It's four degrees celsius and raining hard, but even this dismal weather fails to dampen my enthusiasm for being in Rīga.¹
The journey back was uneventful, and I'm mostly unpacked and resettled. The five days I've been here have been a friendly blur, filled with meetings and reconnections and bringing some order to my chaotic life.²
It's good to practice what little Latvian I happen to know,³ be back in my flat, enjoy wearing clothes that are more fitting for the current season than what I packed in my suitcase three months ago,⁴ and - most important of all - see friends, old and new alike, for the first time in a very long time.
Three months is a long time. Since I was last in Latvia, a man has jumped out of a balloon from the edge of space (and survived).⁵ Something called "the Olympics" happened, which caused a massive increase - and subsequent fall back into obscurity - of interest in sports which end in "-thlon." Three presidential debates among the two leading candidates in the U.S. caught the attention of the world, and brought phrases like "horses and bayonets" and "binders full of women" into popular vocabulary. Apple came out with an array of new products, which caused half of the world to dissolve into a state of lustful desire and the other half to staunchly resist the allure by clinging tightly to objects such as droids, windows, and in the case of one man alone deep in the wilderness for the past ten years, something called a "zune." Several friends have moved from Rīga to places such as Hungary, Norway, the U.K., and even (ironically) the U.S.
A lot can happen in three months.
(Thankfully, though, some things haven't changed)
This is my home - whatever that word even means - and this is where I'm meant to be.
Absence might make the heart grow fonder,⁶ but presence makes the heart remember. This is why I'm here - this person, that place, this gloriously difficult opportunity - and this is why it's so good to be back.
It'd take a lot longer than three months to forget how much this place means to me.
¹Lest you think I take this whole writing thing too seriously, let me be the first to state the obvious: This is a truly cringeworthy start to this post. But my weak attempt at a meaningful metaphor amused me so greatly that I decided to leave it in.
²Not to mention my cluttered possessions. As scant as they might be, they have a way of expanding to fill the entire volume of whatever area they are enclosed within. Kind of like a gas, except with a slightly less tendency towards being malodorous.
³Most recent phrase I uttered: "Man lūdzu melna kafija." Perhaps the single most important Latvian phrase I've yet to learn. Google translate it if you don't speak latvian.
⁴Including sweaters. And long-sleeved shirts. And wool socks. And other assorted cold-weather gear and clothing. *bliss*
⁵That incredibly captivating freefall was quickly surpassed, oddly enough, by a cyclist.
⁶A saying with low credibility, in my opinion, but it's repeated so often I think most people take it to be true. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but that's only because the difficult and painful slip through the cracks in ones memory far quicker than the bright and beautiful do.
The journey back was uneventful, and I'm mostly unpacked and resettled. The five days I've been here have been a friendly blur, filled with meetings and reconnections and bringing some order to my chaotic life.²
It's good to practice what little Latvian I happen to know,³ be back in my flat, enjoy wearing clothes that are more fitting for the current season than what I packed in my suitcase three months ago,⁴ and - most important of all - see friends, old and new alike, for the first time in a very long time.
Three months is a long time. Since I was last in Latvia, a man has jumped out of a balloon from the edge of space (and survived).⁵ Something called "the Olympics" happened, which caused a massive increase - and subsequent fall back into obscurity - of interest in sports which end in "-thlon." Three presidential debates among the two leading candidates in the U.S. caught the attention of the world, and brought phrases like "horses and bayonets" and "binders full of women" into popular vocabulary. Apple came out with an array of new products, which caused half of the world to dissolve into a state of lustful desire and the other half to staunchly resist the allure by clinging tightly to objects such as droids, windows, and in the case of one man alone deep in the wilderness for the past ten years, something called a "zune." Several friends have moved from Rīga to places such as Hungary, Norway, the U.K., and even (ironically) the U.S.
A lot can happen in three months.
(Thankfully, though, some things haven't changed)
This is my home - whatever that word even means - and this is where I'm meant to be.
Absence might make the heart grow fonder,⁶ but presence makes the heart remember. This is why I'm here - this person, that place, this gloriously difficult opportunity - and this is why it's so good to be back.
It'd take a lot longer than three months to forget how much this place means to me.
¹Lest you think I take this whole writing thing too seriously, let me be the first to state the obvious: This is a truly cringeworthy start to this post. But my weak attempt at a meaningful metaphor amused me so greatly that I decided to leave it in.
²Not to mention my cluttered possessions. As scant as they might be, they have a way of expanding to fill the entire volume of whatever area they are enclosed within. Kind of like a gas, except with a slightly less tendency towards being malodorous.
³Most recent phrase I uttered: "Man lūdzu melna kafija." Perhaps the single most important Latvian phrase I've yet to learn. Google translate it if you don't speak latvian.
⁴Including sweaters. And long-sleeved shirts. And wool socks. And other assorted cold-weather gear and clothing. *bliss*
⁵That incredibly captivating freefall was quickly surpassed, oddly enough, by a cyclist.
⁶A saying with low credibility, in my opinion, but it's repeated so often I think most people take it to be true. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but that's only because the difficult and painful slip through the cracks in ones memory far quicker than the bright and beautiful do.