty! And that Church looks amazing. What is it?”
“It’s called the Orthodox Cathedral,” I answered, looking at my guide book. “During Soviet times it was turned into a restaurant and lecture hall. When Latvia gained independence, it changed back to being a cathedral.”
Soon, we were in the hotel restaurant having our free breakfast. It was another novel experience for us. Buffet style, the menu consisted of either continental servings, or an English style breakfast. The bacon, scrambled eggs and toast were as expected, but the sausages weren’t. They were like frankfurters.
Afterwards, wrapped up like Eskimos, we were ready to step into the arctic conditions. The temperature outside was a bone rattling minus ten. Spring had arrived in Latvia! Time to get the barbeque out.

Heading down Brivibas Bulvaris, a long straight road leading to the heart of Riga, our first stop was the Freedom Monument. Built in 1935, and regarded by many Latvians as a national shrine, it had a statue of Mother Latvia on the very top. Approaching the monument, we spotted the two soldiers standing to attention at its base. And then, as if a switch had been suddenly flipped, they started moving in a peculiar manner. It was a strange routine, straight from Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks. Each action was exaggerated in slow motion. It was, we later found out, the changing of the guards.
As the soldiers marched off back their barracks, Jodie and I resumed our journey. “Look at the ducks!” she said suddenly, pointing towards the right. I turned, seeing some sort of park with a small river running through it. The river was frozen solid covered with snow. About thirty ducks sat huddled on it, as if somehow trying to fathom where their river had gone. We watched them awhile before moving on.
Despite the freezing temperatures, we were really enjoying ourselves. It was picturesque and so very foreign, a world away from the burger and chips brigade of the Mediterranean. And as we neared the central area (only ten minutes walk from our hotel) we marvelled at the beautifully coloured buildings just beyond a temporary ice rink. They belonged in a fairy tale.

Further on, we came to the second of our sightseeing destinations - the strangely named House of Blackheads. This distinctive red brick building was rebuilt in 2001 but actually dated back to the 14th century where it was the home of unmarried merchants. According to local legend, the men wore black caps as they indulged in mad banquets and drinking sessions. Today though, the House of Blackheads is a museum and tourist information centre.
“See that spire over there?” I said to Jodie, pointing to our left. “It’s the Church of St Peter and according to this guide book, there’s an interesting story behind it.”
Jodie listened as I began to tell the tale. Apparently, the spire had fallen off or burned down so many times that Peter the Great, visiting Riga at the time, ordered a proper rebuild once and for all. It was finally completed in 1746. In celebration, the architect in charge climbed to the very top of the spire and drunk a glass of wine. Then he threw his empty glass to the ground, telling everyone that the number of shards it broke into would signify how many centuries the spire would remain standing. So they all climbed back down to have a gander. They weren’t happy with what they found. The glass had only broken into two pieces. By chance, it had landed in a pile of hay.
“So did the spire fall down?” asked Jodie.
“Yeah, nearly two centuries later during the Second World War. It was hit by a bomb and collapsed in flames! Unbelievable!”

Just right of the Blackheads house was the distinctive looking statue of Saint Roland, a famous martyr of Latvia. And just behind him, a dark, sombre-looking building that looked like a library. According to our guide book, it was actually the Occupation Museum of Latvia. It contained documents and artefacts chronicling Latvian life during the occupation by both the Soviets and the Nazis.
After passing another monument - this time dedicated to the First World War riflemen of Latvia - we turned left along a main road running parallel to the Daugava River. Eventually we came to a little side street and without really knowing where we were going, we turned up it. The scene in front of us looked bleak and very Eastern Bloc with graffiti everywhere and no one around. Somehow we’d stepped into an unsavourily part of Riga without even realising it.
Quickening our pace, we walked forwards, trudging through slush and cigarette ends, trying to get back to civilisation. At that moment, about a hundred yards in front, two men stepped into the street. They stood, watching us, lighting cigarettes through cupped hands. Both were in their early thirties and looked hardened to the bitter wintry weather.
As we got nearer, I steeled myself for a confrontation of some kind, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Twenty feet, fifteen, and I could hear one of the men speaking; a deep, rasping unrecognisable accent. Ten feet, five, and then it was all over. We’d passed them without incident. One had even nodded in acknowledgment as we did so. Jodie and I breathed a sigh of relief. Thirty seconds later the street opened up into a wider area of Tram stops, billboards, and more importantly, people. We were back in safe hands if we’d ever left them in the first place.
“What did you make of those two blokes?” I asked Jodie as we came to a crossroads.
“Not sure. But they looked a bit dodgy.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I got bad vibes about them. But they were okay in the end. Did you see one of them nodding? I bet they were just mechanics or something, having a quick cig break.”
Heading back towards the old town, we spied a café along a side street. Entering it, we were met with a blast of heat and the aroma of freshly prepared coffee. We ordered large ones each (with a free biscuit) and as we sat down, Jodie asked me how much they’d cost.
“About twenty pence each,” I said. She shook her head, unable to comprehend how cheap everything was in Latvia.
The café was not a touristy one. In fact, by looking at the clientele, it looked like a local’s café. But neither of us cared a jot. We were warm, we were safe, and the coffee tasted great.
“I’m really enjoying myself,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “This is the real Riga. Right here in this coffee house. Just listen to the accents.”
All around us people were chatting away in what could only be Latvian or perhaps Russian.* We couldn’t understand a single word. Jodie smiled. “I know what you mean. And I never thought I’d say it, but I love it here too.”

