Travel

Making a splash in Latvia

AS AN utterly mesmerised small boy in short trousers, over from England for the summer, my best days at my uncle's house in County Mayo were spent paddling among the mossy rocks in the nearby stream, just before it’s foamy waters swirled down to the empty beach and into roaring Atlantic.

That magic returned for a couple of idyllic hours after I found myself paddling along another babbling brook in Kuldiga, an ancient gem of a small town in Western Latvia, criss-crossed by shiny waterways and nicknamed ‘the Venice of the North.’

What a treat. This time the creaking legs were wobblier and a hiking stick, along with chest-high waders, were needed to try to avoid a watery spill. But all the fun of that infantile immersion came pouring back to me.

Here were those similar little waterfalls to slide over. There were also plenty of boulders to wobble on. And all the time was there was that excitement at doing something slightly risky, definitely naughty and, most certainly, absolutely childish!

Maybe this 'very Irish' of East European countries has tapped into a secret vein of tourism treasure here: taking visitors away from their everyday stresses and hangups by enabling them to return to childhood pleasures - if only for a while.

As author Dublin John Connolly memorably observed: “In every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.”

It certainly did me a power of good. When it ended, I found my mind drifting warmly back to the boxty, red lemonade and donkey riding that were the enthralling features of such childhood holidays on Ireland's West Coast.

Boats pass along Riga's lovely canal (Pic: Girts Ragelis)

And that warm feeling of nostalgic connection swept over me regularly during a week spent exploring swathes of leafy Latvia, beaming with many Irish parallels, from its enthusiasm for hearty food and drink to its stirring poetry and folk songs about resistance from oppressors.

There was also that similar Irish passion for folklore characters – from Lacplesis the heroic Bear Slayer to the Veli Ghosts of the Dead and even the Laumas, an alluring yet enigmatic band of woodland fairies.

Nestling between Lithuania and Estonia, on the eastern shore of the Baltic, the proud little republic (population just 1.8 million) has endured countless invasions throughout its history, all of which touched have left their signature on the country — everything, from its wide ranging cuisine to its elegant Art Nouveau chateaus, brutalist concrete Communist towers and traditional wooden architecture.

As recently as World War Two, the country endured three cruel invasions, first by the Soviet Union in 1940, then by Nazi Germany the following year and finally by the Soviets again in 1944 as they gobbled up Eastern Europe on their way to flattening Hitler’s Berlin and erecting the Iron Curtain.

Today, after the collapse of Moscow’s Communist empire and Latvia’s proud return to independence in 1991, you can visit some of the grim reminders of those eras. A tour of the screaming walls of the KGB torture centre (the Corner House) in the capital Riga and the similarly depressing Karosta Military Prison in the heart of the one-time Baltic coast’s top secret ‘Forbidden Zone,’ left me thankful for my modern day freedom.

Yet such sights are the authentic memories that remain after a highly affordable tour of this land of dramatic contrasts, where you can hike the watery Kemeri boglands and the rugged beach-lined coast one day before strolling through Riga Old Town’s romantic winding cobbled alleys, Gothic churches and lively squares the next.

The House of the Blackheads in Riga Old Town (Pic: James Ruddy)

And it was no surprise that, a few hours after landing at Riga Airport, I was in a woodland park near the capital surrounded by a 5000-strong crowd of impassioned revellers, many topped with crowns of flowers, celebrating the ancient pagan summer solstice festival of Jani with traditional songs and dancing, and even a wheel of fire rolling downhill and crashing into a huge bonfire.

Apart from the copious flagons of local ale on offer, there was such genuine ancient local nourishment as fried pig’s ears and hoofs, blood sausage, caraway cheese, real sauerkraut, melted lard, rye bread, battered pilchards, all followed by berry pies and tarts.

Latvians, shy by nature, still know how to party and consider it bad luck to fall asleep before dawn during Jani, as was clear by the lively singers who wobbled merrily past my hotel until sunrise on the east bank of Riga’s sweeping Dauga river.

It’s one of the fascinations of modern Latvia that it clings so fist-tightly to its roots, like Ireland, which grew out of a collection of mostly pagan Baltic tribes and, after countless invasions, developed into today’s outward-looking EU-and-NATO member with, once again, Putin’s prowling Russia on its eastern border.

