M-whY

And Riga is known for its nightlife. Just pick up any of the free city guides floating around and gawk at the number of nightclubs, striptease bars, and massage parlors. Consider too that a round trip flight from the UK is unbelievably cheap, and what results is an all night party that can occasionally get out of hand.

By day though, it's a perfectly safe place to stroll. I began my Old Town walk by watching the changing of the guard at the Freedom Monument, while a crazy man sang an accompaniment. During Soviet years, placing flowers at its base was a crime for which people got deported to Siberia; Judging by the number of bouquets there today, that's no longer the case. I went St Peter's Church and took a lift to the observation platform for some panoramic views of the town below. Like most steeples, this one was topped by a golden cock - I don't know what this has to do with anything, I just thought it'd be worth pointing out. Back at street level, I wandered amongst the old houses, consulting my guidebook often so as to have a clue what I was looking at. The guild houses and the Cat House, named for the black cats perched atop the roof. The Gunpowder Tower, the only tower of the old fort still standing. The unique architecture of the Three Quirky Brothers... OK, I came up with the 'Quirky' myself, but I think it's a fitting addition. Admittedly, I gave everything a cursory look, and covered most of the town rather quickly. It wasn't all that different compared to Tallinn.

The Riga Castle was surrounded by candles, some of which were still burning, and from there, I began making my way back to the hostel (passing more churches with golden cocks). I thought I had avoided the drunken debauchery, until I got to know George, the middle aged Greek dude occupying the bunk across from mine. In fairness, he had a pleasant enough personality, but also some questionable holiday motives. He belonged to another category altogether, different from the country collectors and party animals. To put it bluntly, he was out to get laid. Finding a girl in the poorer countries, he claimed, was the easiest thing in the world.

"So what are your plans tonight?" he asked me.

"No plans yet."

"I'm meeting up with a Latvian guy later and we are going out to get drinks, do you want to come?"

Now I'm not out to sleep with as many women as I can. On the road, the opportunity presents itself more times than you can imagine - prostitutes or otherwise - but if we're to liken it to a game, let's just say I'm not about running up the score. However, as Riga is a nightlife capital, there was no harm in sampling the tamer bits.

"Where are you guys going?"

"To get some food, then maybe go to a nightclub."

Well, as long as it wasn't a strip club or something similarly shady, I was up for it. We headed to the bar downstairs to get liquored first (on his tab). His friend was running late, and so we got some grub at a restaurant nearby. He was obviously a return customer, knowing all the waitresses. I'm not sure how he did it - he's not a dashing man by any stretch of the imagination - but he managed to convince one of them to join us after her shift. Iverse, his Latvian buddy, joined us afterwards and we went out in search of a club.

Riga is a whole new city after dark. Gone are the little old ladies peddling woolen mittens, in their place were drunk, ticking, time bombs. We saw the aftermath of an explosion - a person (couldn't tell whether man or woman) slouched in a corner from having been assaulted. Security had just arrived to sort out the mess. "I've seen it before," remarked George, detailing similar scenes he had witnessed in his month here. "Let's keep moving."

I wouldn't call Riga any more dangerous than, say, New York City or anything. Most people have incident free trips, which is why stag parties continue to flock here. Going out in groups helps, as does using common sense. And I didn't feel any insecurities at the establishment we went to. Latvians are often described as outgoing and flamboyant, and knew how to have a good time. By 2:00am though, I was beginning to feel worn-out.

"I'm gonna head back first," I told them.

"Are you sure? The night is still young!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired," and bid them good night.

George must've gotten what he wanted; He didn't come back to the hostel that night. I won't pretend he's the only one out here doing this - red light districts remain in business because people patronize them - but they're not for everyone and I'm certainly not interested.

Thanks to everyone for their support and comments! Knowing people are reading keeps me motivated to continue the updates!