Baltic Trip - Riga      10th June:

National Opera

Freedom Monument

    After a thundery, wet night, I arose just after 5am to yet another sunny day. Alan and I had planned a day in Riga, twinned with Slough believe it or not, and it was only a three hour ride away in an express coach. The journey down to Riga through the Gulf of Riga by boat could be measured in days. Sadly, Alan was suffering from migraine and decided to stay behind.
    I made my way along deserted streets to the bus station in order to catch the 06:30 coach. Soon I found myself travelling through endless forests, with occasional lakes and pastureland, but strangely no sign of livestock. Eventually the coach entered the urban sprawl surrounding Riga, the capital of Latvia and the largest city in the Baltic states. The coach crawled through road works, and past a lorry that amazingly had not spotted the works, and was now stuck in a hole, surrounded by paparazzi. Rush hour was still evident but the coach managed to find a way to the coach terminal, and I alighted into a hustle and bustle, and set about ascertaining what Riga had to offer. Once armed with maps, I set forth to cram it all in within eight hours.

Canal in the Park

    My first target was the National Opera, located next to the city canal. It was constructed in 1863 as the German Theatre, and its exterior resembled Moscow's Bolshoi Theatre. The opera housed world class opera, ballet and pop music performances.
    I followed the charming canal for a way before turning off to the Freedom Monument. This major landmark is one of the most outstanding monuments to Latvia's history, architecture and art. It was built in Riga, using funds donated by the people, as a symbol of Latvia's freedom, in testimony to the respect and love of the entire nation for fatherland and freedom.
    The aspiration to build the Freedom Monument arose during the culmination of Latvia's Battles of Independence, i.e. in 1920. However, as a result of a protracted tender, the foundation stone was only laid in 1931.

Cathedral

    Continuing past the monument, I came to the cathedral, stunning from the outside and its Orthodox interior was equally stunning, with rich airy colours. Shafts of light passing through the windows in the rotunda produced delicate dappled light patterns on the exquisite icons on the alter. There was a continuous stream of people passing through to say their prayers and light their candles.

Art Nouveau

    Crossing the park behind the cathedral, I side stepped the art gallery, sadly time did not permit a visit. Instead, I marched to Elizabetes and Alberta Streets. One third of Riga's city centre was built in art nouveau style, with fine examples around these particular streets. Some of the buildings were designed by Mikhail Eisenstein, father of Russian filmmaker Sergey Eisenstein.
    Crossing a central park and the canal again, I made my way across the Vansu Tilts bridge, a famous landmark for the city. This magnificent suspension bridge afforded me views up and down the Daugava River and across the city. A couple of cruise ships were taking a lazy break while their passengers were no doubt enjoying a guided whistle-stop tour of the city. In their shadow, a dredger was hoovering up silt from the river bed, and pumping it, through a pipe attached to a floating boom, to the shore where it gushed out as a fountain of grey/brown slurry.

Vansu Tilts Bridge

    Riga Castle was situated on the eastern side of the bridge. It had served as the seat of various rulers throughout the centuries. After independence, it was restored in 1991, and became the primary workplace of the President of Latvia.

Riga Castle

    A short distance from the castle lay the Three Brothers, a charming group of residential houses, each from a different century, the oldest dating back to the 15th century.

The Three Brothers

Powder Tower

    Further east sat the Powder Tower, one of Riga's fortifications and originally called the Sand Tower. It dated back to 1330, and gained its current name in the 17th century when they started to store gunpowder in the tower. It now served as the home to the Latvian War Museum.
    I strolled along Livu Square. Built last century after World War II, an interesting complex of 18th century residential buildings had been preserved here. The square buzzed, with numerous outdoor cafes and buskers doing good trade.

Livu Square

    A hop, skip and a jump took me to the heart of Old Riga, the largest square, Dome Square. Like Livu Square, the numerous outdoor cafes and restaurants hummed with business, including a group of German lads who must have been on a stag party. On the edge of the square stood the Dome Cathedral, built as Bishop Albert's Cathedral in 1211, and rebuilt several times since. It was thus a mixture of different architectural styles: late Romanesque, early Gothic and Baroque. The cathedral was famous for its organ, which was used for many concerts and recitals.

Dome Square with Dome Cathedral

    Some cobbled streets away lay R�tslaukums Square, a town square once an open air market during the Middle Ages. The square was completely destroyed during World War II, but the town hall as well as the House of the Blackheads, had been completely restored. A statue of Roland, thought to have been a knight, stood guard in the central of the square.
    The House of the Blackheads was built in the 14th century, and belonged to the Guild of Unmarried Merchants. At one time it was the richest and most prestigious venue in the whole city. It was destroyed and pillaged in World War II, but was rebuilt in 1999, with an exact copy of the magnificent Dutch Renaissance facade.

