Kiasma

These are the little stickers they give you as a ticket when you enter the Kiasma, Helsinki's contemporary art museum. I kind of imagined that the art there would be amazing because weird contemporary art seems like the kind of thing Finns should be really good at. In a victory against stereotyping, it was like any contemporary museum with some really good pieces and a lot of blah ones. And then you leave, and if you're like a lot of people, you put your sticker on anything handy near the exit.

That's all from Helsinki. Moving on next time.

Yö-866

The staff had a good time in Finland. We rented bikes and pedaled about; we saw some art; we sipped coffee at cafes on the sidewalk like the continental sophisticates we are. It was all lovely except for trying to get dinner.

One of our day-job co-workers is, in fact, a Finn. She grew up in Helsinki and now claims that she knows nothing about it, and only goes to the country house with the sauna when she visits our homeland. Our primary source of information thus dashed, we were stuck with Lonely Planet to guide us to a restaurant we could afford and also enjoy. Feeling the casual Finnish vibe, we didn't change out of our jeans. So we picked a spot, somewhat outside the center, and enjoyed a longish but pleasant walk up there, The Lovely Katherine worrying about whether we could get in wearing jeans and your correspondent assuring her she was crazy. We arrived at our destination, and there were a couple occupied tables and about 30 unoccupied ones. And we were turned away. No reservation. We decided maybe Finns eat late, and tried another establishment nearby. Again - no reservation, no luck.

Now, these places were not exactly busy. And while I know the Europeans eat a bit later than us, it was already 8:00 or 8:30 by this point. Unless they had a ton of reservations for 9:00, we were being denied either for wearing jeans, or for not being locals.

So we walk back towards downtown, figuring we'll find something. And places are looking fancy or full, and we wind up at a tourist trap listed in the trusty Lonely Planet, and it's at earliest 9:00 and we're hungry and we've been walking all day. So we settle on the tourist trap, because they're obviously happy to serve tourists in jeans. We each have one beer, I have a reindeer filet (it was a minor goal to have eaten reindeer, I'll admit), the Lovely has stewed beets because they're out of the fish. It is eminently unsatisfying.

The tab? $100. Plus tip. I'm not kidding. Two beers, one real meal, and a pile of steamed beats - $100. Putting the "trap" in tourist trap. We consider ourselves fairly seasoned travelers, but obviously not seasoned enough.

Anyway, above is a cool old car on the streets of Helsinki. Since we have more Helsinki pictures than Helsinki stories, we'll add: here's a picture of a guy selling potatoes from a boat. Neither has anything to do with the story.

More Churches in Helsinki

It's another church! In Helsinki! And crazy clouds! Something different next time.

The Rock Church

Picture before last (not the one with the furs and the knives) was taken on top of this, the Temppeliaukio Kirkko or "Rock Church." Helsinki is built on a rocky coastal area. Sometime in the 60's or so they got bored with building their churches on top of the rocks, and decided to drill this one out of a rock outcropping, making a sort of artificial cave-church. Hey, why not? It's actually quite pretty inside. If I knew more about the Bible I would guess there's some clever joke I could make about Peter being the rock that the church was built upon and this being like going to church inside Peter's stomach. If you can actually turn that into something clever or funny, feel free to post it in the comments. Comments about the house band at the "Rock Church" will also be considered.

Consumer Opportunity

I am sorry to report that we did not spend any money at this stall at the Helsinki market. Very tempting of course, and surely a spot frequented by locals whenever they need furs. And also knives. A lot of stores would probably do more business if they added "Also Knives" to the end of their name. Would you rather shop at Toys 'R' Us, or Toys 'R' Us, Also Knives?

Of Helsinki

Traveling here in Europe is a bit different from traveling in Guatemala. There, we would wander off on some weekend trip and find some modest-sized town with some colorful local flavor and surely something odd to spice things up. In Europe, on the other hand, we travel for a few hours, and we're in a relatively important world capital that has its own local charm to be sure, but is also in some respects a lot like developed cities all over. That's only sort of a complaint.

