23rd January, 2007
The Three Faces of RigaI took a Fokker 50 with AirBaltic from Hamburg to Riga and as soon as the doors opened on the tarmac I knew I was in for a different experience. The people on the plane looked mostly western except for a beautiful, tall, potentially high maintenance girl sitting directly behind me. For almost the whole flight I wondered if she was intrigued by my slowly emerging bald spot but I never had the opportunity to ask because we never achieved eye contact.
She was there… but not there!
The new impressions of this strange city hit me immediately.
Smoke. That’s the first thing I smell. Not cigarette smoke, the smell of burning grass hung heavily in the air. Immediately I made a mental check I had my asthma medication because I know at home that my asthma can sometimes become ugly I am in very unclean air.
Body odour. After I entered the small but modern airport I walked straight up to the Visa Control counter and the thick foul smell of body odour hit me. The two “Police Officers” behind the counter were dressed in new uniforms that looked to be of a deliberately faded green colour, and one or both desperately needed a shower and change of clothes.
There were no smiles.
He looked at my passport… Looked at me… Looked back at my passport and asks the reason for my visit.
“Holiday, I will be here until Friday,” I replied.
“You come from Australia, that’s a very long way.”
“Indeed it is a long way,” I said, trying to keep it short.
“You have a Russian name, did you come to visit family?”
“No, I have no family here, they immigrated to Australia many years ago.”
“They went to Australia? That’s a very long way.”
“Indeed it is a long way,” I said with a smile, hoping to get a reaction from him but all I got was the sound of the stamp smashing onto the paper and my passport back in my hand.
Waiting in the arrivals area was my taxi driver, my name written on a piece of paper. As soon as I walked up to him he screwed up my name and tossed it in the bin. “Welcome to Riga,” he thought, without smiling. I say he thought this because he didn’t say “Welcome to Riga but from the way he threw my name away I was sure he meant to say it.”
He takes one of my bags and we step out into -4c air and again I make a mental note about my asthma medication. It’s fine, my lungs aren’t twitching and the car is only 20 metres away.
His taxi is a very nice new Toyota, sparkling new and spotlessly clean. As soon as I sit in the passenger seat I smell the sweet smell of tobacco. The third face of Riga.
Setting off from the airport I quickly discovered everything in Riga would come in threes.
The houses around the airport are difficult to describe. Would I call them soviet style? No, they are traditionally Latvian in style but very old and very dilapidated. Maybe the deterioration was Soviet style but the houses themselves were authentic according to the many web sites I’d studied before my trip.
The second style of building was a big surprise. Glass and steel shopping centres 30 story office towers. Glowing Neon lights connected the tops of the buildings to the thick foggy sky and beyond.
I’m truly surprised at the amount of construction and the amount of new investment. Was it possible Latvia was doing so well enough economically that it can support such extravagance? When you have slum like houses within 3 Kilometres of any sparking new monolith you can’t help but think of the people living in the houses. Where are they? What do they do? Are the people living so modestly the same people working in those towers?
The beauty in third type of building I see is fully expected. We’ve crossed the river and are now touching the boundary of Old Riga and I immediately recognise the subjects of many photos I’ve seen. Riga Castle is the first building I recognise. It’s not an impressive castle but it’s the residence of the Latvia President. Mrs President has returned to the homeland of her parents after they left for a brighter future in America. I’ve seen her web site and read of her determination, hopes and dreams for the place of her ancestors. She’s beautiful for a woman of her age and lion-hearted when compared to any man.
Finally we arrive at my hotel. I’m very happy. On the outside Hotel Forum looks as quaint and tastefully restored as I expected. I enter the lobby and find clean (if not clinical) ceramic tiling leading to a large wooden hotel desk. To my left are leather couches that seem slightly out of place in this bathroom with no shower or tub.
The girl behind the counter is quite attractive but I don’t like the nose piercing. Her manner is professional and clipped and she repeats the standard spiel as if she’s done it without feeling a million times before. “Breakfast is served from 6:30 to 10:00. This is your room key. If you have any problems phone reception.”
“Ummm.. thanks, you have lovely cleavage” were the words that went through my mind, but I decided not to verbalise my thoughts.
There’s a lift - it’s a new lift. I can fit in the lift with both bags and my notebook but I make a mental note that if there’s any reason to bring someone back to my room during my stay I should make sure I don’t have my suitcases and notebook with me at the time otherwise I would be spoiling the mood but doing multiple trips!
