« BJMK | Tavas izaugsmes spārni

Simon

Saimons ir pirmais BJMK brīvprātīgais no Lielbritānijas. Viņš ir arī vienīgais no mūsu brīvprātīgajiem, kas pārvalda vismaz 4 mūzikas instrumentus un ir piedalījies grieķu klasiskās vārdnīcas sastādīšanā. Un zina latīņu valodu.
Saimonam ir plašs interešu loks un lielisks kontakts ar BJMK jauniešiem, ar kuriem kopā viņš savā angļu mierā iedzer tēju zem kāda no Jelgavas kokiem.
Saimons atrod laiku, lai parunātu ar katru un ikvienu, un ja Tevi interesē sarunas labā angļu valodā, kopīga muzicēšana vai vienkārši laba kompānija- meklē Saimonu!
Turpinājumā te sekos Saimona Latvijas iespaidu stāsti.

Gads BJMK dzīvē

After spending a year living and working with the extraordinary staff and students at BJMK, I have been invited to write about my experiences. Throughout the project, I kept a diary as well as writing weekly messages to friends and family back in England. I thought I would share some extracts, to give a flavour of the broad range of activities and opportunities which have arisen. Some might say that to choose to travel to another country amid a viral pandemic is a curious decision. To then voluntarily elect to return shortly after war had been declared by one of its neighbours could be a sign of madness. If we had been cautious, none of the following would have happened.


Week 0

My initial attempt at making the journey to Jelgava failed, with an invalid test certificate (I shall refrain from using the ‘C’ word) resulting in my being turned away from the aircraft in the early hours of the morning. The flight I eventually did board, a few days later, was not wholly uneventful. As we began our descent across the Gulf of Riga, curtains towards the front of the aircraft whipped across and air-stewards flocked forwards. Then, on hands and knees, they began making their way row-by-row along the plane, before rushing back behind the curtain. No explanation was given. After landing, amid the sleet of a frigid April afternoon, I began speaking with a fellow-passenger on the way through the airport. He was Latvian and was on his way home after working on the Scottish electricity grid. He carried with him two cat-boxes, the furry contents of which his children were eagerly waiting to meet. It transpired that the two felines had not spent the entirety of the aerial voyage within their travel-cages, but had repeatedly escaped; a kind of Schrödingerian double-act.
Unlike on certain previous projects and holidays, there was someone to meet me at the airport, a masked lady called Zane, by whom I was given a tour of the school building later in the evening. While going round, the situation appeared to be much worse than I had thought. Although supposedly a music school, there appeared to be no musical instruments, rubble everywhere, and even missing windows (perhaps explaining the lack of instruments). It became clear that this was in fact the building which was being renovated to house the music school in the future, and where I would be living.


Week 1

Although technically being in quarantine this week, after my arrival from infectious England, a fair amount seems to have happened. My little apartment is gradually taking shape, with a delivery of IKEA furniture (including table and cupboards), a washing machine, and a few soft furnishings. Some posters on the wall and properly installed lighting will make a big difference. I now have much more of an understanding about the project, which is indeed rather multifarious and composite, and my role within it also enjoying a fair amount of latitude. I am living on the ground floor of the building which will one day be the new music school building (they are moving premises). The building is extensive, and retains many relics of its original purpose, as a children’s hospital. Discoveries of nuclear-fallout-style gasmasks, medical records in Cyrillic script, and a metal bath-tub in which floated nothing but an empty bottle of vodka gave me vivid dreams on my first night.
Yesterday, I visited Tērvete forest with Endijs and Miķelis. He has inherited land from his great-grandparents in an area of national forest, and has lots of ideas for the site. A small building with running water and electricity has been achieved (although one purpose of yesterday's visit was to get an electrician to look at the solar generator, which wasn't working, hence none of the above). There are large meadows, containing several rare species of plants, a potential place for camping, a river, concert platform and an area for a small amphitheatre, as well as plans to install a saw-mill. There are lots of trees which need to be cut down in order to ensure healthy and sustainable growth of others, and these will be used as building materials for the various projects at the school and beyond. It is an exciting prospect.
After intermittent hail and snow showers when I arrived, it has warmed up a bit this week. There are some pleasant walks around the city, with two islands in the river, and a little beach. There are several historic buildings, including the Academia Petrina and University of Agriculture (situated in the large pink palace designed by Rastrelli), as well as the typical unsightly concrete apartment blocks and factories from the Soviet era. (With these in mind, I settle down in the evening to read Crime and Punishment). There are also some floodmeadows on the outskirts of the town, and wild horses. I have heard my first cuckoo of the year, emerging from a clock attached to the front of the forest-house. Flags across the country were flying this week for ‘Restoration of Independence Day’, when, in 1990, Latvia once again declared independence from Russia.


Week 3

It has been an almost summery week here, and on my walks down to the riverside beach, with the sound of gulls in the air and a few people swimming, it has felt quasiMediterranean. The temperature shot up even higher inside my apartment unexpectedly a few nights ago, when I turned on the tap to be met by steam rather than water. A few seconds later there was an explosion in the bathroom and the whole apartment rapidly filled with steam. It felt a little like being a performer surrounded by dry ice, waiting to go on stage. Fortunately, I managed to locate the relevant stopcock, but not before an impromptu sauna had taken hold.
From my first days I have seen how the school and its teachers are skilled and creative at adapting, maintaining some level of educational continuity by holding lessons for students during restrictions outdoors in a park. The focal point of this particular park is a memorial commemorating mass deportations from Jelgava during the Soviet era. Walking along the socalled ‘Ciešanu ceļš’, ‘Path of Suffering’, was an interesting route to take to meet some of the students for the first time. Many are understandably fatigued by the amount of time they are now having to spend at home with online lessons and classes.