We had a fabulous time in Helsinki. It felt almost like America, which can surely only be true in comparison to Latvia, and is mostly meant as a compliment, however the Finns might take it. Of course it was very Nordic, with bike lanes everywhere and cool inventive architecture and blondes in every direction. But there was also, on the surface, more racial diversity than Latvia, and better stores and bars and coffee shops. They may be a bunch of socialists, but they were never communist subjects, so they just seem to get the kind of capitalism that makes us feel at home. Or maybe, it's just that when some minor consumer inconvenience arises in Latvia, we instantly think "these poor people, recovering from Soviet oppression. They just don't know how things should work," when the same problem could easily happen in the U.S. and would have us asking to see the manager. (Well, maybe some of us. I don't think I've ever asked to see a manager in my life. I don't want to meet the manager; I only talk with the waiter because sometimes I'm too lazy to cook. Maybe that's what set my course for foreign living.)

Anyway, the picture above is taken from the top of a church in Helsinki. No, really. More next time.

Farther North

Yes, they have stuff farther north than Riga. Whole nations even. We were surprised, too, but you can look it up on a map. Your faithful correspondents took advantage of Labor Day (American) weekend, when many Americans are enjoying a last bit of the summer heat, to go north to Tallinn and Helsinki, where it is practically winter already. Tallinn, capital of Estonia, is pictured above from the apartment window of a colleague posted there. More soon on Tallinn and on Helsinki, where your correspondent wore a sweater and a jacket all weekend and The Lovely Katherine even had to buy gloves to bear the chill of August in Finland.

Lights on for Latvia

This year marks the 90th anniversary of Latvian independence. Of course, there were about 50 of those years when they were occupied by the Soviet Union. But it is a critical point of policy for them that they have been sovereign, if sometimes unjustly occupied, for 90 years - as opposed to being two separate iterations of independence. So, the 90th birthday it is this year. Friday marked 90 days before the 90th birthday, which is kind of an odd day to celebrate, but who are we to quibble? August 22 is also the first day that anyone recognized Latvia's independence after the Soviet era - on August 22, 1991, Iceland renewed diplomatic ties with Latvia. (On August 22, 2008, Icelandic band Sigur Ros played a concert at the hockey arena in Riga. We wanted to dispatch a correspondent but tickets were LVL40, or about $80. Ouch. We realize now it probably would have been worth it.) Of course, the U.S. never officially recognized the legitimacy of the Soviet occupation of the Baltics in the first place, but Iceland still gets credit for being "first." It's all ever so complicated.

Anyway, the celebration was nothing formal; by common acclamation, it was decided that on this day, everyone should go out just after dark, with a candle, to a bridge - any bridge. That's all. The Akmens Bridge across the Daugava is a pretty big span, and there were a ton of candles out. There was also some sort of brief light-and-smoke show on the river (seen above in super-grainy nightvision). To be honest, we didn't really understand what that had to do with anything. Then again, the whole candle-on-a-bridge thing seemed a little random in the first place. But the President was there watching it (Latvia's President, that is, not W). The staff photographer almost bumped into him while strolling along staring at his camera. It's a bit easier for the President to get out among the people here than it is in the U.S.

Of Jurmala

This is the beach at Jurmala, the most fabulous resort of the former Soviet Union. For much of the Soviet era, Jurmala was the vacation hot-spot where all the big cheeses at the politburo went for their summer beach time. As we understand it, even today, people from Armenia to Kazakhstan think of Jurmala sort of like Americans might think of Miami Beach. Except at a latitude more like Alaska than Florida. The beach is nice enough. As you may note in the photo, it is like most of Latvia - quite flat. While we didn't attempt to swim, it looks like you would have to walk about a quarter mile out into the water to reach swimming depth. And while there aren't miles of high-rise hotels like Miami Beach, there are several nice hotels and restaurants, so we'll surely be back for more investigation. We are working to acquire the rights to the surely thrilling video of seagulls obtained by this unknown cameraman.

The Direct Approach

Doesn't the label on a pack of cigarettes in the U.S. say something like "The Surgeon General thinks that maybe there's a possibility that someone who smokes like all the time while pregnant may have somewhat increased risk of birth defects" or some such? No such hedging in Latvia. This reads, simply, "Smokers die young." The other side has an equally large sticker that reads, even more simply, "Smoking kills." I'm guessing there was no representative from North Carolina on the committee that drafted that one.

