Saturday, December 3, 2011

Riga - An Old Friend and a Palace

Lucky I check my email.  This morning after breakfast I asked the girl at the desk for train information.  She printed out the schedule for Sigulda and I was set for a solo adventure to this outlying town, which has a medieval castle and some other attractions.  Back in the room, passing time because it was too early to leave, I found an email from Slava saying he’ll be over at 12:00.  Forgot if he’d said anything about that on Thursday—“oops” if he had and I hadn’t checked my email this morning.

I was feeling rather woozy from the time difference—didn’t seem to notice it before now.  I was a little wobbly on my feet going down the stairs to breakfast.  Took a nap afterwards, still felt unglued.  Hoped it was nothing worse than jet lag.  Well, it might be worse than jet lag but so far, zinc tablets seemed to have stabilized the situation.  Wonderful, wonderful zinc!

Slava came alone.  The rest of the family was occupied getting Dima and his family settled in their new apartment.  We drove to Rundale Palace, about an hour outside Riga.  It is a true Grand Palace, built for the 18th-century Duke of Courland as a summer vacation getaway.  “It’s good ta be king!” says Mel Brooks.  Or duke.  But when you’ve seen one ornate 18th-century palace, you’ve generally seen them all.  Part of the palace had been restored over the last 20 years, and it is an admirable job.  Room after room of parquet (we had to put shower caps on our shoes), murky portraits, damask-covered walls, over-carved chairs, putti, ceilings bedecked with zaftig women—oog.  Not a place to take your shoes off and have a beer with your buddies.  Aristos—who needs ‘em, I kept thinking in room after room after room.  Throne room, ball room, small rooms off the ball room with Chinese porcelain on shelves that look like rococo wall decorations (reminded me of the room at Neuschwanstein in Bavaria).  The duke’s and duchess’s separate apartments (bedrooms, dressing rooms and studies); clothing in display cabinets, some of it reproduced, some genuine.  One of the rooms displayed genealogies on the walls along with the portraits.  The current Duke of Courland has a name too long to be of any use* and according to a quick Internet search, is 403rd in line for the British monarchy.  I wondered what he does to pass the time.

Slava and I had a good day together, walking and talking about life and such (as well as I could given my stumbling Russian), just two old friends shooting the breeze as if there were no years or distance between us.  He’s not happy with the state of world for the following reasons: Latvia thinks too much of itself, Latvians are too nationalistic and won’t speak Russian; too many young people emigrate to Poland, England, US, wherever; farming is neglected… Hmmm, I wondered about that last observation as we passed acres of smooth green fields, obviously cultivated.  Slava explained that these are only because they’re near Riga and that farms farther away were abandoned.  He complained that no one wants to buy Latvian produce; they want less expensive Western European produce (um, that's the free market and besides, don't we all want cheap food, I thought).

Slava is happy with Putin and Medvedev and the current Latvian president.  He doesn’t like the multiplicity of political parties in Latvia; he likes our two-party system (which seems to be about all he likes about the U.S. at the moment).  He resents the fact that Latvians are bitter about Stalin’s deportations; he pointed out that Stalin murdered Russians as well.  Yes, I remarked, but when it's a foreign leader who's murdering your people it's harder to take.  His reply: Latvians were prominent in the NKVD and elsewhere in the Soviet hierarchy; they participated in their share of atrocities.  Can't deny he has a point.  In general, Slava complained, the Latvians are too wrapped up in the past.  Latvia used to be the leader in Soviet-bloc manufacturing, he lamented; Latvia produced high-quality rolling stock and radio equipment; now all the factories are abandoned (well, yes, I thought, that was in the Soviet days when they weren’t competing with the West).

A thick blanket of clouds covered the sky as we drove past wide, empty vistas punctuated by old farmhouses, shallow rivers and birch copses.  Once, the sun slanted through, sending down shafts like those in a Tiepolo painting.  We didn’t stop anywhere to eat.  By the time Slava dropped me off at Valnu iela, the street that marks the eastern edge of the Old City, I almost fell into the first eatery that looked as if I could get away with wearing jeans.  It was a tourist trap but it did what it had to—served food and beer.  But even before that, I walked into the bookstore I usually pass on my way to class.  I was drawn by “Books” in English on the storefront (also in German and Russian) and they did have a table and a shelf of English-language books.  I just basked in the pleasure of the smell of a bookstore.

Back in snug hotel room-- oh yes, respiratory system is flashing alert status…glad I stuffed those Tylenol capsules in the medicine bag at the last minute.  Briefly debated whether to put clothes back on and run down to supermarket for juice and extra water, but only briefly.  Alert status means immediate action.  Thank Heaven for capitalism—a supermarket with all modern conveniences, including a big box of OJ, right across the street!  Now to battle the cold with fresh ammunition.
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*If you insist: Prince Ernst-Johann Karl Oskar Eitel-Friedrich Peter Burchard Biron of Courland

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