Paddlers, pedlars and puddlers

We went canoeing down the River Gauja this week. It's not an activity that either Claire or I have much experience of or, as it turns out, any natural aptitude for. Makar, the Latvian guy whose canoe we were hiring, had driven us 25km "up river" from our campsite, the idea being that we'd simply canoe back to where the van was. Our entire instruction and safety briefing consisted of Makar asking Claire what colour paddles she'd like. She chose yellow. He then chucked the boat in the river and drove off. Luckily there was a German couple in a kayak who were going the same way as us who very kindly gave us some pointers – like which way along the river we were supposed to go. We'd also been furnished with life jackets which seemed a bit pointless because judging by the number of times we "bottomed out" (I know all the lingo) the river can only have been knee-deep for the most part. Either that or we were very good at finding all the shallow bits. We were also very good at finding half sunken trees, the banks of the river and, at one point, a bridge. That said, it was a very enjoyable four and a half hours (he said it would take three) and we saw lots of wild birds, forests, sandstone cliffs and the odd castle. I used arm muscles I never knew I had and the experience brought Claire and I together, working as one – though neither of us would accept blame for hitting the tree.

We are currently in Riga, Latvia's capital. It's a lovely city with a turbulent past having been under Soviet rule, then Nazi, then Soviet again. There are little mementos of all this everywhere. One of the more obvious ones is the central market which is housed in five enormous old Zeppelin hangars. They are quite impressive and the market is fab, selling everything from meat, fish and veg to furs, knives and shellsuits. A bizarre bazaar.

In one of Riga's parks we stumbled upon lots of people in traditional costume getting ready for the pagan celebration of the summer solstice. There were school children making garlands of flowers for the girls and crowns of oak leaves for the boys. We got stuck right in (I'm not 100% sure that was what they wanted) and Claire made herself a flower garland with some of the little girls while I pinched an oak crown off one of the lads. There was some folk dancing (which Claire joined in) and some atrocious singing, all in praise of the sun. So imagine their little faces when they inadvertently invoked the rain gods and it absolutely shat it down. Damp hessian is not a great look.

So, thanks to their folking about, it's been a very wet city ever since. As a test of her love for me, I dragged Claire around the Art Nouveau quarter of the city to marvel at the amazing architecture and she did try to look interested for a while but there's only so many buildings one can be expected to feign an interest in. Especially when it's lashing it down. So we retired to the Ebay van which, it has to be said, isn't in the best campsite we've found so far. We are "camped" in a hotel car park in the not-so-nice end of town. Near the airport. Trying to make the best of it, Claire went for a run this morning and ended up getting a bit lost – she somehow ended up jogging down a motorway for a couple of miles before having to hail a cab back.