) We returned to the heart of Riga, getting back about three hours after we left, but only to catch a bus to the local cemeteries which supposedly have many interesting monuments.
This was when we started our wait for the infamous bus number 9. First we had to search for the bus stop. When we bought the tickets, the woman pointed us to a group of bus stops, none of which said '9.' The books all claimed that bus number 9 stopped 'opposite the Orthodox Cathedral,' but there were no bus stops there. (We suspect that they changed some of the traffic patterns around to ease congestion on Brivibas iela, as the buses listed for there seemed to stop a block further down and around the corner on Raina bulvaris or on the east side of Merkela iela.) Evelyn had seen a bus stop labeled for bus number 9 on the way back from the museum, so walked up the road to the next bus stop and it did say '9' so we started to wait. We were not sure when we started to wait, but it went on and on. After about seventy minutes we gave up. But we had seventy minutes to talk and wonder if we were going to be arrested for vagrancy. (It's possible that the schedules have changed as well, or that there is a fuel shortage. There is a trolley that goes to the cemeteries, and that may be more reliable.)
Mark told Evelyn that if you see Gene Kelly in AN AMERICAN IN PARIS, you see how much everyone seems to love Americans in that film. We know that was sort of a post-war fervor. The French have gone back to hating the Americans, something they tend to do when they don't desperately need us. What Mark wants to know is, where are Americans loved like that? Or even liked. These days about the best we can hope for is 'not unwelcome.' What is welcome is American food and music.
We gave up on bus number nine 9 went to Janita's (Little Johnny's), the pizza parlor a block away. This is American-style pizza and is recommended by the tour book. It is basically frozen pizza but, hey, even bad pizza is pretty good. Mark says he takes back what he said about Lithuanian pizza not being bad for Latvia. The wall is decorated with a sort of mural of Monument Valley and the cavalry riding through with an American flag. The staff wears Western plaid shirts. Given the choice, we prefer local food, but in Riga pizza may be the best deal. A slice was about US$0.50 (depending on toppings), so the food value isn't bad, and it's worth seeing as a curiosity. (Hey, people go to Hardrock Cafes all over the world, and this at least is a local chain.)
We also went for ice cream afterwards. The local chain is Pinguin, which boasts not just two or three, but *five* flavors.
Evelyn thought the next thing we should do was to visit St. Peter's again. Mark's vote was going to be just to pick a trolley and ride one full circuit. We decided we could do both. Trolley-riding could be done when nothing else was open, especially since it stayed light a *long* time. So we walked back to the Cathedral by way of the elaborately decorated French Embassy.
We also went by way of the Freedom Monument. This is a tall monument of a woman holding three stars over her head. It was built in 1935. It replaced a statue of Peter the Great, so it was especially symbolic. When the Soviets moved in, they decided it was a silly sentiment and instead put in a serious monument to help memorialize Lenin. To help the Latvians remember which was the important monument, they made it illegal to visit the Freedom Monument. When their power started to subside, the Freedom Monument became the central focus. On Sunday, 14 June 1987, there was the first of several illegal rallies. When the Soviets could no longer enforce their laws, they retreated and the Latvians put an honor guard back on the monument and that guard remains there to this day. And we bet these two guys are beginning to wish someone else had been chosen for the honor guard.
On to St. Peter's, a red brick cathedral with some ugly statues (as we said earlier). It has a tall spire that was built four times because it kept burning down. It was built first in the 1660s. Amazingly, we had no problem getting up the spire, even though it was the same woman at the office. Maybe there *had* been an elf blocking the left.
The view from the spire really shows you just about everything in or near the main part of the city. You see the bridge, the television tower (very unusually shaped), the Central Market, the synagogue, the shipyards, the science academy (very Soviet), and the big hotel, which is even more Soviet--the locals think it ruins the skyline and should be torn down. The most popular way would be to invite the Russians back and knock it over on them. Well, let's just say that all the stuff we've talked about you can see, with the possible exception of St. Peter's.
(By the way, the 20-santimu charge for photography is apparently for the church itself, not for theshion platform, since no one said anything about Mark's camera at the ticket window and there's no one on the platform checking people.)
We wanted to check out the synagogue, but it is only open short hours so we could see it just from the outside. This is the only synagogue left in Riga, though one guidebook says there are 28,000 Jews in Riga. We suppose that many of them are notsht and others have services in homes rather than all trying to use the synagogue. Maybe with the Soviets gone, more synagogues will be built.
Evelyn says, 'I should mention one complaint about the 'Lonely Planet' guides. The key in front (the same for all the guides) shows special symbols for churches, mosques, and cathedrals. In fact, they also have a special symbol for synagogues (a Star of David, what else?) but it isn't listed in any key, even on maps where it is used. And the Riga synagogue isn't shown on the map (nor was the Kaunas one). On the other hand, the newer edition has more information about the Jewish ghettos and sites of Jewish interest than did the corresponding sections of last year's 'Scandinavian and Baltic Europe on a Shoestring,' so maybe the next issue will add the synagogues.'
