holy fuck
arrived in RIGA with michael at 9:40 am, once again in a russian speaking country! our incredibly nice host, renars, met us at the airport and gave us a small tour of the old town, and when asked about its deserted feeling, revealed that the population of the country had gone from something like 7 million to 2.5 in a matter of 15 years... ghost town! we bid him adieu to meet his sister and wandered around... sat on the banks of a canal and were woken up by a policewoman who informed us we were not allowed to sit on the grass - we observed her approach the 5 some groups of people also sitting on the grass and repeat the same thing to them with much satisfaction. in front of a massive statue bz the Daugava, a latvian man wearing no pants and a t shirt was observed bothering a group of highschool aged girls, inducing much hilarity. he then approached us, and when informed that we did not speak latvian, brought a russian friend to help us. they were soaking wet, the one was shirtless and tattooed and the other had no pants, and they repeatedly invited us to come drink vodka with them, which we refused, but eventually we followed to sit with them and perhaps partake of some fanta. the language barriers were extremely great - they invited us for music in russian, and when i tried to confirm that, they said something about a guitar - i asked if they had a guitar, which they denied, and asked in turn if i had one - eventually it was determined that there were no guitars. michi was offered vodka, which he refused, sporting a preference for beer, which they called american - upon asserting his german nationality, he was confronted with a copy of mein kampf, which they had been reading to each other between shots. the russian angrily pointed to some latvian graffiti on the statue and told me i looked like something, not an american, alternating between psychopathic exhortations to drink ungodly amounts of vodka, and lethal, angry stares, followed by periods with his hands behind his back, each time he reproduced them i was sure i was to be confronted with a knife. scary time. one of the latvians pointed us the way back to old town (which we knew was across the street from the river) and we went on our way with many thanks, the integrity of our exoskeletons intact.
o lucky day!
o lucky day!