RIGA Tuesday February 6, 2007

It was bitterly cold this morning (-6.5°C at lunch time) when we left the hotel after a good night’s sleep and a solid breakfast. We had decided to go down to the market, despite Rab’s concerns about pickpockets, muggers, etc. at her insistence I took off all my jewellery, took only one credit card (everything was locked in the hotel safe) and the card, with about L60 (A$135) was in a pouch around my neck, hanging inside my shirt.

I was really surprised how jumpy she was when we got there – our trusty #19 trolley bus got us to our destination quickly and cheaply. As things turned out, she began to realise that the freezing weather and lack of tourists were likely to keep the rascals away and that the stall keepers were generally all nice jovial people who tried to help.

The marketplace itself consisted mainly of stalls inside several buildings, two or three of which were originally hangers for zeppelins from World War I. Surrounding these buildings are literally dozens of stalls offering virtually anything you can think of for sale.

Rab was finding her warm gear inadequate for the cold, which was accentuated by a brisk breeze, and we decided to look for a coat, especially as they were so reasonably priced. We struck blanks ay the first couple of shops but then went into one where the young woman couldn’t have been nicer. She took her stock apart trying to find what Rab wanted and when she found she didn’t have the chosen style in black, she nipped off for “just two minutes”, presumably to try and find one.

 

It was more like twenty minutes in the end and  when she did she indicated that she had been unsuccessful. Just then an older woman came in and was greeted with shouts of joy – off they went together and this time – Success!! The right coat,  the right size, the right colour and all for L55 – or L52 as we knocked off L3 as a discount, making it about A$125. It is very warm and Rab looks good in it.

We wandered on, even visiting the food hall – or at least the butchery section. Some strange cuts of meat there! It was getting colder by the minute and then it started to snow. Very small flakes and very light flurries, but it was snowing! My feet were killing me and so we decided the time had come to try and get new boots. Again the young girl in the shoe shop was so good. She didn’t have my size in her stock, but shot off somewhere and returned in due course with a pair that fitted. What a difference. They are fur lined with really thick soles and are really comfortable. They were priced at L20 and I asked for a discount, offering L18. The girl said she couldn’t do that – L16 was her best price, so I reluctantly paid that – A$38!

I felt quite sad at leaving my old boots – I had them for about 25 years so rather than just dumping them in a bin, we took them for a last walk in the park this afternoon, again in gently falling snow, and put them to rest in an urn in the gardens. Maybe some beggar will find them!

Back at the market Rab tried to find a better coat for me, but none of them fitted so we decided to call it a day and hop a cab across the river to the Olympia Shopping Centre. This was toted in one of the freebie magazines as the latest and best shopping centre, but it was disappointing. Nothing there really apart from shoes, luggage and children’s clothes plus a very big supermarket Rimi 8-13 (as opposed to 7-11!)

So we didn’t do anything there except to have some lunch. The food court had a burger joint – Hesberger – and a place selling souvlaki but also some typically local spots including one offering a variety of soups. We ordered small ones for L1.75 each but even they were enormous – about 750 ml we reckoned. Rather dully, we each ordered the same item, a creamy vegetable soup which was delicious. The snow came down again as we ate and we had a good view of the river.

Back to the hotel by cab and then out for a stroll to farewell the boots and test our new gear. Although it was very cold, there was no wind and we felt warm enough. We encountered a woman with two Alsatian type dogs that were romping in the snow. She was a friendly sould, unlike the schnauzer owner we met at the shopping center who couldn’t even raise a smile when Rab tried to greet his dog. I dropped the film stick in at a camera shop to burn another CD – don’t want to take a chance of losing them again.

I just had to interrupt this narrative then to help Rab into the bath/shower. It is a ridiculously high bath and is very difficult to get into or out off – it’ rather like mounting a horse. Talking of which reminds me of the experience of drawing money from the ATM next to the hotel. You have to mount three fairly high steps (cast iron lattice work) to get to the small platform at the top which gives you access to the machine. No chance of anyone looking over your shoulder there! Of course there is no handrail – very few exist in these Baltic countries – so the descent is hazardous at the best of times, let alone if there is a bit of ice around.

Anyway, back to the journal. I duly picked up the CD from the photo shop. In contrast to most of the Latvians (and Russians) we have met, the service was absolutely deadpan. Also popped into the local supermarket to pick up some water – the guide books suggest avoiding the local water.

We decided to eat in the Old Town again in the same street as Juffins 12 where we ate the night before last. We caught our #19 trolley bus downtown and found it really cold as we walked to the bus stop and then on to the restaurant. Bitingly cold actually but our warm gear kept us warm enough although Rab’s hands and my legs took a bit of a hammering (no Long Johns for me!) Anyway we made our way to the site of the restaurant via the shortest route we could only to find – nothing! No sign of a restaurant at #11! We felt it was too cold to start hunting down our second choice especially as we had such a good meal at Juffins 12, so we went back there. Rab had raved about her steak so she ordered another and I followed her – it was indeed excellent and all  for A$44.

We had intended to catch a bus home but it was so cold that we hailed a cab. As ever, I showed the driver a brochure with the hotel name and address and asked him if he knew it “Yes”, he nodded (I overlooked this clue to subsequent events) and off we went, rattling over the cobbles. But as we drove along, we became more and more uneasy because we were not following the route we had expected to. It was not possible to communicate with the driver who just kept on driving despite our protests finally arriving at Domina Shopping Centre as opposed to Domina Inn! I showed him the correct address again and off we roared on a further 15/20 minute ride. He even missed the turn into our street, until I put him right, so we were very glad to finally see the hotel. I was braced for an argument on the fare (although I thought I would pay him whatever he asked to avoid any unpleasantness) but he just drove off into the night, probably as embarrassed as we had been concerned.