dvi silkes

It was a typical day of studying. In addition to wearing wool socks and two sweaters, I had piled our warmest blankets around my study-zone on the couch, and the laptop was dutifully keeping my knees and fingers frost-free. I have to admit, I don’t particularly like studying, so when the doorbell rang, I was eager to take a break. I climbed out of my blanket-igloo, and skidded over to the front door.

Out of habit and curiosity, I opened the peephole to see who could be standing on our landing. There were two young men, perhaps in their early twenties; both dressed casually in jeans and jackets. Since the main entrance has to be opened with a key, we don’t get a lot of visitors, but the door is often left open during the day, and solicitors, utilities people, Mormons, or potato sellers sometimes make their way to our door. These two didn’t look like utilities workers, and they certainly weren’t Mormons, but I would have happily bought a kilo of potatoes, so I opened the door.

I smiled, and said “good day,” they politely nodded and replied with the same. Then, the flash of a badge, and one single word: police. I wish I could describe what occurred in the following few seconds, but sudden anxiety does interesting things to one’s brain. My eyes were completely fixed on the shiny, laminated “Policija” card that was being held up in front of me. Or maybe it wasn’t anymore. Maybe he had already folded it back up and put it in his pocket, but it was still all I could see. Apparently, they were undercover policemen, and the one on the left was asking me something. I stared. Then the one on the right looked at me with a flicker of sympathy, and I heard him say, in Russian, that perhaps I didn’t understand. But I did understand, and managed to stutter the much-rehearsed phrase, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Lithuanian very well.” They didn’t look too impressed, and within the span of a heartbeat (which, at this point was pretty fast), a dozen thoughts flashed across my mind:

I am legal! I have a valid visa; it’s in my coat pocket…my left coat pocket. It’s pink, and shiny, and looks surprisingly like your police card, only smaller. We own our flat, and have the document to prove it. Goodness, these two guys are young to be policemen. What if they want to arrest me? What if I have to go to the police station? Can I ask to use the bathroom first? I really need to go to the bathroom. I don’t want to go to the police station in my frumpy blue study sweater. And the blankets on the couch are a mess. What time is it? Nathan is teaching; I wish he were here. Maybe they want to arrest Nathan. But we are legal! Just let me get my visa…

Somehow, simultaneously, I was processing what these two young men were saying. They wanted to know about our neighbours across the hall: their names, were they home, etc. Of course, I find speaking Lithuanian difficult enough, so when my brain is squeezed in panic, forming phrases and parsing verbs becomes nearly impossible. Through a stumbling mix of Lithuanian and English, I explained that we know very little about these particular neighbors. The lady who lives there, I said, likes to keep the hallways tidy, and the man who comes and goes is, sadly, usually drunk. We actually see very little of them, and aside from the occasional “hello,” they keep to themselves. I felt bad that I couldn’t be more helpful, but also very relieved that they hadn’t been looking for me! We stitched together a few more sentences, and they repeatedly assured me that everything was OK. I’m sure I looked absolutely terrified, but hopefully I didn’t seem suspicious. Maybe they were peering past me into our apartment, wondering why I was so nervous. Next thing you know, they will be asking our neighbours about us!

They thanked me for my time, I smiled (I think), and that was it. Despite an enormous sense of relief, my brain was too busy playing reruns of the encounter to focus on studying. I thought about all the difficulties we’ve had obtaining our visas, and belatedly thanked God for providing all the legal bits and pieces at just the right times. When I talked to Nathan on the phone a few minutes later, I laughed as I told him the story, but even then, the tension squeezed my voice into a squeak, and Nathan wondered if I was crying. Of course, we are living and working here perfectly legally, and we have nothing to worry about. Still, with visa restrictions getting increasingly tighter, we can’t help imagining the “what ifs.” All I know is that I have been as close as I ever want to get to a police badge.

The next time my doorbell rings, I’m hoping for the potato guy. I like potatoes.