My floor has a tiled hallway leading to freshly painted white walls and doors that have new electronic lacquered brass door furniture and a nice crisp feel.
My card goes into the lock and I’m surprised by having to pull the door to open instead of push. In Australia we only ever do that in really small rooms like toilets.
I pull the door and am surprised it only opens half way until it rubs on the tiles and comes to an abrupt halt like a car breaking heavily at traffic lights.
As I look through the door I see the hallway that is my room and realize why the door opens outwards. It’s a very small room. A new wooden wardrobe is on the left of my “hallway”, a desk comes next, a fridge and a bin are under the desk and then I see my bed squeezed into a tiny room. This is my room. Renovated Riga on the outside and Seductively Soviet on the inside.
I won’t complain because it looks clean and the bathroom is spacious. I actually feel more comfortable in the bathroom so I consider moving the desk in there so I can use my notebook in relative comfort. Instead I’m writing to you from my bed, notebook resting on a suitcase that’s wedged between my legs.
There is a chair in the corner but I can’t see how my legs would go under the desk because of the fridge, and even if I can displace the chair from being wedged between the wall and the bed I’m not sure I’d be able to get it back in there!
I’m not sure what I’ll do in the room. It’s not quite the respite we sometimes need when traveling, yet it’s my home for the rest of the week.
My suitcases are in the hallway because I can’t find anywhere else for them but that’s OK… falling over them means I won’t forget where they are.
Within minutes I decide I can’t stay in the room so put my coat and scarf back on and head downstairs. As I come to reception I notice that the receptionist still looks bored so I wonder if she could help me with my family questions.
I ask her name and if she can help me with something. She immediately reacts positively, I think hoping someone is about to break the boredom of her day by asking for extra towels or the location of the nearest shopping centre.
I explain to her that I am in Riga because my stepfather was from here and after he died I made myself a promise I would visit. He did his shipbuilding apprenticeship at age 14 in the Riga shipyards and I am trying to visit so I can walk through the places he talked about when I was a child.
She was immediately interested but said to me Riga doesn’t have a shipyard. This is something I’ve been told by Latvians in Australia but either they just hadn’t heard of it or Google Earth lies.
I promise her Riga has a shipyard and ask if she could help me arrange a visit there. I know some of the original buildings are still standing and I’m hoping to find the old paymasters office because it’s the location of one of my stepfather’s favourite stories about his early working life.
She grabs a Riga Tourist guide from the desktop and looks for a map.
Nope - this map only covers Old Riga.
Next tourist guidebook, nope - no map
Next – still no.
Next – No, we’re out of luck!
I had to wonder why a city the size of Riga had attracted so much competition in the Tourist Guidebook Business. Four books for a city of 1 million people seemed like advertising saturation to me…
Merge my friends! Innovate, automate, become efficient and find new ways to suck the money from tourists and tourist operators!!!
Latvia’s relatively recent introduction into the EU has changed many things but I can’t help but think the evolution is just starting.
Finally I succeed in getting her to Google the shipyards and I sensed her feeling of accomplishment when she told me the URL is XYZ before clicking in the link and telling me with a big smile that she’d found it. It was the first time she smiled and I realized she was actually a very attractive girl.
I came around behind the desk and we “rediscovered” the website together. She went to the map and said she knows the area but never new a shipyard was there. She clicked on some photos and showed me how big it was.
“They do big business there, we have large ships come in, see,” as she pointed to the screen.
As I was standing behind her she asked what I wanted to do, and while I felt like saying “Nibble on your neck” I decided to ask her if she could call them and try to arrange a visit.
She commented that they probably wouldn’t be open but wrote down the three phone numbers and started dialing without success. As she was dialing my taxi driver came back in and they started speaking in Russian but as I saw him make the hand movements for “Over a bridge and turn sharply to the left” I realized form my Google Earth studies that he was talking about the shipyards.
With a big smile I said, “Yes, that is exactly where the shipyards are, you sound like you know it well.”
The receptionist laughed and said, “You speak Russian” but I told her that “I don’t, but (mimicking his hand movements) I speak hand movements.”
The taxi driver asks if I want to go there tonight but she interrupted by saying she was organizing the visit. He left, we stayed.
She explained to me that she was having a day off work tomorrow but if I liked she could arrange the visit and after she finished her personal business she could come to the hotel and take me out there.
