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.
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