I finished my bucket list and my apartment almost finished me. Also, my saddest goodbye yet.

I am officially 100% satisfied with my stay in this country. Which is particularly great because I’m about 90% sure this country is trying to get rid of me. My week between camp sessions marked most of the firsts I’ve been waiting for since I arrived nearly a year ago and many firsts I could have done with out. We’ll start with the good. I crossed off the last thing on my bucket list, which turned into a magical day in which I fulfilled all my other Latvian dreams. I mushroomed (in this country mushroom quests in the woods involve looking for fungus, not hallucinations) and I learned how to cook a traditional Latvian meal of handpicked mushrooms, potatoes, homemade pickles, and smoked fish from an actual Latvian family. I also left the day with my ideal Latvian souvenirs: handpicked flowers that I can dry for tea, hand picked berries that I can use with my fresh rhubarb, and homemade marinated goodies. They sell these things in stores but all Latvians know the only way to really enjoy those foods is fresh from the garden from people you love. And I do love the Beitneres. Anyone who has anything negative to say about Latvia or Latvians has clearly never spent a day with the Beitneres.

I have not so subtly reminded my friend Ulla about my need to go mushrooming every time I've seen her for the past 6 months. And, being the fun gal that she is (that joke would work much better if she were a guy), she rewarded my insistent begging with one of the best days I've had in this country. That’s what usually happens when I go adventuring with Ulla. So, after months of waiting I was finally ready to don my best tic protective clothing to venture into the woods with Ulla and her mother.

As we were driving in, Ulla’s mom taught us to smell for the most fruitful (or fungusful) spot. Unfortunately I still don’t quite know what a mushroom forest smells like because there wasn’t much to smell or pick. At least we found enough mushrooms to make for lunch, flowers for tea, and more than enough blueberries to fill the extra space in our baskets and tummies. I also learned the important things, like cutting instead of pulling, checking for worms, and bigger is better (as far as stems go for non-chanterelles). I also found the “mother of mushrooms,” which was the only non-chanterelle I picked that wasn’t poisonous. We mostly picked chanterelles because we knew they’d be safe but we got some variety in there, all of which we checked against the Latvian mushrooming app, of course.

 

After reconnecting with Mother Nature for a few hours we headed home to cook our bounty, obviously stopping on the way for some famous Latvian smoked fish and fresh flowers from a cute old man sitting on the side of the road. 

 

When we got back to Ulla’s home I got the Latvian cooking lesson from a Latvian mama I’ve been dying for, all while we snacked on fish and homemade marinated pickles and mushrooms. Here’s the basics of how the Latvians enjoy their shrooms:

 First you saute some onions in butter

 Then you add the shrooms

 Then you add the cream and make sure they really absorb all the fat

Then you absorb all the tasty food

Everyone who's ever cooked with me can imagine my internal struggle as I added that much butter and cream to something so fresh but I wanted a Latvian cooking lesson so I took a Latvian cooking lesson. And, when Ulla’s mom said more cream, I added more cream (after I saved enough of the less cream version for a taste comparison. Just saying, I don’t think more cream added more flavor, but I’m not exactly an impartial judge because I prefer them marinated, anyway). Anyhoo, the whole hunting, cooking lesson, and lunch were above and beyond what I ever could have asked for and served as further proof for me that I completely disagree with the Latvian stereotype that Latvians are like coconuts, tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Instead, here’s a proposal for a new way to describe Latvians: they survive the cold winters by being warm inside and out.

Between the warm food and warmer company (and, finally, warm weather!) I returned back to Riga feeling warm and fuzzy myself, with just enough time to prepare my apartment to be overrun by madrichim. With a full week in between camps the madrichim deserved a party to congratulate them on a great first session and get them ready for an incoming second session. Too bad this was also the time my apartment villain decided to strike again. I’d already had problems with the plumbing, the temperature, and the wifi (when, this one glorious Friday the building lost internet and, even though they fixed the problem for the building before the weekend, somehow my apartment was the only one still experiencing problems. And, since this all happened on a Friday night, there was no help in sight for days.) So, for my last full week in Riga my apartment decided it was time to throw all my misadventures together for the big finale.

