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The Boat to England

8 November, 2024
Posted in: Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel

Mr. Waffle and I drove herself to England at the start of October. Having finished a degree in foreign parts you would think she might come home but no, she is doing a master’s as well. The whole thing was rendered a great deal more stressful than it might have been by having the car booked in for a service the day before departure. It was going to be ready, then it wasn’t, then they were waiting for a part. It was a roller coaster during which we looked up hire cars (not actually very easy to find car hire people who will let you take the car out of the jurisdiction) and investigated how to change the ferry booking. There was a great deal of trauma which is frankly being skimmed over in this paragraph.

This was the first time Mr. Waffle had done this trip and he kept commenting on how onerous it was. “It’s even worse when you have to do all the driving yourself,” I kept saying grumpily.

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Baltics VI – Estonia – Tartu to Tallinn

3 November, 2024
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Monday August 19

Absolutely everything of a cultural nature appeared to be closed. It is not the first time I have been caught out by this and doubtless it will not be the last.

Buoyed up by our experience the previous day we headed off on the electric bikes. The brakes were a on Dan’s on the downhill trip into town in the lashing rain and he fell over in a controlled but none the less alarming fashion. No harm done but a slightly unnerving start to the day all the same.

The Princess and I went to the shops where she looked at skincare and we acquired another very expensive but lovely Moomin mug. I think if we only buy one every 3-4 years the expense is bearable.

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The weather cleared up and again, building on the success of the previous day, a select group went to inspect the ruined cathedral on the hill and the university.

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After depositing Michael at home, I went back into town with Daniel to inspect the really excellent sports museum. Open on a Monday what’s not to love? It was small but interactive.

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It had some nice memorabilia from previous Olympics.

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This included a lot of Olympic mascots.

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Surprisingly entertaining. We went for a cup of tea in the square with Mr. Waffle to recover. All museums are exhausting.

We all had a chance to look at this peculiar sculpture. It’s the artist and his son and he scaled himself down and the baby up and the result is, well, peculiar.

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When we got home, we were reminded that herself is allergic to mosquitos by the arresting sight of what looked like an enormous bump on her forehead but was in fact a mosquito bite. I don’t have a photograph – I’m not a monster – but she was most displeased.

Her boyfriend is thinking of going into her father’s line of work and he asked her about what her father does. “I don’t know,” said she, “he types on his computer a lot and shouts at it a bit.” Such an accurate description of the day to day travails of many knowledge workers.

Saintly Daniel made dinner.

Tuesday August 20, 2024

This was “Re-independence day” when the Estonians got their independence back after the events of 1991. The net effect was that everything was closed again. Sigh. One of the children said to me, “What do people who don’t visit museums do when they go to visit cities?” and I honestly don’t know.

Daniel and I were up early looking for breakfast – everywhere was closed but we had a nice cycle around the city, I said to him encouragingly.

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I am not really sure he was convinced. Before breakfast I find that enthusiasm levels can be low. Café Werner – famous local spot – eventually met our needs. I was extremely grateful.

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It actually was a nice cycle and there were Estonia flags everywhere. Most houses seem to come equipped with a bracket from which to fly your flag. Perhaps a legacy of an earlier time.

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After breakfast four of us left to drive to Tallinn and herself stayed on for the day to further sample the delights of Tartu (really probably my favourite place on the trip along with the Curonian Spit) and get the train later which was also a welcome development for her siblings who were crowded in the back of the car.

Our first port of call (har di har) in Tallinn was the ferry port. Happily we had a great deal of time on hand. It felt like we were driving around in circles but we did eventually reach our destination and send Michael off on the ferry to Helsinki to meet a Finnish friend from college. Again, I was slightly concerned about the fate of my chickadee but, spoiler alert, he was absolutely fine.

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Daniel, Mr. Waffle and I repaired to a ramen place herself had recommended. Another triumph; the big revelation for me this holiday (aside from the Baltic Germans and the Teutonic knights I suppose – Mr. Waffle has just got a book about Baltic Germans out of the library so I look forward to further updates over the course of November) was my firstborn’s absolute genius for finding nice restaurants. You may recall that she had spent some time in Tallinn improving her Russian earlier in the summer so she had had ample opportunity to scout out the kind of place I like. People, she had not wasted her time.

After lunch we went to a nice park outside the city for a wander about – Mr. Waffle likes a park. I’m fond of a park myself provided it has a nice cafe. This one did. I enjoyed some miniature pancakes in the sun.

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Access to our airbnb was a bit traumatic. It was in the pedestrian part of town and we had to park at the edge and lug the luggage from car to the flat and then up 5 flights of stairs. I say we but I was the one sitting in the car with the hazards on and then – traumatic enough in its own mild way – getting it to the car park. The accommodation was huge yet somehow unsatisfactory. Two of the bedrooms were divided from the living space by curtains. What is wrong with that very successful invention – the door?