Week 5

The metaphorical cats and dogs are falling outside, bringing to an end last week's radiant spring. I very much enjoyed my three days in the forest, working on a brushwood fence to enclose a future campsite, drinking freshly picked cowslip tea, and soaking up the sounds of the local wildlife, a symphonic avian chorus which harmonises differently during the day. Jelgava is preparing for its 756th anniversary this weekend, with some dancing, singing and lightshow events planned. It will be good to see some more life in the city.

Week 7

I have encountered some interesting characters out in Tērvete this week. A German girl spontaneously joined me in working on the fence. She has spent the past four months living nearby in the wilderness, after working in an old people’s home in Latvia last year. I stumbled into a birthday party on Wednesday evening, immensely underdressed (and covered in dirt and leaves) for what was a rather glamorous 35th birthday party for an NGO leader and candidate in the forthcoming city council elections. It was a very enjoyable evening and a first opportunity to hear the equivalent of ‘Happy Birthday’ sung in Latvian, which is rather more tuneful and meaningful than the English version. Also present at the party was a man who had just got back from Bolivia, filming a documentary about drug trafficking. The night was spent under canvas, or rather under two canvases as, given that rain was falling increasingly heavily, it was decided to move the birthday marquee over the tent to provide added insurance against leakage. A late night walk along the river was rewarded with a proper sighting of a beaver, swimming along and then thumping his tail against the water as a warning. I also managed to hear the mother and baby owls.
We have been interviewing potential participants for another project which is happening here in the summer. For a month, we are inviting young people from around Europe to help with the renovation work in the new building. So far we have girls from Italy, France, Austria and Spain, and possibly a Georgian boy whose specialism seems to be winetasting rather than painting, but this may prove a beneficial skill for all concerned. We discovered, as we were scheduling times for the interviews, that Spain, despite being geographically in line with the UK, has been one hour ahead of UK time ever since Franco moved the country’s clocks forward so as to be in the same time-zone as Nazi Germany.
Latvia is gradually opening up and relaxing. In-person music lessons at the school have now resumed, albeit in a limited way, museums are to open again next week, and the city festival last weekend drew significant crowds. I decided to host a tea party earlier in the week, and was delighted that some of the students were able to attend, and enjoy a cup of Twining’s Earl Grey. We got through a month’s supply in one evening. I wonder whether it would be possible for you to send some more? They are very friendly and welcoming, and teach me a lot about Latvian culture and the language. I am very impressed by their English, and wonder what my Latvian will be like at the end of the year.

Week 10

I think I may have seen a couple of Great Egrets at Lake Sloka yesterday. It has remained unabatingly hot and humid here this week. Not so much in the way of work has been done as there have been two days of National Holiday, as part of the Midsummer celebrations. Rather like with Christmas music in the shops, there are a number of midsummer songs which get played endlessly on the radio. I spent one fairly late evening swimming in the river in the town and reading a translation of some Chekhov short stories. He is a master of saying more by saying less.

I made an outing yesterday by train to visit a new area of national park, Ķemeri, which turned out once to have been a popular resort for water therapies and mud treatments, there being plenty of sulphurous springs around. Indeed, as one alights onto the station platform, there is sulphur in the air. There are a number of streams which one can follow, seeing the cloudy water and chemical deposits. There was a bog of some 6,000 hectares, dotted with Scots pines and marsh rosemary ("rosemary" being "ros maris", the dew of the sea, in Latin). On leaving the bog and finding the main town, I was surprised to see an enormous hotel and garden complex, completely deserted. There are, in all areas of the country, seemingly, vast and empty buildings, most built during the Soviet period.
This week was also my first funeral in Latvia. It was a fairly long drive north to the town where the funeral was held, Līgatne. Fortunately, some other family friends were travelling from Jelgava and so I was able to get a lift. They didn't speak English, however, and so it was a great test of my Latvian. (Google Translate came to the rescue). The cemetery was in a wooded area, and it was an extremely humid afternoon. It was moving to see the family again, particularly at such an event. I think it may have been the first funeral I have attended with an open coffin. As I was playing the accordion and getting set up, I happened to glance down towards the grave and saw the body lying in place, immaculately dressed in a suit. All the guests stood around, holding flowers, and a second accordionist played and sang some traditional songs during the service. Each family member took it in turns to say their final farewells before the lid was put in place and the coffin lowered. The undertakers then stood at each corner with spades, and everyone present took it in turns to throw three handfuls of sandy soil into the grave. Once a mound had been heaped up, we all then laid our flowers, creating a dense floral tribute. The thunder had been getting closer and as the final song was sung, the heavens opened (perhaps in more ways than one).

