On memories of living and working in Latvia as a diplomat in the 1990s

In this episode, I reflect on what it was like to live and work in Latvia as a diplomat in the 1990s. I look at some of the issues on regaining independence. The changes that were happening in shopping habits, in the restaurant scene, in culture and popular music. In sports, in the economy and in crime. I also share experiences of being a diplomat visiting a condensed milk processing factory to attending the inauguration of Latvia's first female President. Telling a few stories along the way from the 1990s.

Thanks for listening!

Transcript

I first lived in Latvia as a diplomat between 1996 and 1999. A few years after Latvia regained independence from the crumbling Soviet Union. I returned to live in Latvia in 2022. This podcast series is based on my personal observation and experience, together with some history and comparisons with my home country of England, on aspects of life in Latvia and things to see and experience.

Episode 1: On memories of living and working in Latvia as a diplomat in the 1990s

I drove to Latvia in 1996 to take up a position at the British Embassy as deputy ambassador. 

Latvia had regained independence in 1991 after 50 years of Soviet rule. A small country of just over 2 million people at that time. The population in the main cities was 50% Russian. Settlers who had decided that they belonged to Latvia rather than the new Russia across the border. Independence saw many ethnic Latvians born in USA, Canada and UK come to live and work in Latvia. Many for the first time. They brought skills and knowledge that helped Latvia modernise its government and economy. When I arrived, that change was just happening. I lived in a hotel room for the first six months as there weren’t apartments to rent. Shops were small and many used the old system of choosing goods at a counter then going to a cash desk to pay, taking back the receipt to the counter to collect the goods. But soon the first supermarkets arrived. Rimi, a Swedish owned company, started building or converting properties into modern style supermarkets. The old Army and Navy store, yes formerly owned by the Soviet military, was converted into a small modern mall. I actually soon missed the old-fashion department store style of the Army and Navy and the hustle and bustle inside. The Chief Executive of Kellogg’s Latvia told me a story about the store. Eating cereals at breakfast wasn’t a Latvian custom. Neither were marketing promotions. Kellogg’s set up stall in the store with bowls of cornflakes and milk for shoppers to try. People willingly took the bowls. Literally, tipping out the contents in the nearest bin and pocketing the bowl!

It was however great to be able to buy delicacies like mozzarella or other foreign foods.

New restaurants sprung up around Riga. Personal favourites included Pizza Lulu, and our Embassy lunch or evening haunt of the Flying Frog. And for fine dining, Vincent’s, founded and run by the charismatic chef Martins Ritins who was born and raised in the UK. He learnt his skills as a chef in London. Martins sadly died in 2022 from Covid but had become a Latvian TV chef, caterer to the famous and regarded as the godfather of modern Latvian cuisine. His restaurant was decked out with photos of Martins and famous people dinning at his restaurant. What we now call selfies. And fake Van Goghs on the walls. I played my part by taking Prince Andrew for a meal at Vincent’s during his official visit to Latvia. Not sure that photo would still be on the walls of the restaurant now, given the allegations against the Prince that arose more recently.

With the economy rising, so was crime. Latvia was dubbed the wild east. Some business people had guns or at least their bodyguards did. Security company vehicles like those belonging to G4S had flashing blue lights and were allowed to break traffic rules. The security guard at the office and apartment block where I eventually lived, had a pistol. One British business man annoyed a former Latvian Prime Minister by daring to set up a supermarket in competition. The British businessman’s store was shutdown. The British Ambassador had his car stolen from an outdoor museum a couple of days after he arrived. Probably whisked straight over the border into Russia before an embarrassed Latvian government and police could do much about it. I had been previously working in Cambridge in England helping to promote technology spin offs from the university. I had one of their tech products fitted to my car - a film covering the windows that made them break in and shatter proof. My car wasn’t stolen. In those days, Latvia was positioned as a safe country to trade with Russia. That’s why Kellogg’s set up a factory in Latvia. Since closed down. The port of Ventspils on Latvia’s western coast grew wealthy from that trade, by pipeline and rail. The port of Liepaja, a former Soviet naval base, also grew. But not all regions of Latvia prospered. The economy of the eastern region of Latgale was dominated by large factories selling products that were no longer wanted. One condensed milk manufacturer had tins of the milk in every nook and cranny. Including the toilets. 

Working in Latvia as a diplomat at that time was immensely satisfying. Diplomacy is often about procedures and niceties. But in Latvia at that time, I think we really helped the country in small but important ways. The Ambassador and I held discussions between the vastly different Latvian and Russian political parties on important issues like a language law, human rights and integration of the 700;000 Russian settlers who were stateless, Latvian non-citizens was their official status. At the time, many ethnic Russians did not, and did not want to learn to speak Latvian. It was more common to hear Russian on the streets and shops in the capital city of Riga than Latvian. Many schools still taught in Russian. We helped the OSCE High Commissioner Max van der Stoel advise the Latvian government and parliament on human rights. He was dubbed doctor death by the Latvian media, possibly because of his appearance. Possibly because he had advice that many did not like.

My diplomatic friends in Latvia were all young (like me), intelligent (not like me) people. The deputy ambassador cadre were all young. The Ambassadors were all on their last posting before retirement. There was therefore a good mix of youthful enthusiasm to do things together with the wisdom that comes from a long career as a diplomat. The Estonian Embassy staff were particularly crazy. During a trade dispute between Latvia and Estonia about the import of pigs, my opposite number at the Estonian Embassy asked to borrow a tie I owned for the trade negotiations. It had pigs on. Diplomacy was less stuffy. It was not unusual for a Latvian government minister to join an informal dinner party at my apartment. And people came to receptions at my apartment or at the Embassy because the caterer was, you have probably already guessed this, Martins Ritins. Oh those half chocolate covered strawberries! 

