Berlin & Stuttgart, Germany

After Denmark, we headed by train into Germany - which will be our home for the next month. We started out in Stuttgart, where we visited with Katie, a childhood friend of Eriks' who is completing her PhD in Viticulture at the University of Hohenheim. Then we spent a few days urban adventuring in Berlin with Aleksandra and Rudis. Check out some pictures:

Photos from Denmark!

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reflections on latvia through a danish lens

So here goes version 2.0 of my first blog contribution. This is v2.0 because although Linda and I independently journaled about Latvia, there was an unmistakable echo. Since Linda did such a great job of capturing many of our shared thoughts, I will try to find an original beat. This is either a really good sign for our evolving relationship or a sign that we really need to implement Blake’s advice to consciously make a routine to carve out time apart. At the very least this tells me that we should alternate our blog posts.

The one thing I do feel compelled to echo from Linda’s post is that this trip so far has been an exercise in letting go of our expectations, assumptions, and egos. Expectations and assumptions seem to consistently and unexpectedly get us into trouble. Whether those are expectations about a Latvia we once thought we knew or as to what any given weekend of hanging out with friends or family might entail or even blurting out the assumption that life in Latvia must now be better for an average Latvian than under the Soviet rule.  It would probably be helpful to come up with some mantra to ask questions before making assertions – tougher said than done when trying to keep a conversation flowing as the shots from the third bottle of vodka are being poured from the left (despite pleas of mercy) and from the right the next scoop of beef heart salad has been put on our plates as a chaser. Ego is challenged upon waking the next morning in my skivvies, next to Linda and a jungle of oversized stuffed animals on the leopard print living room couch when you later overhear folks wondering why you would have travelled all the way from America just to sleep.

 In Latvia, we were well loved and were generously treated to the best that everyone had to offer – given the best of everything to the point of excess.  Getting to Denmark to visit my cousin Karola, her husband Claus, and sons Timo (3), and Felix (4months), was such a fantastic opportunity to take a vacation from vacation, reflect, compare and contrast! Many aspects of Denmark were strikingly similar to Latvia, such as the abundance of dairy products in every conceivable stage of fermentation.  Seriously though, the one overarching, standout difference was ORDER. Since Denmark is just a quick skip across the Baltic Sea from Latvia there are many streets, parks, alleys, dairy sections in the grocery store that could be easily confused between Copenhagen and Riga. Though, whereas in Latvia our expectations were perpetually shattered, Denmark quickly seemed to become predictable. Not only was it predictable because we slept in everyday and had homemade buns and café lattes for brunch, but predictable in the sense that it seems like everyone speaks perfect English, rides their bike, has a kid (that takes unattended afternoon naps with the other babies in their parked strollers in the baby farm otherwise known as the courtyard of the apartment complex) and that, in general, it seems like the vast majority of people like to follow the rules. This was quite evident even by the way people drive – rush hour traffic feels no different from Boulder. People yield politely as they walk along crowded sidewalks, the streets are clean, and even at a deserted 2am intersection, people will not cross until the little green crosswalk man is lit. From our limited sample group, it even sounds like Danes trust their politicians whereas the first word that EVERY Latvian uses to describe politics is ‘korupcija.’ (no need to to translate that I’m guessing)

In Copenhagen, we spent most of our time walking or cycling around the city because there is a bike lane on every street and because we were trying to keep our budget in check in a city where a cup of coffee or beer can easily be $10. The long walks and rides offered good time to reflect on topics ranging from (i) the effect of our psychosocial roots on our own personalities, (ii) whether we are genetically predisposed to liking pork and dairy products nurtured from Latvian soil, as well as (iii) our investigations into renewable energy and energy efficiency opportunities in Latvia. Back to comparing and contrasting Latvia and Denmark: ultimately I tend to think the architectural similarities and the palpable cultural divide both stem simply from history – the Danes have the oldest noble bloodline still in power in the world, while Latvians were feudal serfs for 800 years and just broke away from the Soviets 20 years ago. It takes time for life – be it a plant or people - to grow back together when a divide is so entrenched. After all, weren’t all of the northern Europeans just a bunch of tribal, pagan farmers a mere 900 years ago?

We were doted on by Karola and Claus who offered us all that we could want while giving us the space and chillness to take things at our very lackadaisical pace. Last night we were even spoiled with guest-list tix from one of Karola/Gerhardt’s ex-band members who is on a euro tour (check out Kurt Vile and the Violators, they are on Matador records and will be finishing up their summer touring with Bright Eyes and then the Flaming Lips!). It was inspiring to absorb a little culture from live music as well as the fascinating exhibit we went to last week at the Louisiana Museum of art north of Copenhagen. It was quite aptly a series of exhibits meant to investigate what is ‘Home.’ The exhibit explored the psychological and social effects of architecture and urban planning all the way to what are most fundamental physical and soulful necessities of a home. Sculptures, demos, photos, essays, websites – you name it. All in all, I walked away invigorated from the exhibit and felt compelled to sketch until the wee hours of the morning to draft every cross-section of the home that I hope to build for Linda and me someday. I guess it was an appetite that I hadn't nourished in our current home-less/full vagabond adventures. This ignored hankering might also explain why Linda and I seem to derive joy as never before in simple things like doing laundry, loading the dishwasher or even taking turns babysitting the uber adorable 4-month old Felix.