The only thing I had left to do was to bake the cookie dough I had already made and warm up the fries and pizza. That’s it. And, since my oven (toaster) works on an egg timer, I threw the dough in and thought all was going well when that wonderfully annoying ticking sound filled my apartment. After about five minutes, however, I finally realized that the timer was going but none of my other electrical things were. I ran around my building knocking on doors and peering into random people’s apartments to find out how long the power had been out only to find that the power wasn’t out. At least, it wasn’t out in anyone else’s apartment. Just mine. And, since my evil wifi and plumbing system need to be plugged in (I don’t understand either), they also crapped out. The extent of my problems started to really sink in when my sinks regurgitated so, not only did my apartment start to smell but the smell was only going to get worse when I couldn’t clean the dishes I needed to use for the party. And then the guests arrived. With ice cream. And then more guests arrived. With more ice cream. They thought I would make nonalcoholic cocktails, but that doesn’t work so well when you can’t use your blender. Determined to use the ice cream and make the drinks I had promised I decided to muddle the frozen fruit and ice cream by hand. It was only after all that hard work that I found out none of them actually wanted the non alcoholic cocktails or the ice cream. Yet another confusing eating experience with the community.

Eventually my landlord showed up and did what he always does: looked around, flipped a switch, and said, “master will come tomorrow and fix it. Maybe you want to move somewhere else tonight?” I don’t understand why he comes all the way over to my apartment and all the way up my stairs to tell me what he could have told me over the phone but at least he’s consistent. I pointed to my guests and said, “not exactly a good time to move. Will you at least eat some ice cream?” Instead he left, only to return half an hour later so his friend could hang out my window and steal electricity from my neighbor by connecting our apartments with extension chords. So I now had electricity in one corner of my apartment, which didn’t do much for the plumbing or my ability to clean but at least I could bake the cookies, fries, and other frozen food that was slowly melting in my freezer. The new goodies at least temporarily appeased the party that had swelled to about fifteen or so people, none of whom were eating the ice cream but all of whom wanted to know if now, at midnight, an hour after the landlord had left for the second time, we could call the landlord back and change apartments so they could go to the bathroom. At the point I was far too exhausted from entertaining to entertain that idea so they hung in there, we lit some candles, and I came to truly appreciate absurdly long days with too much light.

I am officially 100% satisfied with my stay in this country. Which is particularly great because I’m about 90% sure this country is trying to get rid of me. My week between camp sessions marked most of the firsts I’ve been waiting for since I arrived nearly a year ago and many firsts I could have done with out. We’ll start with the good. I crossed off the last thing on my bucket list, which turned into a magical day in which I fulfilled all my other Latvian dreams. I mushroomed (in this country mushroom quests in the woods involve looking for fungus, not hallucinations) and I learned how to cook a traditional Latvian meal of handpicked mushrooms, potatoes, homemade pickles, and smoked fish from an actual Latvian family. I also left the day with my ideal Latvian souvenirs: handpicked flowers that I can dry for tea, hand picked berries that I can use with my fresh rhubarb, and homemade marinated goodies. They sell these things in stores but all Latvians know the only way to really enjoy those foods is fresh from the garden from people you love. And I do love the Beitneres. Anyone who has anything negative to say about Latvia or Latvians has clearly never spent a day with the Beitneres.

I have not so subtly reminded my friend Ulla about my need to go mushrooming every time I've seen her for the past 6 months. And, being the fun gal that she is (that joke would work much better if she were a guy), she rewarded my insistent begging with one of the best days I've had in this country. That’s what usually happens when I go adventuring with Ulla. So, after months of waiting I was finally ready to don my best tic protective clothing to venture into the woods with Ulla and her mother.

As we were driving in, Ulla’s mom taught us to smell for the most fruitful (or fungusful) spot. Unfortunately I still don’t quite know what a mushroom forest smells like because there wasn’t much to smell or pick. At least we found enough mushrooms to make for lunch, flowers for tea, and more than enough blueberries to fill the extra space in our baskets and tummies. I also learned the important things, like cutting instead of pulling, checking for worms, and bigger is better (as far as stems go for non-chanterelles). I also found the “mother of mushrooms,” which was the only non-chanterelle I picked that wasn’t poisonous. We mostly picked chanterelles because we knew they’d be safe but we got some variety in there, all of which we checked against the Latvian mushrooming app, of course.

After reconnecting with Mother Nature for a few hours we headed home to cook our bounty, obviously stopping on the way for some famous Latvian smoked fish and fresh flowers from a cute old man sitting on the side of the road. 

When we got back to Ulla’s home I got the Latvian cooking lesson from a Latvian mama I’ve been dying for, all while we snacked on fish and homemade marinated pickles and mushrooms. Here’s the basics of how the Latvians enjoy their shrooms:

Everyone who's ever cooked with me can imagine my internal struggle as I added that much butter and cream to something so fresh but I wanted a Latvian cooking lesson so I took a Latvian cooking lesson. And, when Ulla’s mom said more cream, I added more cream (after I saved enough of the less cream version for a taste comparison. Just saying, I don’t think more cream added more flavor, but I’m not exactly an impartial judge because I prefer them marinated, anyway). Anyhoo, the whole hunting, cooking lesson, and lunch were above and beyond what I ever could have asked for and served as further proof for me that I completely disagree with the Latvian stereotype that Latvians are like coconuts, tough on the outside and soft on the inside. Instead, here’s a proposal for a new way to describe Latvians: they survive the cold winters by being warm inside and out.