The others were a bit flattened so I walked down to the station to meet herself.

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When Mr. Waffle and I were young and used to go on skiing trips organised by my brother-in-law, people from the group would often ask him (b-in-l), “When’s happy hour?”. He would not know, having arrived at the same time as the rest of us. In our family locution when someone makes an unreasonable request which you cannot be expected to answer or know, the words “When’s happy hour?” are deployed to indicate that this is the case.

When the Princess and I returned to the flat, an exhausted me flopped on the sofa after a long day and some rash individual inquired, “What’s for dinner?” “When’s happy hour?” I replied grumpily. “This is unhappy hour,” said herself dolefully. Perhaps you had to be there but it effectively improved the mood.

We went to the supermarket and picked something up. I forgot my bag for life container (pictured below). Instead of writing it off, like a sensible person might, I wearily trekked back down the five flights of stairs and out to the supermarket. Great was my triumph on finding it but overall, possibly not the wisest thing I have ever done.

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Nevertheless, after dinner we were all miraculously restored and went out for a drink. We returned to the restaurant in the main square where many years ago we had vareniki for the first time. Thrills.

Wednesday August 21, 2024

Mr. Waffle and I brought the car to the airport. Time was tight and I nearly had heart failure as I got us lost all over the city in an attempt to find a petrol station to fill up the car. As herself so wisely observed, we are not really car people.

When we returned the car it turned out that the boot remote control worked fine. You just needed to press it for a second longer. Can I say it again? We are not really car people.

On our return to the city, we had breakfast with herself but I was struck down by a migraine and retired to my bed until the middle of the afternoon when I gingerly emerged blinking in the sunlight.

Herself took us to a part of the city we had not been to before. The Tallinn locals seem to have made some kind of Faustian pact with tourism. The old town – which is lovely – is completely given over to tourists. It’s like Disney, no schools, few shops other than tourist ones and very few local residents as far as I can see. The part we went to that day was a shopping area outside the old town. It was nice and seemed to be almost tourist free. I found the whole thing slightly disturbing in a way I can’t entirely put my finger on.

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We bought Daniel a new shirt as herself had booked us in to a fancy dinner place. We got him a grandfather shirt, something I last saw widely worn in the 1980s when I was in college. Is it back?

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Our fancy restaurant had a tasting menu. Michael is not a fan of the tasting menu so it seemed a good thing to do while he was off in the flesh pots of Helsinki. I must say we had a really lovely time. And it was delicious.

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Thursday August 22

Herself had identified somewhere out in the suburbs as a good spot for breakfast so with our local guide we got the tram successfully. Public transport in a foreign city; always such a challenge.

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It was very Russian out there in the cafe in the suburbs. Interesting.

After breakfast we did some mild shopping. I love a high class souvenir shop and herself knew where to bring me. Satisfactory.

After lunch we went to the seaplane museum which is supposed to be excellent but I found it pretty dull. There was some interesting stuff about ice roads and how in winter in the old days there were all these roads on the sea but, I could take it or leave it (even if it does also feature a very claustrophobic submarine).

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Leaving those with higher tolerances for seaplane trivia behind me I took a taxi to the port to collect Michael. The taxi driver spoke only Russian and Estonian so yet again I hauled out my limited Russian linguistic skills. You can tell how well it went because after my attempts at communication he said to me, “Are you Polish?”.

Michael made it back safely though completely exhausted. In my mind’s eye I had seen him playing very elaborate board games and not leaving the house. I think that is how he saw it in his mind’s eye also but his friend felt obliged to show him all the sights. Even though Michael reassured him that he had seen all the sights in Helsinki and really had no particular desire to see them again, his friend was not to be deterred. I think Michael was quite glad to be back in the bosom of his family.

It turns out that like his Latvian friend, his Finnish friend’s family were also Russian speakers. “This is beyond coincidence,” I announced to the family when we got home. “Twice is the definition of coincidence,” said herself. Truly I have a great deal to put up with.

Friday August 23, 2024

We went to visit the Kiek in de Kok tower which is an interesting and well laid out city museum with a restaurant with no savoury food. They are truly missing a trick there.

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After lunch at home, I forced everyone out to recreate the photo we had taken when we were last in Tallinn. Very low levels of enthusiasm from the troops but I had the bit between my teeth.

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We went for a wander round the old town which is nice, I mean it is, but somehow not as nice as it was when we were new to it in 2019. “Through a chink too wide there comes in no wonder” as Patrick Kavanagh would say. And I think we were all keen to get home by this stage so perhaps that accounted for it too.

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Saturday August 24, 2024

We hauled the luggage downstairs and took off for the airport in two taxis. To my absolute delight – and hers – I had a Ukrainian taxi driver and we were able to have a mild conversation. I mean, she did lose me regularly but it was better than my Russian conversations. And it was Ukrainian independence day so that was nice.

And then we were at the airport, glad to be going home. It presented its own photo ops which I am a little curious about.