After several days of unusually relentless snowfall, the ground and trees outside are covered in a thick, white coat. Looking out from our kitchen window, the cloudy skies, white rooftops, and snowy ground all blend together, making the usually pale yellow shade of our building seem like a beaming beacon in the cold. Among the various splotches of colour outside is a particularly noticeable black circle on the ground next to a few spindly trees. The circle is a manhole cover, under which runs hot water for heating the apartments nearby. All around this little snow-free island oasis are the paw prints of a dozen or more cats who retreat there to warm themselves while they make their neighbourhood rounds.

As much as I love snow, and even enjoy the zing of wintry air in your lungs, and rosy-red cheeks on a cold sunny day, the beauty of glistening snowflakes and icicles on tree branches tends to fade when you can’t feel your fingers anymore. So, I have been quite content to enjoy watching the falling snow from the warmth of our apartment, venturing out only when necessary. Yesterday, however, with a post office slip tucked securely into my pocket, I had the perfect motivation for heading out into the cold. After bundling into three sweaters, two pair of socks, and my boots, with two jackets zipped to the top, toque in place, and my Auntie-Martha scarf wrapped up to my chin, I was more than ready for the short walk to the post office. And even if the sun disappeared and the clouds rolled in by the time I was on my way home, my curiosity about the package I was carrying provided sufficient distraction to keep me from thinking about my quickly numbing toes. Of course, I had to un-bundle myself from the many layers of freeze-proofing, then wait until Nathan had come home from work in the evening before we could open our parcel together. Once we were both warm and snuggly settled, we opened our box of Christmas goodies from my sister and her family in Canada.

Appropriately, Nathan managed to reach in and pull out his birthday surprise first! The treat bag full of candy was a great way to start off the unpacking adventure, and added a rather potent sugar buzz to our excitement. His handmade, barley-filled hot pack will certainly get a lot of use on cold days, and if that doesn’t work, the squeezy chili spices should help! The butterscotch pudding mix was cause for a bit of undignified – but happy – dancing in our living room, and we had completely forgotten about sparkling Jell-O, so that will make a fun treat. We are pretty sure we can steam the carrot muffin mix, and I even know where to get cream cheese for the ultimate carrot cake icing. My creative sister also made some calendula and mullein ointment (from her own herb garden), which is packaged so beautifully into a corked glass jar that I am sure it will be just as enjoyable on display as it will be smoothed onto our winter-cracked skin. I’m not sure I will be able to make anything as spectacular from the calendula seeds enclosed in the package, but we will give it a go! The creativity continues in a pair of lovingly knitted socks that my sister made from the fleece of one of their sheep. I am looking forward to taking these Icelandic wool socks on a test run through the piles of snow outside. This might be just the thing to keep my little toes toasty warm on days like today! Some shower gels, cream, toothpaste, and razors will help round out our current supplies, and add some variety to our daily routine. Of course, no package from my sister’s house would be complete without something utterly goofy, and I am sure my nephew had a few goes with the swing-the-ball-into-the-cup gadget as it was getting tucked into the box. But the most nostalgic – and definitely the most hilarious – thing we found in this package of Christmas cheer was a pair of magnetic Scottie dogs. I remember playing with two just like these when we were kids: one black dog, one white, magnetically attracted to each other and oodles of fun! I’m still playing with them…

So, we had our twelve days of Christmas…plus a few more. And the season was indeed merry, and bright, and even white. We feasted on pudding, and snuggled in our beds, we sang carols, watched old movies, and giggled like kids. Thanks to everyone for making this possible, even if we couldn’t be with you. Your thoughtfulness and generosity are treasures we unwrap and enjoy each day of the year.