House of the Blackheads

St Peter's Church

    Some Latvian musicians were performing inside, dressed in national dress. There was also an exhibition of Latvian landscape paintings, and a collection of ceramics. I picked up an attractive mug, and pinged it with my finger to test its trueness; a habit from my days when I made pots. An American woman though she would do likewise, but unfortunately the mug she picked up contained some beer, and as she soaked herself, her stature shrunk to one inch tall. The student in charge saw the funny side.
    Near to the square lay St Peter's Church. This imposing red brick church was first built from timber in 1209, then in stone. The interior was fairly plain and devoid of the rich ornaments found in Orthodox churches. Ethereal chants echoing around the building made up for the lack of glitz. Inside was a superb exhibition of photographs, primarily landscapes, seascapes and portraits, which kept me occupied for quite some time. I was also able to gain access to a viewing platform affording splendid views across the city.

Daugave River and the Central Market

    I crossed under the main rail link, and entered the Central Market, one of the largest markets in Europe, with five food pavilions located inside vast converted Zeppelin hangers. Meat, fish, vegetables, cheeses, clothing and a host of other delights abounded inside. Surprisingly, there were also a couple of small supermarkets inside the complex.
    Outside was yet another "village" of stalls. Here the heady scent of seasonal fruit combined with flowers was quite intoxicating. The whole area was a paradise for people watching.
    Just by the market was the Spikeri creative quarter. This was home to a number of cultural creative groups as well as cafes and restaurants. Art exhibitions and high calibre music concerts were also held in the concert hall.

Central Market

    Having seen all I wanted to see, I had time left to visit the 1970s Soviet Era building in R�tslaukums Square, which housed the Occupation Museum. I was totally captivated by the museum. The starting point for the museum was the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact. In 1939, Adolf Hitler was preparing for war. Though he was hoping to acquire Poland without force (as he had annexed Austria the year before), Hitler was planning against the possibility of a two front war. Since fighting a two front war in World War I had split Germany's forces, it had weakened and undermined their offensive; and thus played a large role in Germany losing the First World War. Hitler was determined not to repeat the same mistakes. So, he planned ahead and made this pact with the Soviets. On August 14, 1939, German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop contacted the Soviets to arrange a deal. Ribbentrop met with the Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov in Moscow and together they arranged two pacts - the economic agreement and the Nazi-Soviet Non-Aggression Pact. The pact defined how the Baltic states (including Finland and Poland) would be carved up between the two growing powers. Effectively Germany would seize a large chunk of Poland, while Russia would expand its sphere of influence to cover Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania and part of Finland. Once the pact was signed, Russia soon made its presence felt in Latvia, and in 1940 the government bowed down to the superpower in order to avoid a massacre. Dissidents were either liquidated or sent to the Gulags.

Flower Stalls

Vegetable Stalls

    In 1941 Germany took control of the city. Jews and communists were sent to concentration camps. This was a terrible year for the Latvians, a year in which they were ruled by two vicious powers. Latvians were forced to fight in both occupant armies: the German army and the Red army. Both powers played the same control games: intimidation and forcing civilians to become informers, generating distrust amongst the population and turning Latvia against Latvian. Hitler had promised to bring 160,000 Germans into Latvia after the war, and Stalin's response was that he would bring in 800,000. Stalin kept his promise.
    Riga sustained heavy damage during the war. 35% of the Latvian population had either perished or been mass deported to Siberia. After the war, Russia ruled with an iron fist. Farms were brought into collectives. Farmers with farms that were considered excessively large were stripped of everything they had and were deported with their families to Siberia. Latvians suffered miserably until independence in 1991.

Spikeri Creative Quarter

    I had an interesting chat with a young chap at the museum who told me that the Russian military did not completely leave until 1994. Up until then, the coast was closely patrolled, and nobody was allowed on the beaches to swim after dusk.
    He explained that the Russians had built factories in Latvia, but these were mainly for weapons and missile production, and the output was sent back to Russia. Latvia was just a big factory but the country was not gaining from this. The work regime was pretty grim. Workers worked the standard five days per week, for very low pay, but the pay didn't really matter since there was nothing in the shops for folk to buy. Grievances arose when drunkards and slackers did not pull their weight, but were still paid the same as hard workers (Russia always had a policy of everyone having a job to do). As well as the five days through the week, workers had to work on Saturdays for the good of the state for free. In addition they had to donate time for free during the summer months in order to work on the collectives.
    Latvians looked to Estonia with envy, since the Estonians seemed to have managed to "sweep out the rubbish", and few Russians remained. Latvia still had KGB members in positions of power, and the general consensus was that Russians and corruption were synonymous.
    I was deeply moved by the museum, and the stories I had read and heard about life in an occupied country were appalling. Britain had suffered during the war, but fortunately it never had to suffer the miseries of occupation experienced by the Baltic states. The young chap I spoke to must have been a child when his country gained its independence, but his passion about the atrocities, instilled in him by his parents and grandparents, fiercely shone through. This seemed a fitting ending to my visit to Riga.
    On the coach journey back, I had plenty of time to reflect on the day. Riga was a thriving, vibrant and energetic city. It had done well to recover from the devastations of the war, and had restored itself admirably. The locals seemed happy enough, but as a result of the terrible oppression suffered, eye contact, from those who witnessed those days, was hard to establish.