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I wandered to the newsagents and there was the FT weekend. I forked out a fortune but it was a long enough flight, I reasoned. Yes, you have guessed it, for the second time I purchased a weekend edition I had already read (in fact, if you’re counting it was third time in all that I had purchased that edition). As Mr. Waffle said, the FT welcomes detail orientated purchasers.

Baltics V – Estonia – Pärnu to Tartu

2 November, 2024
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

I know, when will it end?

Thursday August 15

We went into town for lunch and, with some difficulty, downloaded the parking app and parked before going to the Edelweiss cafe for lunch. As you might imagine. Fine if you like Bratwurst and Sauerkraut.

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We hired bikes and used the excellent cycling infrastructure to get ourselves to the beach. The Baltics seem to be big on cycling in beach resorts. The beach was pretty busy but nice and the water was lovely. Herself said to me “We’re fooling ourselves when we say it’s Baltic when we get into the water in Ireland – this is much warmer.” Very true.

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There were some tensions in relation to directions on the bikes but eventually peace was restored and we went and looked at the Tallinn Gate and an art Nouveau house.

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When we got home my brilliant husband suggested take away for dinner. What a thrill. The actual take away was only ok and subsequently herself informed me that the review did indicate some food hygiene issues involving rodents. However I was not ill and sitting in the lovely garden eating my mediocre take away all was right with the world.

Friday August 16

Herself, Daniel and I decided to go into town for breakfast. As we were driving in, I realised that the parking app was on Mr. Waffle’s phone. My digital natives downloaded it double quick including using my face to add my credit card details. I now use my face instead of passwords for many things and I have a vague fear that if I am disfigured and in the hospital in addition to all my other problems I will not be able to pay for anything as I have no idea what my passcodes are. Anyhow, we had a delightful breakfast and last wander around Pärnu. My God, herself is really a genius at finding cafes and restaurants.

We packed up and left Pärnu to get the ferry from Virtsu. In case you were wondering, it is not hard to change the time on your ferry ticket if you arrive early.

We had a lovely, lovely lunch in Muhu which is a tiny sleepy little island.

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Saarema, where we are staying is attached to Muhu by a bridge.

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We had plenty of time to get to our airbnb so we went to have a look at a large tree in the centre of a football field on Saaremaa. As Daniel said, “A solid presence in midfield.” A real holiday sight.

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Kuressaare where we were staying was a holiday town and it is very strange to think that it was guarded by dogs and soldiers in another time. It’s pretty, it has a castle and shortly after we arrived, a car rally passed through.

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Estonia is a very digital place and when we got to the supermarket to lay in supplies for the evening there were no staff that we could see and we were invited to download an app to pay for our shopping. Sadly, Apple told me that it was “not available in your region”. I had travelled all day, had a trolley full of shopping I was anxious to pay for, impatient Estonian customers behind me and no way to pay. I am not enjoying the digital revolution as much as I might be. Eventually we found a till where you could pay without the app. Possibly we would have found it earlier if we spoke better Estonian. It took a lot out of me.

I also had not one but two mosquito bites on the sole of my foot and three on my heel. Overall, I was not totally enjoying myself.

Saturday August 17

The morning was more cheerful. Those of us who were interested had breakfast and a wander around town.

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After lunch Michael, Mr. Waffle and I went for a visit to the castle.

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Aside from the loss of Michael’s cap (with us since an emergency purchase in Stockholm at prohibitive expense), it was an entirely successful visit. There was a really interesting exhibition about what Kuressaare was like in Soviet times. A bit grim. It seems very alien and different from how it is now.

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It also boasted an excellent gift shop and cafe. What more could the discerning tourist want?

Saaremaa is famous for having a number of meteorite strikes so we went to have a look. Would I have known that it wasn’t just a pond without the helpful signage? I doubt it.

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There was much trauma when we got home as we tried to book our ferry back to the mainland for the following day. Apparently everyone wants to go back to the mainland on Sunday. We had some debate about when to go (it was a long drive and Mr. Waffle wanted us to go in the morning, I felt it wasn’t that long and wanted us to go in the afternoon). As we…debated the 10.15 and 14.40 slots disappeared before our eyes and we booked the last slot on the 8.30 just in time. This meant we would have to leave at 7 in the morning which in my view was not ideal.

Given that our morning was to be so cruelly curtailed, Daniel and I went out for an evening swim behind the castle. There were other people swimming there but the water was odd, weirdly like swimming in a peat lake in the Wicklow mountains and there were ducks bobbing about so I am not entirely sure you could say that we swam in open water.

Herself, yet again, starred and found us an amazing place for dinner. It was newly opened and run by a lovely local who was full of enthusiasm. I am so impressed by my daughter’s skills; I asked her to show me how she did it and, honestly, it seemed like a lot of work so I think I will just call her, if I ever need advice. She’s delighted, obviously.

