RIGA LATVIA

Monday 25th Sept to Thursday 28th Sept 2006

 

Up for it were: Yup, Stub, Jacko, Granpop Bill, Lionel Richee, Scottee, Keithee’s up for it, Moonbeam, Dasher, Craigee and Tatee.

 

Monday 25th September.

Kevin drove the spacious mini-bus from The Westbury Tavern, to John Lennon airport, Liverpool, collecting the Keiths at junction 17 on route.  There was just about enough room in the front though heads became entangled with the overhead TV showing something that sounded a lot like Phoenix Nights but louder.

 

At the airport, Yup went ahead to take the first group photo and was relieved to return to his suitcase to find the wheels still attached.

 

Check in was delayed by a fault with the conveyors, described by Moonbeam as “The slip roads are working but the motorway is down”.

 

We settled into Wetherspoons, each with a pint of Cain’s best bitter followed by a pint of Bombadier (or Bombardier as Stubbee insisted on calling it).  Into the cattle pens once more with Bill called to stand with the children at the front like a scene from Kindergarten Cop.  Meanwhile Steve had reached the third chapter of the book he was browsing in WH Smiths and was so engrossed he nearly missed the plane.

 

We boarded the plane by the rear steps and settled down. Stubbee was intent on grazing his way to Riga and was on his third bun before take off.  A further five followed shortly after.  Moonbeam was fortunate to share a row of seats with two Latvian ladies and took the opportunity to brush up on his Latvian.

 

A good flight was followed by a rapid unloading and baggage reclaim.  A very tasty lady stood by the door with a “STUBBS” notice and ushered us to 3 waiting Renaults Scenics.  The trip to the Hotel had all the safety features of a tuk-tuk race but managed to stay off the footways before stopping at the Radi un Draugi (Friends & Family) for our 3 night stay.

 

 

Beer and Education.

 

We made our way to Dome Square and settled at a pavement café at 12:45am.  The Beardy boys purchased direct from the bar to be able to get a second round in before the bar shut at 1:00.and were further rewarded by a nice lady who made a bee line for them to loudly claim “I tell you everything about F***ING”. The boys were all ears and perspiration.  The Enviro-boys (who either felt they knew all about the subject or were miffed at not being invited to the teach-in) went off to find a meal. It was probably all jiggery pokery anyway.

 

The bars in the Beer Garden Square were shutting with the exception of the Black Cat which apparently stayed open until 7:00am.  The bar was well named, for you needed the eyes of a cat to be able to read the menu in the gloom.  Certainly if a real black cat had passed it would not have been seen.

The charming waitress (Inga) took the orders with perfect English and kept the beers and food supplied as we sat in the dark.  3 beers, kebab and chips with whole French beans for 10 Lats each seemed cheap.  Inside, 2 girls in skin tight hipster jeans played pool with their beaus.  The boys were obviously good at snooker and continuously left the girls with awkward cue shots that gave a new meaning to the term “leg-over”.  The girl in the pink top was clearly a master of the deep screw technique and worked the balls well until all were safely put away into their pockets.

 

A quick nightcap in the bar near the Hotel seemed a good end to the evening.  The bar was empty apart from 2 sinister men in black suits sitting in the dark beyond a small dance floor and 2 equally sinister females with dyed black hair and matching horn rimmed glasses.  Monika tried her best to interest her guests and offered to dance for 15 Lats.  She had clearly benefited from a good communist upbringing.  The maths was good but her business sense was poor when she offered a dance for 5 for 75 Lats.  The beer cost 2.64Lats a half litre so we made our excuses, woke Moonbeam from his slumbers and left at 4:30am with a promise to wake for breakfast at 8:30.

 

 

Tuesday 26th September.

Comings and goings.

 

A good breakfast including boiled eggs and porridge prepared us for the walk around (and around again) the old City to view the many fine buildings.  The bleak concrete Museum of the Occupation failed to entice and the “House of Blackheads” seemed remarkably free of zits and spots.

Craig declined the lift up St. Peter’s Tower and missed the magnificent sights including the zeppelin hangars (not hangers!) now converted to a market.

A break was taken at the beer garden and a platter of a selection of local cheeses ordered.  The choice was well presented but all tasted vaguely of nothing at all.

A further circuit of the town took us to the Station and a wrong turning in the subway led to a central reservation protected by guard rail.