Beating the Retreat

This is where we did the Embassy retreat. It was decidedly less rustic than the previous weekend's retreat. Not that it wasn't nice, but it was a little weird to find such a massive mowed-grass expanse out in the middle of the Latvian forest. While odd, it was also perfect for playing frisbee and such, since it's forbidden to walk on the grass in Riga's urban parks, which, to my thinking, kind of defeats the purpose of a park. A nice green space is better than none, but where do the kids play frisbee here?

In common with last weekend was the combination of sauna and swimming hole, which is apparently pretty central to a place being worth driving outside the city for. Not in common with last weekend were three giant trampolines, which were great for keeping the teeming hordes of Embassy children amused. In common with last weekend was a dinner of grilled shashlik (aka shish-kebabs), which is ubiquitous here. Not in common with last weekend was the price, where last weekend we grilled them ourselves and this weekend we paid for lodge-provided food as if they were some Michelin Three-Star restaurant serving world-class boiled potatoes and shish-kebabs.

The photo was taken from the top of the observation tower casting the shadow. While it's no Guatemala, Latvia still doesn't have the safety- or liability-consciousness of the US, and the tower was pretty wobbly and didn't have much in the way of guardrails. We risked all, and lived to bring you the evidence.

Another Lakeside Retreat

Another summer weekend, another trip to a cabin in the countryside. One of the highlights was a lunar eclipse visible in the dark country sky. Not that this photo taken with the staff photographer's not-quite-set-for-astrophotography kit does it justice. It was especially cool because I don't think anyone had any idea it was going to happen until it was happening. Maybe more thoughts soon.

Lakeside Retreat

A friend at the Embassy invited your correspondents along for a trip out to the countryside with a bunch of his Latvian friends this past weekend. The Latvian countryside is very pretty. It is not particularly varied, but what can you do with such a small bit of land? You get gently rolling meadows, or gently rolling woodland, and sometimes, lakes. But it's all pretty in the long evenings and one can see why it has long been a Latvian tradition to have a country cabin for summer enjoyment. (We hear, in unproven speculation, that the Soviets were also big fans of having a dacha outside the city because it kept people from just hanging around together in Riga and talking about how crappy communism is during lazy summer evenings. Authoritative research surely forthcoming.)

Anyway, we were whisked off to a lakeside cabin in far eastern Latvia, where the primary activities were waterskiing, dashing from the sauna to swim in the lake and then back again, drinking vodka, and driving whatever you call the paddle-boat-with-a-slide-on-back thing that the Lovely Katherine is captaining in the photo above. While not every country house has a paddle-boat-with-a-slide thing, apparently it is obligatory to have a sauna, which your correspondent has never been a fan of, but could get used to if there were always a picturesque swimming hole adjacent for post-sauna swimming.

Gruzija

A protest march went by the Embassy today, marching from the Freedom Monument to the Russian Embassy (quite near the Holla offices), where the protesters chanted and hollered for a bit, then backtracked to the Georgian Embassy for more positive chanting and singing. They carried roses and Georgian flags and home-made placards in Latvian and broken English. The guy in this picture gathered roses from a lot of the protesters, and while I didn't see where they went, I assume he laid them in front of the Georgian Embassy. Passions are definitely running high in Latvia, as the Latvians side with Georgia but the significant ethnic-Russian population disagrees.

Black cat, black cat! And, groceries.

So this is the famous (for Latvia) Black Cat building. There's a kind of funny story that goes with it. But not actually that funny. Maybe in terms of blog publication, it's approximately it's-winter-and- we're-trapped-inside-and- haven't-done-much- for-weeks funny.

But we did just buy food from NetGrocer. We refrained from having fish shipped to our door, but really, that is an option. Anyway, it's a bit odd how the shopping options here shake out versus Guatemala. Only now do we realize just how Americanized Guatemalan shopping was. Ok, we realized it then, but maybe after a couple years we took it for granted. They don't have black beans here. That is a staple food for right-thinking people everywhere. How do you make a good burrito without black beans? (They don't have pinto beans either, if that's what you were going to say. (And also, no tortillas, so we ordered those, too. (Oh, and salsa.))) Also, they sell Honey Nut Cheerios, but not normal, yellow-box Cheerios. There actually are a lot of ways that the Guatemalan mindset was more like the American than the Latvian is. We hope that through further experiences with Latvian gorcery shopping, we will be able to put our finger on them.

