Why do all of Ryanair’s flights leave at 7am?

Could I really have felt weary over the thought of setting the alarm for 4.30am again last night so soon after last time? I need to have a word with myself – it’s for going on holidays, and should be rejoiced over!

So, a rude awakening by the alarm clock this morning, meaning another weekend away in Eastern Europe, hand luggage only.

By 10am we were at the bus stop outside Riga airport waiting for a bus to arrive to carry us the short distance to the centre of town. Also in the queue was a woman in spiky black heels and fishnets with a whip poking out of her shoulder bag. I think Nige decided right there and then that Riga was going to be an excellent choice for a weekend away.

It wasn’t long before I started noticing that just about everyone seemed to be wearing fishnet tights (assumed tights of course) of one type or another. Fishnets are perhaps the new jeans in Latvia at the moment? Women of every age were wearing fishnets in a variety of colours and ‘hole size’ – under jeans (?!), skirts, uniforms of various variety – in fact with any outfit at all. I’m sure Nige was only pretending not to have noticed.

The hostel we’re in has recently changed its name from Barons Hostel to Funky Hostel, presumably in a bid to attract the funky young hosteling crowd as opposed to the tight, middle aged, pretending-they’re-still-young crowd. It was a fab little place though, in spite of the 10 flights of stairs to climb up to reach it. When we arrived, they were in the middle of both a power cut, and a water cut (is it called that – where no water is coming out of the tap?) and helpfully sent us away as we couldn’t be processed (presumably without the electricity, as I doubt the lack of water would have had anything to with it).

Riga is a bit cold at the end of September. Mercifully dry, but a bit cold. I am wishing I’d stuffed in at least one more jumper and a ski jacket instead of just one jumper (which I’m going to have to wear every day) and a flimsy waterproof that tried valiantly today to keep the wind at bay.

The first activity on the agenda, having visited the tourist information office (where a couple of old – 60’s at least – Australians were complaining to the poor girl behind the desk that their camp site was rubbish, like she was responsible or something!) was to do the walking tour on our own with the city map they kindly provided. Riga is beautiful, unspoilt and utterly charming.

We attempted to lunch in a LP recommended local restaurant, which was totally packed with locals. Usually a good thing, but meaning that we could not get a table. We decided to book one for tomorrow, and instead ate noodles (not very ‘local’) in an organic deli (which had a bar at the back, and served beer and baguettes, so not at all bad in my book!).

The buildings are a hodgepodge of pastel colours which line cobbled streets and contain largely bars, restaurants, hostels and shops selling Russian Dolls. I found the Russian Doll thing a bit hard to fathom – when you’ve spent 50 years being occupied by a country, what makes a nation adopt it’s ubiquitous and most famous toy as something to sell to tourists?

We spent all afternoon in the Museum of Occupation. You cannot help but be moved to tears by the plight of Latvians over history, being occupied by any number of nations, and being used as a political war-pawn between the Russians and Germans just before WWII. In recent history, Russian occupation, followed by German occupation, followed by Russian occupation again after the war, and tens of thousands of Latvians being sent to Siberia for little or no reason other than the need for labour in Russia. Most impressive was the story (in my lifetime, and I’m ashamed to say I didn’t know about it) in 1989 of the ‘Baltic Way’ where two million people linked hands to create a human chain over 600km long between the capitals of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania to protest against occupation leading to freedom in 1991. The power of the people is humbling.

We trekked around the whole city trying to find places for dinner that could fit us in and were in the flipping LP (I hate that book sometimes!). We ended up having a terrible meal in an empty restaurant just because it was recommended on the back of the map (there being no sensible suggestion in The Book). The cost however, was 8 lats. For both of us. Including beers. That’s about 10 quid. I can live with that!

The Book then redeemed itself, as it told me to try a ‘Hot Apple Pie’ cocktail. I’ve died and gone to heaven, and there is a bar there that sells a liquid version of an apple pie containing vodka. I’m counting it as one of my 5 a day (apples… not vodkas!)