There’s a familiar, cold scent in the air, but it has been so long, the clarity of remembrance is slow in coming. A moment longer, and the loudspeakers begin singing out a tune that brings everything into focus: “Oh! The good ol’ hockey game, is the best game you can name. And the best game you can name, is the good ol’ hockey game!” It seems, for just a second, like I am back in Canada, but then the whistle blows and the fans – wearing the burgundy and white colours of the Dinamo Riga team – begin a deafening chant that leaves no uncertainty of where we are. Even though we are sitting just eight rows from the ice, it’s still hard to believe we are at an arena in Riga, cheering for the Latvian team as they play against the formidable Kazakhstan team. We cheer even louder when any of the three Canadians on the Latvian team makes a successful pass, and Nathan’s Edmonton Oilers jersey certainly makes it clear where our hockey loyalties lie.

Luxuries like a fancy new ice arena mean that Riga is not an inexpensive place to visit, but this fantastic little get-away was made possible by the generous Christmas gift of some splurge money from my parents. We were thrilled for the opportunity to do something different, and an overnight trip to Riga seemed like just the thing to brighten up a grey winter. The five-hour bus ride can really make or break a trip, and after two icy hours on the way to Riga, we were relieved when the heat finally started to kick in. We stayed tightly zipped into our coats the whole way – even though the floorboard heater threatened to scorch our knees – and managed to snooze for a bit while the bus shuddered its way down the bumpy Latvian roads. We’ve flown in and out of Riga a few times, so we have a basic familiarity with the city, and once we arrived, Nathan was able to lead us directly from the bus station to our hotel without any questions. If he ever tires of being an English teacher, I am certain Nathan would make a great travel agent, since he is always able to find us great places to stay at affordable prices. Our newly renovated hotel was just what we needed for the night, and I happily cranked up the radiators so we could thaw out after our trip. We took advantage of some coupons for the hotel restaurant, and had a quick supper before heading off to the game. Though Nathan had confirmed our bus route on the internet, we were glad to see throngs of hockey fans making their way to the game, and followed the crowd right to the doors of the arena.

While it was exciting to see live hockey for the first time in a very very long time, I have to admit it was just as much fun to observe hockey culture from a new perspective. The Latvians are known for their love of hockey and their devotion as fans, but I was surprised by the intensity and excitement in the arena. The chanting and cheering for the Riga team began before the final notes of the anthem had faded, and didn’t stop until long after the final buzzer. The drums, whistles, and shouting almost had the feel of a playoff game, though this was an ordinary, regular season match in the Kontinental Hockey League. Though I couldn’t understand the cheers, some of them are still stuck in my head, and “nah-nah-nah-nah, nah-nah-nah-nah, hey-hey-hey, Latvija!” has a particularly catchy ring to it. Both goalies played exceptionally well, and in the end, Riga’s only goal turned out to be the winner. We were thrilled that “our” team won, and left the arena laughing and cheering along with nearly 10,000 Latvian fans.

After walking back to the hotel through thick movie-esque fog, we slipped down to the cozy restaurant for hot drinks to warm us up. We spent the evening relaxing in our wonderfully warm room, and slept well on the extra fluffy pillows. A continental breakfast was included with the room, and I especially enjoyed the freshly brewed coffee (many times!). We spent the day wandering the old streets of Riga, and made the quintessential stop at Stockmann’s; a Finnish grocery store with lots of imported goodies. By the time we got to the bus station to head back to Klaipeda, we had our pockets crammed with gingerbread cookies, black Twizzlers (they didn’t have any red), Indian paneer, Campbell’s Tomato Soup, Reese’s Peanut Butter cups, and a huge bottle of Hershey’s Chocolate syrup! All of this was topped off with a very tasty latte at one of our favourite coffee shops, and before we knew it, it was time to come home.

As we climbed on board the Riga-Klaipeda bus late in the afternoon, I hoped for just one last thing on our trip: a warm bus. When I sat down on a clean, soft seat, next to a frost-free window, I couldn’t help but smile. The ride home was warm and quiet, and pulling into the Klaipeda station a half an hour ahead of schedule was a great way to end our trip. Even though we were only gone one night, it felt good to be home, and we were so thankful that we had the chance for a little get-away.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for this splurge! We relaxed, had fun, drank lots of coffee, cheered loudly, and laughed a lot. Bet you didn’t think you had a bow big enough for all that, did you? ☺