Sunday August 18

We were up at 6 and all v grumpy. We found definitive photographic confirmation of Michael’s lost hat in castle but we were not going to be able to retrieve it before departure. Alas.

Our airbnb had an electric gate and when we went to leave, a very, very drunken man was clinging to it. To be fair to him, it was actually the night before. He tried to launch himself away from the gate several times and each time, he had to come back for support. I thought we’d never get out but eventually he sailed off and we were able to get on the road.

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We made the ferry no problem and our journey back to the mainland was uneventful. We began our epic drive to Tartu. It was not as epic as we expected. Somehow google maps had allowed hours and hours for the 15 minute ferry ride and it quickly became apparent that rather than driving all day, we would be there for lunch time. We were all pretty pleased, especially Mr. Waffle who regards google maps as the work of Satan and here was the proof.

On the drive we saw many storks in nests. Michael told a KGB joke which I definitely wanted to repeat here but sadly have forgotten in the two months since I first heard it. Herself told us that Byron and Moore of Moore’s melodies were best buds. Who knew? This is how we beguiled our journey. Good job it wasn’t as long as we thought it was going to be.

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We had considered cutting Tartu from our itinerary because it was so far east of Saaremaa and such a long drive. For a range of reasons, I am very glad we did not. Tartu is a lovely, lovely university town. Our airbnb was absolutely fantastic and though relatively small, it was perfectly laid out ( it was down the road from a spot where Lesya Ukrainka had lived – I was charmed though I must say my attempts to learn her easy poems in Ukrainian had completely failed).

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Mr Waffle, the Princess and I hired e-bikes – another app of course – and whizzed around the city centre exploring tea, supermarket and tourist sights of interest. We discovered that Tartu was the 2024 European capital of culture. Fancy that. Daniel went out for a run and Michael stayed at home glad of a short break from his family.

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Can you believe that there is more to come? I know, neither can I.

Baltics IV – Riga, Latvia to Pärnu, Estonia

28 October, 2024
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Princess, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Saturday August 10

Michael has a Latvian friend in college in Dublin and he gave us a breakfast recommendation which we took. Pretty good.

Mr. Waffle, Daniel and I went for a wander around town. To our relief the weather was a bit cooler. Michael took himself off to the station to meet his Latvian friend who was coming into Riga for the day to hang out. I am keen for Michael to go interrailing but yet I was unsure that he would make it from the flat to the station unsupervised. A number of people pointed out the inconsistency in my behaviour.

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Mr. Waffle found a truly delightful art deco cafe. I loved, loved, loved it.

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Herself arrived. We could have collected her in our hire car but mentally it would have been exhausting so she came into us by taxi at about 4.30. She made her plane by inches having stopped off to pick up some foundation for me at Boots as I had forgotten my tube in some previous location. Honestly, not really necessary but she made the flight so all was well.

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Michael returned safely from his day out with his friend from college. A Russian speaker it transpired. It was interesting to hear about the status of the Russian language in Latvia; they seem to be reducing pretty drastically the opportunities for students to attend Russian language schools which at one level I can understand but it’s pretty rough on the Russian speakers.

We had dinner in a lovely restaurant which was recommended by Michael’s friend. It was quite difficult to find and swathed in scaffolding – certainly, I can’t imagine that they got any passing trade – but after our longish walk to get there, I was quite pleased it was open. It was pretty swish upstairs.

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But downstairs in the basement there was a ball pen. Truly a mysterious choice.

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I must say I was pretty pleased to have everyone together.

Sunday August 11

Mr. Waffle, Daniel and I went to mass at 9.30. Honestly a punishingly early hour but, having learnt our lesson from Vilnius we found an English language service so there was that.

We had a cup of tea nearby after and then Daniel pushed on home while Mr. Waffle and I went to explore the market.

It’s located in a zeppelin hangar – which you don’t get much – and very authentic. There were lots of stalls run by older people who spoke no English and yet again my (I cannot emphasise enough) basic Russian was pressed into service.

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After Mr. Waffle and I got home, herself and myself went into town by tram. Mr. Waffle had been pushing public transport for some time as our Airbnb was a bit of a trot from the centre but I was dubious. However, I am bound to say that it was pretty easy to use and in terms of comfort and reliability compares very favourably to Irish public transport.

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I regret to say that the art gallery which we had gone into town to inspect was underwhelming. There were a lot of less good works by less famous international artists. I think we might have been better off going to the museum of Latvian art. And, my goodness, I am as fond of porcelain as the next person but you can have too much of a good thing. Herself had done some short course at the Ashmolean while she was in college and was able to tell me some things about porcelain which I had not previously known and I remember being interested at the time but I have now completely forgotten so maybe overall not a total win.

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Afterwards we had a cup of tea in the lovely 30s cafe which I was keen to show herself. Reasonable levels of enthusiasm. We had the squeezed orange juice which is available in every cafe in the Baltics, why oh why can’t we have this at home? They also have brilliant cycle lanes and many cyclists, again why oh why can’t we have this at home? I digress.