Bill strode over and others climbed but Moonbeam underestimated his girth and attempted to post himself through.

The female residents of Riga were slim, well dressed and delightful.  Scottee had a theory that the local beer was hallucinogenic.  The video playback would prove that the women were, in fact, 20 stone heifers but made to appear beautiful under the influence of the drug.

 

Yup led the way criss-crossing the City in search of the “Beer Garden” and returned to the Hotel concierge desk to receive directions.  Unfortunately Steve paid a quick visit to the loo only to re-emerge to find that he had again been left behind.

The directions to the Beer Garden were followed to find that we had been there 4 times before.

A few more beers generated an appetite and, since there was 3 hours available before the curry, snacks were ordered.  Best fillet steak served with 2 jacket potatoes, salad, green chillies, red chillies, small chillies and other assorted chillies needed a few more beers to aid digestion. (£9.50 + 2 beers at £1.50 each.)

 

There was just time for showers and a few beers before the 8:30 appointed visit to the “Raja” in the cellar round the corner.  The menu was surprisingly familiar but with a few additions such as “Lotte ass-(Very Spicy)” and “Kulcha” Naan.  The girls at the next table included one set to be married the next day.  Keithee wondered whether the hallucinogenic effect of the beer also worked on women so that they would see him as a sex god.  Everyone agreed that no drug could be that powerful.  Scottee recalled that he asked for Lats at the Post Office and was grateful that the country was not called Twatvia.

 

The first Naan was perfect but the remainder were supermarket quality only.  The Kulcha Naan never even appeared.  Scottee suggested that the comment card should report that the chicken was rubbery, the wine was not as ordered and the service was slow.  The reply to the question “Would we return” should be “yes – with a flame thrower.”  The cost of £19 all in seemed OK.

 

We returned to the beer garden to watch what appeared to be a girl playing piano in the nude only to be disappointed to learn that it was a pink top.  5 went off to see whether the lap tops were better value than Budapest only to quickly discover that they were even more high maintenance.  An unusual and rapid exit was called for, during which the doorman was shown his own door and the whole of Latvia was threatened with expulsion from the EC.

 

WEDNESDAY

To the Woods

Sigulda, 1hour 15mins by train. (Towards Valmiera or Cesis)

 

Off to catch the train from platform 16 of a station with only 10 platforms and Moonbeam lost still trying to swap his telephone pre-payment card.

Directions to platform 16 had been carefully hidden to be only visible after walking the entire length of the tunnel and back.  We took our seats with minutes to spare and Moonbeam appearing on the final whistle along with 40 teenagers out for a school trip.  There was a good chance that the teenagers would get off the train and disappear into the woods at any of many stops, but they remained to get off at Sigulda with us.

 

The lady at the bobsleigh run invited us to inspect the tower and, since there was also a loo, the offer was accepted.  The route down to the valley floor was followed with a march alongside the river to the whistled tune of “The Great Escape”.  After a break in the gazebo the suspension bridge was taken over the river to begin the climb through the forest.

 

A café was eventually found next to the sanatorium.  Yuppee asked the lady if she served beer and was disappointed to be told “No”.  He considered coffees all round until he discovered a crate of bottled beers that were for sale.  11 beers at 50 centimes each and 5.6% alcohol at cellar temperature were quickly consumed and another round ordered.  The hallucinogenic effect started again with the help of walls which were painted with fairy tale images in a post psychedelic style.

 

We left in good spirits only to find the bloody teenagers again waiting with their Chemistry teacher by the cable car station.  The Gondola arrived and 14 scrawny kids were carried off for the trip over the deep valley to return after 20 minutes to take a similar number. It was clear that the remaining 20 plus teenagers and 11 healthy foreigners would require 3 more trips to give a 60 minute wait for the last men.

Craigee assessed the cable and the height above the river and concluded that he “wanna very keen youth” so a unanimous decision was made to walk back to the station.  The route down and over the bridge was easy but the wooded staircase up through the forest on the far side of the valley proved arduous.

 

6 large Margarita pizzas were ordered at the pizzeria by the station.  The lady owner spoke good English and even the local lush engaged us in a history of his life.  He had apparently played football for his Country and worked in Iceland.