Between the warm food and warmer company (and, finally, warm weather!) I returned back to Riga feeling warm and fuzzy myself, with just enough time to prepare my apartment to be overrun by madrichim. With a full week in between camps the madrichim deserved a party to congratulate them on a great first session and get them ready for an incoming second session. Too bad this was also the time my apartment villain decided to strike again. I’d already had problems with the plumbing, the temperature, and the wifi (when, this one glorious Friday the building lost internet and, even though they fixed the problem for the building before the weekend, somehow my apartment was the only one still experiencing problems. And, since this all happened on a Friday night, there was no help in sight for days.) So, for my last full week in Riga my apartment decided it was time to throw all my misadventures together for the big finale.

The only thing I had left to do was to bake the cookie dough I had already made and warm up the fries and pizza. That’s it. And, since my oven (toaster) works on an egg timer, I threw the dough in and thought all was going well when that wonderfully annoying ticking sound filled my apartment. After about five minutes, however, I finally realized that the timer was going but none of my other electrical things were. I ran around my building knocking on doors and peering into random people’s apartments to find out how long the power had been out only to find that the power wasn’t out. At least, it wasn’t out in anyone else’s apartment. Just mine. And, since my evil wifi and plumbing system need to be plugged in (I don’t understand either), they also crapped out. The extent of my problems started to really sink in when my sinks regurgitated so, not only did my apartment start to smell but the smell was only going to get worse when I couldn’t clean the dishes I needed to use for the party. And then the guests arrived. With ice cream. And then more guests arrived. With more ice cream. They thought I would make nonalcoholic cocktails, but that doesn’t work so well when you can’t use your blender. Determined to use the ice cream and make the drinks I had promised I decided to muddle the frozen fruit and ice cream by hand. It was only after all that hard work that I found out none of them actually wanted the non alcoholic cocktails or the ice cream. Yet another confusing eating experience with the community.

Eventually my landlord showed up and did what he always does: looked around, flipped a switch, and said, “master will come tomorrow and fix it. Maybe you want to move somewhere else tonight?” I don’t understand why he comes all the way over to my apartment and all the way up my stairs to tell me what he could have told me over the phone but at least he’s consistent. I pointed to my guests and said, “not exactly a good time to move. Will you at least eat some ice cream?” Instead he left, only to return half an hour later so his friend could hang out my window and steal electricity from my neighbor by connecting our apartments with extension chords. So I now had electricity in one corner of my apartment, which didn’t do much for the plumbing or my ability to clean but at least I could bake the cookies, fries, and other frozen food that was slowly melting in my freezer. The new goodies at least temporarily appeased the party that had swelled to about fifteen or so people, none of whom were eating the ice cream but all of whom wanted to know if now, at midnight, an hour after the landlord had left for the second time, we could call the landlord back and change apartments so they could go to the bathroom. At the point I was far too exhausted from entertaining to entertain that idea so they hung in there, we lit some candles, and I came to truly appreciate absurdly long days with too much light.

Riga more than made up for this mishap by giving me enough entertainment to keep me out of the apartment until all was fixed. I had the opportunity to show the Berlin fellow and her mom some of my favorite parts of the city, I went on an exclusive tour of the brand new library a month before it opens (thanks, of course, to the ever lovely Ulla), and I learned about beer from my favorite local brewer. By the time I made it back to my well lit and clog free home I felt victorious over my apartment and the city.

I am also very sorry to say that I lost a very very special figure in my life this past week. 

I would like to dedicate this post to my best friend and my best travel companion, Monkey. You will forever be missed. 1993-2014. 

My first of many poka pokas.

