At we pressed further north, towards Riga in
Latvia, the temperature continued to fall, -1˚ was the name of the day. It had
continued to snow overnight and Alice (our Renault Scenic leased car) had a
dusting of snow atop her.
It continued to snow on and off throughout the day, making progress pretty slow. It was also very windy, we passed one truck that had jackknifed and had one of its trailers hanging precariously over a crash barrier.
By the time we reached Riga, it was 7.30pm and well into the negatives temperature wise. As we were again in the Old Town, the cobbled streets were very pretty and several church spires dotted the skyline, viewed from our hotel window. We headed out to explore the nearby town and stopped at a nearby pub to try some local beer. Some locals sitting next to us picked up that we were Australian and started a conversation. One had been to Brisbane and was very forthcoming in saying that he had not enjoyed it. Fair enough I thought. The restaurant, recommended to us by the receptionist, was unashamedly tourist-oriented. However, some very good traditional Latvian food was served up. The highlights were a beef stroganoff tart (without a tart) and a grilled slice of cottage cheese covered in cowberries, a new type of berry to me (similar to blueberries, only sweeter, smaller, red and more cow like). We wandered through the cobbled streets to the hotel room and made preparations for the coming days.
It continued to snow on and off throughout the day, making progress pretty slow. It was also very windy, we passed one truck that had jackknifed and had one of its trailers hanging precariously over a crash barrier.
By the time we reached Riga, it was 7.30pm and well into the negatives temperature wise. As we were again in the Old Town, the cobbled streets were very pretty and several church spires dotted the skyline, viewed from our hotel window. We headed out to explore the nearby town and stopped at a nearby pub to try some local beer. Some locals sitting next to us picked up that we were Australian and started a conversation. One had been to Brisbane and was very forthcoming in saying that he had not enjoyed it. Fair enough I thought. The restaurant, recommended to us by the receptionist, was unashamedly tourist-oriented. However, some very good traditional Latvian food was served up. The highlights were a beef stroganoff tart (without a tart) and a grilled slice of cottage cheese covered in cowberries, a new type of berry to me (similar to blueberries, only sweeter, smaller, red and more cow like). We wandered through the cobbled streets to the hotel room and made preparations for the coming days.
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