Today I had a lovely adventurous day with Irina, a Russian woman, former teacher of linguistics at Riga university, occasionally cook in Dublin, and now ruined by 70% cut of pension in Latvia. She is living with 150 Euros a month. So she is walking from hotel to hotel with a plastic bag, bread and cigarettes. She is a great lover of Pushkin, Dostoievski and we talked for hours about literature, Soviet history and France. She has a devotion for the Russian tongue, so liquid and full of variations.

Tell me about a language with so many ways to spell a name like Irina, she asked. There is no one in the world!

I have to agree that Russian is a very sophisticated language combining French richness of vocabulary with more flexibility, or customization. For instance, in Russian, one word can explain a whole lot of different things, either pleasing or not.

She is occasional city guide, and it was indeed a dramatic walk under sheets of rain, cutting wind, as we were plowing in melting snow. She introduced me to true Riga on the Russian side, and it was great to be welcome as a guest in special parts of town, totally outside of classic tourist circus.

True to Russian icons, she was chain smoking and appeared oblivious to the blizzard, while I was thinking what a true Russian wintertime must be. We ate like pigs, soup from Georgia, red wine, liquor and roasted meat as part of traditional Latvian diet.

We went to Doma concert hall to listen to Bach, and I fell asleep to my great shame. And as we were having another swing of red wine in the Black Cat, a trendy bar in city centre, she jumped and disappeared with a ten Lats bill in hand, leaving all her little belongings to me. I waited, but the waitress kept shrugging. With Irina you never know, did she say.

I had to go for concert hall tickets, and I returned thereafter, she was not here, gone were her modest belongings. But the waitress told me, she is alive to my great relief. I mean, this is my effect on Russian women. Lots of hugging, and then they fly away, leaving a trail of shining stars in her wake.

She is so truly Russian, took my hands, shook them, hers were soft and warm, I was white with cold, because I had not enough warm clothes. And we talked about romance, daily life, Russian culture and values. To her  a true Russian is extraverted, open, all hugging, and it is true, Russians around Irina really opened up, as she is a kind of local figure. Father Ukrainian, mother Russian. Definitely a woman of character and charm. I would perfectly see her waving at Red Army tanks rolling over German fascist hordes.

I learned two important things with her. First, never interrupt a Russian woman while she is talking to you. I know it sounds rude, but Frenchmen are great at talking, not so good listeners. With a Russian woman, it is definitely recommended to listen. You will learn a lot of things about yourself. Second, a Russian woman is not playing games with words, like French girls who say ‘Yes’ when they think ‘No’, and vice versa. With a Russian woman, you know where you are standing, it is ‘Now!’ and ‘Davai’. So speak up when she is expecting you to do so, and don’t think they can’t handle you. These women used to drive tanks against the Fascists. Their hearts have been broken thousands of time, and yet the flame is intact.

As long there will be hair dye, Russian women will have no white hair. Give them some breathing space, and in a matter of minutes, you will assist to a transformation. From grumpy pedestrian, to shy Vestal, your guest will begin to glow the radiant colors of Russian foot soldiers at Borodino. Tolstoi was right. You may believe the fire is dead, ashes cold, but you never know.

Her life dream was to go to the Sorbonne of Paris.

But I stayed in Riga, a romantic affair, and she proudly says, Riga’s university is better! Not now, but Soviet education was top in the world. And it is a lovely location for university, just a few hundreds meters from Opera. And in May and June, lovers would waltz there.

If you meet that fantastic woman, you will notice her at once. She is the key to real Riga. She knows every building, its history, architecture. Everything. She is Riga. Rich and vibrant. Secret and mysterious at times. Dangerous, and rewarding. Unique.

Frederic W. Erk

P.S.

Solyanka is a thick, piquant soup that combines components from schi (cabbage, smetana) and rassolnik (pickle water and cucumbers), spices such as olives, capers, tomatoes, lemons, lemon juice, kvass, salted and pickled mushrooms are make up a considerably strong sour-salty base of the soup. Solyanka is much thicker than other soups, about 1/3 less liquid ratio. Three types are distinguished: meat, fish, and simple solyanka. The first two are cooked on strong meat or fish broths, and the last on mushroom or vegetable broth. All the broths are mixed with cucumber pickle water.

Melnais Kakis Meistaru iela 10/12, Riga, Latvia is a good place to hang out, especially during local hockey tournaments. I loved the way you could sit in a lobby slightly above the bar, and watch the people in the streets, through the polished glass of hundreds of bottles of alcohol. The bartender has won international acclaim, too. Very friendly place. Young girls are cute there, and you have also older women coming for a shared Latte, coffee with milk. Irina worked there as cook and told me the food is absolutely great, though very reasonably priced. It is true.