“The Best Part of Being in Latvia?”
“Hope you are having a good time.” “Are you still enjoying yourself?” These and similar questions have triggered some recent reflective thinking about the experience here this year. The honest answer to the questions above is the same as it would be if someone asked me at home, “yes, sometimes.” Then of course, I’d suggest a different kind of question—questions that try to capture a different gestalt. “What’s it like for you?” “What are you doing/learning/being challenged by?” “What’s the best part of being in Latvia?”
Without a doubt, it’s the people we’ve met that make the experiences memorable.
It’s the students in courses at Attistiba—in Riga, Smiltene, Rezekne, and Daugavpils; mostly middle-aged in their 30s & 40s, but some on either end of the age spectrum. They are Latvian, but many are of Russian, Lithuanian, Estonian or Polish heritage. They come in all shapes and sizes—some quite privileged, others clearly working-class. Almost all are women. Some are quite reserved—“Latvian-like” and others are more open. All understand and speak at least two languages, usually Russian and Latvian. Many understand some English, but are reluctant to use it except on their way out the door at the end of the class. Then, they try out their English. There was one group of younger students who somehow managed to get themselves and the class filmed for a brief spot on a regular local t.v. show, Kopa (Together). There are the older students, some who admit to being in my “age range”, with grandchildren, but not yet anyone who has claimed to be older.
There are the faculty and staff of Attistiba, some of whom have only recently become more open and willing to engage. We communicate in English, German, Latvian, and often with hand gestures and other non-verbal body signals and only rarely need to find a translator to clarify. The staff, in particular, seem to have learned that I appreciate their helpful hints in Latvian and their use of English, no matter how well-spoken. Almost always I get the meaning or intent and unless asked specifically, don’t correct them—there’s no need! It’s the faculty and staff translators that have to put up with me the most. I don’t come close to understanding all of their words, but know very well there are times when they’re “covering for me” making sense sometimes when I don’t.
There are any number of Latvians and ex-pat Australians, Canadians, British, and Americans we’ve met—most with parents driven out of Latvia either just before or at the end of WWII. There’s one 82 year old at church who himself was driven out of Latvia, first east, then west to displaced persons camps in Germany, then to the U.S. and following his retirement as a classics professor at Merrimack College in Andover, MA (15 miles from our Topsfield home!) he returned to Latvia. Among the pictures he carries with him is one of Eleanor Roosevelt visiting the D.P. Camp in Germany. As an educated English & German speaker, he provided translation for her visit.
There are the directors, social workers and staff of social service agencies who seem used to visitors—both local and from abroad. Salaries are low, facilities often limited, budgets almost always inadequate to meet the mandates set for them, but they do obviously care about the developmentally disabled, homeless elderly, or children in their care.
Finally, there is a most impressive small group of students and faculty Fulbrighters we’ve come to know quite well. Through them we’ve also met their special friends as well as parents, spouses, children and host families. Intelligent, well-traveled, personable, open to studying, learning and teaching in a new environment in what is for most of us a new part of the world.
So, when I’m asked about the best part of being in Latvia, I would answer, it’s the people and their stories; it’s the people and our shared experiences; it’s the people and their willingness to engage that’s made this year the kind of rewarding, stimulating, sometimes challenging experience that it’s been.
March 7, rej