Week 11
It has actually been raining here this morning, at long last, with a couple of brief but heavy downpours. The ground will be very relieved and refreshed after so many parching weeks. Last weekend there was a party to combine the end of the school year for staff and the 40th birthday of Zane, one of the school's directors. We were hosted by her parents in a town I hadn't visited before, called Koknese. Naturally, there was a forest at the end of the garden, and I was honoured to be invited to join for a sauna and swim in the river. Her parents are both xenophiles and in fact her mother has just signed up with Workaway in order to be able to visit Italy and learn Italian with some local hosts.
For the past couple of days, I have been involved in helping to prepare the base area and concrete floor for a sawmill which is shortly to be installed in Auziņas. We worked a 12hour day yesterday, mixing several tons of concrete with a small mixer powered by solar energy, and water drawn from the well. It is a welcome contrast of activity, after spending so many years in academic study at University. I now know what a ‘bliete’ is.


Week 12

I have just got back from a day mostly spent on/around water. The youngest member of the Methodist congregation in Jelgava was baptised in Ozolnieki lake this morning. There was an elaborate inflatable assault course stretched along the lake, but this didn't form part of the Latvian baptismal ritual. Breakfast consisted of a traditional cake, packed with fruit and very delicious, but nicknamed, rather unappetisingly, "windy little horse", for reasons I am yet to uncover. An amusing story was shared over tea. All male names registered in Latvia must end with the letter 's'. A Russian-Latvian man wanted to call his son Miron, a common Russian name, but he was told he would have to change it to Mirons. Unfortunately, Mirons translates in Latvian as "dead man". This afternoon we had a boat trip around the two river islands in the pastor's motorboat, and a swim in a very warm river. We were pulled over by the river police while making our circuit, as they apparently didn't recognise our boat. The behaviour of the police in Latvia still takes a bit of getting used to.

It has been a fairly busy week otherwise, with firewood stacking on Monday (I learn that the words for "firewood" and "prostitute" are virtually indistinguishable), completion of the concreting task on Tuesday, and an afternoon of recording musicians in a newly prepared little stage area near my apartment on Wednesday. I have had a couple of games of beach volleyball with some of the students, which has been great fun.
In just less than a week, our 10 or so volunteers from around Europe will have arrived, and the next project will be underway. A lot still needs to be prepared, but I'm sure it will come together in the nick of time, as it always does.


Week 14

The team here has expanded significantly, with the arrival of the girls, and it seems to have been a successful week. I have had some extremely late pasta evenings with the Italian and Spanish girls. Interesting to watch how the cultures sift and separate as well as integrate. They are working in three teams on four different rooms on the first floor of the hospital/music school, currently removing falling plaster, scraping the chalk from the ceilings, and scratching paint from window-frames and doors. One team discovered a bird's nest in one of the old ventilation pipes. I generally flit from room to room, assisting where needed and doing some of the heavy lifting. Carrying the single ladder between rooms to rescues ladies from scaffolding is also an important task. If only I had a bow-tie, silver tray and teapot!
I continue to work with the family and the students of the school as well. Yesterday we cleared up the next batch of firewood, and then went off to collect a piano, which now sits in my apartment. What joy to have an instrument immediately to hand again. It is in reasonable condition, but needs tuning. I have been promised the equipment to try it for myself.
We took the ladies out to the forest on Wednesday, and I was shown the sawmill, which has now been installed and produced its first plank. We visited the Fairytale Park within the forest, where various mythical creatures live. After attempting to reach the top level of a dwarves' windmill with one of the family's daughters, we realised that we had become separated from the rest of the group. Retracing our steps through the mushroom realm we miraculously found a car waiting for us.
There has been some progress with my residence permit, although in order to get the card itself I need to prove that I don't have tuberculosis. Consequently, part of my birthday on Monday will be spent having a lung scan at the local hospital.
Ce soir we have a French cultural evening (each nation will take it in turns to present their country). My Latvian is slowly improving, even if the vocabulary remains biased towards tools and machinery (merlente, betons, bliete, kokzāģētava).


Week 15

We paid a visit to a local manor house. I was charged with driving the school bus full of European ladies (Endijs and I have nicknamed the project the ‘models project’). It proved a fascinating evening. Wandering into one of the buildings in the garden we found several air rifles lying on a table next to a rocking chair.
Work on the school is going well. People were starting to throw cement at the walls yesterday, in order to plug gaps rather than vent frustration. Although, unfortunately, one of the girls has managed to contract Coronavirus, and so perhaps cement-throwing may become a lockdown activity for us. It has been quite a few days since she first felt unwell and no-one else has yet succumbed, and so we hope it won’t last too long. We are off to play volleyball in our “bubble” this afternoon. I was lucky that she wasn’t tested before my birthday, otherwise it would have been a very different day. At the sunset picnic by the observation tower, I was greeted by several of the students from the school who had bought me some tea, chocolates and a tea-jug to accompany our future gatherings. Very kind of them. I was also presented with a birthday book, in which everyone had written a message and many had drawn a picture. There is a lot of genuine artistic talent amongst the group.
The trip out to Vilce last weekend with my friend was very enjoyable, and we engaged in a couple of rounds of disc golf. We then visited her allotment and helped ourselves to all manner of berries and vegetables. The gooseberries were particularly fine. After an early morning bus back to Jelgava, I then met the girls in their hostel in Riga and we travelled north to the Gauja National Park and spent a pleasant afternoon walking and paddling in the river.
The French cultural evening was excellent, with a table full of fromage and crêpes, and some Marseillaise karaoke and dancing to follow.


