A bit of everything in the weather
for my third, and briefest, visit to the city of half my ancestors. I
say "city" whereas most family members had lived mainly in
rural areas, but Riga was always beckoning and well within reach in
this tiny country. Some did and do live there; they all knew Riga.
With great eagerness my companion
and I disembarked, our ship having docked itself so conveniently by
the presidential palace. The cruise ship terminal is actually
slightly up the Daugava River, perfectly adjacent to the old town. We
had a map, but wanted to rely more on memory and instinct. Founded in
1201, Riga was an important link in the Hanseatic trading route. Now,
the old town (Viecriga) has UNESCO heritage designation,
containing the largest collection of art nouveau buildings of any
world city, but also a charming diversity of architecture.
Away we went, failing to bring our
new umbrellas for the slight on-off drizzle. Ah yes. Familiar
corners. Will we find the landmark horse sculpture again? ...
memories of that jewellery shop: rings and pendants with traditional
Latvian designs, historical museum pieces on display.
The day takes on an amber glow ‒
naturally! – as we chance into a clutch of morning crafts and
souvenir sellers setting up by St Peter’s Church. Amber is
prevalent everywhere in the Baltics, in every imaginable style of
adornment.
After some refreshing drinks and
more browsing, we turn down Kaļķu iela toward the canal and the
Freedom Monument.
On the bridge by the Monument is an
exhibit marking the thirtieth anniversary of The Baltic Way. Always
an emotional experience for me ‒ and indeed for anyone of Baltic
extraction – to see the faces, the lines, the hundreds of thousands
of people determined to reclaim their independence. From north to
south on 24 August 1989, The Baltic Way stretched in a 600 kilometre
human chain coordinated among Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania to
create an awesome, peaceful protest against Soviet occupation. The
effect was (and is) stunning. Months later, Latvia was taking
autonomous steps toward full national independence as the Iron
Curtain crumbled.
A bit of shopping was called for,
then a walk across the canal park to the pedestrian street that
starts by the Latvian War Museum (intensive visit on prior trip).
When the drizzle began again, soup seemed like a good idea.
Riga, to me, and its people always
have an air of self-containment – a silent extrusion of confidence
that overlays a substantial
inner drive for
achievement in the better things of life. Pride in their national
identity, in surmounting their historical tribulations, yes, but
quiet joy in moving forward. Their innate penchant for celebrating
the natural turn of the earth is so visual and appealing.
Memory lane(s), especially shared with family
companionship, makes for one ever satisfying day.
©
2020
Brenda Dougall Merriman
No comments:
Post a Comment