Rifka in Riga

I woke up with the alarm at 8. Dad rolled out of bed a while later. At 9 I was in the lobby grabbing breakfast. He came down later. It was a beautiful morning in Riga.

If we knew very little about Estonia, we know even less about Latvia. As a result, I know nothing about Latvian cuisine, and so I took for breakfast a general sampling of what was there.. Just in case something was a "can't miss" item.

After a hefty breakfast of blinis, eggs, bread (rated 7 on Marshall's 1-delicious bread scale), and lox (OH MY GOD THE LOX!), we departed shortly before 10 to explore the old town.

We stopped first at the Russian orthodox cathedral outside our Radisson BLU hotel. It was gorgeous, freshly renovated, and reeking of paint as a result. While we were there, a woman turned a vacuum on to clean the carpet-- I mean, I always figured someone would clean the carpet, but at 10?

We passed the Latvian liberty monument just before entering the old town, which merges into the rest of Riga seamlessly.

The first stop was the former home of the Order of the Blackheads, a medieval fraternity of sorts between traders and merchants. Their building in Riga is beautiful, made of red brick and stone window frames, with gold leaf and statues lining the exterior walls. In front is a large statue of a knight with a shield on the ground and a sword in the hand, guarding the square.

Across the street from there is the St. Peter Cathedral, an old brick church with spire; interesting, but we didn't spend much time there.

Next to the Order of the Blackheads building is a building called "The Museum of the Occupation of Latvia." we tried to get inside but they didn't open till 11, and it was 10:40 at the time.

We went after that to the Dome church, which we didn't go all the way into, due to the 7 Lat price tag.

We walked to the end of the old town, found Riga Castle, the former home of the leader of the city, and today the home to the Latvian president -- not much has changed.

We walked along the water for a bit and headed back to the museum.

We got back to the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia (1940-1991) at 11:20. As soon as we walked in, though, my dad asked them a question about Nazi-controlled Latvia.

---See, a couple of days ago I mentioned to my Grandfather while speaking with him via Skype from Helsinki that we were considering an excursion to Riga. He reminded us of the story of his sister, Rifka, who had been deported from Auschwitz in 1944 to Riga where she was, according to family lore, shot trying to escape the Concentration Camps. So we decided to spend a few hours today looking for any information we could find about her fate, even considering a trek northwest to Dundaga, where most of the Hungarian Jews were sent after arriving in Riga.---

One of the museum employees knew just where to look. She pulled out a map and gave us a name: Margers Vestermanis. Mr. Vestermanis escaped the prison camps during the war and dedicated his life afterwards to remembering and preserving the history of those Jews who suffered in Latvia at the hands of the Nazis. He started a museum, which we were told was actually on the corner behind our hotel. He is still alive and still working at the museum on some days. We left the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia to go to the Jewish one. 

At 11:45 we had walked to and arrived at the supposed corner, but the museum was not there. We walked up each street for a block in every direction but could not find it.

At noon we were back at hotel to ask where the museum was. While my dad waited in line at the front desk to ask, I relaxed at the bar with a Cēsu beer, a tasty Latvian lager recommended to me by the bartender.

We found Muzejs "Ebreji Latvijā" (Museum "Jews in Latvia") one block over from where we were told it was - so one block away from the hotel, not adjacent to it. We arrived there at 12:15.

We had to knock on a few doors and coax a few people to help us before we got the inner doors open on the third floor.

Inside, we waited for the museum curator, Ilya Lensky, who showed up after a short wait.

In the museum was a collection of documents and artifacts from the era and the area. Like many such displays, there were scraps of cloth from Concentration Camp uniforms, scraps of cloth with prison numbers on them, Jew-identifying Stars of David, pieces of mostly-destroyed Torahs, and pictures of the skeleton figures that were most Jewish prisoners after a little while under Nazi control.

We introduced ourselves to Ilya when he showed up, and explained our connection to the area through Rifka Mayer. We asked about Dundaga, records, and burial sites.

Ilya advised against going to Dundaga, since the town might very well be blocked by snow along the access roads. And there aren't good roads out there either. Besides, many burial sites are not marked or are deep in the woods, and those that are marked are not informative.

As for records, while the Nazis kept impeccable records in most situations, there was one shipment of about 5,000 women to Riga in May or June of 1944 that is conspicuously absent from records. It is only from eyewitness accounts that they are even known of. Railroad records and Nazi records don't lend any evidence. Likewise, it seemed unlikely, were it not for eyewitness accounts, that 5,000 women would be sent FROM Auschwitz, the point of no return for most women, and if they were, it seemed even more unlikely they were sent so far from the center of Nazi control so late in the war. But the eyewitnesses exist, and there are some pictures, and a carving in a wall of the camp in Riga written in Hungarian.

We began to speculate about Rifka's fate, and why and where she ran. Rifka had had polio as a child, and would have been a terrible runner, so it always sounded farfetched that she'd run from the Nazis with any chance of escape. But Ilya offered a reason.