Week 16

I spent the day in the forest on Saturday, helping to prepare for the music camp which has been taking place this week. My labour was rewarded with a taste of the honey produced by bees in the very same meadow. Inside the house a mini-centrifuge has been installed, to spin the honeycombs and extract the honey (some 60 litres of it). The taste, I am told, varies depending on which flowers the bees have visited and the temperatures overnight. I hope to develop a more refined and appreciative mellifluous palette in due course.
The piano tuning has been going well, and I have made use of some of the rainy afternoons to complete an initial tuning, dealing with some of the more egregious notes. It has been nice to have a couple of evenings with visitors round, for wine and music (I even managed to obtain some port from a local shop). 
Yesterday I took the two girls with Coronavirus for a walk to the forest, to give a proper dose of fresh air, new scenery, and the opportunity to collect some blueberries. Even though one of the girls still has no taste, I think the journey far away from her room was essential to her wellbeing. We had to wait a couple of times at train crossings, to watch long freight trains pass, bound for Kaliningrad.


Week 18

It has been a week of projects coming to an end. After our day-trip to the town of Kuldīga last Sunday, it fell to me to do the early run to the airport on Monday morning, chauffeuring in the school minibus the French and half of the Italian contingent. The van would certainly not pass its MOT at the moment, since the battery has ceased to function. I was told prior to the journey to minimise use of the headlights (it is a legal requirement to keep them on at all times, day and night) and to take the shortcut to the airport in case the battery should run out. We were greeted by a wonderful sunrise as we pulled in to the airport, and then I immediately got lost coming out. The red battery light was illuminated for most of the journey. During the afternoon, we were able to charge the battery outside during a thunderstorm. The sound made when reconnecting the wires under the bonnet echoed the booms from above. With three of the remaining girls, we made a further outing in the van in the evening to Ozolnieki for a walk. It was sad to say goodbye to them all, but I hope at least some of the group will keep in touch with one another. I have invites to Italy, Germany and Gran Canaria to consider.
I cycled out to the children’s camp in Svēte, not far from Jelgava. It was the end of the five-day music camp there, organised by BJMK, and I was just in time to join the final concert, and try to speak Latvian to the children. One young boy came up to me afterwards and spoke in very clear English to tell me that he wanted to be the first Latvian in space, and work for NASA.


Week 19

I decided I would head in to Riga to try my luck at gaining admission to a concert I was technically not allowed to attend (being without a vaccination certificate). Perhaps I shouldn’t divulge all the tactics I employed, but suffice it to say I managed to get in without presenting the necessary documents, was even given a free ticket and ended up sitting in the front row. It was a fiery and spirited piano recital of Liszt and Rachmaninov, with several encores. (I wonder whether performers are being extra-generous with encores at the moment, after so long without playing to audiences at all). After the concert, I was in no particular hurry to leave, and so, when the piano tuner arrived on stage, I climbed up to have a chat and see whether he might have any tips he could share. He proved a most amiable and beneficent man, who had worked as tuner for many of the major pianists of the past 40 years, including Daniel Barenboim, Alfred Brendel, Martha Argerich, Radu Lupu and Grigory Sokolov. He embarked upon not only a complete tuning of the Steinway, describing his technique and teaching me how to listen, but also a full cleaning of the instrument, tightening and repositioning the hammers, taking every note out and sharpening the sound. We had a break after about two hours, went backstage and polished off the tea and refreshments which were left over from the concert, and then returned for another two hours. He would spontaneously burst into playing and shared many anecdotes of the performers he had travelled with. Whenever he went off to make a telephone call he encouraged me to play. So I had an afternoon of tuning a Steinway, and playing it on stage in a Riga concert hall (albeit an empty one).
On Sunday, I went out with the family to a forest near the Lithuanian border for the fabled sport of mushroom picking. With knives and buckets in hand we had a successful outing, finding some impressive poisonous characters. It really is a national competition to find the best spots, and people use all kinds of subterfuge and misdirection to throw others off the trail. We then visited Tērvete where I was gifted a bucket of freshly harvested honey, and told to have a teaspoon each morning before breakfast, which I have been dutifully doing.
Monday was spent cleaning and peeling the mushrooms and collecting my temporary residency permit – you will be pleased to know that I don’t have tuberculosis. I am now, after a fairly long interlude, spending a night in the forest again, sharing a room with the honey centrifuge. It looks to be a lovely clear night and so I shall perhaps do some stargazing later.


