It all started with sitting down on the floor by the wall and the customary "What is your name? Where are you from?", after which two proper buckets of not particularly warm - rather cool - water came over the head. The attendant with a rough exfoliating mitt and quick, powerful movements scrubbed the arms, legs, back, and shoulders. A sort of peeling treatment, followed by a soap massage that differed considerably from what I had enjoyed at "Sokolovskije Bani" in Jūrmala.
Whether we had simply started visiting shops less often, or the eighth wonder of the world had truly occurred and service culture - or more simply put - the attitude towards customers had changed for the better. We lived in such an illusion until this Sunday (12 July, 20:30).
Today, 10 July, the festival "Dunamunde 2010" took place at Daugavgrīva Fortress, with the participation of 15 military history clubs from Latvia, Russia, Lithuania, Poland, and Finland. Walking through the camps set up on the fortress grounds, visitors could explore history from mediaeval knightly tournaments and the battles of the Great Northern War and the Napoleonic Wars, right through to the First World War. Many tried their hand at shooting with a bow, crossbow, and musket.
On the fourth day of the excursion we set off on a two-hour cruise on the Bosphorus Strait aboard a small two-storey boat. The strait connects two seas - the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara. Although the wind was blowing fairly strongly, it was pleasantly warm, and our shoulders and faces got quite thoroughly sunburned. At one point the backs of dolphins flashed in the water.
Prompted by an advertisement, I attended one of the Ayurvedic sessions, which promised to cover meditation and small tips on nutrition in the Ayurvedic tradition. Unfortunately I realised that this is not a lifestyle I would wish to adopt, as I noticed several contradictions and oddities in what was said. However, I noted down a few insights for reflection. Below is a brief summary of the session.
How many wives could a sultan have at most? It turns out only 18. The word "harem" comes from Arabic and means "forbidden." Nowhere will you find accounts of this place originating from Muslim lands. The harem was the dwelling of the sultans' wives, concubines, and children, served and guarded by Black enslaved men - eunuchs.
This summer, by a happy coincidence, the Midsummer holidays fell to give us a full five free days, so the opportunity arose to travel to Turkey, this time with the "Impro" travel agency. After our last trip by coach across Europe, we realised that bus travel was no longer for us and that we needed to start moving by air. Already on the evening of 23 June we were sitting alone together on the hotel terrace in Istanbul, drinking beer and wine and gazing out over the Sea of Marmara lit up by the lights of the many boats.
What do you usually do with a cork left over from enjoying wine or champagne? Throw it out immediately, toss it in a kitchen drawer thinking it might come in handy someday - only for it to stay there rolling around for an indefinite period, and so on. Not so long ago it was common to see wine corks stuffed under the handle of an aluminium pot lid, so the hot lid could be lifted from a boiling pot without a towel. Where else can cork be used so that it serves both practical and aesthetic functions in our homes?
Cancer does not love women; he believes it is women who should be seeking his favour. He devotes much energy to achieving other goals. Whatever he undertakes, in every field he must be the very best. The desire to stand out among others and excessive ambition constantly spur him to conquer new heights.
Man proposes, God disposes. This evening, on 17 June, a concert had been planned in Vērmanes Garden in support of the gravely ill rock band "Līvi" musician Jānis Grodums, but it became a memorial evening. Lit candles, flowers, the musician's portrait in the light of spotlights, the fateful dates (10.VI.1958. – 15.VI.2010.) and performances by several well-known and lesser-known musicians on stage. Some lit their lighter flames and swayed to the music's rhythm, some hummed along, others dropped donations into a box for establishing a memorial place for the musician, a couple danced, someone shed a tear. Līvi forever alive, weeds never die...
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