Pagan pleasures

Sandwiched between its Baltic sisters is Latvia, home of the ancient Livonian and Latvian peoples. I pursued my solo Nordic and Baltic itinerary towards Lithuania. My bus from Estonia brought me to the capital Riga, where I was to meet a friend in front of the Freedom Monument, built as a memorial to commemorate the fallen soldiers of the Latvian War of Independence.

It was a wet afternoon even though we were barely a week into summer, but the rain was not going to dampen my spirits. Marcis, whom I had met two years earlier in Greece, found me near the monument and regretting that we could not go to swim in a lake, decided to take me to a restaurant. A yoga adept and a vegetarian, he took me to a street where, walking past a few ‘Hare Krishna’ members, we entered a buffet-style restaurant. I was surprised to see a blonde waitress in a blue sari serving samosas and other Indian fare. This was not the first Indian connection with Latvia. Many people from Latvia and Lithuania I had met earlier had spoken to me about words in their languages related to Sanskrit.

Rigan architecture

We then walked around the neighbourhood to admire the Art Nouveau architecture that has put Riga on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Every street was lined with pink, blue, yellow and other pastel buildings with stucco dragons and faces. We stepped into a bar for a glass of wine and some respite from the rain. In the evening, leaving Marcis, I returned to the flat where I was being hosted and decided to go to the city centre for dinner with a few friends. The heavy rain notwithstanding, all the bars we went to were packed with Rigans out to enjoy an evening with friends.

The next morning, I went to explore Vecriga, the historical centre of Riga located along the Daugava river. After walking through the old market bursting with ripe fruits and vegetables, I went to Saint Peter’s Church and climbed its tower to get a magnificent view of the city — the restored old buildings like the House of the Blackheads, a German guild for bachelors on one side, and the more industrialised bank across a modern suspension bridge. After a hearty lunch at Lido, a local self-service restaurant, I returned to the flat to pick up my bags for my next Latvian destination, Sigulda.

My hosts from Sigulda were in Riga that day, so they told me to meet them at the Freedom Monument in order to drive there together. The sun finally appeared as I walked through a lush park along a canal to arrive at the landmark. My hosts were a Russo-Latvian couple who told me about issues like the ethno-linguistic disunity that continues to plague the country that has a significant Russian population despite its more-than-20-years of independence from the erstwhile Soviet Union. They were a happy exception transcending the divisions.

The roots are strong

We reached Sigulda in the evening and my friends were keen on taking a walk through the forest near their house. This hilly region is covered in trees and is split through by the picturesque Gauja river. On our walk, we found wild green raspberries that were waiting to ripen in the summer warmth. Once this happens, Latvians go out in droves to forage and pick berries, perhaps a link to their pagan roots. We saw small houses surrounded by a large plot of land, and I learned that Latvian peasants, fiercely attached to their land, returned to this kind of lifestyle after years of being forced to live in cramped Soviet-style housing. My hosts also told me that Latvian farmers were extremely poor, so they couldn’t afford fertilisers. This meant that a lot of their produce was organic, and fortunately, this is a trend that continues.

The people here have been obstinately rebellious for centuries. Christianity arrived here rather late, with Crusaders baptising the local heathens around the 13th century. The locals, however, jumped back into the river, washed themselves and continued their pagan rituals.

After our short instructive walk, my friends’ pagan instincts urged them to jump into a lake, so we drove to Matinu ezers and swam in its calm yet cold waters as the sun set behind us. It seems Latvians have a deep connection with nature. We then drove to a viewpoint to ogle at a magical spectacle — mystical wisps of clouds descended over the Gauja river, hiding the thick, verdant forest for a few seconds. My friends said they had never seen such a gorgeous sight here; so I felt extremely lucky.

Liberation in death   

I was overcome with excitement as the sun was out on the day I planned to visit Gauja National Park. Walking through the forest and across the river, I reached Gutmanis Cave where visitors from the oldest days have etched their names and inscriptions on the soft sandstone wall, making it an ancient tourist spot. The cave is associated with the 17th- century legend of the Rose of Turaida, an adopted girl named Maija who grew up to be a beautiful woman engaged to Victor, a gardener at Sigulda Castle. A Pole called Jakubovsky wanted to marry her and trapped her here.

Preferring to die rather than be with him, she made up a story about her red silk scarf being impossible to cut through. Offering him this magical scarf in exchange for freedom, she asked him to test it. Jakubovsky hesitantly cut through the scarf which Maija was wearing around her neck, and she fell to her death. Many people visit this cave to pay homage to this story of love.

I continued my walk to the impressive red Turaida Castle. The views of the sylvan surroundings are breathtaking. I tried to imagine what this park would look like in autumn, with the leaves turning red, brown and yellow, and in winter, covered in a white robe of snow.

This is a veritable all-weather destination. The domain around the castle is a testament to life here back in the day. A room with sprigs of various herbs hung from a wall once served as a spa, and another thatched building by a pond was used as a fish-breeding centre.

Fully satisfied with this long day of walking and exploring, I crossed the river by cable car over the forest, catching my last glimpse of Turaida Castle — a bright red spot in the distance sticking out of the green forest. I ended my visit at Sigulda Castle by watching the sun set behind the trees across the river.

The next morning, luck was still with me for my hosts were driving to Riga again. This time, it was my turn to talk to them about my country. As I boarded my bus that set off towards Lithuania, I reflected on all the things I saw and learnt in Latvia, hoping the next country would be as rewarding.