Week 21

One of Endijs’ other main jobs is as a sound technician and supplier of sound and lighting equipment for events. I joined him this week to set up for an event at the city library. Some local schoolchildren were to recite and perform poetic compositions, along with some more well-known professional poets. As we were finishing setting up, with cables and wires trailing everywhere between microphones, along the steps and across the courtyard, one of the library staff came out to announce that a group of blind people were about to arrive for a tour of the library. We always have to be ready for anything!
My friend from England arrived to a very quiet Riga airport the Friday before last, and we enjoyed a few days exploring the city, and making day trips to Jūrmala and Jelgava, although the latter turned into an overnight trip as we missed the last train back to Riga. The Latvian cuisine seemed to go down very well, with plenty of buckwheat, cold beetroot soup and pancakes, with kvass (a kind of non-alcoholic beer) to wash things down. My plan to get us in to the National Opera House to hear the final piano recital of the summer festival worked very well. However, having taken our places in the box, we were informed by the director of the festival that the pianist, Maria Pires, had fallen that afternoon and was in hospital. Incredibly, another pianist had been found at thirty minutes’ notice and agreed to step in. He was a young Japanese pianist who was supposed to be flying to Georgia to give a recital, but he delayed in Riga and treated us to a programme of Tchaikovsky, Strauss (R.), Mozart and Brahms. Rightly, he was given thunderous applause at the end. It being the final concert in the series, champagne was served in the dress circle and we were able to thank him personally for an unexpected treat.
Most of last week was spent putting the final touches to the classrooms in BJMK, with lessons resuming on Wednesday. I was unexpectedly allocated some groups on Thursday and Friday, not really knowing what the plan was. I now think I understand. Part of their education involves ensemble work, and the groups meet each week, sometimes with a teacher, sometimes without, to choose some songs they would like to play, and practise them. I am learning fast about pop and rock music.
On Friday, I travelled to Liepāja with Indra, on a train which runs to the city just twice a week. The journey there is pleasant, through fields and forests almost all the way, with the occasional massive factory (for example at Dobele, which produces buckwheat, amongst other things). Liepāja has a very different feel from Jelgava, with many older buildings surviving, including ones from as far back as the 17th century. We were shown round on Saturday by some of her friends, a Macedonian husband and Latvian wife. The region known as Karosta was an unusual one, with concrete lookout bunkers collapsing into the sea, destroyed sometime around the First World War. The whole region was a Soviet military base, and off-limits until fairly recently. It had a very bad reputation until even more recently, but we walked around without incident, and being surrounded by soft sand, pine trees and the sea felt more like being on the Greek island of Skopelos than in a Latvian barracks. There are some incredible juxtapositions in the city, including the sight of a huge Orthodox Cathedral obscured, deliberately, by apartment blocks. The Soviet authorities decided that to demolish the cathedral would cause too much of an outcry, and so they built these large concrete apartments as close to the cathedral as possible to block out the sight of religion from the masses, who might believe in something other than the glorious socialist regime. We were kindly invited to join the couple for dinner, and I learned more about the social situation in Latvia, including why many men are working doing cash-in-hand building jobs for unscrupulous employers. It is chiefly to avoid paying alimony, apparently.


Week 23

The temperatures have been falling, with some nights dipping below zero. During the day it hasn't been too bad, and an afternoon of hefting logs soon dispels any chill. The solar generator had not had much opportunity to charge up of late, and so power was mostly out during my visit to the forest this time. To bed at 9pm and up at 5am.
I had to return to the town yesterday for a project inspection. Two ladies from the national agency came by to carry out some interviews and see what goes on. Initial bribes of fresh coffee and cakes were followed up by a recommendation to stop at a patisserie before they boarded their bus back to Riga. They seemed suitably impressed by what they saw, including, mortifyingly, a video of my accordion playing last weekend at the inaugural concert outside the new school building. Everyone tried Morris dancing!


Week 24

We had a cinematic evening in the courtyard outside my apartment on Friday last, lighting a small fire, setting up tents and watching a live recording of Phantom of the Opera. Some of us from the music school are going on tour around the city at the weekend to play for people in care-homes, rehabilitation centres and hospitals. Perhaps the accordion will be brought into service again. I have also been asked to play for the city council on Wednesday. I’m not sure why, but we’ll see whether they can Morris dance.
It has been a series of beautiful autumnal days here, and I have found some new corners of Jelgava, including an additional 931 hectares of flood-meadows, fields and forest to get lost in. I am going out for a boat trip on the river this afternoon, and meeting a Latvian academic for tea tomorrow. He is studying Icelandic and Albanian, as well as being involved with Latvian-Greek dictionaries.


Week 25

We are now working with an adapted schedule at the music school, with many group lessons now split into sessions with individual students. There is a half-term break next week and so this may give some opportunity to think things through further. We are still planning for the concert in the forest at the weekend, and I hope to spend some time there this week in advance of that. As an aside, I have discovered that the Latvian word for parrot, ‘papagailis’, appears to be related to Papageno from the Magic Flute.
It was nice to meet up with the academic for tea and a “windy horse”. We ventured into the palace crypt to see the sarcophagi of the Dukes of Courland (and their wives and children). The councillors seemed to appreciate the live music on Wednesday, and I was given an umbrella as a gift. Perhaps a sign of things to come?


Week 26

While undertaking a preparatory walk for the event on Saturday, we happened to hear, and then see, a woodpecker in full rhythmic and articulated flow, high up on a pine branch.   I spent much of Thursday and Saturday morning in the forest, preparing for the music-nature event, which ended up attracting some 80 people. After raking the paths (there was a glorious unbroken golden-red carpet of leaves as we drove in first thing – glorious and completely disorienting for anyone not familiar with the area), I cut a few sticks for signposts and then engaged in a bit of wood-stacking as it was getting dark. A local lady had recorded a series of short informative talks which could be accessed by scanning a QR code on posters attached to trees along the route. We were treated in the afternoon to a performance of a number of Latvian songs by a pianist and tenor singer, both friends and music-school peers of Endijs. It is wonderful how everyone knows these songs; I must make sure to learn a few. We were blessed with an afternoon of brilliant blue skies. The feeling is that this will be the last such event of the year.
Restrictions have tightened here this week, meaning that many of the band/ensemble rehearsals now have to be split into individual lessons. I sense a lack of optimism about what the winter will hold, but we’ll see. It is now impossible for people without vaccination/recovery certificates to visit most shops. I discovered to my alarm that the shopping centre in the town now has two separate entrances, one for general retail, and one for the supermarket. A metal builders’ fence has been placed down the middle of the building, to separate the heathens from the converts (apparently, quite understandably, to the dismay of the local fire brigade).
As the yard at the Asara building is now in pretty good shape, we have constructed a
“green classroom” here for some music lessons, with tents erected, a campfire lit, and tea served in the vestibule. It seems to work quite well, apart from the light fading quite early.


