Winter in Riga

Article by: Iain Stewart , February 2008

Latvia isn't an obvious choice for a winter break. February temperatures rarely rise above the zero mark, and this low-lying country has no mountains or ski slopes to tempt the powder fans.

But the capital city Riga has plenty to offer, and the beauty of a winter visit is that gangs of marauding British and Irish youth (the city is a prime stag- and hen-party destination) are mercifully absent.

Riga's architectural ace-in-the-hole is its incredible array of Art Nouveau buildings.

Start a day in Riga in its historic quarter, where medieval churches mingle with the crumbling remnants of Stalinist architecture. St Peter's, a city landmark, is the finest example of the former, and its observation platform gives an unrivalled perspective of the city; the brutalist concrete premises of the Museum of Occupation house contains exhibits revealing how Latvia's national identity was dismantled by decades of Nazi and Soviet rule.

Riga's architectural ace-in-the-hole is its incredible array of Art Nouveau buildings, a testament to the city's prosperity in the early 20th century when it was a major trading city, rich from the export of dairy and timber. Strangely, many of the finest structures do not actually have names, and are only referred to by their addresses, but just don your thickest fleece and head to Alberta, Elizabetes and Vilandres streets, which contain some of the most celebrated buildings.

The highly decorative, newly-restored buildings by architect Mikhail Eisenstein are the most photographed, but some find their over-elaborate facades gaudy and theatrical. If you're one of them, move onto Eizens Laube's designs, which encompass elements of traditional Latvian style - Alberta 11 has a striking stone frontage, turret-like bay windows and decorative tin-detailing, and resembles a surreal medieval castle.

After a day tramping Riga's icy streets, you'll need some warmth and rest. Latvians like nothing better than a good sweaty session during the long winter months; every village has a pirts (sauna) where, after a hard day in the fields, good peasant folk can get properly steamed up. Usually this involves a little slap-and-tickle - getting beaten by silver birch branches in a sauna is said to do wonders for the circulation. After a good spanking it's outside for a dip in a freezing pond, through a hole cut in the ice.

Relax on bench seating, feasting on subtly smoked fish and gargantuan pork chops and slugging beer.

Getting a decent birching is not easy in cosmopolitan Riga, but it's no hardship to settle for the sleek, chic surrounds of the Taka Spa. This is the sauna made easy: get a blissful oil-based deep-tissue massage and finish up with a plunge into the pool (no ice-breaking required).

Suitably relaxed and invigorated, it's time to seek out some local food. As central Riga has been increasingly taken over by cappuccino cafes, you might want to head out to the suburbs, and the illuminated wonderland that is Lido, a vast restaurant-cum-leisure park built entirely from Latvian fir trees. The design is Baltic Disneyland, with kitsch grottoes and a vast ice rink, but Lido also offers some of the most authentic Latvian food in town. Relax on the bench seating, feasting on subtly smoked fish and gargantuan pork chops and slugging beer brewed on the premises . If you're lucky, you might share benches with a wedding party belting out Latvian folk songs full of love and betrayal, hope and despair.

Want to continue the party? Retreat to the best bar in the Old Town, Cuba (on 15 Jauniela) where DJs spin old skool funk and obscure Latin rhythms and the shots are a Lat (around US$2) each.

All this merriment may leave you, the next day, in need of a remedy. Head for Centraltirgus, Riga's gargantuan central market, where you can lay your hands on what the locals swear is the ideal hangover cure: sauerkraut juice. Slightly sweetened (and absolutely vile) it certainly does its stuff. The market itself is unmissable. Literally. Once used by the Germans for storing Zeppelins, its five colossal concrete structures now house one of Europe's largest marketplaces.

Riga's Soviet past is very evident here, with stalls policed by fearsome-looking women in headscarves and fur headgear who can spot a tourist a kilometre away. But the diversity of the food is quite exceptional these days. Fresh fruit from every corner of Europe sits alongside Latvian rupjmaize ('rough bread'), and there are still a few links to the old days: dried apricots from Uzbekistan, pistachios from the Caucasus.

Latvia is now far more closely aligned with Brussels than Moscow, but its appeal lies in its complex identity - an EU nation, with a Baltic heritage steeped in rural tradition, and a Soviet past that still defiantly lingers.

With double-digit growth, increased prosperity and beer prices marching inexorably upwards, the country is fast moving beyond the reach of the budget stag party, and becoming much more of a cultural destination in its own right.