We were quite impressed until Keithee pointed out that every drunkard claims to have played for his country

 

The return to Riga was celebrated by beers in the garden on the way to the Hotel.  A quick shower was followed by a reunion in the Belgian bar served by a bloke in white liveried tunic and face to match.  More beers followed in the Dickens bar with football on the TV while we tried to stay awake.

 

 

THURSDAY.

Cold Feet and Hot lips

Jurmala, 35mins by train

We woke early and packed suitcases to place in left luggage, before dashing off to the station for the train to Majori, the centre of the holiday coastline.

The area was full of cute wooden chalets and dachas with a couple of modern, large hotels.  The beach was seemingly endless, clean and wide.

We walked along the beach with a paddle in the Baltic.  The sea was warm and almost freshwater and we were able to wade so far out that we considered that Bill could make it all the way to Sweden.

 

The environmentals split from the beardy boys to walk to the station at Dubulti for a group photo of the “Balti bugle boys at Dubalti by the Baltic” before retuning to the resort area.

Beers, chicken and chips and more beers were followed by a move to the next bar for flaming Sambukas.

A visit to the loo was called for before the train journey back, but Steve had to remove his money belt first ‘cos he couldn’t see the equipment beyond.

A sudden squall of rain arose and a makeshift towel headscarf was made for Bill as we rushed back to the next uphill station, with Bill looking like Old Mother Riley.

 

The bags were reclaimed from left luggage and we climbed into 3 taxis for the ride back to the airport-all assuming that the fare, like that for the inward trip, had been included in the hotel bill.  The taxi drivers phoned the hotel and confirmed that we owed them the fare.  A hurried collection of odd coins and leftovers supplemented Richie’s settlement.

 

 

Home

Scallies and tobogganists.

 

We boarded the plane by our usual door except Bill who had again been placed with the other naughty boys at the front.  Unfortunately some lesser mortals boarded by the same route and sat amongst us to carry out loud conversations but with a vocabulary restricted to words beginning with F.

 

At Liverpool Airport the lesser mortals and Richie were delayed in receiving their cases.  A room was suddenly opened and men in blue shirts and scouse accents ushered us in.

“What should I do?” asked the younger to the elder, and was told to ask the usual questions.  “Have you got any visual evidence of identity?” the youngster asked.  “A Passport?” I asked. “Errr yes, ok” came the reply.  “Could you empty your suitcase on this tiny desk” he stuttered, but by this time he had already lost my passport.  After a few frantic moments he had located the passport but had lost my faith.  The boys in blue shirts were probably the local scallies taking a chance as freelance customs officers.

I claimed I had lost the key and could not open the case and was ushered out.  Richie, clearly impressed by his trip to the bobsleigh run, had become a tobogganist and had some 2,000 fags as a gift for Beardy.  Sorry said the senior scally, Riga is not part of the EC and much to Ritchie’s protest confiscated the lot.  When asked how many sleeves he had got, Scottee replied “two, but that he’d also got a jumper in his case.”

 

Kev the taxi was waiting for us by the yellow submarine (how had we failed to see it 3 days earlier?).

 

The ride home was uneventful.  Everyone had tired eyes.  The Keiths were dropped off at Sandbach at 1:15 in the morning in time for a few hours sleep and back to work.

 

 

Regards

Jackomeister

 

 

Other Info:

 

Yup                        David Stevens                                              Room 419

Stubbee                 David Stubbs

 

Jacko                    Keith Jackson                                               Room 414

Grandpop Bill         Bill Tabbernor                

 

Lionel Richie          Richard Jones                                              Room 056

Scottee                 Scott Stevenson    

 

Keith                      Keith Phillips                                                Room 418

Moonbeam              David Moon

 

Dasher                   Steve Morgan                                     Single Room 061

Craigee 50/50       Craig Hutchings                                   Single Room 048

Tatee                     Crane Tart                                         Single Room 311

 

11 people 4 double rooms + 3 Singles

 

£150 in Lats each. 0.97 Lats to the £. i.e. 1 Lat = £1.03

Sandbach Junction @ 15:00 Liverpool by 15:45.

Ryanair Flight 9606 17:50 to arrive Riga 22:35.

Back -Riga (RIX) to Liverpool (LPL) dept 23:00 arrive LPL 23:50

1 hour time difference.

 

Express Bus 22a to Centre = 0.25L 20 mins.every 25 mins

          Bus 22                            30-35 mins every 30 mins

Taxi                             = 5 to 6 Lats 15-20 mins