I had bought salmon in the market and cooked it for dinner. Definite overestimate on my part of how much salmon is needed to feed a family of five. Salmon for every meal until we leave, I suggested, to low levels of enthusiasm from the troops.

Monday August 12

Despite the huge quantities of salmon available at home, Mr. Waffle, herself and I went out for breakfast to the “No Name” cafe, a place recommended by Michael’s ever helpful local contact. Satisfactory.

After lunch Michael, Mr. Waffle and I took the tram into town. I really regretted resisting for so long. The joy of the tram was truly wonderful. We went to the national library which is really well worth a visit.

It’s pretty cool from the outside. It’s the yoke with a crown on the top which if memory serves me is a reference to some popular Latvian children’s book.

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Inside there are beautiful views out to the city.

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And the inside was pretty cool too.

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The architect was a Latvian whose family had left Latvia for Canada, I think, when he was a little boy and they had pictures of him in his house in Riga when he was a child and the piano from the house. I am not a huge fan of modern architecture but this was a delight. There was an exhibition on – surprise – books and it had a copy of James Joyce’s “Ulysses” in Latvian. A group of Latvian enthusiasts paid for its translation by subscription. I hope they were pleased is all I can say.

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We then needed a restorative cup of tea and I was keen to go to a place I had found earlier in the week. Could I find it? I could not. Michael said dolefully after considerable tramping around, “I hear deep in my bones the honking of a wild waterfowl.” We compromised and went somewhere else where I had chips with sour cream. Honestly, the innovation I have been waiting for all my life.

Michael and Mr. Waffle went home but I went up a church tower. I love a view from above. It was a great view but it was alarmingly windy. I did not linger.

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In the church itself there was a statue of a Teutonic knight. The Teutonic knights (previously unknown to me) are very big in this part of the world.

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I walked across the bridge to the library which I thought would be delightful but it was actually a bit grim and windy. There are no amazing photographs, I regret to inform you. I took the tram back and met herself in town. We had a look around the shops and, then, yet again, I began to feel that I needed a sustaining cup of tea. “Let me take you to a cafe that I think you will like,” said herself. Mirabile dictu, it was the very one for which I had searched in vain earlier in the day. Herself has an amazing ability to find restaurants and cafes I will like. What a gift. Delighted.

When we got home, Daniel showed off his charity shop haul and Michael made dinner. Not me. Not salmon either.

Tuesday, 13 August 2024

I volunteered to get croissants from the bakery. They only had three and there was, I felt, a slightly Soviet style indifference to my wish to source more. There were three, that was how it was, give up now on your quixotic quest for more.

This was our last full day in Riga and although the city is full of beautiful art nouveau architecture, we had not yet been to the art nouveau quarter. I suffered real regret that we had left it so late as this is, in my view, by far the nicest part of the city (full of embassies, of course).

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We had lunch in a bar which was only moderately successful. I ordered a salad and I basically got sandwich spread. I was not delighted.

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After lunch we went to the art nouveau museum which I found charming.

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Daniel found an unexpected symmetry between Bohemians football club in Dublin and the sofa favoured by the art nouveau architect whose home this once was.

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The museum was staffed by people in period costume which is something I enjoy. The lady in the kitchen spoke German (and presumably Latvian) but no English however we were able to chat with her with our school German. An English woman who overheard asked how we all spoke such good German and I said that we learnt it in school. She seemed very impressed and my cup full of smugness ran over. Herself hissed to me, “You’re unbearable”. Honesty forces me to confess that I cannot imagine that the English woman spoke very good German herself or she would have been considerably less impressed.

I mean, did we all find the house tour fascinating and charming, perhaps not.

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After we had finished our tour of the house we did a tour of the area ably assisted by our excellent guidebook – will I ever just rely on my phone, I think not.

As a reward after our touristing we went to the nice French cafe which we had spotted earlier. It had closed at 3. I mean why would they do that? Everyone was a bit tired, hot and cranky and we went to the nearest cafe which was basically like going to the Spar cafe at home. But look, it had air conditioning and everyone was considerably less grumpy afterwards.

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Michael and Mr. Waffle decided to call it a day but the rest of us went to a lovely tourist shop where I bought a nice tile (currently on the table behind me under the teapot) and two little bowls (I confess, still unused). We were all cheered up by spending money and went off to another nice cafe we had seen – still chasing the cafe high we had been cheated of – but, sadly, it was out of buns. It was not our day for cafes.

After we got home and had dinner that evening, four of us went out for a last drink in Riga and, Michael, delighted with himself stayed home alone.

Wednesday 14 August, 2024

In the morning we packed up the car (a bit tight) and left Riga. On the way out we saw an enormous sports park complex. I was very impressed, Daniel said it was like Vilnius only smaller. It is amazing the communal facilities they have compared to what we have at home. Everything in Ireland seems more private – owned by a club rather than a public facility.

