Arising free from the burden of any stressful border crossings, we scrambled to the industrial bathroom (two showers, single sex, side by side – nice.) of our large orange-walled hostel and moseyed on downstairs to see what Latvia’s capital might offer us.  We’d already sampled the local brew (”Zelta”) last night and we were thirsty for more.

Briefly getting caught in the rain, it was hot for the rest of the day.  This anomalous downpour was to probably remind me that I still didn’t have a functioning waterproof.  Thanks.

Breakfast was had at Double Coffee – a sort of Starbucks-meets-Wetherspoons-meets-inexpensive-and-up-market-food.  I had caramel pancakes and NM had a salmon crépe.  Total bill?  About £12.

A wander around the compact Old Town, we went into the inevitable Museum of Occupations, where photographs of Prince Charles, the Queen and other worldly dignitaries visiting the museum greeted us on arrival.

The museum itself was informative and contemporary, with a lot of information about the Soviet/Nazi/Soviet occupation.  God, were we glad to be out of Russia.  I had to stop The Other One boiling over with Russian Rage.  Although we’d been to a similar museum in Tallinn, this one was slightly newer and had another interesting perspective on this Baltic nation’s repression.

At some point on the way, I also dropped a large wad of excess Rubles I’d been carrying around to change into real money.  This leftover memento from our extra night in Russia was anywhere from £20-80 and I was pretty pissed off to have lost it.  It just goes to show that everything that connects us to Russia is doomed.

A few churches later, the Dome Cathedral and garden, a quick peek at Riga Castle and what do you know, it’s time for a beer (Zelta, of course) and lunch.  We didn’t go in Riga Castle because it’s the President’s residence.  And there was a heavily-armed soldier standing outside.

Rounding off the afternoon with a stroll through the park near the Freedom Monument (with more solders standing guard), we found a delightful array of atmospheric pleasures.  There were the child prodigies playing instruments on every corner, and an OAP native who was inexplicably dancing in knitwear, on her own. Expect to see her on Latvia’s Got Talent in the near future.  (Quick proposal:  Baltic nations try to impress Simon Cowell, called ‘Latvia’s Got Tallinn’ – wha’d'ya think?)

Minutes away from our hostel, we stumbled across our personal Mecca of Riga: a 45p pancake café.  Cream cheese, regular cheese, mushrooms, meat, banana….these were just some of the pre-prepared options you could buy for less than £1.  An assortment of jam was an extra, though, at a pricey 15p per preserve.  We ate and ate and ate and ate.  Then we got a hot chocolate (for about 60p) and ate some more.

Waddling back to Friendly Fun Frank’s Hostel (with Frank still nowhere to be found), we signed up to the 8pm Bar Tour.  Five Bars, Five Beers, Five Lats.  Another bargain.  Before we knew it, we were off again, sampling the gaseous delight of Latvia’s hops-and-barley concotion again.

A lot of Zelta later, and a lot of talking to the eleven people we were with (among them a Polish guy who told us about our Krakow/Warsaw destination; a Swedish brother-brother duo; our sober Latvian guide who wants to study in London…), at some point I believe we staggered home, after a hastily-gobbled McDonalds 2am treat.  Then we blacked out.

A pretty city, pancakes and plenty of beer.  Perfect.