            The calendar says it’s June, it is has stopped getting dark outside, and my granny sent out her famous yearly email saying I can take out my white pants and shoes so I guess it’s time to say happy summer! Other than those minor clues the only other way I could tell it was “summer” was that all the programs ended and the kids started to tell me that when they were hanging around the community in the middle of the day it’s not because they’re skipping school but because they don’t actually have school. Otherwise, everything in Riga has pretty much stayed the same. I still need long sleeves and a jacket when I go outside and the sun’s cycle is still tied to the times of 4:30 and 11 but this time the AM’s and PM’s are switched. So now instead of being confused about why I’m waking up when it’s not light outside and why I’m ready for bed at 4 PM I’m confused about why I’m waking up at 4 AM and ready for bed when it’s too light outside. I guess I should just get used to being confused and enjoy the fact that I can finally get my babushka self to go out after 10 PM because I never know what time it is anyway and I know I’ll be able to walk home in daylight. Maybe the long days are good for Latvians because they can act like bears and store enough from the summer to get them through the winter. I, however, am just about ready to go back to thinking a 14 and a half hour solstice is long instead of the 18 hour nonsense we’re about to celebrate over here. Fun fact: the solstice celebrations here are the famous holidays Ligo and Janis, on the 23^rd and 24^th of June. They’re national holidays, which everyone celebrates in their summer houses drinking beer, making crowns out of flowers, grilling cheese, jumping over fires, and going with a cute member of the opposite sex into the woods to find a “blooming fern” (R rated note: ferns don’t bloom. So if you hear someone use this excuse it’s because they want adult playtime. Except for this one guy I met who actually took a girl to find a blooming fern. The girl was very surprised and very displeased.) So I haven’t even gotten to the interesting fact yet. I was a little confused by their celebration because I thought the solstice was on the 21^st but everyone here keeps telling me it’s on the 23^rd. I decided not to ask because most people here don’t like explaining holidays or traditions in English and choose instead to wave their hand and say “because because.” Well, just like most holiday and traditional celebrations someone decided to change the day of celebration for religious reasons so now it doesn’t fully make sense any more. I know every country does silly things like that but I officially don’t trust the science here. That’s also because, in addition to the “not being able to have babies” nonsense I recently learned of a few other wonderful Russian “scientific facts:” “girls, if you want to get taller, play basketball” and “the perfect time to go swimming is in the rain and in a lightening storm because it’ll make the water feel warmer.” Why we compete with the Russian scientists is beyond me.

            Back to the important things and what brought me to this cold, sunny part of the world: the community programs. They’re over.

            But before ending they all had nice closings, so I guess I can tell you about those. I missed the kids’ club’s official closing because it was at the same time as the teenagers’ closing party but I did get to go to one of their last and best programs: at the zoo.

There were the typical lions and tigers and bears but, even more importantly, there were lynxes, a cow statue that all Latvians take pictures with

and a Baskin Robbins! 

The lynx was particularly exciting because I’ve loved the animal’s name since I realized it was the perfect word for hangman (no vowels!) but other than that I never really saw one or knew much about them. That is, until I came to Latvia and found out they’re common enough to this part of the world to be part of a kindergarten game of charades. So, after capitalizing on their name and acting them out all year I finally had my chance to see one! To be honest, I don’t think we ever actually did see a lynx because kids that age tend to get a little distracted (and apparently so do I) but I did learn a lot of Russian names for animals (of course I’m not sure what the names meant in English) and I also learned that kids like to complain about being hungry before, during, and after eating. So quite an educational trip as well as a perfect poka poka (bye bye) to one of my favorite play groups around.

            The following week was the goodbye party for the youth movement and we had the only type of event that they seem to know how to plan other than seminars: a barbecue. We barbecue rain or shine, snow or just freezing cold weather. I understand why we have a lot of barbecues because they do combine their favorite things, food and smoke(ing), but I don’t understand why we always eat the same things: barbecued chicken or sausages, eggplant, zucchini, lavash, and raw cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers. When I’m part of the shopping we usually get fish too just to spice things up a little but what I wouldn't give for grilled corn and watermelon. When I finally requested those classic delights everyone around me looked like they’d been struck by lightening while swimming in the middle of a lake. And then they said they couldn’t find corn and we barbecued on. So, we barbecue on. And on, and on and on (spoiler alert: pretty sure the rest of my blog posts will feature barbecue recaps. Stay tuned).

            What was new for this barbecue was the locale. We went to a really nice park where other people barbecue and they have free bikram on Sundays (well it’s still only about 50 degrees F so it’s more like bikram poses, but one of my favorite forms of exercise for free, nonetheless). So, we gave the teens food, shirts, and a bunch of random gifts that say “Jew Beyahad” and all the teens tore through everything and wandered off before I even looked up from the grill to say, “who wants to eat?” I can’t keep up with teenagers.

            Our madrichim closing party was the perfect summation of my time with them because it was pretty much everything we always do together: we stayed overnight an hour outside of Riga, played some strange games I didn’t understand, and barbecued. While this outing sounds exactly the same as any seminar it was at least on a lake, the strange games were basically soccer and volleyball (but still versions I barely understood), and it was only one night instead of 5. So, all in all, the most fun seminar yet!

