A-Ž of Latvia - G

G is for Gadalaiki (seasons) and Gaiziņkalns (Latvia's highest point)

What is so glorious about the weather in Latvia, and which is much less pronounced in Australia (where I grew up), is the clear distinction between the four seasons. Winter is long and cold in Latvia, with the mercury sometimes falling into the minus 30s, but you find yourself becoming aware of the different types of snow and ice (hard, soft, dry, wet, fresh, old...) and the stark beauty of a Northern winter. Spring bursts forth with spectacular intensity, summer is magnificent and never too extreme, and autumn calmly welcomes you back into winter with it's confetti-showers of golden leaves, and crisp, brisk evenings.

Latvia's Mt. Everest at a monumental 312 metres above sea level. Latvians are so insecure, they built a phallic tower on top of this hillock so it would be officially taller than neighbouring Estonia's highest peak. Ferrari-owners, you've been trumped.

A-Ž of Latvia - F

F is for /f/ and Fui! (a general exclamation of disgust)

The Latvian language never traditionally included the phoneme /f/ but it was later introduced as words were borrowed from foreign languages. So now locals can easily converse about 'filozofija' (philosophy), fakultātes (faculties), and 'fistings' (I'm sure you can guess that one).

'Fui!' is a Latvian's way of saying your fart stinks real bad.

A-Ž of Latvia - Ē

Ē is for Ēst (eat) and Ēģipte (Egypt)

Latvian cuisine has been heavily influenced by the Germans and the Russians but still has its own individuality. Expect to eat, among many other things too numerous to list here: cottage cheese, plenty of sour cream, forest berries, shashlik meat (pretty much a national dish by now), smoked fish, meat-filled pancakes, beetroot, lampreys (look it up, weird), jellied cat-food-esque meat, and truck-loads of pork and pork fat. Good luck being vegetarian here, by the way.

Escaping the early onset of Autumn or getting a dose of sun as they wait for spring to unfurl after a long, depressing winter, the people of Latvia take budget flights to places like Egypt, Turkey, the Canary Islands, and Italy. Their pale skin turns copper quicker than you can say 'pass me my faux-Gucci sunglasses Vladimir'.

A-Ž of Latvia - E

E is for Eirovīzija (Eurovision) and Eglīte (Christmas Tree)

Latvians love this shit, and not even in an ironic way. This is the first verse and chorus from Latvia's entrant in the 2010 competition, Aisha 'What For?' (I swear to Mr God, this is not a joke):

I've asked my angels why, but they don't know
What for do mothers cry and rivers flow?
Why are the skies so blue and mountains high?
What for is your love always passing by?
 
I've asked my uncle Joe, but he can't speak
Why does the wind still blow and blood still leaks?
So many questions now with no reply
What for do people live until they die?
 
What for are we living?
What for are we crying?
What for are we dying?
Only Mr God knows why

Latvians grasp firmly to their claims-to-fame. Apparently the tradition of the decorated Christmas tree was started in Latvia in the 15th century, but even so, it was actually Germans who did it. Whatever.

A-Ž of Latvia - D

D is for Daba (nature) and Dziesmu Svētki (Song Festival)

41% of the country is forested, and that's a lot when you think about it. On the weekends, and especially in summer, Riga's streets are eerily quiet, because most residents will rather spend their free time at their country properties, gorging on forest-berries and collecting meadow-flowers for tea. Latvians are still very closely connected to nature, its cycles and rhythms. Home grown produce is very popular, as is foraging (see Sēņošana), and the wildlife you can come across there is astonishing. Wolves and lynx, hedgehogs and moose, storks which migrate from Africa, even bears are slowly growing in number.

Approximately every five years the Song (and Dance) Festival takes place in Latvia. This isn't just some carols-by-candlelight-esque affair; this involves a final concert with more singers than spectators, a whole city proudly dressed in folk costume for a week, impassioned impromptu singing on public transport, and a significant quinquennial reinvigoration of a powerful, if not sometimes inconspicuous, Latvian self-pride.

A-Ž of Latvia - Č

Č is for Čangaļi (Latgallians) and Čaks, Aleksandrs

Eastern Latvia (Latgale) to Latvia is like Tasmania to Australia. The rest of the country thinks it's full of simple, rude, country bumpkins who speak in a strange accent. Admittedly they do speak in a strange tongue (sometimes as hard to understand as Glaswegian is to anglophones), but they're certainly not simple and rude. Latgallians may seem a little backwards at first, but you'll soon discover they are a good people with enormous hearts, a strong sense of tradition, and piles of pride. Oh, and they're experts at having a good time (three day weddings, say no more).

This chrome-dome poet is a bit of a champion. When most Latvian word-smiths were writing their rural idylls, Čaks described urban scenes of trams, noise, pavements, and dripping faucets. Latvia's Baudelaire, sans lesbiennes.