We stopped for lunch on the road; our last meal in Latvia. We put herself in charge of finding somewhere and, obedient to her directions pulled off the road into what honestly looked like an industrial estate.

As we wandered in, no one was more surprised than me to find a lovely pizza place, overlooking the sea with an enormous wood-fired oven. That child is a genius. There was no way on God’s earth her parents would ever have found this place.

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And then it was across the border into Estonia. It was instantly clear that Estonia is much richer than Latvia. The roads were better and everything looked a lot more prosperous. We passed a replica Viking boat on the road, “Look at that,” I said to the children. “I wonder where it’s going?” “Doubtless to bore a group of children somewhere, ” said herself laconically. I have a lot to put up with.

We went on to Pärnu which is known as the summer capital of Estonia. Our airbnb was out in the suburbs. Although it said there were four bedrooms on the description, there were not and great was the disapproval of our children at the prospect of having to share. Herself very cleverly pointed out that we could move one of the beds to the study and solve the problem so all was well. When the time came to review she really wanted me to complain but I was too craven. “Then they will do it again and someone else will suffer,” she said reproachfully. I pointed out that when we inspected the previous reviews other, less craven guests, had complained of this problem and they were still doing it. She was not appeased.

Aside from the bedroom debacle, the house was truly lovely. Compared to our rather cramped living quarters in Riga, the rooms downstairs were huge. The garden, however was the star of the show. It was enormous with fruit trees and a stream running along the end. We had a lovely dinner in the garden.

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Mr. Waffle and I went for a stroll around the area after dinner. I found it slightly reminiscent of Denmark. Mr. Waffle pointed out a large alarm on the roof of a school we passed. They have more challenging neighbours than the Danes.

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You’ll be pleased to hear that there are only three Baltic countries and Estonia is the last one we visited but yet, there is so much more to come. I have definitely been writing this for far longer than we were on holidays. Thanks you for sticking with it.

I have not blogged much of late but this year I think I will do Nablopo, so there’s that to look forward to and perhaps I will finally finish my summer holiday descriptions?

Baltics III – Latvia – Kuldiga to Riga

29 September, 2024
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Thursday August 8, 2024

Mr. Waffle and I took ourselves off for breakfast in the square leaving the guys in bed. It was not bad at all and I warmed towards Kuldiga over my freshly squeezed orange juice (is available everywhere in the Baltics, a really welcome trait, if you ask me).

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The man at the table beside us was accompanied by two young children and seemed keen to chat. He was home on his holidays. He is working in the Middle East in “security”. Not the safest gig at the moment I would say. I am always interested in what languages people speak. This is contested around here as Latvia has the largest cohort of Russian speakers of all the Baltic states and the Latvian relationship with these (mostly not citizens as citizenship is complicated) is complex. None of the Baltic states really love the Russians for obvious reasons and that spills over into attitudes towards Russian speakers many of whom (or their parents/grandparents) were implanted there by the Soviets. But anyway I rushed in where angels fear to tread and he didn’t seem offended but said that he had learnt Russian in school but Latvian was his mother tongue.

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We went to the tourist office after breakfast. There was, what seemed to me, an entirely Soviet style indifference to people who were, possibly, the only tourists in town. Could we rent bicycles to see the waterfall? Why would you bother? To be fair, the waterfall wasn’t as far as we had thought and actually, you wouldn’t need a bicycle to get there at all. But the combination of you stupid foreigner and also, we have no particular interest in getting a buck out of you, spoke to me of times past.

We had a quiet lunch at home and then we all went off in search of Europe’s widest waterfall. It was close to the centre and not hard to find. It looked like a weir to me. I would say it compared pretty unfavourably to Iguazu waterfall where we were last year. But quite a pleasant walk.

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We went up the tower of a Lutheran church to have a look. Note German text on the pulpit; Baltic Germans are everywhere.

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We had a wander around. It was eerily empty; like a small French town when you are hoping to get lunch after 2.

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I was keen to invest in a souvenir; honestly if ever a local economy needing boosting, it was this one. There wasn’t a great deal but I ended up buying a tablecloth for “casual summer dining outside” as I pitched it to Mr. Waffle who pointed out that we already have a lot of tablecloths.

I had booked us dinner in a restaurant in the square. There was no need to book. The restuarant was nice though. Afterwards we strolled home to our very central Airbnb and Michael took his life in his hands at the fountain.

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We watched Netflix again. It remains weird watching our own TV choices in foreign places.

Friday August 9, 2024

Mr. Waffle and I graced the Marmalade Cafe for breakfast. It was recommended both by ChatGPT and the guide book. Mr. Waffle remains extremely suspicious of ChatGPT but I found it not bad for travelling advice. The Marmalade Cafe was charming so a win for the guide book and AI.