            Next came the end of my time in the Kindergarten, which was my hardest goodbye to date. While the Kindergarten is technically open until the end of June, the older boys who have been there the longest and provide the most entertainment had their last day together so we celebrated with our last challah making and a lot of gummi bears. It was very important to me that we got to braid challah together one last time so I decided it was worth it to walk the mile from my apartment to the kindergarten with a bag of rising dough and za’atar, my favorite Israeli spice. The kiddies were very confused by the green stuff that I was making them smell (it was za’atar, I swear), but they’ve learned to trust me enough to know that, when it comes to food, I know what I’m doing. We also made nice Shabbat kits for them to take home. We started the kits the week before when one of the teachers was sick and I was suddenly the substitute teacher for a few hours despite my lack of useful linguistic skills (thank goodness for the class nanny or I would have been totally useless). We made candle holders the first class and Challah covers this time so that now their families can share the Shabbat love as well. I’m pretty sure that once I give them my mom’s perfect challah recipe they will actually start to celebrate just for the sake of that tasty perfection. Shabbat shalom my favorite playmates!

            And my closing for the closing parties was the University Students Party. I was a little horrified to learn that this party meant 3 hours stuck on a boat in 50 degree weather and rain but, like all of the University Students parties, it was much more fun than I thought it would be. Especially because I was in charge of the fruit and bartending. 

This is me as BARTENDER. NOT avid drinker. Just because I found out we have Latvian/Eastern European family does not mean I started to drink like a Latvian/Eastern European (note: my family here doesn't do that either. they really are family.)

Once again (for all you wonderful, concerned parents out there): This is NOT the amount of alcohol I had available to consume but the amount I had available to serve. For the whole year. So, my dear father, you can stop worrying.  

                           

It also helped that the people there were fun and there was a scientific magic show (yes I know that doesn’t make sense) where I saw things explode, change color, and smoke. So I got to prepare food and eat and the community got alcohol, food, and smoke. 

                                       
                          

Yep, sounds just like a community party to me.

            In addition to the community goodbye parties I had one of my own goodbyes with Latvia. Ulla, who has been the best combination of friend, chauffeur, adventurer, and tour guide took my cousin Dina and I on yet another wild ride. We started the day with one of my favorite things: free Bikram in the park

before heading off to a favorite tourist destination in Latvia: Rundale Palace. As with pretty much everywhere I go, Rundale palace is about an hour outside of Riga, in Pilsrundale (which actually translates to Rundale Palace. 10 points for creativity). Rundale is  a baroque palace built as the summer house for the Dukes of Courland and, also famous for it’s use by Catherine the Great’s lover’s youngest brother. I absolutely love a good palace with a picnic in a purty garden so we walked through the various extravagant rooms, munched on a sophisticated royal snack of fruit and cheese, and had a much needed photo shoot. 

I finally crossed off one of the last things on my bucket list. Now all I have left to do is go mushrooming and I will be able to leave this country feeling accomplished and a little bit Latvian.

            

Cute pictures of cute people

Sports day for Latvian schools!
Welcome to the Olympic Center, where apparently they have enough of a problem with people bringing cows that they feel the need to explicitly forbid it.

 Our community.

The opening act naturally included flawless Russian trained gymansts.

And they were cute so I took a lot of pictures.

 But Latvian sports day was more like "sports" day because I'm not sure that funny shoes, arm wrestling, or drawing pictures of sports really qualify. At least they were cute.

And then the kindergarteners were adorable, as always.

So we helped them with a scavenger hunt...

And then I took pictures of how cute they dress here. They have a lot of rules about appropriate clothing here and apparently hats in the summer are going on the list.

 

I was formally inducted into Latvia by undergoing 2 important ceremonies:

1. I learned how to make a crown out of flowers. 

 2. I took a picture with the cow that apparently all Latvians take a picture with.

And, as if the Latvian zoo weren't already great, I also found this beauty there: 

I saw people celebrate liberation from Nazi occupation in a country that was actually occupied and terrorized by the Nazis:

My cousin turned 20! So I got my Russian family in the countryside who fed me fresh rhubarb and peppermint tea and homemade tiramisu and stuffed me full while telling me nice things the way the babushka of my dreams would.

And I finally got me a travel buddy! Together we found all the different colored snails in the city, which actually move when you're not looking (as if the snails weren't terrifying enough)

We saw the open air museum, aka mini-Latvia:

We also saw more of this purty city:

Oh yah, and we had fun: