SADNESS AT LEAVING LATVIJA BEHIND.

HEARTACHE TO LEAVE OUR FAMILIES BEHIND!

The Past!

Now where did I leave us last!  Ah, that's right, we had just left Riga, Latvija for Kiev, Ukraine and still within the constraints of the Soviet Union.

All of us in the group were heartbroken at having to leave our families behind knowing full well under what conditions they had to live.  How they survived I will never know personally, other than to say my respect for those who survive any occupation are incredible people, including all my family who lived during that time in Latvija.  You are one strong wonderful people.

We arrived in Kiev to what is as I stated before a most beautiful looking city.  It was so picturesque even for the Cold War years in it's shabby state and had the look of magnificence.  None of us was really in the mood to appreciate it and went to lick our wounds at our losses in our respective hotel rooms.

The next day we were taken to all sorts of sights and one stands out for me till this day.  The Catacombs that  are also described as caves.  It was the burial site for the monks as well as a labyrinth of tunnels like honeycomb.  I am sure we were only shown a small portion but these monks lived down there through troubled times and I remember seeing such rooms carved out where monks would live and die and were still there for us to witness their mummafied remains that stayed within the only living space they knew during life and then in death as we walked through.  I didn't feel claustrophobic then, but I would now I am sure.  I believe the church was above on the side of a hill that the monks built in the eleventh century and out of the caves these tunnels were created over the centuries.

I traveled overseas years later to Europe and did go into the Catacombs in Rome off Appian Way and I can safely say that the Kiev Catacombs are an impressive sight and far more extensive and truly show you how it was.  Historically though both were fascinating.

Being that I was still missing all my new found family back in Latvija it was ironic that we got to walk through these tunnels and see dead bodies and skeletons and all that where they lived to avoid persecution.  If only my family had some safe haven as well.  It was sort of calming and made one realise how short life can be.  It was within these walls deep in the earth the I decided I would one day visit again and hopefully see Independence for these wonderful countries through no fault of their own were occupied be free again.

After walking through the Catacombs that seemed like a lifetime we came out at a completely different spot and if I remember correctly after a steep incline to a most breathtaking view of the Dnieper River.  It was majestic.  Kiev was many centuries older than Riga and I could see why one would have settled in this very spot.  It had everything.  There were statues and other places that are now but a blur to me due to missing those I had just left behind.  We may as well have been on the Moon for all we took notice.

That night we did attend a performance of the Ukraine/Kiev Ballet on Ice.  I had never seen anything like it and was in awe.  Cold yes, but amazed absolutely.

I am sad that my memories of Kiev were not profound as it was such a beautiful city with so much history to explore.  But you cannot help how things affect our heart and my heart was very sad at that time.

From Kiev we went back to Moscow which was a transit point only this time.  The customs guys decided to give us the Gold treatment and went through all our luggage once more.  And no they never asked where those fishing poles were.

Our next destination was Tokyo, Japan.  Wow.  So glad this place was on our itinerary.

For my entire stay I felt like a giant with so many tiny people around me and when I say many there were MANY at all times where ever you went.

I just loved my time in Japan.  What a fascinating place.  Their traditions and food and style was such a breathe of fresh air.

We got to visit the Emperors Imperial  Temple and Garden.  These tours are reserved well in advance and just captivating and well worthwhile participating.  We also got to go to the Sensoji Temple, which is Tokyo's oldest and most famous Buddhist Temple.  Not much makes me speechless, but this did.

I went to explore the nearest underground railway station and it was like an underground city with wide walkways with, again, masses of people coming and going.  All very busy with a purpose.  I felt like I towered over these guys and now knew what it felt like to be tall.  All of a sudden I envied those at concerts to see the stage.  Anyway, the subway was many levels with shops selling anything to everything, but not much in my size for my feet or clothing and plenty of food shops, cafes and restaurants.  These guys were spoilt for choice.  You didn't really need to speak the language as these clever guys had it all laid out with pictures on their shop windows and all you had to do was point to what you wanted.  How easy is that.  I loved these guys.  My kind of town.  The hustle and bustle was envigorating and you just wanted to get in and start doing something yourself.  Very frenetic energy and a thriving mini city under a large city.  I sat and ate and just people watched.  All very friendly with a smile and a nod of the head.  Again, I just fell in love with these guys.

On our first night and busy day Mum got two tiny little ladies to come and give us a massage in our hotel room.  How decadent I thought.

What massage, they were walking all over us.  Far out!  I couldn't take it no matter how little they were they were freakin' strong and nearly thumped the living daylights out of me.  Mum loved it.  Me not so much.  But they knew what they were doing.  Wish I had that now as my bones need it more now.  I couldn't fully appreciate it back then as it really wasn't a relaxation massage.  Thankfully, I recovered enough to set off into the environs of the Japanese countryside the next day and we had to be up very early.

We went by bus to some hot springs in Hakone.  I say this as I would have liked to experience the 'Bullet', but never got the chance to.  Once at our destination there was this constant gas was coming through the ground all over the place from this one particular area we were taken by aerial chair lift, which didn't inspire confidence in me at all, but up we went to see all the hot spring action.  As I hung on to dear life I just kept thinking, please no earthquakes while I am here.  This is not where I want to die.  Well, my wish was granted for I am still here.

Not sure of the sequence, but before this wonderful experience with all sorts spurting out of the ground we traveled by large boat to get there.  It was at this point I was getting very much over being in the same clothes over and over and over like a groundhog day again and again.  Mum was taking film of all the sights and there was no sound just film and she is taking in Lake Hakone and it's surrounds and we even got to see in the distance a snow tipped Mount Fuji and that is the closest we got to Mount Fuji.  Anyway, here is Mum enthusiastically filming the scenery to then turn on to me who was leaning on the railway of the back part of the boat in complete misery over my dilemma.  To say my reaction was irrate would be correct.  My lovely parents transferred that little piece to VHS later on for perpetuity.  I would hate for anyone who could lip read what I said.  Pissed off I was and in no mood to be filmed by a 'happy' person even if it was my Mum and just so happened to be in the most beautiful and serene place.  Yes, place = serene.  But me,  irritable = one big yes and no matter the serenity and beauty of my surrounds of Lake Hakone could offer had little effect to be of help.

Fortunately, my bad mood did not last long.  We visited a Buddhist Statue at Kamakura, which was one of the larger outdoor seated Big Buddha's (1252AD) and this was constructed not long after Riga was founded.  It was here that I got to see what Buddhism was all about and started to calm down about my luggage that seemed to be well and truly lost and gone forever so may as well accept it.  I liked the philosophy and outlook.  Much of which I take on board in my daily life now.  The people and their belief system hit my soul firmly and permanently.  They were kindred spirits.

I would never have thought to go to Japan had it not been for this being a stopover included in this tour package.  It was meant to be and one day plan to travel more throughout this land with these very special people.  Funny how things out of the blue can be the ones that have the greatest impact unexpectedly.  There was much to walk amongst and see and take in and thankfully it clicked as it helped calm me down.  I think the rest of the group was grateful also.  Ah, I know so.

We got our second phone call from the boys back home who were holding the fort and keeping the home from ruin.  So good to hear Garry's voice.  Just wanted to get home and hug him.  We still had Hong Kong to experience, but now I was eager to get home to my man.

We said our farewells to Japan and flew to Hong Kong, which turned out to be a contrast to all else yet again.  This is the value in travel.  To see, smell, taste and feel experiences you have never had before.  Also, generally, people worldwide are happy and helpful.  Yes, there are the odd crooks, thieves and thugs, but overall thankfully more of the happy helpful ones out way the negative factor.

Hong Kong.  Loud and proud.  Hot and sweaty and sticky.  All the washing is hanging out of each window high rise on bamboo sticks for all to see literally.  High rise with bamboo scaffolding.  Who would have thought such a thing.  All the harbour full of 'Junks' with people trading and dealing and business going on over the water.  Ferries coming and going from the Mainland and Hong Kong Island.  It was busier with more people in one square foot than Japan was.  I wouldn't have believed it.  But here we were rubbing shoulders with tons of locals and tourists making our way through to our intended places.

The shopping centers where over the top.  I had long since given up on buying clothes to wear as I was on the home stretch home now and no point any longer.  I had lasted this long a few more days wouldn't make much difference.            

 The old street markets were something from another world and far better than the Singapore ones for atmosphere.  They were in wider streets in Singapore and the buildings not so tall.  Whereas, here in Hong Kong the streets were narrow with the pathway winding through with buildings that felt like they enveloped you from over your head.  They really traded from the street floor.  The vendors cooking and chopping up fish there on the spot had me mesmerised.

We had this lunch all together that was delicious.  We bargained our little hearts out for this and that to get last minute gifts for all at home.

We went up this lift that was all glass at night time on the outside of this building to go up and see all of Hong Kong Harbour and the twinkling lights and lanterns on the water and city-scape.  Magical.  This was all prior to Hong Kong having a nightly fireworks from the tops of their tall city building.  Now that would have been something I would love to see.  Maybe one day in the future as a stopover on the way back home!

We traveled through the new constructed tunnel that led between the mainland and island on the way back, but we made our way there by ferry and got to climb these steep stairs.  How all my oldish group got through in all the oppressive mugginess is amazing.  I helped some with their stuff and went back several times to get the few stragglers to join us.  Hong Kong Island is for the rich and shouted out 'we have loads of money' where ever you looked.  There was this quaint beach surrounded by cliffs and had some sort of special meaning that I have long have forgotten, but I can still see it in my mind.  Fairly certain it was Repulse Bay, but not absolutely sure.

We shopped till we dropped.  We ate and laughed and knew that our time was coming to an end.  Contact numbers and addressed were exchanged.  Promises of visits to come between us in Australia were made.  These friendships held tight forever.

By this stage Mum had filled my empty suitcase that I had bought in Singapore to the max.  I don't know what we would have done had I still had my luggage in hindsight.  Things happen for a reason I suppose.

Through this trip, I got to be closer to my Mum and a little closer to my Grandmum (or so I thought with Grandmum in mind).  I was now armed with knowledge of the family history and at that moment the only daughter who had.  It turned out that I was to be the only one who ever traveled to the homeland and to get to know the family and such valuable ancestral history.

It was time to say goodbye to Hong Kong and all it's unashamed glory and ceremony.  They loved life and life loved them.

I was tired on my last leg home and sadly had to join the group in economy.  First class is something else and now just a distant memory.  Somehow I managed some sleep before we entered Australia.

Back then the quarantine people insisted that all planes upon entering Australia had to be sprayed with some sort of  concoction.  Once we landed the quarantine guys would walk slowly down the aisles with a spray can and masks on whilst spraying.  It was so sci-fi and laughable that I was literally in hysterics trying to cover my mouth and eyes when they passed by me.  Don't think this is done any longer, but good grief Australia, what were you thinking back then?

Yes, I know to keep Australia pest free and fat lot of good that did.  Cane toads about along with foxes, rabbits, camels and all the other introduced animals and floral that was brought in by well intentioned, but not reasoned thought out ideas.

People from other western countries I could hear commenting that we must be a backward country.  Unfortunately, I could see why they would assume that.

Getting through the doors after clearing customs and finally seeing Dad, Granddad and there was my Garry waiting for us.  What a sight for my sore eyes - still stinging from the quarantine spray!  Garry may have thought I had tears in my eyes at seeing him... well they were... I was happy.

Mum and Grandmum travelled back home with Dad and Granddad, whereas I went with Garry of course in his then blue EH Holden Panel Van that we both had worked on together.  More him, but I helped.  The first song I heard on the radio as we pulled out from Tullamarine Airport was this new song called 'S-S-Single Bed' and the other was 'I Want Your Money'.  Both very weird.  So much that was on radio had changed in those few weeks.  So much news that I had not heard.  I had been in a total time warp.  You get no foreign news whilst in the USSR that was for sure.

I was jumping for joy that I was back with Garry and once we got home we were surprised by a spread layed out for us all by our men folk who had missed us just as much.

We were home, even though we had left home.  I now had the dilemma of 2 homes in my heart.  One that I would have to come to terms with in time.

You may be wondering what happened to my luggage.

Well, it had it's own little voyage.  The suitcase had all our itinerary for all to see on it.  No missing that one you would think would have been impossible.  Ah, the airline ground staff back then had other ideas.  Instead of going to Sydney then Singapore it flew to London Heathrow Airport where it stayed for 6 months until some clever chappy saw the address and itinerary details, which were large as life and finally came back to me 9 months after I had returned home!

We did get compensation and the gifts for our relatives that were in there had a huge hefty cost involved to send to them, as in duty and all sorts of charges, which the original Airline incurred and also gave us a small inconvenience payment, which for some reason Mum kept.  I mean, yes I did have to wear some of her underwear, but I am pretty sure it was me that was the most inconvenienced in the end for the duration of the entire trip.  But Mum organised the whole deal so who was I to complain.

Opening the suitcase almost a year on (10 months in all) was like opening a treasure trove.  The fun I had rediscovering my clothes, especially my jeans.

I felt like I could breathe here in Australia.  I knew here I could talk about any topic without fear.  I could have an opinion that was against the government and still walk freely.  At that time there had been many protest marches about wars, wages and rights.  None of that was possible in the Soviet Union.  We had an abundance of  food.  We had a choice of shoes and clothing.  We had music of all kinds.  We had newspapers that could write freely. We could travel overseas if we could afford to.  We had books that dated pre-war years and read them.  We could practice religion out in the open.  And I could go on and on about what was so good about where I lived.

We were lucky.

It was good to be home.

Just wished we weren't separated from my family in Latvija.

This is where I end with this particular chapter of this part of our story.

Will start on Mum's life as a child in Latvija next and then onto her fleeing Latvija and her war year's experiences.

All will be revealed.

SWEET DREAMS IN JURMALA 1976.

A NEW DAY DAWNS OVER JURMALA!

The Past!

Last installment had us having spent our first day and sleeping overnight with family at the old homestead in Sloka.

I didn't get much sleep, far too excited and it was to be an early start as we had plans to see some of the more important personal historical sights and remember those that went before us.

It was so much fun to have breakfast with every one and just savouring my last moments that I thought would be my last.

Grandmum had come alive while here and the change in her since being here was incredible.  Quite unnerving actually as I knew her only one way and here she was being the opposite to that.  Don't get me wrong here, she was a happy person who could have a laugh.  But she had always been very impatient when it came to us children and expected all children to be quite at all times, sit still and behave with a birch branch close by to ensure that they were dutiful.  She never tolerated children very well and made no excuses for that either.  This may explain why she only had one and luckily for her she had Mum who was one of the good ones.

Grandmum was more self reliant whereas Mum was all about the family.  Grandmum did look after her daughter that was for sure, but she was able to disconnect more easily than Mum ever could have.  For example when Grandmum and Mum arrived in Western Australia by ship in 1949 to their new world to settle after their 'duty' was done to the Australian Government of working for 2 whole years in some god forsaken place to end up in the lower end of Western Australia.  After a while Grandmum up and left to go and live in Melbourne and left Mum behind after experiencing more tragedy (which I will elaborate on later) and 3 very young children and a second husband.  Maybe through writing about that time I will understand why Grandmum did that back then.  Again, I suspect it was economics that drove her to leave alone to live on the other side of Australia to resettle in Melbourne.

Now back to us in 1976 and Jurmala.  We set out for the day with the first stop being the local cemetery to see my forebears with all the usual photos standing by said graves.  I did notice that the cemeteries were set out like parklands with benches every so often to sit and think or take a breather.  We went to several and would have to again look at my Trip dairy to remember who they were.  I am sure they were my Great Grandparents and Great-Great Grandparents.

It was the one and only time Grandmum opened up about her childhood and what a strict time she had had.  She was the youngest of 6 with 5 older brothers.  She told me that her Great Grandmum was very stern and very tough and never happy.  The photos certainly attest to that.  Families lived together with all generations playing a part in the care of the family and so Grandparents and Great Grandparents had an influence on their grandchildren/great grandchildren.  Grandmum's Great Great Grandmum my Great Great Great Grandmum happened to be jolly and loving and always giving hugs.  A vast contrast.  What happened to make her Great Grandmum my Great Great Grandmum such a grouch.  I suspect it was more than likely to have to do with economics as far as I can see.  Maybe all the burden was on her shoulders.  I will have to search for my Mum's notes as I am sure she wrote some anecdotal stories somewhere about back then.

How sad for my Grandmum that she had such a harsh and strict upbringing.  She deserved better.  This might explain that she never said 'I Love You' to Mum or us ever that I can remember and my one older sister by now living in another state and on one of her yearly visits (the nice one) and I asked her why she never said it when Grandmum was in her 70s.

She just grumbled that you should just know and why should I say something that is obvious.

So this sister and I just started saying 'I Love You' to Mum and Grandmum and each other at any given opportunity.  Eventually, near the end of Grandmum's life she did start to say 'I Love You'.  Only took us over 20 years of encouragement to hear her start.  But she did end up saying 'I Love You' to her one and only child, our Mum.  Some habits are hard to break, but they can be broken if you try hard enough.

Mum did everything for her Mum.  She was a good daughter and Grandmum ended up being such a grouch to her.  Very demanding.  My Grandmum also ended up being a trouble maker and stirrer to create drama for her own entertainment.  A whole other story for another time.

Mum did create a family tree, which I have somewhere from her side of the family.

I did write down some of the family tree from my Dad's side, but pretty sure a cousin has created a family tree from that side of the family so will have to check that out some day soon.  I can only go back so far.

I thought and was led to believe that most of the documents were destroyed during the last war due to bombings and fire.  Apparently, according to a latvian friend of mine tells me only recently that this is not the case.  I will have to find out and allow some time when I do get to visit Riga again for my own personal research.  It is nice to know where one has come from and see how far down the line you can go.

I have steered to far from my next day in Jurmala.

After visiting and placing flowers and taking photos at the various grave sites we then went to the most important spots like Mum's Primary School, which she attended in the mornings as the school was conducted in 2 shifts morning and afternoon.

We went to other family homes nearby and I got to see where Grandmum worked as a Hairdresser.  I have her hair implements to this day.  The Tongs were heated up by placing them on the stove or fire place to create curls and are from the previous century (late 1800s).  I remember my Grandmum using these tongs on us three when we were little.  Whereas Mum used rags to create ringlets or just very curly for special occasions.  These are the few things she managed to keep with her after losing everything during the war.  They meant a possibility at earning a living.  A trade that could help them out.  But Grandmum usually ended up working in sausage factories and such as you could always go home with food in your hair!

Allow me to explain.  Later on when I tell the story of Mum and Grandmum fleeing Latvija just as WWII broke out, but in the meantime to just impart this one part of that time. Grandmum worked throughout those years at various places, one being a sausage factory.  Grandmum would have her hair up with the then scarf look.  By the end of her shift it would take on a whole new look so to speak.  She would periodically tuck pieces of sausage in the folds of the scarf and have a gorgeous roll all the way round the head by the end of her shift!  Voila! Dinner that night.  You did what you had to to survive.  They starved many a day, but some days they got lucky.  Will elaborate more when I get to that part of Mum's stories.

Seeing Mum's childhood places and their daily life gave me an insight to both of them especially my Mum that I would otherwise have never had the opportunity to know about.  It was clear to me that they both clearly loved their homeland and that the strain of the fact that they could never go back as planned had turned their world up-side-down.  Like so many millions.  But what amazing resilient women they were to somehow pick themselves up and go forth to create something out of nothing.

It would have felt like walking into the abyss.  The complete unknown.  To end up on the other side of the world.  Who would have thought that was going to happen.  Never in their minds would they have imagined what was to come.

That day had us going to long cherished places for my Mum.  I just watched on how much my Mum filled to the brim with pure joy.  As for me I couldn't believe I got to be with her at these places.

There are places that when you stand there you can feel the energy from years before.  You can feel when there has been happiness or sadness at these places.  The magnificence of, for example, a massive waterfall or the creation of the Grand Canyon, does have a profound effect on you when you are there.  This happened to me time and time again.  And none more than at Bralu Kapi, the Cemetery in Riga's center where my Dad's Father worked as a Stonemason and Caretaker along with his brother-in-law and now buried.  Brother-in-law is buried in Adelaide.

That day felt more regimented as we were running in and out of the car so often that it made my head spin.  We had a deadline that we had to make and also didn't want to leave anything off Mum's list either.  I am sure we got all of what we intended to do and see done and back on time to report in.

Now I was happy and unhappy.

I was happy to have seen my family home in Jurmala, but conflicted that I had to now leave it behind.

I changed from yearning the experience of that family home to the bittersweet longing to freely visit our family home from now on.

Oppression and occupation of any kind by any one people's or governments suck big time as it is not for the greater good and safety and it is ultimately only for total control and power over another.  This is going on right now in many countries with some constantly in the news and others that seem to matter little to the rest of the world.  Shame on us for allowing this practice to continue.  I am but one voice.  But I can at least state I think it is wrong to oppress another for your own gain.  Simple.

After our visit I found it hard to grapple with what was going on and why did England 'give' certain countries all those years back that were free and independent prior to the war to another country in an agreement that they were not ever involved in that decision.  I just couldn't and still don't understand that.  I just got so frustrated about the fact that I had to leave my wonderful family behind to be 'stuck' in such oppression and hardship with no prospects to be free.  I couldn't do anything about it.  But it didn't stop me from questioning it.

It was after this visit that we had to go on one of the organised sightseeing tours by Intourist to the Open Air Museum that to my understanding had been spruced up recently.

We all got there and we were walking around this huge massive place with all the old style homes with all sorts within each of them, say all things made of pottery etc.  It was set out to reflect what would have been centuries before.  A time capsule of what life was like living in Latvija.  All very interesting, but somehow my Mum and Grandmum disappeared at some stage.  I was attentive to keep them within sight, but how they just disappeared I have no idea.  After trying to find them I started to worry as I could not find them.

In the meantime, I noticed these guys following me, which now really made me scared.  I tried to keep with people, but there were not many people there and we were more than likely the only group there apart from the people working within the museum.  Eventually these guys approached me and asked where were my Mum and Grandmum.  I had no idea and told them so and said they must be somewhere in the massive museum.  They grilled me some more and I just said go look for them yourselves as I know and I will bump into them somewhere if not then at the designated time we were given to meet back at the start to leave.  They were not happy and never let me out of their sight.  Due to this I just couldn't concentrate on the museum, which for me became a complete washout and waste of time.  I did cheekily ask one of them to take my photo with the other helping me in one of the 'stocks' that I saw.  I am sure they thought I was mad.   I may as well make use of them being that they were shadowing me and they couldn't say no knowing full well I knew they were following me.  Quite farcical really.

Here's me running around this huge open air museum not knowing where the hell my Mum and Grandmum were and at the same time being followed by what was more than likely KGB of some kind and becoming more and more worried by the minute and not being able to show it due to these idiots following so I kept  pretending I was OK and enjoying myself.  Clearly I wasn't.

I was freaking out.  Where had they gone?  What happened?  If these guys are following me then that means they aren't with the authorities or the bloody tour, so with whom then?  Were they still in the museum?  I doubted that?

Then I got mad that Mum had left me in the lurch like this and not telling me.  Then I got even more worried as to maybe they were actually gone?  It was more than I could bare and the most god awful experience and several hours I have ever spent.  Plus I was all on my own.  What to do.  So I just went on pretending all was normal.  I discovered a saying in my next trip overseas and that was Snafu - meaning colourfully 'Situation Normal All F***** Up'.  No fun at all for me I am afraid to report as there was no-one else in that museum that day for me to try and latch onto to make time go faster.  And it dragged.  When one worries it is amazing how much time does drags.

Finally made my way to the meeting spot with several from the group already there.  And low and behold there was my Mum and Grandmum all innocent and smiling.  I was so angry that I just let fly at them both as to where were they and I couldn't find them and Mum was trying to hush me as these guys were not far from us just watching on.  I was seething and relieved at the same time and tried to contain myself.  But I certainly was not a happy camper.

The men approached us and asked Mum and Grandmum where had they been.  Mum said here at the start as Grandmum was not feeling well.  By the way Grandmum was fit as a fiddle and probably could outrun me.  I just kept silent.  Mum asked what was the problem.  The men said that it was not a good idea to leave the premises while on the tour and best to stay with the group for their own safety.  Yeah yeah yeah tell us some more rubbish.  Mum kept to her story and eventually the guys advised her that they were concerned for everyone's welfare and next time let someone know if one was not feeling well.  Now remember, I was not well on our trip to Sigulda.  I didn't tell anyone and it didn't seem to matter.  I do think they must have gotten wind of what Mum was up to somehow, as there are 'ears' everywhere and came to stop this from happening.  All very weird and for me all extremely scary.

It was later that Mum told me that a few long time friends and distant family met them at the gate and they went to a home nearby.  Gee they took a risk.  I screamed at Mum to never ever do that to me again without telling me.  I was so pissed off at her.  She thought it best to keep me in the dark.  She got the drift eventually that she had in fact put me in a very difficult position.  It never occurred to her that I was placed in jeopardy.  These guys could have taken me away to be held at who knows where for who knows how long.  We just got lucky.  She never did it again on that trip thankfully.  I could see why she kept me in the dark, but wished she hadn't as the experience upset me for quite sometime and affected the rest of my stay, which thankfully was at the later end of the 10 days.

Our hotel room over looked the gardens and in the distance I could just see the Statue of Freedom.  The lift was so tiny and I was amazed at the kinds of people who bothered to visit Latvija.  I always talked to whoever as the lift was rather slow.  The dining room was very grand for breakfast, but I so loved it's old world charm.

Our stay in Latvija was coming to a close and the closer it came the sadder I was.  I was surprised at how much this all affected me.  I had so much going on in my head.  It was at this time I started to miss everyone back home and my luggage.  Where the hell was it.  I had by now been wearing and rotating the same clothes for 2 weeks now with extreme pre-planning to wash and dry mainly my jeans, which I relied on totally.

The final days are a blur to me now as they were filled with people and more people.  However, I do remember the last day being particularly sad.  Everyone showed up at the Hotel to say goodbye with tears and laughter flowing and you guessed it flowers.  Even though we couldn't take them didn't seem to matter.  Us Latvian's love our flowers.  That and singing.  We sing ourselves out of problems and troubled times.

I remember Rozite and how happy she was about my present to her.  I remember being torn about leaving my family behind.  Just so incredibly sad that I am tearing up now just thinking and remembering back to that moment in time.

I don't regret going as I would have regretted more if I hadn't.  Look at how much I would have missed out on.  These last few days had been amazing and opened my eyes, mind and heart in so many ways.  This is where I got that life was to be lived and not let slip by.  This is also where I understood you had to hold true to who you were and stand by what you believe.  This is where I got to get who my Mum was and what made her tick.  This is where I got to know this is who I am.

I left as a person in one way and now coming home as another improved me.  The trip itself was not the catalyst.  It was the homecoming that was.

A little bit of me is always there and has been ever since.

We left to loads of waving of arms and song and made our way to the sad and forelorn looking Riga Airport to be greeted by those for whom the Airport was more convenient.  This was gut wrenching for me as I had just gone through one lot of tearful goodbyes and now to go through it all again was more than I could take.  But they had made the effort and it was the least I could do, but join in.  Life after all is far too short to be selfish.

Finally, we board and all of the group were quite and all reflecting their time with obvious sadness and sorrow.  We were on our way to Kiev, but it may as well have been Timbuktu for all we cared at that moment.

We got to Kiev and I certainly wasn't in the mood to 'tour'.  Fortunately, we had the night to ourselves.  The next day we were taken around the sights of Kiev, which I have to say here and now is one of the most beautiful cities I have been to.  So lush and so green and very very rich in their culture.  Our tour guide's from Russia always had American accents which I found to be hilarious and an oxymoron all at the same time.  Here they were mortal enemies with a certain other country and yet sounding like them.  Maybe it's just me, but I could see the funny side in this.

We had the day filled with this, that and the other with Ice Ballet that night.  I thinknow, whoever organised this itinerary was very wise to have us so busy the day after leaving the Baltic States.  Thanks to the clever Palanga staff member back in Sydney who did just that.  Keep us busy.

I will leave you here at the start of our time in Kiev to impartl more in the next installment.

All will be revealed.

OUR TRIP TO LATVIJA 1976 CONTINUES!

HOME AT LAST IN JURMALA!

The Past.

Last time I left you with the three of us getting ready for our overnight stay with the family at the homestead in Sloka, Jurmala.

How my Mum got permission for one of our family members to drive us to Sloka during the Cold War Years would be something like winning a Trillion dollars!

This amazing woman got permission for Grandmum, herself and me to travel unaccompanied (as in without an Intourist Guide to travel with us) at the start of one day to then spend overnight at the family home and the day to ourselves to be back at our hotel in Riga by a designated time.  Quite unbelievable and unheard of back then.

Thankfully, I had heard from my boyfriend Garry, before setting off, who went to our parents house for him and Dad to call us long distance.  A huge deal back then and extremely expensive and if I remember you had to go via an operator being the USSR and book it in.  It was so good to hear their voices and I started to miss him very much.  Oh, and Dad as well.  Mum was only 44 at that time and to me she was as old as the hills and here is me now in my 57th year and looking back she really was one hot Mamma.  She was telling Dad all about finding some branch of the Sulcs family that had survived.

Dad never did travel back to Latvija.  It was far too painful for him.  Too much loss.  Too much death that nearly wiped out his entire family.  There are no real good sides to a war when you look at individuals.  He never talked much about his wartime experiences except for a few funny tales, which I will tell later on.

Age is such a strange thing.  Here I am at 20 travelling in a group where the average age was 70 to 75.  There was me 20.  Then Mum 44.  Then my Grandmum 69.  Then the rest that were 70 to 75.  What a bunch of characters they turned out to be.  I remember our first dinner together in Moscow and boy did these guys know how to party.  I sure learnt a thing or two about who had the stamina.  That is when I relaxed about my travel companions.  I had a lot of wisdom and care around me and instead of being a prat about it and pouting I jumped in and enjoyed myself and have a laugh.  Our perceptions of age and outlook change as we get older and a whole other story for later on.

I also got news from the Palanga Tour Leader who was having their own 'little' holiday at our expense and finally did some paid work and found out low and behold 'no news' regarding my luggage.  Big deal.

Surprise, surprise, surprise!

That is for you Gomer Pyle fans out there.

The morning came that we were to scoot off into the country side to explore on our own with .

Again, I had that same feeling in my belly as I did when getting off the plane upon my arrival to Latvija.  I couldn't wait to see where most of my family heritage took place from my Mum's side of the family.

The person who drove us was a person who was of sorts a 'new' family member.  Not sure now how this was arranged as he seemed to have plenty of time up his sleeve.  We set off  with all of us and had to stick to a set path, but that didn't stop up from stopping along the way and just running into the fields at a moments notice.  He had no problem stopping here and stopping there.  Strange now that I look back.

I will digress here just a little and note my thoughts on this entrusted 'new' family member called Vilnis.  Vilnis was my Granddad's Stepdaughter's husband was to be our designated driver and guide, but I suspected him to be capable of doing goodness knows what on the side.  He was definately in for his chop this one.  Wheeling and dealing for his benefit only.  But who could blame one for doing that.  The way the Soviets made life so difficult that it screamed out corruption.  It was very much dog eat dog.

When I was told he was a member of the Communist Party I nearly choked.  He explained it was the only way to get ahead.  He had an answer for everything.  After this piece of news I followed my original gut feeling and kept stum around him after that.  You just weren't sure if you could trust him.  Who knows and I certainly don't care now either.  As long as he didn't hurt anyone then maybe I could understand his actions as I didn't have to live under such an extreme regime every second of my life.  I did have my freedoms.

I had freedom of speech.  I had freedom of movement.  It wasn't for me to criticise.  Maybe it was due to him being a member of the party and our watchdog as to why we were able to do what we did.  I will never know.  Now I am sounding paranoid.  Paranoia seemed to be a state of mind when one was in the Soviet Union.  Again, who cares now as we got to go to our true final destination and that was Jurmala.

We didn't delay too many times as we were eager to get to Sloka.  On one of the stops this is where I got to walk through Birch Forrests with my Mum and Grandmum.  So many special.memories created in such a short space of time.

Jurmala is on the peninsula just outside of Riga and an absolute gem of a place.  Sloka is not considered the best town of Jurmala, but for me it is.  Very very pretty with all the wetlands, forrests stretching next to the sea.  Amber washes up along these shores in its raw state.  It was like coming home.  This was where my heart belonged.  I could feel it in my waters and every fiber of my being.

We arrive once more to a huge welcome yet again with even more folk I haven't seen.  I met so many different relatives over the 10 day period that some of it is a blur.  Once I find my Trip dairy that I kept I will be able to relate names to faces with more ease.

As we drove down this rustic road to turn the corner there was my ancestral family home that had seen many generations before and still providing shelter and land to sustain those within.

It looked just like a picture book from another era.  Some changes had been made but not many.  Such as addition of  minimal electricity, but very much the basics were there.  I got to explore the loft that held the straw and feed during winter that doubled up for warmth as well as keeping the animals in food such as the cow and chickens and so forth.  I got to see how we lived and how it was.  But due to being near the sea there was at least the prospect of abundance with what was caught, grown to be stored in the outside underground cellar.  Much was pickled and fish salted to last the winter through.  Very self sufficient.

A spread was put on and we sat around this large table and small room as there were so many of us to what was one of the best days I could have ever imagined.  We ate, we drank, we sang, we told stories, we laughed.  I got to drink Birch Tree juice.  I got to eat my much loved lamphreys that were jellied and were devine along with smoked eel and other latvian fare.  It was all very much like Mum and Grandmum made still to this day.  I make my potatoe salad just like my Mum and so it shall go on.

During this afternoon I did enquire as to what happened during winter due to the fact that the ground was frozen if anyone died.  Apparently, they stay in state in the cellar where it is coldest and safe from all else till the ground can be broken for a burial plot to be dug.  This just showed me the practicalities of life and that I had little clue to what life was all about.

I was beginning to see just how lucky I was.

I got to hear stories from years gone by about my Mum's childhood and Grandmum's childhood.  I got to see more photos of an era I could only before imagine in my mind.  Some were given to us to keep.  I have this particular Black and White photo where all the women are around this huge wooden slab with edges gutting fish with my Grandmum with a scarf around her head just like a gypsy.  She even looked good gutting fish.

If my family did not have this house and what was left of the land that had not been taken as yet by the Soviets I am sure my Mum's side of the family would not have fared as well.  Much of the farm had been taken from them when the Soviets took over.  But what they had left they made the most of and helped them survive through hard yakka.  It would have been a harsh life.  Luckily they had a pump just outside the back door for running water.  This was great and a considered luxury for most, but come winter time it was off to the well with a bucket just the same.  Also, enough wood had to be stored for the winter months as well.

Before the festivities started all of us did walk to the beach.   It wasn't far and the water from the Baltic sea was icy cold.  I tried to find raw amber to no avail.  If one had to live under such harsh conditions and rule then this would be the place for it.  You had to work hard to ensure you had food and heat, but at least you had a chance at having just that to survive.  Decease was the mortal enemy of most.  Medicines were not all that freely available either.

I was beginning to see how every aspect of ones life and needs were affected by this regime.  No matter which way you turned life was made to be as tough and harsh as possible for those who where not a member of the Party.  To say this sucked big time really doesn't describe what I would like to say.

My relatives who lived there knew they were 'stuck'.  I saw on all their faces and all the other faces since I had been within the Soviet Union that every single person looked trodden on and drained.  You could only plan so far ahead.  Your next meal for some at best.  I could see the joy in seeing us on my families faces, hope for the future, but the sadness behind their eyes knew that all this momentary joy would end very soon.

They welcomed our gifts.  Some of these gifts were for there livelihoods.  I am sure Mum found out what they needed most and brought practical and useful gifts that they could get or afford there.  Remember the fishing rods?  Well, now you know where we lost them.  Oops Officer!

I ended up with so much amber being given to me.  I have tons of it from my two trips.  They didn't have silver so much was made from what they had and generally made your skin go black.  But it all was given from the heart.  There is only so much amber to be had as it takes millions of years to create from the birch trees deep in the Baltic sea for then to be washed up on the shores.  There are other regions that have amber and would vary depending on the tree that it comes from.  In it's raw natural state it just looks rough.  But once polished it becomes a thing of beauty in many colours and if you are lucky enough to get one with a leaf or hell even an insect within that amber.  A virtual time capsule.

The days light was long and the nights were just dusk when I was there.  Going to bed while it was relatively light was something I wasn't used to.  I don't remember any Jani celebrations taking place nor being spoken about, but may just not remember as well.  I was too caught up with every single second to be taken in.

Over the days my Latvian improved ten fold, but my head still hurt from having to listen constantly.  I didn't want to miss a thing.  I resorted to referring to my mini English/Latvian dictionary on many occasion.  I should have taken a mini Latvian/English dictionary as well as there were many times Mum was not with me and who ever I was conversing with would use a Latvian word I had never heard before.  All very frustrating.  Over the days I used them less and less.  I was becoming latvianised and happily so.

But the relatives never stopped asking me to say a line or describe this or that as I would use an Australian way of describing things that just made them all laugh.  Apparently, I was a hit.  The funny one.  Great.  Now I love it, but back then I wanted to be taken seriously.  I got over that quickly and just enjoyed that they loved me no matter how I spoke or not.  They were enjoying us and we, especially me, was enjoying my time with all of them.

I haven't even gotten to the very next day as yet and this is getting rather long.

Will leave the next days events to be told till the next installment along with the disastrous visit to the Open Air Museum.

I shall leave with us all going to sleep happily for the first night in my ancestral home in the nicest make-shift bed possible.  I did want to sleep in the loft, but told not a good idea.  Can't remember why, but I remember agreeing with them.

Here I am in one of the few rooms with in this house with my Mum and Grandmum and all my immediate family.

At least one of my dreams had come true even if it was for just one night.

Life just couldn't get any better.

But it did the next day.
Sweet dreams.  Blusa nakt.

All shall be revealed.

STICKING WITH OUR TRIP TO LATVIJA 1976.

CONTINUING WITH OUR TRIP TO LATVIJA 1976

The Past.

I left us flying out from Moscow and heading towards my much eagerly intended destination Riga, Latvija.  I remember feeling overly nervous with the excitement building up.

It was a long flight from Moscow back then and being in this really horrid Ilyushin aircraft didn't help matters either.

I tried to just take my time by looking out the window to keep myself occupied till we got closer by taking note of the changing landscape below.

We were almost there and all of us were ready to get off that bloody aircraft they dared call a plane.  Once we landed I could see how rundown the runway was, in some outer areas there were tuft's of grass poking through the tarmac, which was a real worry and as for the Riga Airport building it was very basic and in much need of a good going over.  It just looked shabby, but I didn't care. I was about to see my family.

As I walked down the plane's stairs I began to feel anxious.  I took a step onto the tarmac and there it was, my feet on Latvian soil for the first time in my life!

Tears were welling up in my eyes and I had to keep it together.  I had already shed enough tears back in Moscow's Airport over my knickers and could only imagine what I would be like now.

I could see lots of  waving hands with flowers in the air from afar.  We had a distance to walk and as we got closer those people were ushered back into the building.  When we got to the doors all I could see was a sea of people shouting and singing with flowers in the air. Somehow I got Mum's attention to ask is anyone here to see us from the families?  She looked at me with a smile so broad that was from ear to ear yelling 'They are all here'!

Far out, there were tons of them just for us alone with tears overflowing let alone the rest of the group with their families.  But our group was by far out of this world.  There were so many of them.  I went from a hand full of family back in Australia all my life to literally being overrun within a nano-second.  I was being hugged from every which side and angle.  I had no idea who was who, but they were all very very happy to see us.

The noise, the laughter, the tears, the flowers being showered upon me, the Latvian surrounded me in a way it had never done before.  I was literally overcome and showered with love.  All thoughts of my underwear, my Garry and the where about's of my luggage left me momentarily due to all this excitement.  We were quite literally being treated like Royalty.  I had so much to take in.  It took a while to settle down, but settle we did.

But think about it.  Here are your relatives that you thought were gone for good, never to be seen with no prospect of freedom and yet here we are behind that very Iron Curtain keeping us apart.  At the time it was very bittersweet. Once calm had been restored, arrangements and plan were set a foot.  It was arranged to meet at the hotel.  On mass our crowd rushed off to Hotel Riga to see us properly.  I was about to see my Mum the sleuth and organiser and her planning in motion throughout the next 10 days.  I was not privvy to any of these plans until after the fact.  I wasn't happy about that at the time, but in hindsight I would have kept me in the dark also.  My Mum the smart cookie outsmarting the KGB.  Gotta love that.

It was all very harmless, but we wanted to make the most of our 10 day visa and spend as much of it with our families and not on the arranged tourist trips and sightseeing with Intourist, but rather with our relatives instead.  We did some and even those we fudged.  She executed her plans and got stuff done that totally amazed me and the Palanga Tour Leader as to how she managed such permission.  If I hadn't been there to see it myself I wouldn't have believed it either.  At that time things were extremely tough for Latvija.  Freedom just did not exist.  No freedom of movement outside the USSR.   No freedom of speech.  No freedom to practice religion.  Many rules and regulations to follow many unsaid yet known.  And the effort made to suppress the Latvian language was hideous.

I was at a park with some of my younger Latvian family members where I went up to a street vendor to buy us some ice cream in Latvian.  All very straight forward one would think.  It was an ice box on wheels from the last century and the vendor replied in Russian.  I asked again in Latvian for so many ice creams.  This vendor starts yelling obvious abuse at me in Russian.  Using my Mum's strategy, I calmly say in English that I do not speak Russian and what is your problem as you appear to not understand me when I am speaking Latvian or English.  A deluge of apologies as the vendor realises that I am a tourist with US dollars and does a complete back peddle to then reply in both English and Latvian after that.  I was horrified at what lengths the USSR was taking to crush the people in Latvija and probably all the Baltic States and any of their occupied countries.

I would be mad as hell if I was uprooted from my home to be sent to another country also.  No winners here. Our language is a unique one with only one similar to it being Lithuanian and stems from Sanskrit times I believe, with smatterings of other influences over the centuries of various periods of domination from other local countries.  Such countries have been surprising, which have included Lithuania, Poland and even the Swedes.  But in most part the major players have been Germany and Russia.

I kept seeing these queues pop up out of no where and finally I had to ask one of my relatives what were they queuing for and he replied that there might be something good at the other end of the queue to buy.  Someone must know something and it must be good so you jump in line just in case so as not to miss out.  Might be only a left shoe, but a left shoe that you might need as a silly example.  How horrid life was back then.  Hiding what you were doing in fear of being dobbed in.  Always talking in a hushed tone so no one else could hear what you were saying for fear of being misunderstood and carted off in the middle of the night off to the depths of Siberia just like years before.  There was a night curfew and there were many goals in Riga at that time filled to the brim with what I believe were mainly petty crime with those with mental illness or alcoholism whom should have been housed elsewhere.  I was told the goals were crammed full..  Small outlets or mini-pubs operated everywhere and such was the depressive life style many just took to drink.  Apparently alcohol was a huge problem at that time when I was visiting.  It was all very sad.  This isn't to say that everyone had massive issues with alcohol or crime, but it was a large number and those that held there own, all I could do was to admire their tenacity to survive.  All the same it still felt oppressive.

Such is the stubborn nature and will of the Baltic people that the languages survived along with long held traditions and songs.  Many books had been destroyed, but many had been hidden as well.

I got to meet my Grandmum's best girlfriend from her childhood days and Godmother to my Mum, Lucy.  She was adorable.  I couldn't get enough of her.  She watched me listen intently, interrupting every so often to ask Mum what a particular word I had not ever heard meant.  She opened her photo albums and said take what you want of your Grandmum and Mum.  Grandmum was one beauty in her day and I had only seen one photo of Mum as a child from her Christening.  I said I couldn't.  She said you must.  She had a husband, but all her children died during the war and she explained that when they died all that was there in their small room what wasn't useful would be destroyed and thrown away along with the photos.  Mum chose first and then I took a few as well.

Lucy also gave me some original Russian Zsar silver coin.  Highly illegal and I just tossed them in amongst my other coins on my way out of the USSR and still have them to this day.  I loved Lucy and my Mum was glad that I got to meet her as we could then chat about things from the past that involved her.  She died not long after our visit.  To this very day I feel so blessed that I went and met these wonderful family and friends who were apart of my families stories.

I got to meet a few of the other older family folk just before they all died.  I was very fortunate indeed.  It meant that when Mum spoke about a certain person I understood who they were and where they fitted into the scheme of things.  My family came alive.

There are many moments that I now remember fondly.  Two of which stand out.

The Karklins had done some digging around for Mum and on our arrival told Mum that they had found an Aunty still alive from the Sulcs family.  I was beside myself.  Tante and her two daughters survived.  Wow.  That was crazy news.  It was on my second and last visit to Latvija on my own that I got to meet another Sulcs cousin from I think my Dad's Father's brothers descendents and his name was Silvesters.  But that was at least 9 years to come.

I got to meet Tante and Norina and Maruta and Nora just kept staring at me.  You see genetics has a funny way of having certain characteristics popping up out of the blue skipping a generation.  In the Sulcs's case it is hazel coloured eyes.  Both my parents had blue eyes but Dad remembered hazel in there somewhere from our family folk a few generations back.  But Tante married into the family and never got to know this.  Nora had hazel eyes.  I had no idea why she kept staring at me and Mum said they are just happy to see us just like we are.  It came out Nora was happy to see my hazel eyes just like her as both her parents had blue eyes and never could understand why she was different and now got to hear about the Sulcs genetics.  Such a small thing.  Yet something that you may never get an answer to ever.  This time we lucked out.

The second was to meet my older sisters biological Father's family with whom I still keep in touch today.  It is not often, but the contact and connect is there.  I am sure when I visit the communication will flow more freely.  Mum was a prolific letter writer.  I surprisingly am not.  Emails are more my style.  But to meet the Brigiem back then was very special indeed.  I met Aija and later on when I had my daughter and named her Aija.  Then a few years later Aija in Latvija had a daughter of her own and she named her Anita.  Aija and Anita there.  Anita and Aija here.  To say I was overjoyed would be understating this very much.  I so dearly want to visit them and get to know them all over again.  Time and distance has dimmed my memories and Mum has gone so I cannot rely on that now.  But we will one day get together and have more family fun and create more memories.

As for Riga in 1976 it was rather drab, not looked after as far as repairs and painting were concerned to buildings.  Some of the more historic buildings were boarded up and if I remember correctly this included Dome Cathedral.  All Churches were forbidden.  Basically, Riga was in a time warp and in it's original state from when Mum and Grandmum fled essentially.  There were some new buildings, but not in Old Riga.  In a way I am glad as when freedom did come it meant it could be repaired to it's former glory.  The constant Lenin statues started to really get on my goat.  He was bloody everywhere.

However, we weren't allowed to look or go near the Latvian Statue of Freedom for the Baltic States.  There it was for all to see with us pretending like it was the elephant in the room.  Thankfully the Soviets did not destroy it. For this I am grateful.

I never got the chance as we were not allowed to even acknowledge the Statue of Freedom or to touch the plinth on which the Statue stands.  My Dad's Father and Uncle were stonemasons and caretaker from the the War Memorial Cemetery 'Bralu Kapi'.  They were very much apart of getting these stones ready for this plinth and one day would love to touch the massive blocks that my Granddad was responsible for making.

All terribly serious so far.

We crammed a lot in for our short 10 day stay.  This was the maximum amount of time one was allowed back in those days.  Generally, it was usually a 5 day stay, but we chose the rare extended stay in Latvija instead.  Many on our group also had family travelling in from various country regions into the city due to foreigners not being allowed outside the city limits zone.  There was one chappy whose family travelled all the way from Lithuania to be with him.  Rozite was his granddaughter and around my age.  I am trying to remember her name and think this is it.  It will have to do till I find my dairy from my trip with all these details.  For the moment Rozite will have to do.

One day, Rozite, myself and some of my young male cousins went out for the afternoon.  I could communicate with my cousins in Latvian only and with Rozite in English only and the cousins and Rozite in Russian only.  It was hilarious how we managed to get by, but we did.  Three languages constantly all at one time.

The young men were polite and would insist on carrying your handbag for you.  This always made me nervous and never fully relaxed while walking without my bag with what was left that was all I had.  The guys would hold your arm up and down steps and literally were last century polite.  One in particular had very short hair and had just been conscripted into the USSR Army.  This was mandatory and expected.  Not very happily from their part, but if you didn't do your duty you knew what would happen to you.  Goal in Siberia somewhere never to be seen again.

There wasn't much to do in those days other than to walk around the Parklands, which we did and still remember this afternoon fondly.

On my last day when leaving Riga I gave Rozite my midi stud through jean skirt as anything jeans fetched a high price and a very sought after item with all the teens and young adults in the soviet union at that time.  Being that years fashion just put another level to it's value.  She was so overcome that we ran inside to the ladies and she put it on straight away.  We have a photo of us with her wearing said gifted skirt.  Rozite was so happy that she gave me her amber necklace and I didn't want to to take it as it was so very unique.  She insisted and I still treasure that necklace very much.  We communicated for some years and then for one reason or another we lost touch.  I hope to find her when I go back one day.  Would be wonderful to see her by visiting her at her home town in Lithuania.

One day Mum managed for just us to go with the relatives around Old Riga 'Vec Riga' for the day.  We really did get away with quite alot when I think about it.  We walked all of Old Riga, which was very run down, but still full of character with all the bones still there.  As I went through centuries old archways to then discover yet another huge courtyard.  No one in it however.

But, it was pure magic.  I was at home.  This was my home.

Some of the buildings were boarded up and just left to rot.  One was a church of some kind and I cannot be sure, but could have been the Dome Cathedral.  I tried to peek through the slated wood panes and did get to see that it was indeed a church inside all dusty with pews on their side and disarray and the alter mostly intact with some sort of organ pipes.  It would have look magnificent in it's day.  I intend to try and locate this church when I return, which was within one of the large courtyards on my next visit to Latvija.  Now that would be something special if I did actually find it all these decades later.

We were able to go to the very top of St. Peter's Cathedral tower.  The very top level with no barrier or mesh from the waist up.  Apparently, now there is.  Sad, but true.  Anyway, you could see all of Old Riga and could see the various courtyards and what were left from parts of the original Wall from centuries ago.  I have a photo that I took from that time and have a recent photo taken by a dear friend from the same vantage point and you can see all the work that has been done to restore this delightful city.  To think that when I walked through those streets in the mid 70s wanting and praying for Independence once more and thinking it wont happen in my life time and now here we are Independent once more makes my heart soar.

At one stage we went to take a walk in the city Parklands with my Granddad.  Now I knew the history about how he chased and succeeded with many women, including some of Grandmums girlfriends, never Lucy though.  And here we are walking arm in arm and he starts to give me advice for to me to watch out for men and to never do anything until I was married.  I could have choked.  I smiled and squeezed his arm and just smiled.  I mean, what was the point.  He meant well, but it was hypocrisy.  I got to spend time with at least one of my Granddads and that was what was important to me.

My Dad's Father was shot in the back just as all were on the brink of war and subsequently died from that robbery.  I will elaborate on this whole saga when I get to that side of the family.

All I had was a few precious days with my Granddad.  I didn't want to reinvent the wheel with him.  Just enjoy the moment as I had no clue if we would ever see each other again.  Happy moments are what you make them to be.  And this was one of those moments.

I began to notice there was not a lot of choice for cafes and food outlets, but there were plenty of flower vendors and tiny beer pubs on corners.  Very strange indeed.  You could easily get a bunch of flowers and a beer, but not a sandwich for lunch.

The last stop for this day was the Market.  This has now been refurbished and thriving, but what we saw was light years away from that vision.  There were several massive rows of this structure.  Best described as a massive airplane hanger with several side by side and very long.  As we walked in there were lines and lines of tressel tables with hardly anyone using them.  Nearly all were empty with a few dotted with fruit or veg and poultry and fish etc.  Now the flower section was ablaze with colour and a hub of activity.  In stark contrast was this one lone vendor in the middle of this long long very long line of tressel tables.  There she was sitting with her white coat on and white cap looking as sad as the one chook that lay before her.  That was what she had for sale and just sat there till it was sold.

I may be wrong in this assumption, but the reason for the plethora of flowers was that the farmers were being treated badly and I will look into this and to fight this injustice they chose to grow flowers instead of food in a passive action to get back at the authorities that I suspect were gauging them.  Not absolutely sure and more than like not correct, but I will endeavour to research this and find out more.  Because there was never a shortage of flowers.

We were required to go to a tour to Sigulda, which was lovely as you got to see one part of the country side outside the city limits.  The morning part was going to Salaspils where the Concentration Camp was.   There were actually no bird sounds of any kind.  It was horrid.  Years later I went to Dachau and had much the same experience.  Not a sound of nature.  Again horrid.

The weather was cold and overcast and just added to the gloomy atmosphere.  I cannot express how much this affected me.  To know that someone orchestrated this type of place over and over again for the sole purpose to exterminate another was beyond all else.  Most who participated were chosen for their sadistic nature.  A few did as they were told as they knew they also would quickly become apart of what was happening there.  So glad now that many of the perpetrators were captured when the war was just over and strung up in the streets of Riga for having been a willing participant to these atrocities.

We then went on to Sigulda by which stage I was in agony with period pain and stayed on the bus after taking some serious pain killers.  I wish I had had the chance to see this beautiful place, but not to be.  It rained as well so I curled up on the bus and slept.

This trip was so special that words cannot really do it justice.  The memories I have of this time seldom leave me.  I remember, trying to soak up every moment, sight, sound and feeling that I was very tired at the end of each day.  I did this as I thought this would be my only chance.

Fortunately, due to working at Palanga Travel later on, I got to visit my family on my own in 1983 and it was still very much the same as when I travelled with Mum all those years back.  This time I bumped into friends who just so happened to be there from Sydney at Hotel Latvija.  It was long after this time that the Baltic States organised the hand holding protest that went through ALL three states during Gorbachev's time for Independence.  I have not been to Latvija while it is free and all spruced up with all the festivals reignited.  This is my dream.  To visit my family in Latvija a few more times before I get too old to do so.

Might love and leave the story at this stage.

We had another tour commitment to the apparently recently renovated Open Air Museum 'Brivdabas Muzejs', but we got to stay with our family in Sloka, Jurmala first.

My clever Mum somehow sorted time away with just the family and how to this very day she managed for us to leave the city limits to have an overnight stay for the three of us at Grandmum's old home come farmlet in Sloka, Jurmala I will only be able to guess at.

Next installment I get to tell you about our stayover with the family at Jurmala that has now been in the family for many generations, where Grandmum grew up and Mum spent her summer holidays.  After our overnight stay with the relatives we then get to visit the Open Air Museum with some surprising results that places me in one scary situation and very afraid.

I get to see, touch, taste, be apart of what is Latvian daily life and later on I lose my Mum and Grandmum in the Open Air Museum.  Now how can that be scary?

All will be revealed.

The Past. The Present. The Future.

MY PERSONAL YARNS AND TALES by ANITA SULCS.

The Past.  The Present.  The Future.

This blog was created by mistake almost two years ago now and the original title 'In A Blink' was meant to be a post for my other blog that I write called 'Hoarder's Helping Hoarders'. But, strangely enough saw value in using this site for my personal stories that everyone seems to enjoy when I tell them and insist that I share them.  Now these tales will have a home.

The past, present and future!

All those three above play an important place in our lives.

The past gives us experiences to enrich us and hopefully be the wiser for it.

The present should never be squandered or wasted and let to slip by.  This is where we get a chance to improve on what went on before.

The future is the opportunity to path the way for something better and make what future we individually have to be a good one.

In regards to our ancestors past does affected where we are now.

What we do now affects those to come.

We can but wonder what will be and hope for the best.

All three are intertwined and connected and explains why we feel such a pull to know our ancestral past history.  It shapes us yet does not define us.  Hence, at some stage in our lives we start to question our very own history or story if you may and some even go in search for the answers to fill that void.

Where we came from.  Who was before us family wise.  Who were they.  Were they nice or a tyrant  What we did and the choices that shaped us from our childhood.  Most of which is very much out of our hands as a child.  Why we did we do what we just did.  Giving great thought or not to what tomorrow will bring.  Have we done enough for that last chapter in our lives to prove to all that has gone before us was worthwhile.  If not, do we get that last chance to do so or are we just destined to be cogs in the wheel of time.  Many of us will wonder and ponder these thoughts from time to time.  Some will do and some wont either due to circumstances out of their control or choice.

Who cares would be a good question.

This will be the meanderings of but one person in amongst the many billions before me and to come to document what she remembers of the stories that may matter being but 'one blink' in her ancestral line of past stories to be documented for her future generations to know accurately.

It is in time that fact and truth get lost and forgotten and it is important for some 'home' tales to be remembered and passed on as they truly were and not re-spun.

Have been watching 'Who Do You Think You Are?' recently, a series on television with well known people delving back in time into finding out who their ancestor's were beyond 2 or more generations.  It was this that made me think to use this blog as a most suitable way to start what I hope to be an assortment of memories, yarn's, tales and stories that I remember and have recorded from my parents and fellow family members from lands afar from where I sit now to avoid any future assumptions as this is how errors happen.

I noticed how official forms were filled in with the 'possible' blanks (ie Fathers name) as to what was put on paper or not.  Not everything on a birth document is always true.  I know of a few who decided it would be a lark to fudge what they wrote on their Census forms on Census night.  Most would be 100% accurate, but not all of mankind is 100% honest either, especially where no marriage took place or other types of perceived scandal, which is where investigation going far back that much more difficult.

Maybe, I can ask those who are still with us to elaborate on what is my family lineage and heritage as has been told to me so far.  Will try and find out more.  This will be my journey to unearth fact and make sure what we currently believe to be true is not fiction.

Many have said how fascinating my Mum's story is.  So I shall start there in no particular order by my viewpoint.

We spoke much of her journey and life experiences and wisdoms when she was getting closer to her passing.  I was the only child that traveled to Latvija with her to our homeland at the age of 20.  I will do my utmost best to honour my Mum and her story.

Here I am at my first job at a local University and straight out of Secretarial College when Mum asked all her three surviving girls (there were four and a story to be told later on) who would like to join her and Grandmum as they were planning to travel to Latvija to meet our surviving family for the first time since they escaped during WWII and in our lifetime.  There was my Mum's side of the family, The Karklins, which as fortune had it flourished.  Then there was Dad's side of the family who we believed all had perished during WWII, The Sulcs.  Last there was Mum's first husbands family as Mum was widowed young and was my older sisters family, The Brigiem, with whom I still have contact with to this day thankfully.

My oldest sister couldn't due to being a school teacher and living in another state at that time, but would have loved to and always regretted not going.  We spoke about that just before she died.  She asked me about that trip and I was happy to relay what I remembered.  She was so sad that that was one of the things she never had the chance to see Latvija and our family.  Happy and sad tears were shed.  The next sister had shown no interest and had years ago turned her back on anything to do with her ethnic background to become as Aussie as she could.  Both sisters had not long been married at that time.

First sister married a Latvian who lived in another city and due to this she moved there to start her new life. A part of me always felt that she had embraced this to not be around her sister who had hooked up with her ex-boyfriend that had made her Form 6 year diabolical.  Ah the thickening plot.

The other sister married her sisters ex-boyfriend (now you see the thickening plot) who was of British/Australian background and due to events that played out not all that thrilled with his ethnic in-laws. He had a run in with Mum many moons prior to marrying said daughter.  He dated the other daughter first before marrying this one.  What had taken place with the first sister was he decided to drop that first sister weeks prior to her Matric Exams and in those days all your points hinged on those exams for entry into where ever.  She nearly failed and due to this Mum went and told this young man exactly what she thought of him, hence why he was always passive aggressive (especially when no one was looking) towards her and Dad all those years. Why he hooked up with this other sister I will never understand as he simply hated Mum and as for the other daughter she never felt comfortable with him now being around again.  Years on the sister married to him crowed to me that the other had wanted desperately to marry him and she had gotten him.  Other sister was horrified as she had no interest and couldn't be further from the truth. All I could come up with was that this other sister just wanted to be as far removed from her 'immediate' family as possible and achieved it by marrying this bloke who shunned us and our culture.  That and her sibling rivalry towards her other sister to get something she had.  Or so she thought.  Over their married life their loathing then extended me as being the much younger one who had watched on.  I wouldn't let them get the best of me.  I found his and my sisters treatment of Mum and Dad in poor form.  I watched all those years as they took constant pot shots at Mum especially who tolerated it with such grace.  But I am not so graceful and would take issue with them when I thought they had overstepped the boundaries of civility and I know and remember that moment it happened when they really started to include me into the equation with Mum and Dad and that was in 1999.  But that is a whole other story altogether.

The last one was myself and when Mum asked I was 19 and single and had always wanted to see my Mum and Dad's ancestral homeland.  This was to me a wonderful opportunity.  I jumped in without any hesitation and started saving for my airfare, tour and spending money and had to move home in order to do so.  Not only did I get to meet these long lost family members, but I was yet to appreciate that I got to see it through my Mum's eyes as well as the added bonus of my Grandmum.

We saved and we organised and one more family member came along who was married to one of my Grandmum's older brothers, Oskar's, Tante Lily and a long time family friend whom we lovingly referred to as Little John.  He met my Mum and Grandmum on the boat coming over to live in Australia.  We nearly took over the entire group.

Latvija was under USSR occupation at that time and very much behind the Iron Curtain/Wall.  Extremely supressed.  Many Russians were sent to live in Latvija to assist in diluting the Latvian language.  Latvija was a prized gem for the then Soviets.  Due to it's geographic location and I always ventured to add the all year round ice free port to be attractive as well has been a much sought after 'must have' for all including nearby neighbours as history tells us so.

The Baltic Tour we ended going on was organised by a Travel Company called Palanga Tours, which was owned and run by a Lithuanian and his wife who was Greek, the Cibas's.  I wasn't to know it then, but I ended up working at Palanga Tours some years later.  Such is life's little mysteries.  And a story to impart much later on.

By now I was very much in love and was to travel without my Garry whom I missed the whole time I was away.

The tour set out from Sydney with all group participants flying in from various places around Australia.  We were all fresh to this overseas travel bizo and had no clue as to how Airlines operated.  A practice that still takes place to this very day.  But boy were we to be taught quickly.

We make our way from the Sydney local terminal to the International terminal to get to the gate for our Cathay Pacific flight for us 5 from Melbourne to be told that the flight was fully booked and we could not go with this flight!  We were flabberghasted as all the other part of our group were already on board.  That meant just over half our group were to travel without us!  Our newly met Tour Leader from the Sydney Palanga Office was wheeling and dealing for it to only fall on deaf ears.  Being newbies to this travel caper we learnt there and then that many airlines have the practice of overbooking a flight as there are always no shows and late comers.  We were neither late and certainly a show as we were putting on a show.  Looking back it was hilarious.  But the ground staff didn't realise when telling us initially that we couldn't get on board as they presumed we were individuals and not part of a Tour Group.  They sure regretted say no to us as we were jumping up and down with tears flowing everywhere.

Here I am at 20 and the next youngest in this group just so happened to be my Mum (44 at the time) and the rest of the group just so happened to be around my Grandmums age which was 65 plus.  We were becoming frantic.  This was our trip of a lifetime.  One that we had planned and saved for for over a year now and could see slipping away and ruined.

In the end, Mum just said quitely to the airport staff that if we were not on that flight then we want our baggage back now and as it had been already loaded this meant holding up the flight with the possibility of the entire group walking off.  This put the staff into a spin and low and behold miraculously seats were found for us in First Class.

Yes, folks, we 5 Melbournites got to travel first time overseas First Class.  Reality got to kick in on my next sector as we were to fly Aeroflot thereafter.  I was in for a shock, but what a lovely way to start.  In the meantime, I was thoroughly enjoying myself with my family.  First Class is a dream.

Our first destination was Singapore where I was to find out that out of the entire groups luggage mine was 'lost'.  I had fortunately packed one spare set of clothes and toiletries in my cabin bag.  However, the only good knickers I had was what I was wearing as I thought to only include these 'paper' disposable knickers that were available at the time for the long haul flights in mind only.  All my decent underwear was in my suitcase that was now lost along with all the presents for many of the family in Latvija.

The baggage in the end has it's own story as well and will unfold soon enough.

I traveled for nearly 4 weeks with one pair of jeans, one jean jacket, one jean stud through midi skirt (which I ended up giving away to a wonderful Lithuanian girl as jeans were a valuable commodity in the USSR back then.who had to travel from Lithuania to see and be with one of the group participants as he was not allowed to go any further than Latvija and not his homeland of Lithuania and will elaborate later on), one platform leather sandle type shoes, 2 pair of socks one with the separate toes and multicoloured, two T-Shirts, one jumper, one scarf, two bras and my one and only silk bikini knickers and my one disposable paper knickers that turned out to be made to last a little longer than at first intended.  All this for flying mode only.  This was it for the duration.

Being that we went through Asia to get to the USSR meant I couldn't buy any shoes as they didn't supply large sizes to fit my delicate tootsies.  Also, once we got to the USSR it meant finding my luggage where ever it was while there was going to be impossible due to the communication issues with the then USSR and food and clothing were not readily available either let along that looked like being made this century.

To say I cried and got shitty about not having my 'personal items' would be an understatement.  I was literally stuffed, but it sure taught me a huge lesson in becoming flexible and going with the flow when things go wrong.

Our stopover time in Singapore was wonderful with all the sightseeing and fresh tropical fruit for breakfast and the Orchid Gardens and all the new sights and sounds and smells of the street markets.  I had a ball with Mum and Grandmum.  I shared a room with Mum thankfully.  Being that I was bagless she got me to buy a suitcase to fill with anything we bought along the way.  She knew how hard it was for me with no luggage and offered me her clothes, but I just couldn't yet wear my Mum's conservative early 70s clothes for quids.  But give it time.  It is amazing how things can change.  Desperation took a little while as I am stubborn to the core.

Next stop was Moscow and the Aeroflot flight was hilarious.  The flight attendant was very excited at having fresh milk being available on board and went to great lengths to tell us how lucky we were.  A sign of things to come.  On arrival to Sheremetyevo Airport as it was known back then our group was treated to the utmost scrutiny of what we were taking in.  We had to declare what was a gift and then paying a hefty gift duty and so forth for even more corrupt gauging.  As Mum had two fishing lines in her suitcase the officer was waving them around right in front of her face.  I had never seen such aggressive behaviour and I had never seen my Mum so steady as she was while this went on.  She calmly replied that while in Latvija she was going to go fishing.  They were not going to get an extra cent from her.  They could've confiscated the rods, but because we didn't make any trouble really they let the matter go.  They gave up on her in the end as she had an answer to all their questions.  She had experienced this type of action and witnessed it many times over during her wartime years so was prepared that this could happen.  A total eye opener for me.  I had new found respect for her after that moment.

The entire group got a good going over and one of the elderly folk was taken for an internal search and I got grilled where was my luggage in my bag as it was rather empty and I just kept saying 'I bloody don't know the airlines lost it when I left Australia, so you bloody well find it' in the end they also gave up on me.  The entire group bonded over this experience.  They tried to humiliate us, but did not succeed.

In was in the USSR in the Cold War years and as I traveled with my elderly group through Moscow to our most beautiful, grand yet old hotel, I found what I saw of Moscow to be grey and stark and had an air of grimness over it.  I saw women with headscarves sweeping the streets and footpaths with brooms made of twigs.  Even the side of the river walls were being cleaned manually.  All hard labour.  Yes, everyone had a job, but what a job it was.  It just felt extremely sad.  Grey and drab with more grey.  In total contrast to the Kremlin with it's Gold layed pilars and walls.

What surprised me next was when we arrived at our Hotel we then had to give up our passports for the duration of our stay to our Hosts whilst in the USSR and promptly given an Intourist Guide as well.  This did not sit well with me and made me feel very vulnerable.

We toured the city sights including the Red Square to see Lenin's tomb where we had to line up for hours and then file past with instructions to move sideways of the glass case where Lenin was lying 'In State' and told in no uncertain terms by the scary armed guards to never stop moving.  It was horrid and scary, all at the same time.

Even though St. Basil's Cathedral was all boarded up and in disrepair, Grandmum told me how she attended that church on one of her visits as a little girl with her Grandmum in-between wars not long before the Russian Revolution I believe.  I will have to check the years to confirm this.  I stood there imagining what it would look like inside.  One day I hope to see this.  We secretly took a photo of us together with part of the Cathedral behind us at such an angle for the armed soldiers not to know just for Grandmum to remember.  We were not allowed to take photos of certain places and was very much frowned upon and dealt with swiftly if they thought you had done so without any pause or apology whatsoever and this was one of those places.  Armed guards were everywhere.

I also started noticing not much movement of people.  The shops were bare and lifeless.  I also saw long queues leading to a small door to only find out in Riga the same thing went on.  I was curious as to the harshness of the way of life that one led there.  These lines will become clear later on, but it certainly was a way of daily life.  Stand in a queue just in case!

On one afternoon we were taken to the original Moscow Circus building.  It was round and very very old.  Centuries I believe with bears and horses.  It was magical in most parts apart from the bears which worried me and still don't like what I saw looking back now.  The straw and the smell and clowns and the acrobats all within this rock hard immovable circle.  I remember it more with sadness than in any other way.

While in Moscow we were especially taken to the Underground Railway Station and the one that was donated and paid for by Latvija.  Many of the stations were 'donated' by the countries they occupied.  Not sure if they were donated willingly though.  However, that Underground Railway was something else.  If I remember one had bloody massive Crystal Chandelliers hanging.  Each Station was a work of architectural art.  Simply amazing yet built upon pain, blood, sweat and tears and more than likely death mixed in there somewhere!  My heart sank and I just couldn't see the joy in the obvious magnificence.  For me it was tainted and yet we were being taunted with it by our Hosts.

Our next stop was what I was looking forward to the most, Riga, Latvija my parents homeland.  Soon for me to feel my homeland as well.  Something I never got till I placed my first footstep on Latvian terra firma.

But, before we left Mosco, the Intourist people organised a cocktail party for our group and some USSR Diplomats and Dignantry's to meet and greet us.  It was the wierdest event. I still don't get why they did this.  We were just a bunch of tourists really of no importance.  Mum just kept telling me to keep my mouth shut as she was sure there were KGB agents in among them.  Maybe, one of our travelers was under their suspect list or such.  Not all that uncommon back then.  One such Military Dignantry came up to Mum and myself and enquired as to what was I wearing around my neck.  I had this very small coat of arms with the Latvian flag colours on it.  Totally forbidden/Запрещено and profoundly illegal/незаконной as Latvija was considered a soviet country.   Mum kicked me and I piped up that it was the crest from a Yacht Club that I was a member of called Port Melbourne.  It was all I could come up with at a moment's notice.  He kept on  quizzing me for what felt like a very long time about the club and was I good at the sport and I replied no still learning.  Phew.  I had just attended some function at the PMYC and kept my answers as close to what I knew without flinching.  Eventually he was sort of satisfied, but he knew what it was and that was the colours of the Latvian flag.  This passive way sure does work as you can see their hackles flaring up.  My Mum couldn't stop laughing that I had the hide to show up to this function with that around my neck.  She kept on saying it is like showing a red flag to a bull.  But we all had a great old time laughing about this for years to come.

Through this tour I got to know my Mum as just more than a Mother.  I got to see and get to know 'her'.  Who she was and why she was.  At the time I did appreciate it sort of, but it has only been through the passage of time that I now fully appreciate the gift that I had been given.  That one on one time with my beautiful Mum.

Grandmum was a whole other story.  We had glimmers of times where she let me in and other times where she resented me.  I was the baby in this group and you would think I would have had a miserable time.  On the contrary I was spoilt rotten as all the group looked upon me as their granddaughter and felt for me that I had no luggage so when I went to buy something like food or a drink invariably one of them would insist on buying it for me.  If I remember, I think I came back with more money than I left with!

Due to the fact that Grandmum liked the limelight to be on her at all times and made no bones about it she really was getting more and more upset by the day with all the group spoiling me.

While in Moscow, I was alternating between the good pair of undies with the 'paper' ones.  On our last night I washed my one and only good pair and placed it on the iron heaters that were in this old magnificent hotel to dry.  We had an early start, packed and once at the airport lining up to get on board our flight to Riga finally and it was only then I realised I had left my one and only good pair of undies still drying back at the hotel and just burst into tears knowing full well all I had left was my paper ones!

The entire group tried to console me asking what was the matter?  They were really concerned about me.  All I could get out between tears and gulps was 'Iiiii ... left ..... my.... undies .... in..... the..... hhhh..... hotel....' for them to all roll around in racous laughter.  They all thought this a great joke.  Well, that just made matters worse for me as it was then I knew I had only one other option open to me and that was to use my Mum's underwear and I just cracked it big time didn't I.  I calmed down eventually and found the funny side of it and hence my story I now fondly refer to as 'when I left my dundies in Moscow'!

I relented once in Riga to borrow one of Mum's least offensive underpants and even resorted on the colder days one of her woollen Jackets.  When I look at the photos I can see the panty line from my Mum's underwear with my very tight jeans and another with Mum's more reasonable Jackets.  Now when I see these photos they always put a smile on my face instead of a frown.

Mum died nearly 6 years ago (from exposure to a chemical she worked with that give one liver cancer and the company knew it was fatal to work with yet chose to stay quite about it to only go offshore when all the Asbestos palava was going on and shortened her life by 15 to 20 years and will get into this later on) so boy am I grateful that I did get to do this tour with her and so much more.  I learnt so much by just being together.  Mum was torn from her homeland at such a very young vulnerable pre-teen age just as WWII broke out and luckily her Mum decided to leave just in case knowing full well what the Russians would want and that was Latvija in their clutches so fled across the Baltic Sea to survive the bombings as many were sunk and perished with the view to return when it all blew over.  They made it through and criss crossed Europe with many of the other displaced people over the war years to stop along the way in certain villages to finally ending up after the war ended in one of the many German displaced person's camps.

Not many countries took all of these displaced people.  Germany was out of the question.  England well they had more that they could cope with as did many of the European countries.  Canada want only couples with very young children.  Americal only wanted couples and so forth.  Grandmum was too old and single with a teenage daughter.  They never did fit any criteria.  There were 2 countries that were more flexible and that was Argentina and Australia.  Mum's entire teens years were spent on the run and a whole other story that I will get to, but they chose Australia with the sole reason being that they spoke a 'little' English and Australia was an English speaking country.  Otherwise, I could have been Argentinian!  Mum's tenacity to survive knew no bounds and that story I will share as we go along.

As for Grandmum, well she vaselated from being wonderful to being a shrew.  This was partly due to the fact that upon our arrival she would be seeing her womanising and carousing ex husband that she was separated from just prior to WWII breaking out for the first time since she and Mum fled Latvija, at Riga Airport along with whomever else would be there to greet us.  She made sure Mum and I felt her pain.  Now on reflection and having had my very own horrid ex 'who done me wrong' story, I now reflecting back do get how she must have felt back then at this prospect.  Funny thing is they were never officially divorced and he had remarried to another woman who so happened to have a daughter that we were all about to meet.  I just wished I had understood more now back then.  We supported her, but not as I suspect we should have.  Mum was wanting to see her Dad and me my Granddad.  It must have hurt her more than I ever realised.  It must have been one tough moment for her and time to handle and deal with and get through.  But that she did.  Don't worry she gave him a hard time and he got his albeit some 30 odd years on.  A woman scorned never forgets.

Grandmum died in 1999 just one month short of her 95th birthday.  She had been through so much including the Russian Revolution, WWI, WWII, been separated, been displaced with one child (my Mum), restart her life in another country Australia in WA on the other side of the world in her later 40s to learn her fifth language and to find love once more and resettle in Melbourne and experienced many momentus historical moments from that century she lived in.  She was one tough cookie.

Now, we were on our way to Riga on the Aeroflot flying bus.  I remember feeling excited and eager to get there with my stomach doing summersaults.  The crappy plane didn't help either.  I can only guess how all the others felt.  All of us were in the same boat and in this particular case plane.

We were on our way and I was on my way to knowing who I was and am.

Next episode/installment will be all of us landing at Riga Airport and what I encounter with Mum and Grandmum.

All will unfold slowly.