It's pretty crazy to think that a mere ten years ago, our valiant predecessors in the Foreign Service in Latvia had to live with post-Soviet grocery stores and no Internet Cheerios at all. Thank goodness we don't have to suffer through that horror.

Last of the speaking stones

A last couple pictures from the Speaking Stones exhibition. Tomorrow: Something else.

Runājošie akmeņi, continued

So if any of our faithful (and bored) readers checked, they would have found that "Runājošie akmeņi" means "Speaking Stones." This was a public art piece set up in one of the downtown squares, with about eight different video projections of faces on various boulders, each a different character talking about Latvia or telling a story. Some of them were a little hard to hear, but when concentrating, your correspondent could get the gist of what they were talking about. One example: "Why do we sing? Latvians know to sing, like salmon know to swim up a stream." And, in fact, each of the stones told its story on a loop, but then somehow every once in a while they would all sync up and sing one of the most well-known Latvian folk songs in unison, which got many of the viewers singing along as well. While the video projection trick is done more famously by Tony Oursler, the public nature of this piece was a nice touch. Also, the use of stones seemed to speak to the Latvian love of nature. It might have been better were it "Talking Trees" rather than "Speaking Stones," but then they might have had to chop down trees to bring into the city square, which would not have gone over well.

Runājošie akmeņi

These pictures were from an event concurrent with the Song Festival. Astute readers may be able to figure out what they are. Cheaters will just copy the title of the post and Google it. Everyone else will have to tune in tomorrow.

The Great Outdoors

Your correspondent had an opportunity, not too long ago, to get out of Riga and go see some of the beautiful Latvian countryside. Our section of the Embassy went on a "team-building" mission in the wild forests of Kurzeme. Of course, we were just doing this one afternoon, so a full Outward-Bound lost-in-the-wilderness experience was out of the question. And, in fact, seeing wildlife was out of the question, because we experienced the wilderness on the back of ATVs. The whole wilderness thing -- that wasn't really the point. We voted, and the ATVs came out way ahead of the ropes course and the trust falls. It was at a sporting resort of sorts, with a ski hill for the winter, and tennis courts and ATV-riding for the summer. It was, as I believe ATV-riding types say, "rad." We rode around a bunch of rutted, washed out trails, which made the "All Terrain" part of ATV pleasantly necessary. Also, I don't think the summer uses of the resort got tons of interest, as the tennis balls they had were all pretty dead, and the brakes on the ATVs only sort of worked. The guide was not exactly apologetic about the dangerously weak brakes, but he did us the courtesy of acting surprised and testing them out when we got back to the lodge and told him. (We couldn't tell him during the ride because the ATVs are loud and we were all wearing camouflage coveralls and motorcycle helmets, of which photographic evidence exists but is being held back from publication out of respect to my colleagues.)

The best part, which ensures that your correspondents will be back to this lovely resort, was the view of the ski hill, above. Yes, that's the entire hill. I am estimating about a five-minute rope-tow ride to the top and a quick five-turn, fifteen-second descent. But that is fifteen seconds more downhill than we ever had in Guatemala. Of course, this all assumes they get some snow this year. Apparently last year, despite being at (very roughly) the same latitude as Juneau, Alaska, Western Latvia got almost no snow. We are hoping for some snow this year: It would be a shame to let such a fine ski hill go to waste.

Crabs

Back in the days when this publication wrote more and used fewer pictures, most readers probably never saw a random photo project the photo department put together in the studio at the Holla's Guatemala City office. But now it's been turned into the cover of a book, published on actual paper, sold in actual stores, and written by some actual author of literary merit, unlike the hacks who write for this rag. If you're thinking you'd like to read it, it's a novel about ancient Roman poet Ovid's time in exile. If that's not enough to tempt you, it's in Spanish. I have a copy you can borrow if that's up your alley.

Last Song Festival Pictures

More words soon. In the meantime, check out the last few pictures of floral headwear from the Song Festival Parade over at Flickr.

Tumšais bruņinieks: Betmens pret Džokeru

Or, БЭТМЕН v. ДЖОКЕР! (For those not up on their cyrillic, that's roughly Batman v Joker. (And: No, you're not missing anything. The picture has nothing to do with the text; it's just more fun Song Festival hats. -ed.))