Half an hour later we were on the move once more, heading towards an outdoor market we’d spotted. Browsing its many stalls, we saw mainly fruit and vegetables. But then we saw a stand selling big fur hats - the type usually worn by James Bond villains in downtown Moscow. We made a beeline for it, hoping to buy one for a pittance. However we ended up being disappointed on two fronts. Firstly, the hats were really expensive - about twenty five Lats each. And secondly, when we touched them, they were made out of real animal fur. The chances of getting them through customs, we felt, were slim. We left the stall in search of other delights elsewhere.
Just beyond the market was a large building that lots of people were entering and leaving. We took it to be some sort of indoor market, which turned out to be true. In fact, it was one of four old Zeppelin Hangars from World War I, converted into markets in the 1930’s. But we only found this out afterwards.
Inside the market Jodie and I were met with an unusual sight - never ending stalls selling every kind of meat imaginable. Sausages seemed to be the main item on offer, but other things were on display too. Huge shanks of meat, small cuts of steak and even red-tinged, white strips of something resembling lard were being sold by rotund middle-aged women looking like extras from a Cold War film. I wondered why nothing else was on offer. You’d think there would be a stall selling vegetables perhaps? But the answer turned out to be straightforward. Each of the four hangars sold a different product. We were in the meat one. The other three (which regretfully we didn’t visit) sold fish, dairy products and fruit & vegetables respectively. After wandering around the Vegans Delight for another ten minutes, we left to find some lunch. Perhaps the sight of pigs’ heads had whetted our appetite for meat.
The Lido we found by accident. Only minutes away from our hotel, we went in not knowing what to expect. It turned out to be fabulous eatery; a must for every visitor to Latvia.
The Lido chain is famous across the Baltic’s - fast food with a difference. Unlike McDonalds, for example, they serve proper hot food, buffet style, at dirt cheap prices. Wandering downstairs into a hot cavern, we saw the huge array of choices. Most looked delicious and barely recognisable. Eventually opting for rice and meat in a savoury sauce, we sat down with our drinks. The total bill came to four Lats, or two quid each. Highly recommended.

After a quick pit stop at the hotel, we were back out, guide book in hand, to see the heart of the old town, an area we’d somehow missed on our first jaunt. Ten minutes later we were standing before the Powder Tower, a cylindrical structure rumoured to have stored gunpowder during medieval times. And then another gorgeous girl wandered past.
Beautiful women are everywhere in Riga. They stand at tram stops, sit on buses, serve in bars and cafes, and walk past you on busy streets. As a rough estimate, I’d say 90% of young Latvian women are gorgeous. But then something odd happens. Once they get past a certain age, say thirty-five, they turn into typical Russian type stocky women. Jodie came up with a succinct comment to describe this strange process. “From supermodel to superminger in one fell swoop.”
Just along the street from the Powder Tower was the city-famous Cat House. The building itself is quite nondescript, but what attracts people to it are the black cats perched on the towers. The story behind them is as follows. According to Latvian legend, the owner of the building fell out with some merchants who resided in the Great Guild Hall across the street. They wouldn’t let him join their gang or something. So in an act of protest, he swivelled his cats around so their rears faced the Guild. Eventually the merchants relented, allowing him to join their prized ranks, and he turned his cats around properly. Today, the cats face towards the Philharmonic Hall. A nice story, I think you’ll agree.
Unlike most cities in the UK, Riga hadn’t ground to a halt because of the snow. In fact, it seemed to thrive on it. And there were people whose job it was to clear the snow from public paths. Armed with shovels, they’d scoop up heaps of us, piling it at choice intervals along the street. These mounds would be built up creating large white cones. In England they’d let it pile up haphazardly and put a tax on it.
Eventually Jodie and I found Dome Square, the heart of Old Riga. Its centrepiece was the grand Dome Cathedral, a massive building the Soviets turned into a concert hall during their communist reign. Snow flurries began to fall in lazy circles all around us. It was Christmas once more.
“Now to the oldest stone buildings in Riga,” I announced, pouring over the small map in the guidebook. “They’re called the Three Brothers and should be around here somewhere.”
Like always, Jodie waited, knowing full well I had no clue about the direction to head. My sense of direction was appalling. Even the simplest journey threw me off track within minutes. After grabbing the guide book from my hands, Jodie set off with me following hot on her heels.
The oldest of the Three Brothers, a white building with an archway door, dated back to the 15th century. Its tiny windows remind people of a time when having large windows - and therefore more light - was a taxable commodity in Latvia. All three houses looked charming in a city full of picturesque quaintness.
Next we headed for the Swedish Gate, the only remaining gateway from the original city wall. Embedded in its wall was an iron cannon, a memento perhaps, from the Swedish invasion in the early 17th century. I wondered how many tourists had wandered past it without even noticing it.

