I’ve slept in Riga for two nights and I haven’t seen dark yet. Is it north enough to have 24 hour light?
I was up this morning before everyone but the Chinese tourists. I took myself on a little self-guided walking tour through the empty Old Town, all mine. A cluster of cathedrals, including where the Reformation began in Latvia. The old castle. A pink and white wedding party in the less ornate Catholic Church.
I was in search of the houses known as the “three brothers,” the oldest built 600 years ago, the next two over the next 3 centuries. I had them all to myself.
“We have no croissants yet. But there is breakfast for the guys from the hostel.” There was a cluster of bleary hungover guys further into the shop eating a well-curated continental breakfast. “I can give you some of their pancakes!
For four euros I had delicious hostel pancakes and an americano.
Riga is sun-kissed, a careful meadow planted in the square in front of St James Cathedral, cafes with excellent food jostled against the wall that is all that remains of the oldest church in the city.
I’m going to miss Riga.