Can you pinpoint Latvia on a map? I thought so ...

Let me be totally frank: The vast majority of Americans (and a good number of Europeans as well) would be hard pressed to locate Latvia on a world map that doesn't identify countries by name, me included. Sure, I've known since Latvia's most recent (1991) becoming independent (again) that it is one of the three Baltic states (the other two being Estonia, to its north, and Lithuania, to the south), but the exact arrangement of those three completely eluded me. For years I have been entertaining thoughts of taking a bike trip through these three countries, but the thoughts never became plans or even action. And then the opportunity arose to join Sabine on a trip to Riga, Latvia's capital, and as a result I have a much better understanding of the region.

This map was published by Wikipedia and I insert it here under Fair Use guidelines

For something like 30 years, Sabine has been part of a group of professionals who were mostly landscape architecture or city planning students when she completed her degree in Weihenstephan. At some point this group of about 20 to 25 friends decided to organize every year a trip related to their common fields of interest. One or two members of the Querblickers (the self-styled name for the group loosely translates to "Those With a Different Point of View") will be in charge of creating a program that includes lectures, site visits, and discussions with locals as well as social aspects such as where to have dinner. Usually the organizer has some connection to the chosen locale that makes it possible to organize a four- or even five-day weekend that is both educational as well social--and significant others are invited along.

We left Freising about two weeks ago, on a Wednesday morning from MUC. Air Baltic had reasonable fares, and an hour-and-a-half after boarding we were in Riga. Sabine had pre-arranged our hotel, and the hotel in return had arranged for an inexpensive taxi ride to the center of town. Things couldn't have been much easier. Like most of the other Querblickers we stayed in the Hotel Rixwell in the historic center of Riga, a city that still has cobbled streets and houses that date back centuries.

During the course of that first day Sabine's former study mates arrived, and there was much hugging and "how have you been?" Being an outsider in such a tight group is not always easy, and pretty soon I gave up trying to remember names and who's who. Thankfully the weather cooperated (it was cold, but the forecast rain didn't amount to much and so our sightseeing was not hampered by the elements), and so we went for a first short city tour. It didn't take long to realize that there was maybe a little less teutonic organization to this trip than former ones that Sabine had described. Part of the issue was that Tom, the instigator of this trip, actually lives and works in Bremen, a German sister city of Riga; he had been to Riga on a few work-related trips but didn't personally know all the contacts he had tapped to give presentations, so things were at times a bit chaotic. But everybody took it all with a sense of humor, and I can see the charme in being part of such a tightly yet loosely knit group--I know it's an oxymoron, but I can't think of a better way to describe it.

Over the next few days we attended several very interesting presentations by city representatives who explained to us the challenges that Riga faces in the early 21st century. The city metroplex accounts for about half of Latvia's total population (around 3 million; Estonia and Lithuania are equally tiny), and the number of people who are living and working in the center (which is a UNESCO World Heritage protected area) continues to shrink. People don't want to live in tiny apartments that often lack comfort and sometimes even basic services--there's a definite suburbanization going on. Since Latvia is part of the European Union, young people and professionals will leave for different countries where they are allowed to work and live with their European passports.

Many of the old buildings are in need of repair, and city government has interesting plans and policies in place that provide incentives (and disincentives) for property owners to invest in their real estate and renovate. The number of Art Nouveau building is stunning, as is the number of buildings that are in dire need of a facelift. For me, as an outsider to such considerations, this was fascinating stuff. Of course, as a homeowner and resident of a taxing jurisdiction I know how things work in another part of the world, so I used the Q&A sessions to further understand the issues. I think that my being in this group as somebody who has lived in the US for 42 years only added to everybody's taking away new thoughts and insights.

In a presentation with the director of the local Goethe Institut (a partly German government funded yet politically independent organization that tries to further the guest nation's understanding of German culture, literature, and language) similar issues were addressed as what we had heard from city representatives. However, there was something else: In the most diplomatic way we were told about a significant and deep divide in the population as a result of the Soviet occupation/annexation from the end of World War II until 1991. Despite an entire generation that grew up as Latvian citizens, the Russian influence is palpable. On the one side are the ethnic Latvians and then there are the remnants of the more than six million Soviets that immigrated into Latvia after the war. The differences start with the language and primary education, continue with physical divisions into different housing areas, and of course come to a crescendo in the political sector. There's definitely an "us vs. them" mentality.

Of course, I knew all that. Why and how? Well, the night before our visit of the Goethe Institut I had excused myself from the communal dinner since I didn't feel like eating twice in the same restaurant. So off I went, in search of--what else?--a brewpub! Armed with internet information I ended up at Ziemelu Enkurs (also known as the literally translated Northern Anchor Brewing), a small brewing facility in an industrial and somewhat funky part of town, right next to a rather unorthodox-looking bike shop. In other words, my cup of tea. Or pint of IPA.

The place was still devoid of any other customers, so I took my place at the bar and started chatting with the two young keepers of the inn. Both spoke English very well, with that beautifully rough eastern-block accent. Mentioning and showing my blog and the list of 300+ brewpubs that I have visited always breaks the ice, and here it helped when I talked about my friend Andrew's entrepreneurship in Bosnia. Knowing something about the business end of brewing generally helps in such conversations, and here it was that I heard first about the divide between Latvians and Russians--although officially it does not exist.

