Thursday August 8, 2024
Mr. Waffle and I took ourselves off for breakfast in the square leaving the guys in bed. It was not bad at all and I warmed towards Kuldiga over my freshly squeezed orange juice (is available everywhere in the Baltics, a really welcome trait, if you ask me).
The man at the table beside us was accompanied by two young children and seemed keen to chat. He was home on his holidays. He is working in the Middle East in “security”. Not the safest gig at the moment I would say. I am always interested in what languages people speak. This is contested around here as Latvia has the largest cohort of Russian speakers of all the Baltic states and the Latvian relationship with these (mostly not citizens as citizenship is complicated) is complex. None of the Baltic states really love the Russians for obvious reasons and that spills over into attitudes towards Russian speakers many of whom (or their parents/grandparents) were implanted there by the Soviets. But anyway I rushed in where angels fear to tread and he didn’t seem offended but said that he had learnt Russian in school but Latvian was his mother tongue.
We went to the tourist office after breakfast. There was, what seemed to me, an entirely Soviet style indifference to people who were, possibly, the only tourists in town. Could we rent bicycles to see the waterfall? Why would you bother? To be fair, the waterfall wasn’t as far as we had thought and actually, you wouldn’t need a bicycle to get there at all. But the combination of you stupid foreigner and also, we have no particular interest in getting a buck out of you, spoke to me of times past.
We had a quiet lunch at home and then we all went off in search of Europe’s widest waterfall. It was close to the centre and not hard to find. It looked like a weir to me. I would say it compared pretty unfavourably to Iguazu waterfall where we were last year. But quite a pleasant walk.
We went up the tower of a Lutheran church to have a look. Note German text on the pulpit; Baltic Germans are everywhere.
We had a wander around. It was eerily empty; like a small French town when you are hoping to get lunch after 2.
I was keen to invest in a souvenir; honestly if ever a local economy needing boosting, it was this one. There wasn’t a great deal but I ended up buying a tablecloth for “casual summer dining outside” as I pitched it to Mr. Waffle who pointed out that we already have a lot of tablecloths.
I had booked us dinner in a restaurant in the square. There was no need to book. The restuarant was nice though. Afterwards we strolled home to our very central Airbnb and Michael took his life in his hands at the fountain.
We watched Netflix again. It remains weird watching our own TV choices in foreign places.
Friday August 9, 2024
Mr. Waffle and I graced the Marmalade Cafe for breakfast. It was recommended both by ChatGPT and the guide book. Mr. Waffle remains extremely suspicious of ChatGPT but I found it not bad for travelling advice. The Marmalade Cafe was charming so a win for the guide book and AI.
I always feel so inadequate expecting everyone to be able to speak English (I think it would be better if I were not a native speaker and I was trying my best in a second language also). I generally compensate for this guilt by telling people how well they speak English. Our young waitress chatted to us about how she had learnt English. “I don’t remember learning it,” she said, “I knew it before I went to school from the internet”. Kind of incredible.
We then said farewell to Kuldiga (or Goldingen as it was known by the Baltic Germans and from which time it remains pretty unchanged). One night was probably enough to appreciate its charms but on the other hand, it’s nice not to unpack every day, particularly if you’re carrying a 20kg bag full of stuff including a tablecloth.
We drove to Riga without incident (a small miracle when you consider the roadworks and the exciting driving). There is a lot of Russian in Riga. When we got to our flat, the car park attendant said that she spoke no English, so it was an opportunity to bring out my almost non-existent Russian again. She was delighted, I was delighted. Thrills.
The apartment in Riga was a bit soulless but it had large bedroons (one per child). The communal area was tiny and grim though. There was no air conditioning and it was pretty toasty but, seriously, who would have thought we’d need air conditioning in the Baltics?
We had lunch downstairs in a place called Lido. It was a self-service student-type establishment. Not our best meal perhaps but cheap, plentiful and near.
After lunch, noble Mr. Waffle went to the supermarket to lay in supplies; Michael decided to enjoy the charms of his large bedroom; and Daniel and I walked in to the town centre. It was a lot livelier than rather sedate Vilnius and, as Daniel put it, quite cool.
Mr. Waffle made dinner and then we played Poetry for Neanderthals which he had cunningly packed.
Michael discovered that Tesco mobile had charged him a monthly fee and that he had moved from pay as you go. Michael only ever uses his phone on wifi, never spends any money and never checks his bank accounts. Great was his anguish. Then he discovered that when you pay a monthly bill it’s not like the data builds up for you to use later. His fury was incredible. A couple of days and several engagements with customer service later, he discovered it was all a misunderstanding but it really made for a memorable evening.