There is a long, meandering path from Dundaga to the Latvian coast, and it cuts through the woods most of the way. On either side of the road was a small ditch, and on the other side of those the trees began almost immediately. For those who ran, this was ideal -- once you jumped the ditch, it would be likely that you couldn't be shot through all the trees, especially at night.

My dad and I reached the same conclusion - Rifka probably saw that situation, and realized that it was her only chance. If she could have only made it over that ditch, her bad leg would not have hampered her too much, and survival would have been likely. But she might have been one of the unlucky ones.. And would have been killed somewhere in the woods outside Dundaga, in an unmarked grave. Or no grave at all.

"Is it better to know?" my dad asked.

We left the museum at 1:45, after paying $100 for a map as a method of donation. We checked out of hotel and went to a recommendation of the Radisson Bartender for lunch, a place called Lido.

Lido is a cafeteria-style sit down restaurant, packed with locals. The food was incredible, and we had so much to choose from, we inevitably ended up over eating. Among several other items, the following was available (compiled by my dad):

Telapia
Saimon filet 
Stuffed flounder
Filet of fish with onions
Rice salad
Beet root salad
Scallion and leek salad
Chicken croquettes
Turkey croquettes
Kvas 
Beer
Peach Cider
Carrots and peas
Veal stroganoff
Pork chops
Ribs
Lamb skewers
Chicken skewers
Salmon skewers
Stuffed cabbage
Home fried potatoes
Boiled potatoes
Omelettes with pineapple
Omelettes with tomato
Fried eggs
Salad bar 
Smoked salmon

I got the Tilapia, Rice Salad, Chicken Croquettes, Home fried potatoes, and a fruit bowl with jello. It was the best meal I've eaten since being at my favorite Muslim noodle shop in Shanghai this summer.

And all that was without dessert, which was a coffee mousse in vanilla cream. I don't know what my dad ate -- I was too engrossed in deliciousness.

At 3:48 we got in the car to find the old Synagogue, the religious home to Riga's remaining 9,000 Jews (down from nearly 50,000 before the War). We found it fairly easily in the old town. They say it was not burned down under Nazi occupation because of it's proximity to the other buildings in the old town. 

After viewing the beautiful orthodox synagogue, we started driving out of the old town, where I was stopped by a cop car.

"Do you see sign?" he asked angrily in a Russian-style accent, pointing to a sign that, had we entered from that side, would have told us the road we were driving on was reserved for pedestrians and bicycles.

"No, sorry." I said. He asked me for something and, not knowing protocol, I withdrew my wallet and handed over my ID. He looked it over for a while, and then angrily let us go. We apologized and got out of there as fast as possible -- within the law...

Next we crossed to the other side of Riga to find the Holocaust memorial there. It was a trek, and the monument, an attempt to create a large torch from the ground, was hideous, but the scene was moving. We left three stones on the site; one from me, one from my father, and one surrogate for my grandfather -- all for Rifka.

At 4:48 we got in the car and began our trek back to Tallinn. After several roundabout turns, a few guesses, and estimations based on the position of the sun, we found E67 heading towards Estonia, and got going. I drove the first half to Pärnu, my father finished the drive.

At 6:30 we were a few km from Estonia when we stopped at a Neaste Oil/Hesburger stop for some gas. The former company is self-explanatory, the latter is a fast food chain in this region.

The pump at the station is machine controlled; we put Latvian Lats into the machine (we have too many, so we figured we'd spend some), and it let us pump that much gas. I cautioned my dad to not put too much in, so he put in 25 Lats, which is about $50 ---

Yes, the Lat is worth more than the dollar; twice as much. Despite 11% inflation, a low standard of living, and a miniature economy when compared to that of the USA, Latvia has the fourth most valuable currency in the world after, in no particular order, Oman, Bahrain, and one other I forget.

--- and we got 27 liters for it. Then he pumped in another 20 Lats, and we got 11 Lats worth before the tank filled up. Then a receipt was printed... But no change. We went into the adjoining Hesburger and demanded L9, which is $18.. They said they couldn't help. A nice man we met explained in broken English there is a number to call and they'll get us our money. We called it -- and they promised around 6:40 that they'd send someone over with cash within a half hour. We agreed to wait.. Because we could?

About 7, as my dad finished his Hesburger, the woman showed up. We filled out forms for five minutes or so... And then the woman pulled out a huge portable gas container and tried to fill it with L9 of gas! We yelled at them and finally got our L9... Much to everyone's embarrassment.

And then I insisted that we not wait to get the chocolate my dad wanted.. So we spent L4 on chocolate at the same place we had just wasted 20 minutes to get L9, leaving us with a remainder of 5 Lats.

We got in the car and I drove us away from Hesburger; shortly afterwards, we were back in Estonia.

At 8:15 we switched drivers in Pärnu. I fell asleep after a little bit, and woke up to my dad stopping the car so we could both take a 20 minute nap on the side of the road. We locked the doors and did just that.

At 10 we rolled into Tallinn. 

We checked into another Radisson BLU, principally because the tall building promised the greatest chance for a fantastic view of Tallinn. We got one in room 1818 on the 18th floor -- a view of the Old City.

It's hard to believe we were here just yesterday.

We went to sleep around 3:30.