Deciding it was time for another coffee, we found a place just opposite the Powder Tower. It was totally empty, but the coffee was great and as cheap as everywhere else in Latvia. With a satisfied expression forming on my face, I sat back into the comfy seat.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Jodie, knowing the answer already.
I paused, putting my cup down. “I just can’t believe we’re in a former Soviet Republic, sitting in a trendy café in the middle of a city most of our friends haven’t even heard of. I think Riga might be the best place I’ve ever been to.”
Jodie nodded. “I might have to agree. It really is beautiful. I can’t wait to tell everyone back home what it’s like.”
Twenty minutes later, we were outside, in search of the elusive Karum. Ever since I’d toyed with the idea of coming to Latvia, I’d researched little titbits of knowledge to tempt Jodie into coming. One of these pearls of wisdom was the Karum. I’d read that these delicacies were something Latvians often ate for breakfast. They were basically like a cheesecake, but instead of a biscuity base, they were covered in a thin layer of chocolate. They were sold in the dairy sections of supermarkets and shops. We eventually found one in a small delicatessen around the corner from our hotel. At just 17 pence each, Jodie was soon in choco heaven.
After also purchasing some cheap bottles of premium Latvian lager (Aldaris) for about 35p each, and a few bottles of Latvian Black Balsam we headed back to the hotel before heading out for the evening.

* * *

Riga at night looked just as appealing as during the day. At curiously, the temperature had actually gone up. A positively balmy -3° C.
Before going for a meal, we decided to sample our first Latvian bar. It turned out to be a nice choice. Like everywhere we visited, a supermodel served me a large beer costing 1.5 Lats. The next hostelry was even better. Inside the entrance, on a raised platform in front of the bar, a beautiful, scantily-clad girl danced merrily away. She was obviously employed by the establishment to entice men in. Before I could snap off a quick shot, Jodie led me towards the other end of the bar mumbling something about supertwats.
Supping our drinks, we perused the guide book for places to eat. We decided we liked the sound of the Livonija. It was described as a medieval restaurant below the Small Guild Hall. One thing worried us though - it was Valentine’s Day. Would we get in?
Valentines Day in Riga was slightly different to the UK. For instance, as we strolled through the beautifully lit Old Town, a lot of young Latvian men walked by carrying single red roses in their mouths. Also, unlike England, there wasn’t any overtly commercial advertising going on. This was how Valentine’s Day should be. A single red rose - cheaper than a dozen of the buggers. I could just about handle that, I mused to myself.
We found the Livonija easily enough (or rather Jodie did) and as we approached the door, a large middle-aged man stepped out of the entrance. “Labvakar, kā tev iet?” he said throatily.
I spoke up first. “Erm…we’re from England. Do you speak English?”
The man nodded and smiled. “Of course. Welcome to the Livonija. We don’t get many persons from England here at restaurant. In fact you are only second. You have reservation, yes?”
I shook my head, pulling an imploring face. “No, sorry. But we read that your restaurant is so nice we thought we’d try anyway.”
The man rubbed his chin, then grinned. “I think we squeeze you in. Follow me, please.”
As we descended some stone stairs, the man spoke again. “Can I ask question please? I need to know how you hear about Livonija?”
I answered him. “We read about it in a guide book. Here I’ll show you.” I fished in my pocket and showed him the relevant page.
The man looked at the page in open astonishment, then broke out into hearty guffaws. “Livonija in English guide book! How this happen?”
I told him I didn’t know.
At the bottom of the stairs, we entered a large brick covered cavern. Tempting smells emanated from the kitchen, and as we were shown to our seats, we took in the atmosphere of the place. The man took our coats and hung them up. He then disappeared back up the stairs.
The Livonija reminded me a little of being inside an old tunnel. A nice big warm tunnel though, and the when the food turned up, it was excellent. Afterwards, when we asked for the bill, we were shocked to discover that it was only 14 Lats - and that included drinks. In England we’d have probably paid about forty quid. As we left, the man who’d brought us in, wished us a good stay in Latvia. “And you tell friends about Livonija! Good meals, yes!”
Full and happy, we returned to the Hotel.
In the bar we had a couple more drinks then retired to our room after a full days sightseeing in Riga.
The next day it was all over. We checked out and caught a taxi back to the airport. Riga: a fantastic place to visit. Nothing but good memories.

Part 2: Krakow, Poland

Part 3: Tallinn, Estonia (coming June 2006)

Part 4: Bratislava, Slovakia (coming July 2006)

Part 5: Porec, Croatia (coming Aughust 2006)

Part 6: Vilnius, Lithuania (coming October 2006)

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Part of trip: Eastern Europe

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