Week 27

The few loose pebbles and stones which had been running down the side of the cliff have now coalesced into an aggregative avalanche. The gradual erosion of freedoms has taken the final plunge. Put simply, we are now in lockdown. It being the school holidays this week, I joined Endijs and Miķelis on a trip to the forest on Monday afternoon to test a new piece of freshly welded machinery designed to facilitate the extraction of a large number of birch trunks and branches from the forest’s ferny floor. The metallic frame and chain attachments hitched to the back of a quadbike suggested to us a 21st-century Roman chariot. We took it in turns to ride as auriga in the bosky Circus Maximus. After a couple of hours of efficacious acervation, I decided upon a spontaneous pernoctation in order to recommence at daybreak. Birchwood not being as resilient as pine or fir, it will be necessary to gather as much of the felled specimens as possible before winter sets in and deprives the wood of its utility and profit. My arms, after the third day, had begun to metamorphose. I awoke in the morning in Auziņas to what sounded like rain, but in fact proved to be ice and frost melting from the rooftop and flowing into the gutter. Once the solar panels had thawed, the battery and generator came alive. A Norwegian cast-iron stove has been delivered (although not yet installed), in preparation for hibernal sojourns.
After contemplating how to use the remainder of the school holidays – perhaps a trip to a new town, or a visit up north to see some friends – my questions were summarily answered by the government, who have decided to close just about everything apart from supermarkets, and restrict our night-time wanderings from 8pm. Christmas trees, tinsel and baubles are now prominently for sale. More encouragingly, the local pyrotechnics outlet has also opened, although its status as “essential retail” may be questioned by some.


Week 28

An unseasonably warm few days have offered the opportunity to get out and about a little, including a daytrip to the forest in Tērvete on Friday, to continue experimenting with the metal tree-extraction chariot. The sound and sight of geese flying overhead shortly after sunset is a regular occurrence. The stove has since been installed in the house, which, combined with the virtually limitless supply of local firewood, should enable comfortable overnight winter visits.
During a Halloween wander around Riga, we encountered a number of ‘trick or treat’ groups, and I was taken hostage by a formidably dressed Latvian dominatrix with a bloodied rapier.


Week 30

I have spent more or less the whole week in the forest. I came out on Monday with Endijs, and began by clearing some more space in what we are calling the "future concert area". He gave all his guitar lessons from the house and enjoyed being away from the city. A few more birch logs have been moved, although many remain. The rear part of the metal frame which carries the logs has fractured in several places and so I took it to a welder (one of many challenging moments, reversing the minibus, with a trailer).
The new stove in the house is working well and creating a very cosy atmosphere. I was up early with the chainsaw this morning to harvest some logs and kindling from a fallen pine branch. A father of one of the music school students has also been working here for a couple of days (we converse in a mixture of Latvian, German, English and mime). One of the first things he asked me was how the Queen was. I trust she is well?


Week 31

This week saw Independence Day. The parade in Riga was impressive, with several fly-pasts along “Freedom Street” and over the memorial, where the President stood to take the salute of the passing military vehicles. I met up with some other volunteers, including two Salvadorians and an Azerbaijani. It is endlessly curious to discover who ends up in Latvia. The whole country remains festooned with flags and red-and-white lighting and decorations, as we come to the end of a four-day national holiday. (Workers will be asked to work Saturdays to make up for it). Even McDonald's hoists the Latvian flag, I have noticed.
The autumn colours here have been spectacular. I finally paid a visit to the city library the other day, and managed to register as a reader. Asking for a book in Greek proved a bridge too far, but their English section is of a reasonable size, all things considered, and I came away with a few books and an invitation to play the piano for one of the librarians' birthdays next week.


Week 32

As I write, snow is falling outside, the temperature hovering around freezing, with a similar forecast for the remainder of the week. I spent a further few days in the forest house this week, embarking on one final push to gather birch logs. Weaving the quadbike around stumps and between trees to retrieve them was a challenge, but I enjoyed working into the evening when the stars came out. The little stove needs regular attention. If it is lit in the evening, with the embers releasing heat overnight, it is just about warm enough in the morning to hop up and re-light it without freezing one's toes.
The birthday event at the library last week went well. There is a large hall upstairs decorated with folkloric murals and stained-glass windows. After playing a few pieces on the piano (including the Latvian birthday tune), copious quantities of flowers were exchanged and gifted to the birthday girl (who very kindly gave one to me as a thank you), and then tea and cake ensued. I got talking to one of the other librarians who is working towards a blackbelt in karate and goes to a camp in Siberia for her holidays. I shall make sure to return the books on time.
We are now into Advent and the first candle in the wreath was lit at the church service yesterday, as well as the inaugural lighting up of the Jelgava Christmas tree in the evening. The tree is very large, although I later discovered that it is actually several smaller trees artfully put together. An army of snowmen in the surrounding park are guarding it. Yesterday also saw my second ever attempt at ice-skating (slidošana in Latvian), on a rink on the island between the rivers Driksa and Lielupe. When I first arrived in April, this rink was being used by speed-skaters for their training sessions. My tentative circuits on the ice were rather less speedy.