Latvia wanted foreign investment to replace the old manufacturing industries. As part of its inward investment promotion, the Latvian authorities took a coach of diplomats to visit the factories in the remoter parts of the country. This included offering lots of food and drink. Luckily for me, I do not like vodka, but there was a few tottering diplomats who exited the coach after a long day in Daugavpils or Rezekne.

My favourite experience as a diplomat in Latvia was representing Britain at the inauguration of Latvia’s first female President, Dr Vaira Vike-Freiburga in 1999. After the official inauguration in the Latvian parliament, Saiema, we all drove down to the castle at Rundale to congratulate the new President, an hour’s drive with the Union Jack flag flying on the official car. People were on the streets watching and waving at the procession of big cars (well, except the British Embassy car was a Landrover), and I found myself waving back. It would be rude not to. Black tie and ball gowns really suited the splendour of the beautiful castle and its interior. Years later I got married there.

Winter sports were and still are, important to Latvia. There are no mountains in Latvia but they do have good bobsleighers. I took a ride down the run at Sigulda, with a Latvian team member driving the bobsleigh of course. The scariest experience of my life as being tall my helmeted head was scrapping against the ice on the turns. Took weeks for my neck to recover. Latvians are mad about ice hockey too. I don’t ski, I don’t skate, I have a poor sense of balance, so the bobsleigh was my only attempt at any winter sport.

Culture, that mix of language, history, the arts and way of living, is particularly important to Latvians. I travelled to many cultural events across Latvia. Partly because the Ambassador didn’t like travelling outside of the capital, so sent me, and partly because I enjoyed it. I liked meeting people whose lives were different to those living in Riga. I enjoyed trying to understand the history of this country that had been invaded many times, and the artefacts left - often manor houses and castles before the 20th century. I often visited schools in the regions of Latvia and talked to them about Britain and it’s society. Sometimes taking a cricket bat and ball! 

My favourite cultural festival was in Mazirbe on the western coast above Ventspils. This was an annual celebration of Liv culture. The Livonians were indigenous to Latvia, a balto-finnic group. They have a different language that is similar to Finnish and Estonian. Coaches of Finns and especially Estonians would come to the festival. Spoken word, folk music late into the night and of course eating and drinking. Held in August it was an ideal time of the year to camp for the festival (there were and still are no hotels in Mazirbe). The sea was metres away for a quick dip in the morning. The Liv flag still flies proudly from buildings in this corner of Latvia. The road there was part tarmac then stone road. It is now all paved thanks to EU money.

Popular music was also re-awakening. Prata Vetra, or Brainstorm in English,was formed in 1989 by five school friends from Jelgava, they grew in popularity in the 1990s, and hit mass popularity when they came third at the Eurovision Song Contest in 2000. They still attract big crowds and still appear young. Hmm, unlike me. They sing in Latvian, English and Russian. I saw them perform at a sold out outdoor venue in 2022. They replaced the Russian language songs with singing in Ukrainian. 

Small bands were forming in the 1990s. I proudly went to the first concert by Hobos at a small cafe in Riga. Formed by Rolands Udris a returning Latvian who had busked in New York, Hong Kong and other cities, hence the name which is US slang for a busker. I watched them perform many times during my stay in Latvia. They are regarded as one of the best Latvian rock bands since independence was regained. Sadly Rolands was hit by a car in 2016, was in a coma for months and is still unable to perform.

Unlike in other European cities, being a young and active diplomat in Latvia meant that you got invited to all sorts of events. Big fashion shows, music gigs, modern culture. No idea why I got the invites rather than the Ambassador!

The biggest cultural event, in terms of importance and size, is the song festival held every four years. In a massive amphitheatre in a forest park on the outskirts of Riga, massed choirs sing traditional songs, dressed in traditional dress for their region. Song was a contributing factor in gaining independence from the Soviet Union. In 1989, a 500 mile/600 km line of people holding hands stretched from Vilnius the capital of Lithuania, to Riga and then northwards to Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. Singing. My wife has memories of this as a child with her mother on this Baltic Way.

Summers in Latvia were hot, with predictable weather. A favourite place to visit at the weekend, or for some to live in, was Jurmala. This was a former seaside resort of choice by Soviet generals, politicians and business leaders. It had a mixture of old, beautiful wooden villas and horrible Soviet era concrete hotels in the villages that make up Jurmala. It is just 30 minutes by train or car from the centre of Riga, so easy to reach. The concrete hotels decayed, empty and were starting to be knocked down and replaced by expensive apartments, mostly aimed at rich Russians, in the late 1990s. Now-a-days there are many grand villas and expensive-looking apartment blocks in the main parts of Jurmala. But still it remains accessible to everyone, especially those living in the capital, Riga.

Comparing the Latvia of the 1990s with the present day country, many things have changed. There are supermarkets everywhere. Lots more shops and restaurants. New housing replacing some of the Soviet prefabricated blocks. The Russian influence is much smaller. And the strong sense of culture, music, theatre, ballet and opera, still remains. As do the traditional Latvian ways of doing things. May it stay that way.