This was more pleasant than expected so of course I accepted. She told me she finished work at 8 o’clock that night and my immediate goal was to go out for a walk and be back to the hotel by 8, and maybe take her out for a drink.
Hmmm… I never did make it back at 8!
Out into the cold I went and after walking for a few minutes I realized Old Riga’s street map looked like a bowl of spaghetti. Small laneways with bars and hotels on each side, winding streets reminded me of those seductive pathways in gardens that hide your destination from view but leave enough to see to tempt you inside.
I decided the best idea without a map was to stay on one road and walk as far as I could. It only took 10 minutes to reach the river so I decided to turn back and risk branching out along other streets. As I walked back along my tracks I looked into the windows of empty bars and restaurants until I saw a modern establishment with a few barmen and three patrons.
From the back I could see one blonde haired girl was wearing knee high black boots and a tight fitting black dress. She looked like she’d come straight from work but her workplace could have been that of a fashion model from the way she was dressed.
Well, if that’s not a good excuse to go into a bar nothing is.
The layout of the bar was uncomfortable and the only place to stand/sit was my least preferred place, behind the girl in black and well out of her line of sight. I sat down and ordered a beer with my best Australian accent and had a quick chat with the barman. He asked where I was from and the usual Kangaroo/Koala/Nicole Kidman conversation was off and away.
I was getting no reaction from the blonde girl which was unusual after Hamburg, so I settled in to look at the glory and beauty of the back of her head. I had no goodreason to walk around her, have a look or break the boundaries of her peripheral vision, so I waited… All good things come to those who wait!
After a while one of her friends left, leaving a male companion. Was it her boyfriend? Hmmm... I've flirted outrageously with girls infront of their boyfriends before... but never so far from home. Three new people entered the bar so that brought the total population in the bar to eight, including the barmen.
Another beer and another quick chat to the barman and I get a comment from the other end of the bar in English from a heckler with a Norwegian accent.
“Where are you from?”
“Australia, where are you from?”
“Norway, it’s a good city isn’t it.”
“Beautiful, I’ve dreaming of this visit for years.” (Keeping in mind locals from any city like to hear people say nice stuff about thier city)
He sits with his two friends, one male one female and every 20 seconds I hear the word Australia.
He calls to me from across the bar, “Do you want to come and join us? Come and sit.”
I didn’t want to because I’d already recognised this guy as a sleaze but the one benefit was that it would allow eye contact with the blonde girl (or at least a look at her face).
As soon as I sit down he tells me the girl in his party only speaks a little English, the guy none, they are Russian and the girl wants to marry him but she is only 29 and he is 60. He asks me how old I am, I say 38, and he tells her she should marry me.
Hmmm… tempting offer but this girl looks like she’s been living the hard life of a stripper so my interest is not aroused.
Within 90 seconds the Russian stands and says their taxi is there. The party stands and leaves after the briefest of goodbyes. By this time the blonde girl's last remaining friend has left and she’s sitting at the bar talking on the phone. I sat at her friends recently vacated chair and order another beer.
As soon as she hangs up I turn to her and say, “Men are so unreliable aren’t they?”
She asks why and I tell her I can’t speak Russian but she is alone in a bar talking on the phone, and that normally means a man is late. She laughs and says, “No, it was my mother, she wanted to know why I am not home.” … and the conversation started.
Elfa is 24 and works in the government department for business license registrations, the same role as one as my friends in Ukraine. I’m thinking there must still be a lot of Soviet style red tape in Latvia even though the glass and steel boom has started changing the city.
We talk on many topics, politics, religion, culture, music and more. Her national pride is not only evident, it’s the shining thread in everything she says.
She’s passionate. Tells me about when the Germans forced themselves on Latvia. Then the Russians. Now its corruption. Her countrymen are battered but not beaten!
We have things in common. We’re both Lutherans, neither of us is “interested in dating because relationships are unreliable”
, we both like cognac (quick change of drinks for me at that point), I introduce her to one of my favourite drinks (Jaegermeister and Dry with Burnt orange), we’re both impressed with the Latvian female President, and she’s highly impressed I knew Mrs President studied in America when her parents went there seeking a new life.
We talk about Riga castle and website with beautiful photos of the rooms themed by Latvian history. She says she must look for the web site to see for herself, she’d not heard of these rooms before.
She tells me she was once invited to Riga Castle because the nation’s top students have a Presidential reception in the grounds once a year. She says she went but the President of the time wasn’t there.