We have now said goodbye to Felix (and Karola, Claus, and Timo too) and are currently heading south on a high-speed train - that is nonetheless going way too slow - on our way to visit Katie in Stuttgart. The last story that I have to share with you for now just happened before making our transfer in Hamburg.  After Linda and I hemmed and hawed about spending an additional $20 to reserve seats we ultimately did not out of principle and the price we paid for our Eurail passes. As we scoured for open seats on the rather full train, it just so happened that I sat next to a woman whose hands showed fading henna tattoos and the honest wrinkles of labor. By some strange act of universal synchronicity, it turns out that she was in the last couple hours of her 11 month journey around the world working as a farmer; coming from India by way of Sweden. She shared stories and offered contacts and hints. I sensed that we offered her some comfort while reentering Germany knowing that we had come to her homeland to do exactly what had compelled her to travel elsewhere. As the train rolled off the ferry from Denmark to Germany, I reflected on the interconnectedness of life.  I noticed her eyes mist as she stared out at the fields beyond the tracks – no doubt from an emotional cocktail of homesickness and mourning the end of an adventure.

Our tour of Latvia in pictures

(Click on the photo to see a full-screen version of the slideshow)

One month compressed

It’s hard to believe that we left our home and family in beautiful Boulder, CO 3 months ago – already! There’s been a lot of living happening since then, so we’ve fallen a bit behind on sharing some of our experiences with all you loved ones out there. All of that slacking we’ve been doing has left us a bit overwhelmed with where to start, but here it goes...

Last week we took a dip in the cold waters separating the North Sea from the Baltic Sea. 16⁰C (61⁰F) sounds a lot warmer than it feels. Starting our international adventure in Latvia seemed like it was going to be a nice, easy way to settle into our new, very mobile, packed-in-a-backpack way of life. But looking back on it now, starting our trip in Latvia was as “easy” as “easing” into the cold waters of the coast of Denmark – rewarding and worthwhile, but definitely not easy.

Like so many of the Latvian Americans out there, my weekends and summers growing up were dedicated to Latvian school. We learned about Latvian grammar, history, literature, folklore, traditional arts, etc. - even geography (it’s the size of West Virginia). There was the Latvian Girl Scouts, multiple tradition folk dancing groups performing at multiple international Latvian Song and Dance Festivals, and serving on the board of the American Latvian Youth Association. My mother was the principle of the Chicago Latvian School and to this day spends her summers teaching the next generation of "Latvians" born abroad. Starting from the time I was 6 years old, I visited Latvia and the family who live there multiple times, etc., etc. Because of all of this, I thought I knew what we were in for this time around.

What they say about assumptions is very true...

It seemed like everywhere we went in our 3 weeks in Latvia, we were greeted with intense, almost aggressive graciousness. Both family and friends would go out of their way to make sure you were comfortable and happy. The slightest hint that something wasn’t right (generally the result of a cultural misunderstanding) would result in a flurry of nervous compensation. Our plates and glasses were never empty. A “no, thank you” would get you refilled anyway. To avoid being turned down, pre-lit cigarettes and unsolicited shots and beers eventually began flowing our way. A Latvian word that comes to mind is “viesmīlība”, or “love of guest”. But, unless your ‘guests’ have an intimate relationship with their own limits regarding food, drink, smoke and/or attention, this ‘love’ can feel a little like a Hurricane Irene. Both family and friends seemed perplexed by our need to take time to ourselves.

This is the #1 most obvious (yet somehow not obvious) lesson I've learned thus far – know your own limits so that you are rested and healthy enough to enjoy the ride.

Some other notable lessons:
• Simply speaking a language doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll be understood or really understand what is being said. Though you may entertain your hosts with your funny accent and poor word choice.

• The people that lived through the Soviet occupation don’t really care what you read in history books at Latvian school. If you ask them, many will tell you that, though they had less then, they were guaranteed that little bit. Now, though they have more luxuries and more freedom, they are running to keep up.  

• Sharing a bloodline with people who live on a separate continent doesn’t mean you will have anything in common with them. However, it may grant you a backstage pass into their daily lives and get you some extra patience for your weirdness.

As we were wrestling these assumptions from our egos, we were being spoiled by the best that friends and family had to offer. It is only because of the generosity of these people that we saw and experienced as much as we did in our short visit: we camped in 3 beautiful locations, fished more than I have in my entire life, time traveled at 2 different castle ruins, enjoyed multiple drives through poetic country landscapes, and ate more satiating home-cooked meals than I could almost make room for - and all we had to do was keep up.

Now, our bellies fuller and egos trimmer, we move on to the next chapter of our adventure...