bright

Sunday, July 25, 2010

THE turrets, the ancient city gates and the cobblestoned streets ‹ these are the fairy tale images of Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania, known collectively as the Baltic States.

Since gaining independence in 1991, these northeastern European neighbors, occupied by the Germans during World War II and later forcibly annexed to the Soviet Union, have been bidding to become big-time visitor destinations.

The capitals ‹ Tallinn (Estonia), Riga (Latvia) and Vilnius (Lithuania) ‹ have well-preserved old towns. Charming boutique hotels have opened; so have good restaurants that shy away from such regional specialties as jellied pork, blood sausage and groats with fried fatty meat and cater increasingly to international tastes.

But like most fairy tales, this one has a dark side. Those picture-postcard images of the Baltics sometimes are crowded out of my memory by reminders of decades of oppression: a dank torture cell in the Museum of Genocide Victims in a former KGB prison in Vilnius. The Museum of Occupations in Tallinn. And the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia in a windowless black slash of a building adjacent to Riga's Town Hall Square.

As they move forward, the Baltics don't want the suffering and losses of the dark days to be forgotten. My visit in late September tells me they shouldn't ‹ and they won't.

Riga

IN Tallinn, I boarded a nice bus for the 2 1/2 -hour trip to Riga, where I checked into the lovely little boutique hotel Ainavas in the old town.

With a population of 800,000, Riga is the largest of the Baltic capitals. In many ways, it is also the prettiest. A river ‹ the Daugava ‹ runs through it, and it is rich in parks, which are bisected by a canal (once a defensive moat) crossed by 16 bridges. Aside from the pedestrian-friendly old city, with its intriguing narrow lanes and medieval squares, you'll see fabulous Art Nouveau façades, many of them along Alberta, Vilandes, Strelnieku, Antonjias and Elizabetes streets in the new city.

Art Nouveau, or Jugendstil, arrived in Riga at the turn of the 20th century and today the façades of many of the buildings, with their human figures, masks, animals and garlands of fruit and flowers, have been nicely cleaned up. There's another cache of Art Nouveau in the old town, notably along Kaleju, Kalku and Smilsu streets. (The tourism office has a free guide.)

At Riga's Central Market, hundreds of merchants hawk their wares inside five huge former German zeppelin hangars. The market's not all about food, pig snouts aside. You can also pick up a CD or a pair of sunglasses.

Riga's Old Town Square is marred by modern buildings. The square's architectural treasure ‹ a 20th century re-creation of a 14th century building ‹ is the House of Blackheads. The original was home to the Brotherhood of Blackheads, a fraternity of bachelor merchants. (The odd name derives from their patron saint, Mauritius, whose symbol was the head of a dark-skinned Moor.) The house is a Gothic gem, its fanciful red façade adorned with an astronomical clock.

Today, the hub of local life in the old town is Dome Square, dominated by the Dome Cathedral, which has lovely stained glass windows and a 6,768-pipe organ. Outdoor cafes ring the square.

The day I went to the tourist office on Old Town Square to join a walking tour, I was the only tour-taker, so I had guide Alexander Ivanovsky, a history student at Latvia University, to myself. He pointed out quirky sights such as the 1909 Cats' House at 10 Meistara, atop which sit two sculptures of black cats with tails raised. Of the several legends about this house, I like the one that says that the builder, denied membership in the great guild across the street, retaliated by having the cats placed with their backsides to the guild hall. Litigation ensued, the felines were repositioned, and he joined the guild.

In the central city, we stopped near Freedom Monument, on the site once occupied by an equestrian statue of Peter the Great. The 138-foot-high landmark, topped by lady liberty, was erected in 1935 during a brief period of Latvian independence between wars. .

Today Latvia again basks in its independence.

I asked what democracy meant to Ivanovsky and he said, "It is to go in the library and take out the book you want."

On my last evening in Riga, I went to a free concert at St. Peter's Church, presented by a women's a cappella choir from a local music college. Women took turns conducting, to enthusiastic applause. When one had taken her bow, a young man bolted up from the audience and kissed her. More applause.



Biggest Cities in the World

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