Week 33

It has been a busy few days, with international travel to Lithuania. The bus to Vilnius departed amid a furious snowstorm, to the extent that I wondered whether we would make it out of Riga. It proved, however, to be a pleasant and simple journey to Vilnius, once we got going, with the border crossing once again non-existent. One detects the change of nation by the slightly different font used on the road-signs, and the change of language. Theirs is a script full of ogoneks.
The snow was much lighter further south, but still a pleasing Christmas smattering, and it was interesting to learn more about the history of the country. Other than being aware in general terms about the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, I had little background knowledge to go on, and my guidebook was printed in Latvian, which provided an additional challenge. We explored a few museums, perused the Christmas markets, bought some 'sakotis', and visited the Museum of Illusions. I was able to meet up with a Lithuanian volunteer who had visited Latvia in the summer, and we attended a Latin Mass in one of the churches followed by tea in a local bookshop-cafe. By using the order of service, I was able to teach myself some Lithuanian via Latin. Generally, the country seemed more relaxed than Latvia, with mostly perfunctory enquiries about Covid passes, although a few places were more strict. Somewhat disturbingly, students at University are compelled to be vaccinated, which has led to some unpleasant encounters between academic staff, students and police, I am told.
As I boarded the bus back to Riga (potato dumplings in hand), it was a relatively mild -1 degrees, but as the bus trundled north, the temperature dropped and dropped. As we crossed into Latvia it was -11. As I write, it is -14, but we may consider ourselves lucky, as further north in the country it has plummeted to -29. I experienced -24.5 in Finland, some years ago, and remember, above all, how peaceful and still everything becomes. It is far too cold for snow, people only go out if necessary, and the stiff, solid landscape is completely unmoving. As I walked around the city this afternoon, my facial hair became iced over and frozen. The school is kept nice and warm, and so I have found myself spending more and more time there, wandering around in my slippers and warming my boots by the fire. The river has now frozen over, although the ice is not yet thick enough to walk on. This hasn’t deterred some ice-fishermen who sit on the ice with their bottles of vodka, clearly desperate to avoid their wives back at home.


Week 34 (March)

The country feels a lot more relaxed in terms of the virus, with cafes and restaurants open again, and large-scale concerts allowed to take place, but rather more on edge as regards its neighbours. There was, in fact, a concert in Riga at the weekend in aid of Ukraine. Migration is expected to pick up in the coming weeks, and Jelgava has its university student accommodation on standby to offer to people who arrive. Riga is apparently at capacity, and so other towns and cities are beginning to share the extra. There is even more antagonism between Latvians and Russians, but we must remember that there are many Russians who are wiser than their dictator. I shall be meeting with a Russian volunteer later in the week, and so will get her perspective on matters.
The music school family have gone away to Austria for the week, to see, amongst other things, Schubert’s guitars. I am therefore responsible for hearth(s), home and school for the next week. The school doesn’t usually open during the holidays, but as things have been so disrupted for students, the extra chance to meet up and socialise may be welcome. I picked up a car-load of snacks from a charity just out of town who were sorting boxes of clothes and food for Ukrainians.


Week 35

The school is back up and running after the holidays, and the students who came along during the break seemed to enjoy themselves. I purchased some new table tennis equipment, which now enables some more extended rallies. The father of one boy I played against is apparently in charge of the electricity supply to Guernsey (it would be a curious thing to fabricate!) One of the younger students picked up the rules of cribbage very quickly, and another has been set the task by his school of learning Hamlet's famous soliloquy. Always something new.
The piano at the library is a fine old instrument, donated by another music school in the city. The head librarian (after presenting me with some Christmas biscuits) showed a video of the clever robotic machine which carried the baby grand up the stairs. The library, as with many public institutions, is working out how to engage with and support Ukrainian refugees as best it can. How long families will stay here is of course unknown.
I have a fridge full of birch sap, which is a refreshing start to the day, especially when combined with homemade honey. As it gradually ferments, the taste becomes more astringent. While I had use of the car last week, I took two Russian girls to see the house in the forest. In the coming months they face a dilemma. Going back to an increasingly dictatorial Russia with a failing economy is an undesirable option, they can't extend their visas in Latvia, and despite having University offers in other European countries are also fearful that their visas may be withdrawn from those countries. For younger Russians who disagree with everything their country is doing, it is an invidious situation.


Week 36

The apartment sitting for Ieva and Ervīns seemed to go successfully. Their dog has an unusual diet consisting solely of carrots and cottage cheese. We spent the first night out in the forest. Plenty of shooting stars and a walk at sunrise was our reward. Our previous walk took us past another of Jelgava’s highlights, the high-security prison. “We are going to the prison” is now another of my useful Latvian phrases, along with “I live in a hospital” and “Can I borrow your bliete?”
This evening Zane and I played some duets. She is an excellent singer, with operatic experience on the stage in Lithuania. Hopefully we can have another session one day.