So your correspondent went to the movies here, and darn but they don't do it right.

First of all, huge theater, huge screen, balcony(!) all in a pretty new facility.

Second, you can get a beer at the snack bar, which now that I think of it, should have been first of all. And while it was in a paper cup, the large is still like a half gallon of beer. Good times.

Third, assigned seats, like at a concert. I recall hearing about this at a movie theater in L.A., and I'm honestly baffled as to why this hasn't swept our nation. I can only figure lots of theater owners are too cheap to attach numbers to the seats. The only other events I can think of that have tickets but are still General Admission are: rock shows where they don't even have seats and you wouldn't want to sit down anyway because you would stick to the floor; and the horseshoe freshmen- and sophomores-section bleachers at Folsom Field (Go Buffs!). Why shouldn't you be able to buy movie tickets in advance and go have dinner instead of lining up for the show to get a decent seat? Well, in Latvia, you can. End of rant.

Lastly, it is no end of fun to study your Latvian and Russian from the subtitles. This may be put to the test in any future movies with more straightforward vocabulary. But this time around, any sentence that features the Latvian phonetic approximation "Betmens" is ok by this correspondent. They don't even attempt something like the Spider-Man-in-Spanish "Hombre Araña." Of course, Batman in Latvian would be something like "Sikspārņa virietis," which would be a mouthful, and would mean "Man of Bat" or something. So, maybe they're right. But still, "Betmens."

Killing Time

With the combination of it being a gorgeous, sunny weekend, of which there is no guarantee that we'll have many more at this Northern latitude, and with the Lovely Katherine making a brief 21-hour appearance in Riga before shuttling off for further important work errands in Canterbury of all places, your correspondent spent most of his time exploring the beer gardens of Latvia and not much time composing profound thoughts about them. We promise to think of something profound to say about Latvia soon.

The Song Festival

So the Song Festival is now ancient history; weeks have passed. But such is the distinctly unbloglike publishing schedule of the Holla. In any case, our correspondent managed to attend three events: A dance performance in the hockey arena, which was not unlike really professional square dancing; A concert where the greatest stars of Latvian music played updated versions of folk songs, including one set to the Marimba - the national instrument of Guatemala; and the dress rehearsal for the closing concert.

The closing concert itself was a tough ticket to get, but from watching on TV, it wasn't too terribly different from the rehearsal. The point was the same - a choir of 12,000 participants singing traditional Latvian songs, some merely pleasant, and some downright moving. Unfortunately, the photo department's camera was deemed "professional" and therefore not allowed into the concert. There was no internet handy to show them just how unprofessional this publication actually is, so we went armed only with the camera on our snazzy new Euro mobile phone. We captured some pictures of the 12,000 person choir that we are now unable for the life of us to get off the phone and onto the internet. So, if you ever visit, we'll show you the pictures on the phone. Or, you could check out the pictures taken by the official Song Festival photographers here and here to get a view of the giant stage they've built for a choir that big.

Anyway, singing is seriously a big deal here. It's really striking how strongly the Latvians feel singing is tied to their culture; and not pop-star singing, but communal singing by the people. There were lots of young people participating in the group singing of folk songs, and from what I could gather, not under duress.

And it is a powerful tradition. The first Song Festival happened in 1873. More recently, the Baltics' independence from the Soviet Union came in what is sometimes known as "The Singing Revolution." Gathering together to sing patriotic or traditional songs was an important part of the popular protest against Soviet rule, perhaps most famously in Estonia, but also importantly in Latvia and Lithuania. We consider ourselves very fortunate to have arrived just in the nick of time to see the current manifestation of this tradition. Book your tickets now for the next one in 2013.

Tomorrow...

...the internet hookup guy shows up. As astute readers have noticed, the photo department has to some extent been running the show lately. And once the neighbors with the good internet signal moved out, we've been unable to get pictures uploaded, which has put a damper in our publishing schedule. But as of tomorrow (knock on wood) we'll be up and running and firing on all cylinders and such.

Don't Be That Guy.

All evidence available from the people walking toward the hockey arena tonight indicates that in Latvia, there is no unwritten rule that says you don't wear a Metallica t-shirt if you are going to a Metallica concert. Any metal fans in the audience feel free to provide evidence of whether this is a Latvia thing or if Metallica fans in the U.S. would also show their Metallica pride while going to the Metallica show.

