All About Latvia

PURNUSKES, Lithuania – Location of the Europe’s geographical center is as mysterious as its calculations.

In 1989, French scientists at the National French Institute of Ordnance Survey defined the borders of the European continent as the islands of Spitzbergen in the north, the Canary Islands in the south, the mountains of the Ural in the east and the islands of Azores in the west.

They forgot to include Novaya Zemlya, an island north of Russia, and Malta, an island nation in the Mediterranean.

Using these calculations, the French scientists pointed to a small village of Purnuskes, 26 kilometers north of Vilnius, as a geographical center of the European continent.

The inclusion of Malta would shift the center only about 100 meters, a sign outside the center read in several languages. It quickly adds that no matter how you slice the pie, the center will end up somewhere in Lithuania.

A Wikipedia entry tells a different story.

Being a geographical center of Europe claim at least five other places outside Lithuania. A point on the island of Saaremaa in Estonia is rumored to be one such place. Also, the list includes, the village of Krahule, near Kremnica in central Slovakia (seriously? Sl;ovakia?); the small town of Rakhiv, or the village of Dilove near Rakhiv, in western Ukraine; Suchowola, north of Bialystok, in north-eastern Poland; Babruysk or Vitebsk in Belarus;

Apparently, in finding out the center of Europe one need to consider political consequences.

A rock marks the center of Europe in Lithuania. It’s a lucky rock bestowing inexpensive luck because visitors tend leave small Lithuanian change on top of it.

I became 1 litas richer as I don’t believe in it.

A golden starry crown tops a giant granite column erected in the center to mark Lithuania’s entry into the European Union on May 1, 2004.

Near the column, a marble mosaic of a NATO logo marks Lithuania’s entry into the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.

A row of flags of nations who are members of the European Union weaves around a miniature amphitheater, making me wonder if there’s anything European outside the EU borders.

Photo courtesy of Baltic Features: Beam me Up, Scotty - I am near the center of Europe plus/minus 100 kilometers

Share on Facebook

Under the Soviet occupation, Soviet police employed special volunteer police units, whose job on a usual day was to offer assistance the law enforcement agencies. Around Nov. 18, on the Latvian independence day, they were on standby with a simple task - to prevent a display of a white-striped burgundy Latvian flag in Latvian SSR.

On Nov. 18, when my father was just 12 years old. One of his friends’ grandfather gave them the Latvian flag and the three kids climbed on top of the Riga’s First Hospital, took down the flag of Latvian SSR and replaced it with the Latvian banner. My father said, no one had noticed a change in the flag for most of the day.

Since regaining independence, Nov. 18 has grown into a real holiday.

I watched a military parade celebrating Latvia’s 89th birthday on television, but decided to drop into town for the Sunday night fireworks over the river Daugava. Crowds moved in and out of the Old Town ahead of the president’s speech at the Freedom Monument a few minutes before the celebratory visual extravaganza.

It was unseasonably for this time of year: no rain or snow, temperatures hovering above zero.

Fathers carried their children on their shoulders to the 11. Novembra Krastmala. Mothers showed their kids the red, green lights appearing in the sky. Crowds that didn’t make to the krastmala before the show stopped on the street and looked up to the sky.

The mood was festive throughout the day. Store fronts decorated in national colors, people carrying around small burgundy-white flags, sometimes incorporating the colors into the whole dress ensemble, free concerts shown throughout the town.

I took a trolleybus, filled with Russian-speaking teens, speaking loudly, laughing, drinking Coke with some kind of alcoholic beverage. They were on their way to see the fireworks. Probably, not out of the patriotic sentiments. However, it seems that shiny lights in the sky under the crowd’s ooohs and aaahs, free public transportation for a day, and an extra day-off actually can unite people.

Share on Facebook

From the Economist:

Supposedly passive Latvians have successfully defended one of the country’s strongest independent institutions, an anti-corruption agency known by the acronym KNAB (which stands for Corruption Prevention and Combating bureau). The business-friendly coalition government of Prime Minister Aigars Kalvitis had tried to sack KNAB’s director, Aleksejs Loskutovs, ostensibly because of trivial book-keeping irregularities. The real reason seems to be KNAB’s success in investigating campaign-finance abuses that it says involve Mr Kalvitis’s party.

Share on Facebook

When Latvia restored its independence in 1990, a bit more than 10 per cent of ethnic non-Latvians could speak Latvian. By now, the number of Latvian-speakers among those who don’t consider themselves Latvians has risen significantly.

Thanks, in part, to the article of the Constitution that declared Latvian as the sole state language in the Republic of Latvia.

Earlier this week, however, Ina Druviete, a woman who worked on elevating Latvian to the status of a state language, declared in the future, Latvia may grant the Russian language a status of minority language.

I see it as a compromise solution to eliminate the Russian hard-liners who demand the Russian be given status of the state language.

On the other hand, this suggestion appears very pragmatic — Russian is widely used here already. And a simple recognition as a minority language in Latvia is a statement of fact.

A few years back, the government started relaxing rules regarding the use of Russian in public. The court ruled that broadcast quotas, requiring a broadcaster to broadcast a certain portion of its programming in Latvian, were deemed unconstitutional. The government also allowed signs, not business names, to be posted in Russian and there are plenty of them in Riga at least.

All pointing out that the purity and development of the Latvian language is no longer threatened by the presence of the Russian language, or even English.

The picture of a sugar packet above was taken at a typical Latvian hangout beautifully called Salt’N'Pepper. That’s right – it’s in English, or Ebonics, not sure. If language police really wanted to protect the language, they’d impose stricter rules against all foreign languages like the French.

But no, our language laws are targeted at one language only. The one with weird letters. Of course, it’s because of our historical baggage, which will take a few generations to overcome.

But for now, this is a pleasant sign of some kind unity from a person who supports the development of Latvian: the mere acknowledgment that Russian is a language of a minority.

Share on Facebook