Week 37

After an aborted hospital appointment, Indra and I decided to spend the day doing something rather different, and headed to Jūrmala, arriving just as the cafes were opening at 9am. There were still mounds of snow along the main street, and it was a few degrees cooler walking along the beach. The town has a substantial Russian-speaking population, and sure enough we heard Russian being spoken in the cafes. We also noticed quite a few Ukrainian cars parked along the streets, so doubtless some families are staying in the vicinity.
Encouragingly, we did also see a car with a Russian number plate displaying a Ukrainian flag taped in the back window. We visited a museum which was the summer residence of two of
Latvia’s most famous writers, Rainis and Aspazija.
The Music Theory Day last Saturday seemed to go well, with a variety of musicthemed tasks and games, including an escape room (from which not one team managed to escape). One interesting aspect of the escape room was watching younger children attempt to work out how a radio/CD player works!
I am planning to visit the National Library tomorrow to sit in on a Modern Greek reading class organised by my Latvian-Luxembourgian friend. He has also booked tickets to an Easter concert in Riga on Monday. It is very welcome that concerts are beginning again, and teachers at the music school are finally getting more regular work at events and gigs.


Week 38

The concert in Jūrmala was very good, and a chance to see inside the ‘Amber Concert Hall’ at last. I found myself at an Armenian restaurant prior to the performance, and drank rather a lot of Armenian tea. The Easter long weekend turned out to be bookended by concerts, as I attended another on Monday evening in Riga’s Opera House. Although the programme wasn’t entirely to my taste, I did meet some interesting people there, including the director of Luxembourg’s Philharmonic Choir, whom I was seated next to, and a translator from Brussels. After the concert, I was invited to a party with some other musicians and translators, hosted in a very smart apartment nearby. One lady began her working life in the Soviet Union travelling from school to school with a puppet theatre. As there was a grand piano in the apartment, there were some songs later, and I missed the last train home. Amazingly, I was invited to stay over, with a shot of Balsam before bed. The décor of the apartment made one feel as though one were in a Fitzgerald novel.
My visit with Indra around the Kurzeme coast was wonderful, with stops in
Ragaciems, Kolka, Kuldīga and Saldus. We were very lucky to see the leaping fish in Ventas Rumba, and the cross-hatched tide at Kolka, where the Baltic Sea meets the Gulf of Riga. Much of the diet was fish-based, as we passed through several fishing villages, and eggs were also a staple.
Yesterday I was in the forest helping with sorting wood from the sawmill and, of course, collecting firewood. During our tea-break I took a wander and encountered a snake basking in the sun. Later in the afternoon a lizard appeared out from one of the woodpiles.


Week 39

I took over from one of the other piano teachers last week, while he is away, and so had a full afternoon of lessons. There was a jazz guitar concert in the evening, with some interesting techniques on display. The day began with playing the piano at the library at a retirement party for two of the staff. Cake and champagne before 10am was a treat. I then attempted conversation in Latvian with some of the other attendees.
The next week or so is liable to be a bit tense as there are two national days, the first on May 4th, when Latvia re-declared independence from the Soviet Union, and on May 9th, when Russia celebrates victory over Germany in WW2.


Week 40 (June)

The temperature in Latvia has hardly dipped below 30 degrees since my return, and the forecast is for similar over the coming days, perhaps even weeks. The cool micro-climate of my apartment is most welcome at this time of year. It has been an eventful few days, beginning with the wedding in the greenhouse near Valmiera. I was not sure until the last moment that we were actually going to attend, as we had had no collective rehearsals. The other three band members seemed to know the pieces, which were decided upon just moments before going on stage, and then sometimes with a further change of key. I managed to improvise my way through until about 11pm. Many of the wedding guests were members of a traditional folk-dance group, and so at several points during the evening they did a few numbers of their own, which was interesting to see. We were well looked after, with tea, cake and other drinks, and to my astonishment were even rather generously paid at the end. Having packed up at about 1am, we then headed to the coast to make the most of the solstice night, climbing a lighthouse to the choral accompaniment of frogs in a nearby pond, ascending a vibrating metal ladder to the top, and seeing a warm crepuscular glow over the treetops inland. Sleeping overnight in the car, it was then suggested that we go for a swim in a lake early the following morning, which was a very welcome refreshment.
On the 23rd and 24th are two national festivals, Līgo and Jāņi, which are celebrated in an even bigger way than Christmas. I was kindly invited to join some of the family as they attended a Līgo celebration in the countryside, not too far from Tērvete. We made a stop at the beehives on the way, and I met two of the queens and was able to try some of the first honey of the year fresh from the hive, sucking the sweetness straight from the combs. It was interesting to see the whole process, and there were some freshly laid eggs in the cells which will hatch in around three weeks. We had our can of smoke and protective hats. The party in the afternoon/evening/morning was good fun, and a chance to meet some more natives. A generous barbecue of shashliks, and homegrown strawberries, was accompanied by some traditional songs (there was a piano in the house and another lady had brought a violin) and garland weaving. Later in the evening we were lucky to see some glow-worms dotted along the edges of the fields. The glow-worms are known as Jāņtārpini, as they begin to shine at Jāņi. A magical moment.
 
 

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