As an aside, our Ambassador was given a pair of complimentary tickets to the Metallica concert. What a moment for supporting diplomacy through international appreciation of the lively arts! Perhaps he and various Latvian dignitaries can bond through their shared love of old-school favorites like "Creeping Death" and "Seek and Destroy." Your correspondent was not offered a chance to accompany.

Editor's note: We apologize for the last couple posts being somewhat less than profound, but given intermittent internet problems, we're a bit worried about typing anything long or serious that might get lost in the cyber-void before we have a more certain connection. And we're not currently inclined to drag the laptop to a cafe with wi-fi. Sorry.

Two Lies and a Truth

When telling people we were re-locating to Latvia, the most common response was a look of surprise, followed by an attempt to put on a pleasant face while searching the mental stacks for any information about this "Latvia." The less geographically inclined, or perhaps just the more honest, would say. "Oh! ... Where is Latvia?" The more pop-culture-addled would occasionally offer one of the following:

1. "Oh! ... Isn't that where Latka on Taxi was from?" Truth: No, lovable mechanic Latka was from an unidentified, fictional island in the Caspian sea. His name was similar to Latvia, his supposed origin was not.

2. "Oh! ... That's not where Doctor Doom is from, is it?" Truth: No, thank goodness. The arch-enemy of the Fantastic Four was from the fictional principality of Latveria. Furthermore, this fictional country was fictionally located in the Carpathian mountains, near Transylvania, thereby making it extra spooky.

3. "Oh! ... Didn't George from Seinfeld want to marry a girl from the Latvian Orthodox Church?" Truth: Yes! Apparently the only genuine reference to Latvia in all of American pop culture is "the one where George converts to Latvian Orthodoxy for a girl he's dating, while a Latvian Orthodox nun wants to abandon her vows so she can date Kramer." The ever-reliable Wikipedia claims that the writer thought he was making up a fake order, but the Latvian Orthodox church is real. So, one pop culture reference, ever, and then by accident. Oh, well: Better than having that horrible Dr. Doom hanging around Riga.


Internet problems continue, making photo-uploading difficult. But as always, we are doing our best for you, the loyal Latvia-loving public.

Please stand by...

Technical difficulties have made it hard for us to publish as frequently as we would like to. With luck, within a week we'll have internet hooked up in the sprawling new Holla office complex in the beautiful and historic Art Nouveau district of Riga. Until then, sorry.

Here they come...

Clear the way, there's a new gang in town - the singing grannies.

We've been busy mostly attending Song and Dance Festival events for the last few days, but more on the celebration is coming this week. And then, we presume, Riga will return to normal and we'll be able to report on the everyday scene. Or, maybe it's already normal right now. Stay tuned!

For the Boys

It's not just the women who get to wear crazy stuff on their heads. Most of the guys just wear slightly funny hats. But some of them, in the true pagan spirit (as we understand it) go all-out with wreaths of oak leaves, which are somewhat bushier than the floral wreaths. According to the tradition, the oak is a symbol of masculinity, while linden is for the ladies. No word on whether this folk tradition was the inspiration for Cabbage Head.

Be Sure to Wear a Flower in Your Hair

It's interesting to see what is considered the "traditional costume" in Latvia. In Guatemala, traditional costumes abounded in everyday use, and they were quite striking to foreign eyes. In Latvia, however, they all just dress like Europeans (i.e., they dress like Americans with everything a size smaller and pockets in unusual places). So at some point they had to pick what moment in history, pre-European-sartorial-unification, was officially their folk costume for events like the Song Festival. Maybe Latvian women have been wearing shirts and vests and skirts like these for a thousand years. But I doubt it. The men's costumes, in particular, appear to be slightly funky 19th-century suits. The women's costumes are marked by a few important factors:

Some wear an elaborate shawl or cloak, with a special shield-like pin either holding the shawl on, although it's a bit hot for that now.

Many wear special colorful patterned woven belts.

But they all, without exception, get to wear something fun on their heads.

The options include the embroidered headband-hat seen in the previous post; a more daring crown-like hat (more pictures coming soon); and, perhaps most popularly, a wreath of flowers, of which three variations are visible above. More on flowers later, too.

Dziesma ir Spēks!

