After such a sombre few hours at the Salaspils Concentration Camp, I climbed back aboard the train and was pleased to find myself sitting directly across from one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen in my life. Seeing as my Latvian is somewhat lacking, I went with the old classic of a wink and blowing a bit of a kiss to let her know I’m single and interested, but she just looked at me like she’d caught me eating urinal cakes. Broken-hearted, I put it down to the fact that Latvians aren’t exactly the most excitable bunch and trundled off the train – at which point I realised that my fly was open. And it was just the day that I’d decided to wear my undies with the holes in them. Sorry, pretty girl on train.
After downing my sorrows with a few tins of cheap beer in one of de repeblik de Riga’s many parks, I decided to spend the arvo getting high. No, not by smoking drugs like
my ex-girlfriend some sort of crack whore, I mean I climbed up something really tall. Yeah, I got on top of St Peter’s steeple, which sounds like how I spent most of my afternoons back when I was a choir boy.
St Peter’s Church was built back in 1209, so it’s old as fuck, so I’ve got no bloody idea how I was able to catch a friggin’ elevator to the top. Maybe St Peter was a time travelling space mutant or something, who knows? I asked the woman who runs the elevator but, in true Latvian style, she just humphed and went back to Tindering blokes on her iPhone.
Please swipe right on me, Ursula!
The view from the top is stunning, and despite the high price (nine Euro Spacebux) it’s the only way to get a true appreciation of the layout of the city. I could look out and see the spot where I drank a beer in the park with a homeless Romanian dude, the place where I was almost arrested by Latvia’s Finest, and all the spots where I was turned down by Latvian women. It was grouse.
I was up the top there, all alone, when the doors to the elevator opened and a loudmouthed American wearing a bright red shirt with pictures of fruit on it stepped out, his trap flapping enough to create a stern breeze that almost knocked me over. “Oh yeah, greaaaaaaaaaat,” he said upon seeing the view. “Oh, it’s sooooooooo high. Geeze, guys, they should’ve given us oxygen tanks before we came up. These Europeans are just so dang good at building towers and it’s not, like, every singly building in America is bigger than this.”
The Seppo’s chums guffawed at his razor-sharp wit and started slapping each other high fives while everyone else in the placed rolled their eyes. The loudmouth went back to talking about how much better is at building things, and it really ruined the mood, so I knew I had to do something. The enjoyment of everybody was in my hands (I know a little Thai chick who works at the massage parlour who says the same thing), and I knew I had to do something.
The next time the fool started yapping on about how America is better at building things than anyone else, I piped up and said, “Yeah, you know what else America is really good at building? Dickheads like you, mate.”
The loudmouth was shocked into silence while the other tourists cheered wildly and started jumping up and down with joy. Even his friends shook their heads and left him by himself, on ther verge of tears. Once again, I had saved the day, and I took my rightful spot as the hero of Riga.
As for what happened after that, well, that’s a story for another day, but the end result is that I’ve decided to hang out in Riga for another couple of days, rather than heading off to Sigulda as planned. Don’t worry, the Tour is still in full swing, with my next stop being the lovely city of Tallinn, in Estonia. Hope they’ve got plenty of booze…
Beer of the day:
I smashed a lot of beers today, so let’s give it to, I dunno, Livu. It tasted pretty good and didn’t give me diarrhea, so it’s good as gold according to me. Honestly, there’s not a bad beer over here – just walk into a shop, grab a mixed-bag of cans, and get fucking smashed!
Kebab of the day:
Wanting to provide you, my drunken readers, the best guide to the many kebabs of Europe, I needed to find a third restaurant to eat at today, which proved a challenge because there are only two kebab shops in Riga’s Old Town. I finally tracked down Kebab Fix over near the railway station, and I was a bit suss on it from the get-go. As well as being tucked away near a supermarket, it was run entirely by teenage girls. Well, looks can be deceiving, because the wrap was awesome! It was stuffed with meat and coleslaw (which works!) and was all tucked in nicely, so they get extra points for style. All in all, it was the best kebab so far.
Did I find the greatest love the world has ever known?
The closest I went was accidentally knocking over this weird scarecrow woman while feeling her tits. Awkward.