She asked many questions about Australia but rather than talking about the kangaroos/koalas and Nicole Kidman she wanted to know about the cities and the desert. She wanted to know about the aboriginal communities, education, healthcare, laws, corruption, prisons and travel.
She tells me her dream is to go to Australia one day and I tell her that when she is ready she should contact me because I would love to be her host.
“When you come I will take care of you, I live very close to the city and have a lovely view across the river. My couch is very big and you’ll be very comfortable sleeping there. I should offer you my bed but I’ve slept on my couch too many times already… [pause] and I don’t know you well enough to share a bed - yet.”
We’re having fun. The conversation has turned to flirting and she asked me when I am leaving Riga. I tell her that unfortunately I must go to Kyiv on Friday and after some more flirting and banter she tells me I should cancel Friday and stay in Riga so she can take me to the clubs and give me the best impression of her city.
It’s very, VERY tempting but I feel like I have to keep moving east… Hmmm… it IS very tempting.
We leave those comments in the air and I realize it’s now 11pm so I pull out my camera purely for the benefit of RWD members.
I remember "the Gator rule" and I’m an obedient student so we pose for some photos. After we settle back into our seats she tells me she doesn’t want me to think that women in Riga are “difficult” but they have many problems in Riga with tourists (especially coming from UK) who only come for sex.
She said when she first heard my voice behind her she thought I was English so she was trying hard not to turn around.
She said Riga has three types of girls. (More of things coming in threes in Riga)
1. Girls who will have sex with men for a few drinks in a bar,
2. Girls who will have sex for money, and;
3. Girls that won’t talk to foreign men because they suspect all foreign men are sex tourists.
I was tempted to ask her if she was a Type 1 girl but remembered what my mission in FSU is, so I bite my tongue.
I told her I was happy I met a girl that would normally never talk to foreigners, and I was even happier she broke the rules by talking to me.
She asked if I was married, I said no, but one day I would be. She said she would like to be married one day but now she is concentrating on her career. I asked if she wanted children and she said she did but not now (I wasn’t offering at that exact time)… “but Maybe when I am 28.”
She asked if I was on this trip to get married and I said “No, but if I meet a girl I think is a good person on the inside then I would return in summer to spend more time with her.”
“I want to be married again one day, but not to just anyone. I want a wife who remembers what is important in life, and when I find her we will do important things.”
I was joking that my German vocabulary was better than my Russian so maybe I should look for my wife in Germany. She was very serious when she said, “Yes, but in Germany the girls are not as attractive as in Latvia I think.”
I can’t disagree with that.
Anyway… all in all a very interesting first 8 hours in Riga.
We swapped email addresses. She asked me to email her if I could change my flights and said she would like a new friend from Australia.
I walked her to the tram stop and kissed her on the cheek before she boarded, turned and said to me, “Email me tomorrow, we can meet again.”
With that, she was off…
I spun on my heel and skipped (on the inside) back to my hotel knowing that the Art of Attraction does indeed work in FSU.
Upon entering the hallway which is my hotel room, I realized how tired I was. I have a busy day tomorrow and am hopeful the Receptionist comes in to help me get to the shipyards.
If not, I’m sure there are many opportunities to meet some girls and drink in the sights, sounds and smells of my stepfather’s former home.
Gents, sorry if this post is extraordinarily long.
In my trip reports I’m hoping to give you an insight into the places I visit and the places I’m visiting.
Since being a member of RWD I’ve been concerned that so much of this pursuit is about the girls and not the experiences we can have while away. I think if we have broad interests and deep knowledge we’ll be more interesting to the girls we meet anyway.
My early impression is that it’s very possible to meet girls in normal life whilst here. Elfa isn’t interested in a westerner. She recongises the difficulties in her country but she’s fiercely proud of it. She wants to be a small part of fixing it and giving it freedom and prosperity. Meeting Elfa reminded me that we’re all looking for love, but we all need trust and confidence before we take that step.
Dating sites are a great way to make an initial contacts but dating on the ground is probably also possible for many men.
Whoever attempts “on the ground dating” should gives themselves a reality check first because if you’re not a successful dater at home, you won’t be a successful "on the grouond dater" here.
I think I’ve got fairly “advanced dating skills” at home, and therefore I think the process of meeting/flirting/dating in Riga will be similar for me as it is at home, albeit with a much more limited timeframe to play with.
I’ll contact Elfa today and I hope to catch up with her before I leave. She’s the sort of girl I like because she is a thinker… and I find that very sexy!
Kuna
