Latvia’s Niagara Falls, Latvia’s Venice, and Latvia’s Pub Brawl Capital: welcome to Kuldīga, where there really is plenty to write home about. If you can find a postcard. Good luck with that.
After a week of sun, the forecast today was gloomy: heavy rain between ten and three, horrible headwinds after that. So I was keen to get out early, in the dry and mild. It wasn’t even six before I was cycling out of Sabile on empty roads.
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The landscape was identical to almost everywhere so far – flat tarmac, endless woods and farmland either side – though with the novelty of grey mushy clouds as backdrop.
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Consequently, I got into today’s destination of Kuldīga with more than enough time to enjoy sightseeing, at half eight. Nowhere was open, which meant I had the damp, grey Old Town to myself.
Last time I came here, backpacking during a two-hour bus layover in 2014, I was underwhelmed. On this visit, with more time to explore, I was more impressed and enjoyed it far more. Being on a bike does that, I find.
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Kuldīga’s pleasures, like Latvia’s generally, are modest and have to be taken in context. Touristspeak clichés induce amusement rather than insight.
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‘Latvia’s Niagara’, for instance, the 300 yard wide waterfall visible from the bridge over the Abava river into town, is lame compared to Yorkshire’s Aysgarth Falls, never mind Iguazu.
![](https://e2e.bike/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/EE-Latvia-8e.jpg)
And tagging Kuldīga as ‘Latvia’s Venice’ on account of a brook running through the centre, as one information board in the place does, makes you wonder if the writers have ever actually been to La Serenissima. Or even Birmingham.
![](https://e2e.bike/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/EE-Latvia-8c.jpg)
Though many locals I met have been to provincial England. Quick chats with amiable people in local bars and shops always seemed to end with some cheery potted biog: ‘I working longtime in Preston. England people very nice.’ Or ‘Five years I am work in Peterborough. But oh very dangerous place.’ Or ‘I visit my brother he student in Newcastle. I like. Very beautiful city.’
Maybe the info-board scribe lived in Brum for a bit, and was swayed by the ‘more canals than Venice’ line.
![](https://e2e.bike/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/EE-Latvia-8d.jpg)
Anyway, my early arrival meant I could spend some quality time enjoying local culture, such as having lunch at Hesburger (a very successful Finno-Baltic rival to McDonald’s).
Or watching a fist-fight break out in a dive ‘sports’ bar on the pedestrian strip of Liepājas iela, with tables and chairs flying as the manager unceremoniously shooed off a group of stubbled, swimmy-eyed, sunken-cheeked men who were swigging a bottle of supermarket vodka on its patio tables.
Ah, that sort of ‘sport’.
LATVIA FACTS 8
Jeans were invented by a Latvian: Jacob Davis devised denim trousers in Reno, Nevada, partnering up with merchant Levi Strauss.
Ten minutes later in the same bar, one fuller-cheeked young man was exposing himself to the long-suffering barmaid.
All this before one o’clock. In the afternoon.
Eek. I’d come here to sit out the rain, but it clearly wasn’t a place to be hanging around.
![](https://e2e.bike/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/EE-Latvia-8f.jpg)
That said, beer was only €3 a pint, so I just had one more before beating a retreat.
Anyway, staying in a cheap, clean and comfy apartment on a main road out of town, in a friendly and smiley area, I felt like a local.
![](https://e2e.bike/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/EE-Latvia-8gg.jpg)
Especially when I ambled round the corner to pick up lunch and dinner from one of three supermarkets within arm’s length. Which probably explains all the graffiti.
Miles today: 29
Miles since Borderland: 308