The Baltics – Day 4: Sigulda and Riga

I struggled to come up with an itinerary for Latvia, as travelling between interesting places can be quite difficult without a car. The medieval town of Kuldiga lies a good three hours away from Riga and the buses are not frequent, while the buses to Pilsrundale seem to have been discontinued entirely. Latvia’s second largest city Daugavpils can be reached by train, but the journey takes three and a half hours, and to be honest I am not sure there is all that much to see.

During my perusals of internet travel guides, however, I came across the town of Sigulda. The town lies about an hour’s train journey northeast of Riga and offers easy access to several points of interest. Since the morning trains run on an hourly basis, I wolfed down my breakfast (which I truly lamented as my hotel makes delicious quark pancakes) and hurried to make the eight o’clock connection.

After arriving at the train station in Sigulda, I walked north to the Sigulda New Castle, which stands right in front of the Sigulda Old Castle. The new castle was built in 1878 by Dmitry Kropotkin, governor of Grodno and Kharkiv, and cousin of the famous anarchist philosopher Pyotr Kropotkin. The old castle was built in 1207 by the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, a group that had been founded only a few years earlier to wage a crusade against Baltic pagan peoples. As many other sites I have visited on this trip, this castle passed through many hands, including those of the Poles, Swedes, and Russians.

According to my research, both of Sigulda’s castles are better to look at from the outside than from within, so I snapped a few shots and continued to the local cable car station. The cable car connects Sigulda and nearby Krimulda across a shallow valley, which is mostly forested except for the flood plains of the river Gauja. Arriving just in time for the first ride of the day, I found myself on the other side at quarter past ten.

The tourist path from Krimulda leads down through the forest, using wooden stairs and platforms to ease the most precipitous descents. Before arriving at its main destination, the path makes a stop at Gutman’s Cave, dubbed the “first tourist attraction in Latvia” because of the centuries-old etchings left by visitors. According to local legend, the cave is where the gardener of Sigulda castle met his beloved, Maija, on their nightly trysts. One day, Maija was surprised at the cave by a Polish soldier, who accidentally murdered her after she refused to yield her virginity to him. The gardener initially received the blame but was saved when the murder’s accomplice stepped up to reveal the truth of the matter.

There is some kernel of historical reality to the legend, as court documents discuss the trial of the alleged murderer. If that is really the case, I cannot help thinking that the Polish soldier might have been framed. The axe left on the crime scene by the gardener, as well as the convenient confession of an alleged co-conspirator (who just so happened to be another Latvian) should really raise the alarms in the minds of any criminologist.

From Gutman’s cave, it is only a short walk to the nearby Turaida Castle. Incidentally, the castle’s record keeper raised Maija after she miraculously survived the occupation of Turaida by the Swedes. The castle can be reached from the road, but I opted through the forest path full of mosquitos: if these blood-sucking parasites are useful for one thing, it is to motivate people to keep walking even when they are out of breath and drawing on the last reservoir of strength within their soul.

Turaida is the ruin of an elegant brick castle, whose tower can be seen from a long distance. Just like Sigulda’s Old Castle, Turaida Castle was built by the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, who clearly thought that one castle within a five-kilometre radius is not enough to defend the few villagers scattered in between extensive forests. They were probably correct to think so, as Latvia’s secular and religious powers were always at war with one another, and when they were not, the locals could always rely on conflict to come from a nearby country like Denmark, Sweden or Russia.

I got hungry quite early and the bus back to Sigulda was not due to arrive for another half an hour, so I sat down at a nearby tourist café and ate some beet soup. I have never been a fan of beet soup, but after my trips to Russia and Poland, I have grown to find a strange enjoyment in it. Contrary to my expectations, it was not a bus that arrived when I finished my soup but two shuttle buses, vehicles that Russians would call marshrutky. Once I arrived in Sigulda, I took the regular-sized bus all the way to Riga.

My afternoon in Riga was pleasant and sunny. I began by the Freedom Monument and after hanging a left at the orthodox cathedral, I found myself on some of Riga’s most beautiful Art Nouveau streets. My dad told me a few days ago that Art Nouveau buildings make up roughly a third of all buildings in Riga, which is the highest concentration anywhere in the world. However, since it was Monday, the Art Nouveau Museum was closed, so I returned once more to the medieval part of the city.

Riga uses a lot of red brick in its architecture, which is strangely in keeping with the aesthetic of Latvia’s flag. Some of its most famous attractions – Riga Cathedral, the House of the Black Heads, and Saint Peter’s Church – incorporate a significant amount of this material. Besides these, I also took a look inside the Saint Mary Magdalene Church and walked across the river to take in the views of Riga’s skyline from a distance. I headed back to my hotel after eating a dinner of toasted black bread and salad.