Song is strength! This is the motto of the XXIV Latvian Song Festival, being celebrated this week in Riga (along with the XIV Dance Festival, which would like to note that Dance is also strength, or perhaps power, or even vitality, depending on how you translate it). The Latvian national identity is very closely tied to singing (about which more later), and once every five years the whole country - and it feels like almost literally the whole country, which is possible in a country the size of Latvia - gathers in Riga for a celebration of their folk songs. Singing groups come from every corner of the country, wearing their traditional costumes, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. On Sunday, there was a parade where all of 38,000 of them strolled down the main boulevard of the capital for hours and hours. The staff photographer was there, long enough to fill up the memory card on the camera, but not long enough to see the conclusion of the parade.

Tevzeme un Briviba

This is the monument to "Fatherland and Freedom" (Tevzeme, Briviba, respectively) at the center of Freedom Boulevard in Latvia. Most people let the fatherland side of the equation slide, and just call it the "Freedom Monument." It's more or less the symbol of Latvia, the same way the Statue of Liberty is a symbol of the U.S. As such, it represents the very lowest of low-hanging fruit for photography in Latvia. We're hoping the staff photographer gets it out of his system early.

Labvakar no Latvijas!

Good evening from Latvia! We apologize for not having a clever new name for the publication (yet), but we decided not to let that delay our reports from Riga. This is one of the central squares in Riga, facing the "House of the Black-Heads" on the right, with St. Peter's Church spire to the left. (We have it on good authority that the "Black-Heads" were not so named for any particular problems with acne.) This picture was taken at about 9:30 PM. Sunset is technically 10:18, but it doesn't really get dark until after 11:00. And the sunrise is technically at 4:37 AM, but your correspondent can personally confirm that it was light enough to wake him up at no later than 4:15 on his first morning here. We promise to not report on this fairly mundane topic too frequently, but it does mess with one's head.

Flora 3

Sorry, more flowers. These ones aren't as weird as the previous, but they're still weird enough for us. Perhaps they make you think of fireworks.

Flora 2

We're really not big on pictures of flowers. They put us to sleep. Unless they are crrrrazy Guatemalan flowers. Like this, known as a "God's Microphone."

Flora

They have some colorful and odd-shaped plants in Guatemala.

Ice Cream: El Condor II

Another "El Condor" - perhaps it's a franchise?

Not a great photo but I thought the subject overcomes the abysmal lighting. But also: The bottom of the barrel on the ice cream man photos. We have a few more Guatemala photos to come, but they're winding down as the Holla offices prepare for the launch of our new publication, bringing you more than you ever thought you would know about Latvia!

Ice Cream: Don Antonio

Actually in Chiapas, Mexico, not Guatemala. You can tell by the slightly more high-tech ice cream cart.

Ice Cream: Alexander

Not sure if the truck in the background has been repurposed to deliver Coca-Cola or what.

Ice Cream: Chonita

Child labor laws not strictly enforced at La Chonita ice cream cart.

Ice Cream: El Condor

This is another old image, but a favorite. As with the storefronts, it drove the photo editor to demand a more thorough exploration. Anywhere where more than five people gather in Guatemala, someone shows up with an ice cream cart, so there were a few opportunities. So: More of the ubiquitous ice cream guys in the coming days.

I scream, etc.

Retail ice cream sales is perhaps second only to tire repair as a low-capital-requirement startup business in Guatemala.

Storefronts

I think this may be it for the storefronts. I thought I had more. But then I decided that if I start putting up pictures that are just kinda interesting to me, they're probably going to be really kinda marginally only a little interesting to you. So we'll move on next time.

Storefront: Pinchazos

The most ubiquitous business in Guatemala is tire repair.


They're Everywhere

Storefront: Car Wash Hernandez

Storefront: Sintex

I really like this sign. The rest of the storefront wasn't worth the electrons to photograph it, though.

Storefront: Rino Tubos

Very handy to pick up some ice cream along with your tubes.

Also, feel free to check out the Jewish Tortilla Stove Store.

Storefront: Dispensa Familiar

From a Guatemalan supermarket chain. Obviously the star of the show is the hand karate chopping a "Q" for "Quetzal," the national currency. It also suggests you might want to tell your friends how much you save when you shop at Dispensa Familiar.