A-Ž of Latvia - C

C is for Caurvējš (draught) and Cope (fishing)

eblok clothing

Latvians have a very strong and widely accepted belief that you can get sick from an open window. Yeah; don't believe scientific and medical knowledge, you can get critically ill from a gentle draught. True story.

Instead of talking about their emotions, the men of Latvia spend their time dressed in camouflage, drinking, and trying to catch gigantic pike.

A-Ž of Latvia - B

B is for Barons, Krišjānis and Bērzu Sula (birch sap)

Barons (born 1835) had a magnificent beard. The other thing he is known for is his work documenting Latvian folk songs from all parts of the country and publishing them in six big volumes. The over 200,000 folk songs form a significant cornerstone of Latvian identity and cultural pride. He even published a section specifically dedicated to 'naughty' folk songs, full of sex and splendid vulgarity, including – wait for it – bestiality. Seems Latvians were quite sexually open-minded before the Christians turned up and made them feel guilty about it.

Every year in spring when the snow has almost completely melted and nature is slowly starting to wake up, Latvians head out to the forests to their favourite birch trees. They tap those bad boys for the healthy sap flowing up their trunks. Fresh birch juice doesn't taste dissimilar to slightly sweet water, but is full of wonderful things (proteins, amino acids, enzymes) to strengthen your health after a long cold winter, or just a heavy night on the piss. When not drunk fresh, the sap is naturally fermented to create a refreshing, slightly carbonated drink which can keep all year. This stuff is ace, trust me.

A-Ž of Latvia - Ā

Ā is for Ārsti (doctors) and Ādas jakas (leather jackets)

Getting medical treatment in Latvia can be a bit of an ordeal, even if you do know the local language. I've had medical professionals 'prescribing' me vodka to disinfect a laceration; telling me I can't drink beer or wine while I'm ill, but spirits are fair game; and suggesting I should dump my girlfriend because 'Latvian girls are sick in the head'. Throw in a few cold and spooky Soviet-era hospital wards and even chillier looks from medical staff and you see why I prefer to deal with the issue myself.

The early years of post-Soviet Latvia were singularly wild. A friend of mine told me of an acquaintance who owned a bar and refused to pay 25% of his earnings to the Russian Mafia for protection (the going rate at the time). One day a dark BMW turned up and burly henchmen sporting black leather jackets strode into the bar with Uzis in hand. They took the chap out into the forest and tied him naked to a tree for the wolves to eat. True story. I steer clear of burly men in leather jackets.

Watch out

A-Ž of Latvia - A

I am currently living and working in Riga, Latvia, and have been here for more than three years. I'll be moving on soon, to another place, and another world of experiences. In the spirit of Vice magazine, I have slowly started putting together a similar guide to this land of forests and corruption, gorgeous women and mushroom-picking. Excuse any cynicism, I really do love this country!

Here we go...

A-Ž of Latvia

A is for Abaks (abacus) and Alus (beer)

You can still find old ladies selling their goods in the markets using abaci to add up purchases. I remember in kindergarten being taught to use an abacus, but once I developed a basic grasp of arithmetic I turned to just using my brain. I swear, I gave an old woman two lati (Latvia's currency) for 1.20 worth of strawberries; I stood there waiting while she worked out the change on her blasted counting frame!

Beer tastes swell here. The best lubrication for a warm afternoon spent checking out skirt, or driving a car.

Hi there.

I'm Martin.

I enjoy writing, people tell me I have a talent with words, and I'm starting to believe them despite my frustratingly low self-confidence, so I figured I need a place to write and put down my thoughts and opinions. The content of this blog won't be themed - I concluded  many years ago that I am doomed to be a jack of all trades, master of none - but I'll try my best to make it interesting.

I just finished reading Paul Kelly's memoir, How to Make Gravy, and the Australian songwriter has subsequently been featuring more prominently in my evening listening, and while thinking of a title for this blog, his song 'Stolen Apples Taste the Sweetest' just popped into my fatigued head. I've never been great at coming up with names or titles, but I don't think this one is too bad. In fact, it's the bomb.

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
See them hanging in the pale moonlight
You won't feel those cuts and bruises
As you reach out for your prize in the night
Pluck them down and take that very first bite

"Don't tell anyone our secrets"
Said the farmer to his darling wife
Oh no, don't tell me
"There are some here in the districts
Not so happy with their lot in this mean, old life
Oh, sweetheart, won't you pass me the paring knife?"

Stolen apples plucked down in their prime
Stolen apples hanging heavy on my mind
Heavy on, heavy on my mind, oh, my mind
Oh, my mind

Eve called Adam in the garden
"Hey Adam, come over here and look at these, won't you try some?"
"Oh, no," said Adam, "Ain't that forbidden"
"Come on now, baby," said Eve, "What could be wrong
What could be wrong with just one little one?"
So Adam bit and cried out, "That's the bomb, that's the bomb"

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest

Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest
Stolen apples taste the sweetest