Zhenya flew with me to Riga, so Dasha’s actual birthday consisted of a romantic stroll around the city, row boat down the canal and dinner for 3. But the party itself was the next day… and the next day and the next day, with a dozen or more closest friends and a heap of shashliks (meat skewers) helping the celebrations along. The theme for the party was Hippies versus Gypsies, and no surprises the Gypsies won. It was still hilarious watching a hippie join in a game of beach volleyball with some randoms.
Jozza was also flying out on the Friday night for the occasion, but due to a train breaking down missed his flight and had to catch the same flight the next day at a considerable expense. The Friday night was not that memorable for myself and Zhenya anyway, because our new best friend Schwarzhog took advantage of our fond relationship. Saturday was more of the same, beach, swimming pool, eating and drinking.
After a long night we welcomed in the new day, especially the clouds, every one of which looked like something; a mushroom, a map of Latvia, a giant chicken, a puppy; the photos may suggest otherwise. Drifted off for a couple of hours to be woken up for lunch, which, of course, included a few shots of vodka. The day progressed and we headed in to Riga for a night out. Dasha hadn’t slept at all the night before, so to make it to 3 am was a pretty good effort. The biggest problem was that the only place open at that time on a Sunday night was an Irish Bar (read pub full of English tossers). Jozza wandered off by himself to find his beloved bar Leningrad, which closes when the last customer leaves, about 6am on this instance I believe. After trying to sleep in the park the police told Jozza to move on, which I guess was the official end to Dasha’s birthday.