Latvia (Eastern Europe, just to save you two seconds from Googling; and no, it’s not the same as Lithuania). As a tourist, you will leave the country reminiscing about the picturesque Old Town, and/or the beautiful women – the Latvian nation produces more female models than most countries across the globe-, and quite unsure whether your taste buds grasped the unique taste of rye bread or ‘kvass’ that Latvians gulp as holy water. But for Latvians, the country is so much more. Here are 15 signs you grew up in Latvia.
As a small nation, Latvia rarely gets any mention in books or news coverage that attracts global attention. So, when a Latvian suddenly spots the name ʻʻRigaʼʼ, ʻʻLatviaʼʼ, ʻʻLatviansʼʼ etc. in whatever context, a sense of great significance and smugness will fill his heart. He is also very likely to share this with his friends and family: ʻʻLook!!!ʼʼ
As much as we try to stay patriotic and maintain the native language alive (especially at the current state of global politics), there’s no denying that ʻʻdritvai kociņ’ ʼʼ simply will not deliver the level of annoyance and anger as effectively as the Russian ʻʻpizgyecʼʼ.
The reason the majority of highschool pupils are either absent or barely functioning on Fridays is because Thursday nights are the only nights the capital’s most popular nightclub allows entry to the city’s 18-year-olds.
If, for whatever reason, you don’t get to see your friends that often, Coyote Fly – or simply Coyote – is that one place where you will meet all of them. ʻʻOh my God! You’re here as well?!ʼʼ
Another sign you grew up in Latvia is the embarrassingly high number of visits you’ve paid to the capital’s zoo. At this stage, you’ve probably seen whole generations of species rotate and could walk to the best part of the zoo – the Tropical House – blindfolded, just to question once again if the same old disturbingly pale alligator is not dead. (But on a serious note – is he not?)
ʻʻLai iesper zibens, gaudo suns
Mēs šonakt piedzimsim no jauna
Tad četros krastos degsies guns
Un lidos dzirksteles no kalnaʼʼ
….
My fellow Latvians, I know you’re going to be humming this for the rest of the day. Oops…
To those unaware, these are the lyrics of a song by Prāta Vētra (Brainstorm), presumably the only band from Latvia that has made it to the global stage besides Eurovision. A Latvian’s summer simply would not qualify as worthwhile if he didn’t sing to their greatest hits along with 50 thousand other concertgoers at one of the annual gigs in Mežaparks.
Stuffing yourself with extra oily French fries and mince cutlets to then be rushing to the numerous rides, slides and attractions outdoors was the ultimate weekend a kid could ask for. The best part of it – the driving school. One would be ready for a 20 minute wait just to hop in the ride-on and disobey the rules.
As typical to countries with latitudes closer to the two geographic poles, winters in Latvia can get pretty rough. And once they do, the public transport system crashes down as if it has never experienced snow before.
A typical sign you grew up in Latvia is a long wait at the bus stop with your face hidden behind a scarf trying to keep yourself warm in the freezing (-25C) temperatures. You’re ready for a cosy journey…
Like in many parts across Europe, Latvia is a demographically aging nation, and nothing else portrays this fact as accurately as a journey on the bus or tram. Here, the ratio of passengers younger than 65 and those above can oftentimes be as drastic as 1:20 (especially on the weekends when all the elders do their weekly shopping at the Central Market).
But although you do want to collect the good karma points, the idea of offering your seat to a senior and then standing for 30 minutes with a heavy bag just doesn’t seem inviting. And so, once you spot an elder approaching, you swiftly close your eyes as if you’re in deep sleep. My dear Latvian friends, we’re going to Hell.
For everything, from hardly running roads to traffic jams, crap weather to overpriced public transportation fares, Latvians like to blame the mayor of Riga, Nils Ušakovs. Seriously, Nil, though, get your sh*t together.
Apart from pensioners and ʻʻnappingʼʼ school children, another subculture one’s (very) likely to bump into on the tram or bus is an aggressive, and often highly intoxicated, fellow, commonly referred to as an ʻʻurlaʼʼ. Dressed in a tracksuit, this ‘’urla’’ is always looking for some trouble. But most of the time, the trouble finds him instead – the several ʻʻdvuļasʼʼ (2l bottles of beer) he’s had will finally hit him and he will fall out of the transport landing with a loud ʻʻblyagʼʼ (ʻʻf*ckʼʼ).
The nourishing veggie soup your grandma has cooked with all her love is great… but nothing compares to the comfort a single packet of ʻʻRollton’’ can provide. A health-freak or not, a true Latvian will know that, whatever the price, no other instant noodles are as good as these.
…even though we are well aware that the chances of us entering the grand final are next to nothing. Nonetheless, we always feel somewhat superior when the two neighbouring countries – Estonia and Lithuania – and our fellow Latvians who have emigrated to Ireland shower us in the 12 maximum points a country can give.
And if they don’t, a sense betrayal would swipe across the nation. ʻʻ7 points?!? Only!? What!??’’
A truly obvious sign you grew up in Latvia was the utter fear and the sudden realisation that you’re doomed once your literature teacher notified the class that you’ll have to read Mērnieku laiki; several hundred pages portraying the life in Latvia in the early 19th century. The language was complex and new characters would flood in every two pages so most of us wouldn’t even make it to page 15.
Although there are no factual statistics, the number of annual high-school graduates nationwide who’ve actually managed to make it to the end of the book probably reaches less than a hundred (whether they have understood the plot is a different story).
…for the 50th time.
Hekča…The horrendously tasting and smelling spirit that made your stomach regret its existence each time you tried to down it with Coke (a classic combo). Yet, you kept buying it whenever there was a party to attend. No party was a party without Hektors.
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