I always feel so inadequate expecting everyone to be able to speak English (I think it would be better if I were not a native speaker and I was trying my best in a second language also). I generally compensate for this guilt by telling people how well they speak English. Our young waitress chatted to us about how she had learnt English. “I don’t remember learning it,” she said, “I knew it before I went to school from the internet”. Kind of incredible.

We then said farewell to Kuldiga (or Goldingen as it was known by the Baltic Germans and from which time it remains pretty unchanged). One night was probably enough to appreciate its charms but on the other hand, it’s nice not to unpack every day, particularly if you’re carrying a 20kg bag full of stuff including a tablecloth.

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We drove to Riga without incident (a small miracle when you consider the roadworks and the exciting driving). There is a lot of Russian in Riga. When we got to our flat, the car park attendant said that she spoke no English, so it was an opportunity to bring out my almost non-existent Russian again. She was delighted, I was delighted. Thrills.

The apartment in Riga was a bit soulless but it had large bedroons (one per child). The communal area was tiny and grim though. There was no air conditioning and it was pretty toasty but, seriously, who would have thought we’d need air conditioning in the Baltics?

We had lunch downstairs in a place called Lido. It was a self-service student-type establishment. Not our best meal perhaps but cheap, plentiful and near.

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After lunch, noble Mr. Waffle went to the supermarket to lay in supplies; Michael decided to enjoy the charms of his large bedroom; and Daniel and I walked in to the town centre. It was a lot livelier than rather sedate Vilnius and, as Daniel put it, quite cool.

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Mr. Waffle made dinner and then we played Poetry for Neanderthals which he had cunningly packed.

Michael discovered that Tesco mobile had charged him a monthly fee and that he had moved from pay as you go. Michael only ever uses his phone on wifi, never spends any money and never checks his bank accounts. Great was his anguish. Then he discovered that when you pay a monthly bill it’s not like the data builds up for you to use later. His fury was incredible. A couple of days and several engagements with customer service later, he discovered it was all a misunderstanding but it really made for a memorable evening.

Baltics II – Klaipeda, Lithuania to Kuldiga, Latvia

22 September, 2024
Posted in: Middle Child, Mr. Waffle, Siblings, Travel, Twins, Youngest Child

Tuesday, August 6, 2024

The purpose of our trip to Klalipeda was to give us a chance to visit the Cuoronian spit. This was a geographic feature of which I had previously been ignorant. But it’s a 100km long narrow sandy spit. 50kms are owned by the Lithuanians and 50kms by the Russians (Kaliningrad). It’s one of the few places where you can look south to Russia.

We took the very regular car ferry across to the Spit.  The Spit itself is a national park and you have to pay to get in (unclear what happens at night when the booths are deserted – and people do live and stay on the Spit – presumably some guest tax covers it).  There is one main road through the middle of the Spit (not very main, just one lane each way) and the rest is pretty much all cycle and walking paths.  As is often the way when we go on an outing, it takes us so long to get out of the house that almost the first thing we have to do when we arrive is find somewhere for lunch.  

We had lunch in Juodkranté and very nice it was too – both the lunch and Juodkranté which is a smallish holiday resort.

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I was very taken by the weather vanes which are a feature of the Spit (each town has its own design) but they were a bit large to buy. If you ask me, they are missing a trick by not turning them into miniature Christmas tree ornaments for the discerning tourist. Do I have a photograph? I do not.

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We then went on down the Spit to Nida. What an absolutely charming little town it is. We hired bikes to avail of the fantastic infrastructure and went to the beach. Sadly, not all of us love a beach but those who do really liked it.

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We then cycled along the cycle path towards Russia. There is a “nature reserve” along the border so we were stopped from seeing it. Possibly for the best.

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We then cycled up to the big dune. The Spit is just basically one big sand dune. When they cut down the trees for shipbuilding in the 18th century, the sands began to shift and whole villages were engulfed. It’s quite woody now for obvious reasons.

The big dune gives a great view into Russia.

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Great views all round in fact.

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Sartre was here on his holidays, I think, and there is a sculpture to celebrate. I can’t say it looks like he had a fantastic time.

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We went back into Nida.

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Such a pretty little place. There were lots of older German tourists but otherwise not so many visitors.

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We gave the bicycles back and had dinner outside.

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On the way home, we stopped again at Juodkranté to go to the cemetery at Mr. Waffle’s request (I am normally the cemetery enthusiast but it has clearly rubbed off on him over the years). It’s full of graves with German inscriptions. What a complicated part of the world this is.

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We drove to the (very regular) ferry at a sedate pace within the speed limit and were passed by a number of speeding Lithuanians. Lithuanian driving is adventurous. When we arrived at the port, we were literally the last people on the ferry, we made it with one minute to spare. No wonder they were speeding past me. But, you know, there was another one along in 20 minutes.

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I must say the Spit was a highlight of our trip and I would love to go back and cycle the length of it (maybe even into Russia after the war?). Apparently you can fly direct to Palanga (nearby, more anon) from London. It is definitely on my list for a return visit.