In classy Old Riga itself, long gone are the bad old days of boozy stag groups propelled by cheap flights and cut-price deals that began in 2005. They were largely sent packing by a specialist police task force armed with the power to dish out instant fines and sobering overnight cell accommodation.

There is still a very lively arts and food scene with museums and galleries galore, great independent shops with such treats as the city’s secret herbal liqueur, Black Balsam.. A favourite eatery was charming Petergailis (Peter’s Rooster from the adjoining church spire), with sweeping old town views and such locally-sourced delights as venison fillet and pan-fried pike. For some post-prandial relaxation, I took a pew in the cathedral for the concerto piccolo on one of the world’s most famous organs. Sheer magic.

James negotiates a small waterfall in pretty Kuldiuga (Pic: Krista Jansone)

Yet it’s out of the city that the country truly opens its warm and beating heart. Drive a couple of hours west through Kurzeme region’s miles of manor houses, quaint churches, deep forests and gently rolling pastures, to lovely Kuldiga for that immersive river walk, a view of the ‘widest waterfall in Europe’ at 272 yards (but less than 6 feet high) and a stroll through its dreamily-restored streets, dating from the 17^th to the 20^th century.

Drive less than an hour further west to the Baltic coast and next year’s European Capital of Culture, the seaside resort of Liepaja, opens its wings to you as a city with the country’s best beach (6 miles of white sand), a romantic pier, a lively rock and hip hop music scene and some grimly fascinating leftovers from its days as the a vital ice-free Soviet naval port.

Apart from the gentle surf, the city has plenty of arts and culture action, not least as the capital of Latvian rock music, with plenty of underground bars and concert venues – the most dramatic being the Amber Hall, a near 200-seat cultural centre, bathed in the sunny orange tint of its namesake and the magnet for year-round performances from many of the world’s great orchestras and musicians, including Irish-American supergroup, The Gloaming, two years after its 2015 opening.

World-class productions also feature at the city’s grand theatre and history vultures will be fascinated at the quirkily-named Madame Hoyer’s Guest House, where you go behind the scenes in a lively family home as far back as the 17^th century finishing off with a meal in the bar of an ancient traditional-style meal of green pea coulis and asparagus or even local-style duck or mussels.

After a stroll down that sensational beach and promenade, I found myself enjoying a delightful open air-meal at the restored Parka Paviljons restored traditional restaurant in the nearby park. The biggest treat here was the accompanying singing of Linda Leen, one of the country’s favourite pop stars.

Just like in County Mayo, James enjoys Latvian baked potatoes and homemade churned butter

Heading back to Riga, at Via Vitality, a boutique wellness centre, I had a stopover in which I burned off some of that hearty Latvian food and drink with a swimming pool dip, a massage and sauna and tailored healthy meals in an utterly tranquil setting of forests and lakes. Magic!

Before that, though, there was more of that fabled local food at Zvanitaji traditional house, which took me back to my uncle’s home again in County Mayo in the 1970s, where a local woman had hand-churned the famous Latvian white butter and served it to me on top of perfect baked potato in their skins.

Once again, history – in the shape of hands across the Irish Sea – was repeating itself in the heart of Latvia. Try it and taste it!

Latvians and Ireland

MORE than 23,000 Latvians now live in Ireland and were among the earliest modern immigrants. Some have studied there, worked there and created businesses before some have returned home with experiences that have embedded the land and its people forever in their hearts.

Among them, textile design and wedding decoration business owner, Andra Oto, returned from Cork to Kurzeme a dozen years ago.

He told the Irish Government website, Ireland.ie: “I love Ireland. Irish people are very friendly and nice. I really like the laid-back culture, the togetherness and how easy-going everyone was.”

The Irish are also the abiding memory for musicians Inese and Kristaps Gaile who came home to Vidzeme in 2010 and now perform Irish traditional music across Europe.

“We love and miss Irish people’” he says, “Because of their amazing qualities: openness, warmth, sense of humour, straight-forwardness and their natural ability to make one feel accepted and included.”

Despite travelling to many countries, the couple feel ‘Ireland will always have a special place in our hearts’ and the two countries are united in a s[special way through their similar histories, including suppression and a lack of freedom.

“We love how Irish people have lived through hard times with songs and music,” he says, “just as Latvian people have expressed everyday joys and challenges in our folksongs.”