Riga is just as I left it, hip to the bone. Coffeeshops galore, slash bookstore, slash vinyl revival reveling latte sipping hipsters. Except, during my brief foray I haven’t seen a single exaggerated beard side-trimmed comb-back fixed-gear cyclist. The atmosphere is laid-back, unassuming, effortless. I like the Lats. What’s more, and that’s just lazy convenience talking, no more Lat. As in, the currency. The middle of the three Baltics is firm terra Euro these days. Think I might be back here some more, opportunity permitting. But first I have a plane to catch. Further north. Hello Russia. You weren’t an easy visa to acquire. Nor a cheap one. So, like, no pressure or anything. Warm up that Hermitage. That’s a kind of soup, right? Note to self, cram up on cyrillic alphabet during 1,5 hour flight. And watch Colbert. That too is coming to an end soon. Bye bye 2014 indeed. But first this… to be continued.