Dining in the Dark at Olīve Restaurant in Riga

We arrived at Olīve restaurant shortly after 8 pm. Outside, deep dusk had already settled, and winter showed no intention of yielding to spring. We were greeted and asked to switch off our mobile phones completely and remove our watches - so that nothing in the darkness would light up or emit any glow.

We then paused between two heavy curtains, where Ēriks was asked to place his hands on my shoulders, while I placed one hand on the shoulder of Ingars - the evening's guide - and so, like a little train, we proceeded in complete darkness into the room. We could see absolutely nothing, and at first it was not particularly comfortable, as Ingars walked with confident, sizable strides forward while I tried to tiptoe so as not to bump into anything, and worried about losing the shoulder I was holding on to - my only point of orientation.

And so we walked and walked. Although there was a suspicion that we were circling around the same not-very-large space, the brief time spent in unfamiliar darkness was a sufficient challenge for a person accustomed to sight. From voices it was possible to sense that the room already held about three tables of diners - two Russian-speaking couples and one Latvian one.

We were seated at a round table which, by touch, seemed quite large (in reality it was not), and at first it was impossible to tell whether anyone was sitting across from us or not. Ingars helped us orient ourselves at the table - to the right we felt a knife, and opposite it a water glass; to the left, a fork.

For a while we sat in the darkness, growing accustomed to the situation and beginning to guess - what colour was the tablecloth, how many people were in the room, how the tables were arranged, and so on. From time to time other dinner guests were brought into the room. A certain buzz began to fill the space, as people shared their impressions - there were now about a dozen of us. Background music played.

Dinner began for everyone simultaneously. The evening guide - the only person in the room who could see everything and everyone, his movements traceable by a small blue light - introduced the concept of dining in the dark.

It turns out this format originated in 1999 in Switzerland, where a blind chef opened a restaurant also staffed by blind waiters. All restaurant visitors were blindfolded. Dining in the dark takes place in a number of countries around the world - it is not a novelty. It is both a wonderful experience and an opportunity to spend a couple of hours in the role of those for whom there is no light in everyday life.

Olīve restaurant works in partnership with Strazdumuiža School for Visually Impaired Children. After dinner it was possible to leave a donation for the school to purchase musical instruments, as, Ingars explained, the children sometimes come and perform for the restaurant's guests.

And so dinner could begin. The menu featured two dishes - a main course and a dessert. They were served in sequence. In the darkness, the challenge was to manage both in a reasonably civilised manner. The dinner guide immediately reassured us that no one here is filmed or photographed. Relying on smell and taste, we also tried to identify what we were actually eating.

We identified the first dish fairly well - chicken and lentils were recognisable, but we did not guess the rice, beetroot, and carrot as side dishes. It seemed like there might be turnip or pear. Some of the guests guessed beef, but that was not it. For dessert, again a very familiar flavour - some kind of tart with a fresh little strawberry. It turned out to be the well-known cheesecake, but without the visual cue the memory did not click. (These dishes could be inspected in the light afterwards.)

The eating was slightly bizarre but engaging. Food spent quite some time being navigated around the plate with knife and fork, and mouthfuls - sometimes small, sometimes rather large - were retrieved more or less by chance. Fellow combatants at adjacent tables discussed their experiences at some volume. One wit kept cracking jokes about a frog that had just leapt off his plate.

At the close of the dinner, little candles were lit so that the eyes could gradually readjust to the light. An almost instant near-silence fell over the room, as though sixteen diners had suddenly become bashful and were stealing glances at each other with surprise. In what was a fairly small room there were seven tables. Most people lingered without ordering anything more - trying to take in their surroundings. The feeling: like waking from a waking dream.

A little later, driving home, we analysed our impressions. Strange, how the mind recalled the long-known truth: if one sense is absent, the others should compensate. Yet we experienced a few illusions - objects and people in the darkness seemed much further away and much larger than they actually were (the food portions too seemed enormous), while the food could not be fully savoured to the extent one would have liked, for the visual dimension was missing. Conclusion from that last point: a person eats with their eyes too.

For my part, I would certainly recommend experiencing these sensations at least once - if only to understand that the perception of the world around us is not as straightforward as it seems. The moment something shifts slightly in our senses, everything shifts. The familiar becomes far stranger, and one must rediscover it anew. Thank you, Ingars, and thank you Olīve restaurant for such an interesting experience!