2006 July 16 - Latvia road trip
We had another road trip today. It's not all bad, though, because they give me lots of time to kill, which I usually spend filling the previous day's journal entries.
We drove through a lot of nowhere in particular, eventually turning left, driving some more and stopping at a small store. To say this store sold bread would be an understatement. They sold every kind of Latvian bread I've never heard of. They sold garlic toasted rupjmais, and garlic toasted other stuff. They had 20kg loaves for sale. It was equal parts cool and gross. At least we got some of the garlic toast we'd had at the restaurant the day before.
The bag was cracked open and in ten minutes I'd had enough for the week.
The next trip was a memorial. [The church in the back was severely pocked by bullet holes.] It was a large field of gravestones lining strips of grass. They area was enclosed by a marble wall, half of which was gray marble covered in names. I found "Karelis Imants," but continued on, thinking that it couldn't be him, because he didn't die in battle, and that's not exactly his last name. Later, though, when Ladymama pointed to a different Karelis, she said they added the 'i' to make it more Latvian. I told her that I'd seen Imants Karelis, so we immediately went back to it. She said the date matched the one they'd mistakenly marked his date of death before. The government was unaware that he had left rather than be executed by Russians, so they marked him killed.
We left the memorial and drove further into nowhere. We stopped at a house tucked away 500m from the already tucked-away road, where we met a man with a silly mustache. He took us to a house that was tucked away to meet an old lady who was the keeper of information about the region, which, apparently contained three houses.
The third house, on the first road, had a 30 year old pregnant woman pushing a stroller as watchman. A small, hyperbolically scruffy dog barked at us until he was tired, at which point he urinated on the barn and waddled to the shade under one of the cars. Ladymama spoke with the old lady of the house for a few minutes and we left.
When we crossed a nearby bridge, she mentioned that this area had been in contention, because of the bridge, and that at night the soldiers would sleep at those houses (maybe.. she was unclear on this point). She said something about how both Russians and Latvians did whatever they did. I made a connection to an earlier story: during fighting, there was an unwritten rule that if you encountered the enemy while on a bathroom break, you did not shoot.
We collectively decided, in Latvian, that we should head home. I was informed of this a half hour later, as we began to see sand dunes frozen in time by the trees that grew in them. We were back at Jurmala with another 30 minutes to go. We pulled over for food, and two of the family went in to ask if they had vegetarian options. Unfortunately they didn't ask what they were: two kinds of thick potato pancake, fries with four different sides, and fried smiley face potatoes. Being desperate for salad, I ordered the fries with salad (and kečups), hoping for the best.
Salad here means a pickle, some cucumber and a couple beets. I finished the plate while the family, led by Ladymama, became more and more concerned for my health, saying I needed more. I told them I was full and didn't want more, so they ordered me a slice of fudge cake, which I nibbled. I told Ladymama that I was clearly dying of starvation, because I was wasting away. Just look at me!
She did not find the irony, so I picked her up in her chair and threw her as far as I could, which was 20 feet, including sliding distance.
Five minutes from home we went to Rimi Hypermarket. Ivars finally found a tape cleaner, and I bought stuff for my own salad - lettuce, orange pepper, carrots. When I got home and made it, they laughed at me and joked "bon appetit." I couldn't believe it, so I decided to eat happily.
Ladymama, my pseudo-defender, and I went to catch the sunset, which was ugly, and she scratched my back while I fell asleep.
The extreme emotional intensity of these moments compounded on the lack of preparation I had for them made this vacation all the more surreal. The only other place I commonly find casual shopping followed by soul rending personal exposure and total destruction of expectations is in a dream.
I remember when my grandmother found my grandfather's name on the wall. My camera wasn't ready, which meant I'd better damn well remember that moment forever, and I plan to. I remember her shaking hand reaching up, touching the wall next to his name. She used all of her fingers. I expected she would cry. Instead she said "mm" and looked at me, ready to go on. This was a place to lie down and feel the weight of war.