These two young men were rather bitter about the privileges that are still extended to the old occupiers, and there was no kind word for the politicians and the system of graft that exists. I did a little more internet reading later about the longtime mayor of Riga who under much pressure was "elevated" into a job in the European parliament after stuffing his pockets for years. Interesting, interesting. And damn, that was fine beer for little money!

Actually, in my visits to something like six different microbreweries I found that the quality of the beer is above average. As longtime readers know, I am partial to IPAs, so I really can't speak for any of the other styles. But beer has played a major role in Latvia for centuries, and the tradition appears to have been carried on by these young brewers who have been inspired by the beer revolution that has swept the entire globe. To only further underline this point, in addition to these small brewpubs you can find numerous Belgian-inspired taprooms and bars where you can enjoy amazing beers on tap. Just for that reason I'd like to come back to Riga.

Going off by myself was easy and safe. In general, Riga is considered a crime-free city--even if Sabine's wallet was lifted on the train ride back from the Baltic Sea that we were to take on Saturday. Stuff like this can happen anywhere. Even though I was out after dark and in some not-so-well-lit areas I never felt uncomfortable. And to get back to the hotel from my pub crawl (and on other evenings with some members of our group) I used the Yandex rideshare app. Neither Uber nor Lyft is represented in Latvia, but the Russian-backed Yandex fills this void quite nicely. It's efficient and as cheap if not cheaper than the much more cumbersome public transport, especially when you squeeze four people into a tiny Chinese-made car that you've never heard of. Undoubtedly, the Ruskies now have full access to all my data since I used my credit card, but then, what else is new?

Our trip involved a lot of walking and sightseeing, and Sabine and I got a chance to visit Europe's largest market, the Riga Central Market. (BTW, just Google "Europe's largest market" and you'll find several other contenders to that title. But at least Riga's is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.) Much of this market is actually inside of five old hangars that were used to assemble zeppelins before they were transported to Riga to become the centerpiece of this market. If you go there, don't miss the area with the smoked fish--OMG, it was  total sensory overload for me! I've never seen or smelled anything like it. Heaven! Outside, you will see little ol' ladies with buckets of freshly collected mushroom, berries of all types, homemade krauts and pickles, and local produce that makes your mouth water. Still, my favorites are the fish eggs and the smoked eel.

That same afternoon we visited Riga's public library, built on the opposite banks from the historical center, right on the wide Daugava river, which exits into the Baltic Sea just a few kilometers farther downstream. This ultramodern building stands in stark contrast to all those medieval and Art Nouveau buildings just across the river, which we viewed extensively on a sheer neverending guided tour. Even the usually stoic Querblickers became a little restless during that walk. Quite frankly, I remember almost nothing from the monotonous monologue that our guide, a local art historian, transmitted straight to our cochelears via modern technology. Good that it is possible to remove such devices by pulling them straight out of the ear.

For our last full day Tom had planned a train trip to visit the town of Jurmala on the Baltic Sea. Once again, the excursion lacked a bit of organization but I think everyone enjoyed the fresh breeze and the smell of the sea. Good German that he is, Tom stripped down to his Speedo to take a quick dip in the somewhat murky-looking waters, despite rather chilly temperatures--the thermometer had flirted with 32 F in town the night before. The beach, wide and sandy, reminded me of the beaches that we visited in the Netherlands when I was a kid. Initially not very many folks were out, but it was obvious that during the summer months there will be hordes of tourists. The beach was extremely clean--no plastic bottles or other flotsam--and there were lots of trash cans and signage indicating which beach areas were for "active" (playing soccer) or "passive" (sunbathing) recreation.

On the way back to the train station we turned inland, where fall was happening

Our group of initially 25 or so dwindled down to just Sabine and me as some folks went this way, others that way. We finally ended up in a beautiful restaurant directly on the beach, heated and out of the wind but with a magnificent view. The (Belgian) beer selection was satisfying, the appetizers affordable and tasty, and the company second to none.

We both enjoyed our time here tremendously, and thus it was a real bummer when Sabine's wallet was stolen on the train ride back to Riga. Since she had her only ID in the wallet we had to take up a police report (even though, unbelievable as it appears to me in this day and age, we did not need to show any identification to board our flights back to Munich). Dealing with the police in two different stations was like a throwback to Stalinist times, with officers who were stone faced and without any empathy whatsoever. No, I didn't take any photos inside the station, even though I was totally intrigued by the drunk tank in one of those stations--I didn't want to land in this cage and join its denizen who seemed to be talking to a lawyer. The whole episode put a bit of a damper on an otherwise beautiful last day in Latvia, but as I said before, maybe it's time to think more seriously about a bike trip through the Baltic countries.

The police station ...

Sunday night we were back in Freising (via two different flights since I had not been able to book my return at a reasonable cost matching Sabine's itinerary since I booked much later). Monday was a wet and blustery day, and on Tuesday morning it was time to leave Germany once again. It had been quite the trip, with Lake Garda, Oktoberfest, and Riga all thrown into the mix. Good thing that I'd have almost two weeks to unwind before heading in a few days for the Dominican Republic.

Jürgen