We had lunch at Flying Pigs, which again, was delicious. I don’t usually trust menus that have too wide of a variety of food, but Bob’s mom’s Thai noodles, Bob’s shish, and my shrimp salad were all perfect.
I pointed out the exposed brick to Bridin and asked, “Is that a style?”
She said, “That’s from getting bombed.
The thing about driving in a country that is 50% forest is that once you have passed that rest stop in the middle, there is nowhere to stop for two hours. I finally accepted that I was going to have to piss in the woods. We pulled off on a dirt road. Nervous, I asked, “Isn’t this someone’s driveway?”
“No, it’s just a dirt road.”
We pulled over and I asked, “What is that? Is that a sign? Is this a hiking trail?”
“No, it’s fine. Just go.” So, I walked behind the trees and saw that it was a mailbox! I looked behind me, and there was a house that was probably already watching me. We went further up the road, and I waded DEEEEP into the forest. My feet sunk into about four inches of organic decomposition. I later told Bridin there were mushrooms. She asked if they were edible, but I didn’t want to investigate any further. Anyways, I’m a city mouse; how would I know?
No sooner did we pull back on the highway, what did we see? A friggin gas station!
When we arrived at Art Hotel, they had given me the same room as last year, so I was pleased.
We walked over to River in the hotel next door on Bridin’s recommendation. I ordered beef cheeks with a cherry sauce that were tender and rich. Bob’s pork was nice. The beef here isn’t usually very good because they aren’t pumped full of crap and grain fed like ours. Grass fed is ethically better, but the meat is tougher. I stole some of Bob’s potatoes. Latvians are realllyyy into potatoes. They sell enormous sacks of them by the side of the road.
As usual, the next morning Art Hotel had a fantastic buffet breakfast.