Postcard From Latvia
by David Lewin Riga, Latvia I realise that tourists often view the place they’re visiting through rose coloured sunglasses, but Riga does definitely feel very different to most of the UK – and much more pleasant. My trip got off to an inauspicious start when the person next to me on the plane was a young female who sat down and immediately requested I made sure my mask was covering my nose. I readjusted it and uttered words along the lines of, “Of course. I’ll make myself feel unwell just to please you.” (I have lung scarring from an illness 19 years ago). Perhaps I should have been nicer. But she was a mask militant. After the flight I saw her in the airport’s outside car park, still fully masked up, getting picked up by her (what I presumed to be) dad, who was also fully masked up. Neuroticism must run in the family. My taxi driver from the airport and I bonded over a loathing of masks. He told me that in Latvia they’re only mandatory in airports or healthcare facilities. He also strongly recommended I try eating bulls’ balls on my visit, but that’s another story. His demeanour suggested no virus phobia. He was a sceptical sort to be sure – he told me that he doesn't even...