Part of the problem may be that this is the first edition (though based on 'Scandinavian and Baltic Europe on a Shoestring.' For example, the maps don't seem to be quite as easy to follow as in the other 'Lonely Planet' guides. (We never could figure out what streets or roads led to either end of the cable car in Sigulda.) We figure they think you'll buy city maps, but for the smaller towns this isn't always possible. (We should be okay in Helsinki--I brought the map we got on our last trip. Little did we know we'd actually have a use for it when we saved it as a souvenir!)
That brought us to about 17:30. We went over and grabbed the first trolley going by, number 5.
The beginning of the ride is in the center of the city: very cosmopolitan, but with some architectural touches that are very European. All this we have said before. We pass a fancy cathedral. There is now a little more nature around; buildings have grass lawns. We passed a building on Kronwalda bulvaris one block south of where that street meets Eksporta iela and Elizabetes iela which had Stars of David above some of the windows. The plaque on it, as best Evelyn could read it from the trolley, said something that looked like it would mean 'Anatomical Theater.' Does anyone know what this building is and if it has any Jewish significance?
Mark describes what we see: 'We pass a shipyard but cannot see much from the trolley. You start to see more of the buildings with wooden siding like we saw in Lithuania. Now not everything looks so clean. And the area looks distinctly suburban. Mostly you see houses with big house numbers. Some houses seem much better kept up than others. There are some stores. At one trolley stop we see two women kissing. Are they sisters? Lesbians? It is unusual because Latvians show very few public signs of affection. There are apartment blocks in sort of the Russian style. At one stop two girls run on to the trolley and gesture to a third not on. They get off at the next stop. The trolley that started so crowded in the center of the city is now nearly empty. The trolley driver stops the trolley, climbs the footholds on the side, and on the top of the trolley makes some adjustment, then turns the trolley around at the end of the line. We are now returning the way we came. What I thought before was a movie theater Evelyn tells me is one of a chain of private clubs. They often show films to members, which is why I saw the Russian name for cinema (Kino) on the poster in the window. Gradually the trolley gets more crowded. Back in the middle of the city it is again tightly packed. An inspector asks for my ticket. It takes me a moment to find them, but they are correctly punched. This, perhaps, needs some explanation. Each trolley has punches with its own distinctive pattern. You have up to fifteen possible holes in a threeby -five pattern. You buy tickets at kiosks, get on the trolley, and punch your ticket yourself in the machine provided. There are spot checks. If you don't have a ticket punched with your trolley's pattern of the day you pay a fine. I know of no reason that you couldn't just hand your ticket to someone getting on the trolley when you get off, but the price is so cheap there is little point. The trolley continues past where we got on, passing the Soviet monument memorializing the 1905 Revolution. We cross the Daugava River over the October Bridge-- obviously named by the Soviets.'
'A noisy drunk gets on the trolley. He carries on a noisy conversation with somebody else. There is a lot of public drunkenness. A woman brings a child on the trolley. The child is crying loudly. The drunk tries to talk to the child, who screams all the louder. This section is perhaps a bit more run-down that what we saw on the other side of the river. We pass a grocery--Latvian-style. All the goods are items a shelf. Much like our own general stores, you request the items you want and the selection is small. Finally we return across the river and are back. It was a quick education about conditions in Latvia. The ride took about an hour and forty-five minutes and cost about 15 cents American,' he concludes.
We walk back to the train station because we did not get the times for the train to Sigulda. The only possible times were 6:30, 8:25, or 10:52. Looks like we'll take the 8:25, as it takes about an hour and fifteen minutes to get to Sigulda.
While Evelyn is getting the time, ten feet from her (on the other side of a window) two men are fighting. Some people try to stop the fist fight, but it starts again. Two police officers break it up and question the men what the fight was about. They drag the two off. Mark had seen all this through the window while Evelyn was puzzling out the schedule. Mark later asked her if she had even known there was a fight. She didn't.
The evening was spent in the room writing in our logs and listening to LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.
May 15, 1994: Basically the same breakfast buffet, but it was orange juice rather than pineapple. Pineapple is more popular.
Tickets for the train were easy to but, and cheap--25 santimu each (about US$0.40). We caught the train to Sigulda. This is a big local tourist attraction for both historical interest and natural beauty.
The countryside reminded Evelyn of Maine, with a lot of pine forests and not much else. Oh, there were a few towns and farms, but on the whole it was relatively undeveloped country.
When we got to Sigulda we immediately went to check the times of return trains. It seemed as though everyone else on the train had the same idea, and it took us a while to get through to see the schedule. There seemed to be four possible return trains: 15:37, 18:10, 19:08, and 19:55, though the 15:37 was listed as going to 'Zemtiani' rather than Riga even though it was on the 'To Riga' board.
Sigulda is first of all a nice piece of river valley with lots of pine trees and some nice nature walks. It also has caves and castles. This was the home of the Liv tribes as far back as 2000 B.C.E.
There are two castles and a church. |
