Driving from the most northerly Baltic state capital Tallinn to Riga ’Jewel of the Baltic's’ is 4 hours along new roads built with Brussels cash and backhanders. The landscape level, trees and then more trees it changes only a little when you cross the border between Estonia and Latvia. Snug in Schengen there are no grumpy border guards demanding papers. Things take a funny turn when you move between countries courtesy of the local law enforcement. Estonian cops drive unmarked Subaru, young energetic types, designer uniforms sometimes with a bottle blond co-pilot. Switch to the Latvian country cops, fat and shabby, sporting ill fitting food flecked uniforms hanging off stodgy bellies. They flag you down, behind an old Lada hidden in the shrubbery demanding €100 for speeding in ’town’, usually 2 or 3 houses spread over a km or so. In the back of a stale smelly car you can pass a 5 LAT note, €10 or even a crumpled 5 pound note (if you have nothing else) along with your license and they'll kick you out of the car with a lop-sided grin, knowing their buddies are 20km down the road with the same routine. Official fines are rare up country, the police owed a small fortune in holiday pay, their salaries practically McWages you can hardly blame them.
Try the same trick with an übercop in Estonia and you receive the mech-warning, ’Our car has a built in camera, microphones, whatever you say is transmitted back to headquarters’. It takes 20 minutes write the ticket, receive a lecture and a €50 fine. Scando efficiency, officiousness and trendy outfits the hallmark of the most progressive new EU kid on the block.
Anti-gay Pride
On a sunny summer Saturday morning in Riga there was a new kind of cop on the beat - Riga's riot police were out in force wearing elbow, shin, knee and chest plates, part man part robo turtle. The occasion? A dangerous collective of foreigners and local trouble makers, political activists and enemies of the state had taken to the street to march for their rights. Riga's 3rd Gay Pride parade was in town, 300 plucky leather and rainbow clad locals bolstered by international gay stormtroopers keen to trumpet their rights and show solidarity in a country bristling hostile to queer. Central Riga was locked down as tight as Bush's visit. 1000's of cops huddled in vans or guarding streets to supervise the parade and the anti-parade. A parade not even public due to safety concerns and confined to a narrow strip of road in font of the river Daugavpils, and a few circuits of sealed off old town. Last year's Gay Pride parade was cancelled by worries about keeping participants safe. In 2006 an angry mob of 3000 showed up and counter demonstrated against the parade. Shit hit the fan and the parade (literally) in an event which shocked the liberal international community. This year everything is kept behind an iron fence, a line of police vans each side of the road and a chain of cops between them. Standing on the river bridge and you can make out some rainbow dots in the distance parading around a tiny enclosure.
“Fucking Zoo”, a heavily accented rabid faced young Latvian man screams and unfurls a home made banner continuing his tirade about aids, perversion, and how the tiny band in the distance are destroying the country. The parade can't hear him but he is not the only voice, spread across the bridge stand a solid line of burly men and women holding sophisticated banners, wearing specially designed t-shirts, glassy eyed with rage they shout and rant at people nearly 1 km away. Then breaking into smiles as one new expletive after another is launched delighted with their visciousness. It's an ice hockey match atmosphere with a carnival twist, - welcome to the haters ball. The counter-demonstration is highly organised, men on walky-talkies co-ordinating groups around town trying to find a way to get closer to the parade. Many banners are also anti-foreigner adding to the hysteria as parade is fenced in by anti-parade surrounded by nervy riot cops on full standby. What to make of it all? Lots of back slapping and grinning accompanies the outrage as the anti-paraders charge around the city. Such a way to spend a sunny summer morning. Suits you sir! I wonder who picks up the bill.
Harry Lurcher
jun 14 '09
13 contributions
Heard once that life is too serious to be taken seriously. Poet, promoter, director of creativity, frustrated artist and aspiring human being. In the future will people be good enough sports to look back on us and laugh rather than with anger? In his future hopes to be older and travel with an ark in space. Favourite animal is a dog, called Harry the Lurcher. Now somewhere in space. Believes in re-uniting the thoughts with the feelings.
published • June 14th '09
