Yesterday we flew to Latvia to meet up with Bob’s mom, Bridgin. It was like that movie, “Planes Trains and Automobiles.” Between bad weather, a broken lavatory and general panic, we spent over 18 hours in the air. The first pilot was kind of scary. During his announcements he said, “Should the air crew ask for your assistance with any matters that may arrise, please feel free to join in with enthusiasm.” We were ostensibly going to take a guy down? Then he said, “This is the kind of announcement that I hate to make…” Were we going down? Was there a man on the wing of the plane? I was relieved when it was just a problem due to weather.
Our itinerary of LAX-JFK-Helsinki-Riga became LAX-Syracuse-Rome-Riga.
I was very excited about Rome and wanted to change flights to stay overnight, but there was going to be none of that. I did get to eat some yummy Italian delicacies at a concession stand.
When we arrived at the airport, our luggage had been lost, and when we arrived at the hotel our room had been cancelled. Luckily they still had a room for us, but as of yet no luggage. I should have worn my sneakers and packed these heels as the streets around here are all cobblestone.
The room is sparse and very clean, with a huge, deep bathtub. The views are incredible. A group of Latvian soldiers bought the building when they were able to repatriate, and people like to stay here to support them.
Riga is a little reminiscent of New Orleans, with very lush, verdant greenery and old buildings falling into disrepair. But some of these buildings date back to the year 200. It’s a cross here between Soviet Bloc seriousness and Scandinavian organization and attention to detail, which makes for very clean streets.
We met up with Bob’s mom and wandered around looking for a restaurant. You’re in a new, fascinating Baltic country? What do you eat? Sushi! The fish was first-rate and it was nice to have something light.
By now it was around 11pm and still light enough to read outside. I woke up at 5am to find the same bar rats singing Oasis at the top of their lungs. I asked the desk clerk, “So the bars never close?”
He seemed offended, “They close!”
I replied, “Oh, because I just saw them having a sing-along across the street.”
“In the morning, they close.”
