The Sounds of Riga

Today we have all the windows open. They are working on the water lines in our neighborhood and our toilet smells like poo. The whole apartment smells like poo, actually, so we have flung the windows open in hopes of airing things out a bit. I'll take the mosquitoes over the smell.

These open windows are reminding me of a summer I once spent as a nanny in France. I lived on the 5th floor of a very old building and our windows opened up to a cobblestone street. Each morning I would hear the sounds of the city stirring below. (Think of Belle in Beauty and the Beast, really)

Flash forward 20 years, or 100 years for that matter, and many of the sounds of Europe are the same.

"There goes the baker with his tray, like always. The same old bread and rolls to sell. Every morning just the same, since the morning that we came...to this poor provincial town " " (Good morning, Belle!)"

Right now I hear someone's dog barking in the distance. We see lots of people walking dogs in the park. Latvians seem to love their pets. We see lots of baby strollers in the park too. The largest family we have seen is 2 1/2 kids (prego mom chasing two kids at the beach). We are something of an oddity, at least in the city.

 

My favorite sounds are the sounds of the street musicians. We have heard accordions, flutes, classical guitar, violin, cello, drums, a choir, a brass ensemble, and jazz from piano bars (plus the organ concert). I love walking around town and listening to the sounds of the city.

Something is always going on in the city squares. That's why I like to go on walks to see what is happening. There is supposed to be a Baltic festival later this week, but we can't read the sign to figure out much about it. I also love the number of people who travel by bike. We've seen three cyclists dressed up in gear looking like they were training for a triathlon, but we've also seen English-looking gentlemen in suits riding through parks on their way to work. Maybe we'll rent bikes one afternoon when it's not raining.

As we are on the fourth floor here, we can always here the sounds in the courtyard below. The clickery-clack of fancy heeled shoes on cobblestones or brick pavers are one of my favorites. The sounds of rain against my umbrella, and (less lovely) the sounds of traffic, garage being taken out, people talking in languages I can't understand, and an occasional siren.

Every few minutes we hear the sound of the metal security gate. Normands is on the left. He is the security guard. I smile and wave each time we pass and he always gives me a curt nod. Mark, the jolly Englishman is his buddy, on the left. His smile is infectious. They spend time talking outside the gate while Mark's wife is working at a bank here. Different cultures, but good friends.

Interesting flowers in the city square by the Dome Cathedral. The weather is perfect for flowers here. Cool and lots of rain. I don't think these things would last a week back home in the scorching sun. I wonder if any of our plants are still alive?

It's strawberry season here and there are roadside carts everywhere. These look delicious, but we're not supposed to eat them since we are foreigners. I wish I knew the word for Clorox.

Rachel, if you were here, I'd love to go to this tea house with you. It was a little too groovy for me to go alone.

Andy is making rounds by taxi today visiting all the hardware stores he can find, doing research for the company. Perhaps he'll come across a new product line idea or new market. I'm proud of him for making the most of every opportunity.