Ice on the Bay

Unless I saw it with my own eyes, it would have still just been something in pictures of places I did not want to visit. Who knows what the means, I bet not so long ago, finding Rīga on a map would have been a challenge. Not such a challenge as it turns out; I could even probably name the three districts of Latvīja in Milda’s hands too. Imagine my surprise when I was standing next to a large turtle statue staring out over the Bay of Rīga watching people play soccer in the distance on the ice.

At best, this is a non-sequitor a beach with ice. Not ice in a cup, not ice in the water, but six feet (1.8m) of ice on the water so it can be walked on. The temperature had to have been cold enough to freeze alcohol in bottles on the step. Standing with your back to the wind was hard, your eyes hurt and your nose hurt on the inside when you inhaled. Our little group walked along the beach. The ladies knew every building, every street on the Jurmala strip. Truthfully, I was still stuck on the patches of ice on the beach.

Should there not be bikinis on a beach? Ice should be in a cup. There it was covering a perfectly good bay. I was kind of glad that we got off of the beach, because along the ice the wind was a strong wind that cut through my three sweaters and my jacket. I know, I bought the jacket in the Cascades not the Rockies, but I would have not guessed then, that the jacket would have to stand up to the Russian winter. I usually get cold when it is 30F (0C), why worry about -5F (-23C)?

Jurmala is a famous beach town formerly reserved only for the party and party officials. Now, it caters to middle and upper-middle class visitors. Streets are clean and picturesque, lined with brightly painted wooden houses. Normally, they have painted fences surrounding them, sometimes just a well-groomed yard in front. There was not much snow in town, but any snow at this temperature makes walking with our 4yo friend harder. Even her mom was losing the battle against the cold.

We walked the length of the Jurmala Centrs and finally found an open restaurant. It was a quaint hotel that even on my American salary would have been unreasonably expensive in the winter. They had the hockey game on, and we sat by the window so we could see the TV. Conversations were slow, but delightful. Natasha was showing us her student id and her driver’s license taken back before the new government. She is a lovely woman. When she was 20, she should have been a model or figured out how to be in sales or marketing. Even, dying communism puts the kibosh on that in so many ways.

We were talking about Natasha’s cat, Bagira I think. It is interesting here in Eastern Europe that they are so in love with their animals. Not that I am some sort of ultra-humanist but it is interesting that people are second class to the animals. I bet that explains a lot about how they act to each other. Similar to Czech, Latvījans and Latvījan Russians treat each other with disdain. Disdain may be too harsh, more like when you are speaking to them that you are bothering them, and they have to rush to the airport to deliver a heart across the country.

Certainly I am not a sociologist, but it is an interesting observation. We walked back to the car down the strip. In the summer, when they fix the bay Jurmala would be nice. It is hard to imagine what it must have been like only ten years ago. The girls are great at showing what is nice in Latvīja, but it is hard to imagine life here. Living dollar to dollar feels harder than continuously saving for old opportunities like in Czech. Life is not all bad, but it is harder than it needs to be. Life is hard to change when you do not know anything else.