Thursday: go out for a tour of the good shit. We start off at Mcdonalds. After meeting Adam we see these two guys in army costumes walking next to each other like synchronous faggots, they have bayonets and Rupert shouts at them. Then we go up a massive tower, it’s a hotel, and from the 26th floor Riga Old Town looks like Jet Set Radio Future. Every single building looks like something different; as if loads of kids made models of houses out of matchboxes and pebbles, and then some architects decided to replicate them with bricks and mortar. Then we go to the Russian black market, its shut. But in a Jewish memorial square, we become cornered by five flashing police cars with sirens and a black limousine sporting the Israeli flag. We try to sneak out of the danger zone and we look out for sniper rifles and camera crews. It’s not as glamorous as that, but the man in the limo does turn out to be the Israeli Vice President. Tourist Tip: Avoid the Latvian police, they’re angry and have guns.
In this big supermarket called ‘Stockman’ about a million Bourgeoisie Latvians are frantically walking around like puppets consuming expensive goods, whilst Santa Claws-esque jingles are broadcasted over the Tannoy system. We ascend the five floors of fun and leave straight away. On our way out Rupert spits water at women from the escalator and then throws a whole bottle on Hollie Higgins.
We go out in the evening avon beers and foods and we meet some cool Czech guys and a Swedish sports presenter. They turn out to be creeps though, once they have met the girls they turn a bit lecherous; getting up in Hollie and Anya’s face touching their legs. The Swede was a nice guy but he was guilty by association so we ditch him too. Tourist Tip: Some men are only looking to get laid, be careful. After a few more bars we are all dancing, well Laker is going mental and Dan isn’t really dancing at all. A fat bird is giving it the filth to Rupert and a gook is playing it cool with Hollie. After a few hours of partying and arguing, Dan has gone back to Anya’s for a blowjob and Rupert is farting, spitting and hitting on Hollie. Somehow they are both in the top bunk snuggled up together by the morning.
On Friday we go to the Russian Black Market again, this time its open and Anya is our translator. Tourist Tip: Try to meet a Russian girl from Chat Roulette before visiting Russian-speaking areas. Dan tries to take a picture of one stall and the guy tells him he wants to eat his balls for fucking breakfast in Russian. There’s an assortment of spades, shovels, kitchen knives, shears, hunting knives and all kinds of weapons to make me feel like a scaredy-cat. Most of the stalls look like the comprehensive contents of my luggage while some look like an unlucky driver is going to be cruising around with no stereo or speakers in his car. I buy loads of badges meanwhile Laker is getting chased around town by the Russian Mafia.
On a train to Jurmala: just normal stuff happens. At a restaurant there we have a lush meal with English music and Latvian beer. A fat cat joins us for supper and then we smoke some melon shisha and have a laugh. We crash an office ‘team-building’ exercise by chucking rocks at them and a French couple cycle away from us fervently when we ask them how to hire a bike. Tourist Tip: Some Tourist tip-books will send you on wild goose chases.
Anya’s apartment is like a palace, the ceilings are higher than the Eiffel Tower and the walls are whiter than Snowdonia. I cant appreciate this though, I’m eating a takeaway pizza and drinking some beer but my stomach is playing tricks on me and my bum is burning. We play Uno for a bit and then start doing shots of ‘Russian’ vodka with lemon. Me and Tom go discharge hunting in the bedroom, the sheets are all over the place but the juice eludes us. I find a bidet and it sorts my life out. The massaging warm jets feel like clotted cream to my red-raw strawberry bumhole. Now the party is really going and we go to a Nazi bar where we perform a ritual with candle wax upon ourselves. After that me, Rupert and Hollie stay in a club until sunrise. I read out some Russian chat-up lines to some Latvian girls on the podium and talk to an Italian lesbian. Hollie is trying to get a kebab when we go home, but she just settles for a handful of somebody else’s pasta from the fridge. Tourist Tip: Always look out for scavenging drunks, padlock your food.
Most of Saturday is spent arguing about what we’re going to do about the Volcano. Short of a plug we decide to try and buy a Latvian car. This is a failure. Anya leaves and it brings a tear to all of our eyes.
We correspond with some Latvian students from Falmouth and meet them at a houseparty. The eggs that they buy come in a packet with a six-packed hunk on the packaging and three weirdo beardo men are sat on a sofa with one girl. One girl says that she doesn’t have a problem causing her to finger herself every time she does a wee. The French bar is heaving again, heaving with shitheads, one big oath is actually walking into people and grunting “FEE FYE FO FUMB”. At Cuba some dancers mesmerize us as we sip banana daiquiris. By the time we finish drinking and finally decide to dance its’ quietening down, after a couple of minutes of grooving the place is virtually silent. Me and Tom go to a club on our own. Tourist Tip: Don’t be shit at dancing.
For a while we eat a mixture of luscious and unsatisfactory Latvian foodstock and visit some art shops. Everybody is taking photos on cameras so I give them a run for their money on my phone. I decide to send some of these pictures to Knoors photo agency, offering them the full rights to each image for one million Euros. We watch English football at some Irish pub.
No comments:
Post a Comment