Wednesday August 7, 2024

In the morning we left Michael in the flat and Mr. Waffle, Daniel and I went for breakfast. We found a trendy cafe a bit like the trendy cafes everywhere else. Grand but not exactly local. We explored the small market in the square. Klaipeda was known as Memel back when it was East Prussia and there’s a balcony in the square where apparently Hitler addressed the locals; it seems a surprisingly small and intimate venue. Following World War I, the French were briefly in charge in Memel which is why there is a building that used to be a French prefecture in the main square, honestly, weird man.

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In the market there were two women speaking to each other in what sounded like French with American accents so I asked whether they were French Canadians. Mr. Waffle explained to me that this was a rather 70s expression and I certainly felt a chill when they replied, “Nous sommes Québécoises”. We live and learn. However, a black woman beside me also looking at goods turned around to them and started speaking to them in French explaining that she was from Haiti. They all seemed delighted with themselves; I did feel under the eye of the all-powerful Francophonie with this all happening within view of the former prefecture and everyone, one way or another, a long way from France. The tourists had come from a Baltic cruise boat. Mr. Waffle muttered that if he were going on a cruise, he would certainly not come to the Baltics on his holidays. A certain amount of cognitive dissonance there.

The town was a bit run down and not as nice as the places on the Spit. But grand. There was a nice area by the river.

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There was the obligatory Irish pub. Named after Rory Gallagher – a bit of a deep cut as herself would say but nice to see a Cork reference. It had closed down though.

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If I were to come back and I think I might, I would definitely base myself on the Spit and I would book good and early.

Anyhow, clutching our touristic purchases from the market – including a shawl for me, it’s time – we said goodbye to Klaipeda and went on our way. We stopped in Palanga for lunch. It’s a huge tourist resort and I thought it was loathsome. Not recommended. Good lunch though once we avoided the pizza restaurant by day discotheque by night venue.

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And then it was on to Latvia.

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In my experience Latvia has the most exciting driving in the Baltics (and that is saying something) and the worst roads. We began our trip on a dirt road, the kind of thing you might get at home for 500 metres, if there were roadworks. It went on for 17 kms. I could have done with a warning from Google maps. Saintly Mr. Waffle was driving but it was like Mad Max Fury Road. The photos really don’t convey the white knuckled horror of it all.

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Anyway as we are going through this definitely inhospitable territory, my phone rings. “I have to take this,” I say to Mr. Waffle. “It’s the man about the engraving on my parents’ gravestone.” In retrospect, did I, did I have to take this call? Relaxed Cork voice rolls into the car saying, “I’m in the cemetery now, in front of the grave, I’ll just facetime you.” It is odd to be driving down a dirt road in Latvia with your parents’ grave in the car with you and your husband’s eyebrows up around his hairline. Anyway we agreed on what was needed, eventually, he was in no rush. And then he called me back again because he’d forgotten some detail, very relaxed indeed on his part. God in heaven, it was stressful. I still haven’t seen the gravestone in the flesh, as it were, I’ll keep you posted. It cost us a fortune and probably shortened my own life.

Anyhow, miraculously enough, we arrived in Kuldiga uninjured. We stopped at a supermarket on the outskirts of town and it had an extremely soviet feel. It reminded me a bit of the supermarkets in Bosnia in the 90s.

The Airbnb was nice and bigger than Klaipeda – which would not be hard – but it still only had 2 bedrooms so the guys had to share a room which they were very good about to be fair. I finally cracked and cooked dinner. A regret.

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Daniel went for a run and said that people looked at him like he was crazy. Were they wrong? Surely this whole running enthusiasm must be close to, forgive the pun, running its course. Maybe it wasn’t the running but the fact that there was a tourist in town that turned heads. Kuldiga may be on the UNESCO world heritage site list but tourists are few and far between.

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The rest of us went for a wander around Kuldiga after dinner while Michael dealt with the disturbing news that two friends of his are engaged. There’ll be more of that in his future.

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Kuldiga was very, very quiet and a bit run down but clean with lots of interesting wooden buildings. It felt a bit like a town in a Western.

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The town has depopulated slowly since the 1990s. It felt like somewhere that had once been prosperous but now was on its uppers. But still immaculate. I was very struck by how clean everywhere is in the Baltics compared to extremely grimy Ireland, Dublin in particular looks filthy compared to the Baltic capitals.

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My brother rang to say that he had missed his train to Dublin, where our cat was anxiously awaiting his arrival. The neighbours fed the cat and my brother told us about his trip to the Olympics. He saw the pole vaulting world record and he met some Canadian Olympic rowers in a bar (that’s my brother). One of the rowers let him hold her medal though in the pictures he sent, he is holding one side and she is holding the other very firmly. Wise.

We spent the evening wondering why we thought it was a good idea to spend two nights in Kuldiga. More thrilling content soon. Something to look forward to.

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