There have been a lot of recent studies of late. One
suggests that redundancy is increasingly becoming a growing problem in
literature. Another study, carried out by Italian researchers, reveals that
male genitalia are shrinking every year. A similar French study reveals that
Italian researchers only study themselves. And furthermore, the crazy, whacko
views of misinformed people who are mistaken about something only tend to be
reinforced when presented with facts that refute their insane, nutty opinions.
This would help to explain the evangelization of my home
country despite the discovery of the Higgs boson. “But there’s a reason it’s
called the God Particle”, they counter. The star of “Real Time with Bill Maher”—Bill Maher—would likely refer to it
as the "Willy boson" (“Willy” and “Bill” are both short for “William”).
This would also help to explain why Estonians are
increasingly beginning to firmly suspect that all Latvians have six toes. This
is a stereotype whose origins I was too lazy to research, but regardless of
Latvians’ supposed polydactylous tendencies, I can assure you that on my recent
trip to Riga, the shoes on sale looked normal. I did, however, see a street
vendor pedaling frozen ice cream (“saldējums” in Latvian, if you’re not Estonian and so didn’t know
that). He was wearing sandals and only had four toes on each foot. But his
toes, like all Latvians, were super long, so total toeage was still equal. I’m
trying to create a new stereotype, you see. And all Latvians have a Pioneer
sound system in their cars. That’s also a stereotype.
Mrs.
Mingus and I were meandering down
Teātra iela (Theater
Street) in Riga when we happened upon a place called Fontaine Delisnack. Their
Facebook page calls it “Fontaine Deli Snack” and describes it as “slow fast
food”. Interesting information available under Basic Info on this page: their
food styles are breakfast, burgers, Chinese and delis. What’s your favorite
food style? Breakfast and delis. Their specialties are—breakfast, lunch, coffee
and drinks. Their services are “good for kids”. That’s a bit dodgy, to be
honest.
But being
a self-described burgermeister, I had to try their…burger. I watched the chef
preparing a burger for another customer. He opened an individually packaged
package of ground beef made of bovine flesh (I’m still feeling redundant) and
proceeded to cook it. This is much better than the usual hamburger patties that
are purchased by the restaurant frozen and already shaped. This burger was
shaped by hand. I took a picture of him holding and preparing it, but as most
Latvians do not appear when photographed, I am not including the image in this
post, as floating beef might frighten my younger readers.
I did
have to ask if fries were included. They were not, so now you know, too. But
Fontaine’s slow fast food wasn’t actually that slow. Within just a few minutes
our burgers were served. In a paper pouch. I wanted to ask Kristīna, the waitress, for a plate, but as most Latvian waitresses
do not appear when called, I had to go to the bar and ask. “You need a plate?”
she asked in reply to my question.
—Yes,
please. Two, in fact.
“Why?”
—There
are two of us.
“No, I
mean why do you need a plate?”
I did not
know how to respond to this question. I contemplated telling her that I was
Estonian and so did not know how to eat from paper, but I ended up just telling
her that I would just feel more comfortable with a plate. She did not sigh,
however, and complied with my request.
The fries
were a bit crunchy, smothered in Santa Maria’s pan-Baltic requirement for post-Soviet-hood—the
potato seasoning—but they were served in a disposable cardboard box, American-style (well, that is, when you eat at slow fast food establishments in the US).
The burger itself was actually fairly tasty. It was cooked perfectly, as was
the bacon. Nice and juicy. The bun was a bit crunchy though. I think the bun
chef and the French fry chef were the same, but they were working behind a
mirror so I couldn’t see them (the man in the photograph of the bar is not
Latvian).
On the
way back to Estonia, we stopped at a gas station. This place was pretty cool,
in my opinion. Boardwalks with gazebos among tall pines, a pond, an air pump,
and the new Latvian prototype of the 4-D camera. I found a map of the premises.
Interesting words. Oddly enough, parked right next to it was a dairy tanker,
transporting milk, with the Latvian word for milk printed in huge letters on an
image of a bag of milk on the side (“piens”). So when you’re in Latvia, you can
buy a big old bag of piens if you want.
Not to
sound unfairly disrespectful of other peoples’ languages, I would also like to
point out that there is a man in Estonia named Tiit Annus. He hasn’t consumed
Latvian milk now for twelve months but he also doesn’t speak English either,
because if he did, he would probably be rather annoyed with his parents.
On a more
serious note, I’ve always heard there is a bit of enmity between the Estonians
and the Latvians, mostly because of what became of “Baltic solidarity” after
independence was restored. This is just hearsay, mind you, not based on fact
(even if I heard a fact though, I would ignore it because I’m American). The
Baltic States were united in their drive for freedom from the Soviet Union.
Once they succeeded, Estonia grabbed on to Finland and Scandinavia as tightly
as they could, and somewhat ignored Latvia and Lithuania. Which is
understandable of course, given the situation.
Estonia’s
economic recovery has been much stronger, for example, resulting in their
switch to the euro, while Latvia did not qualify. A recent study carried out by Estonian researchers reveals evidence to support this.
Another recent study carried out by Latvian researchers reveals that Estonian
researchers only study the same four or five people (see the quotations
starting on p. 80). And yet another recent study by me reveals that if you
publish anything, you should probably run a spell check befroe publishing it.
Yet
despite international stereotypes, I just hadn’t met that many Latvians in all
my years in Estonia. I didn’t have an opinion of them. I do now. The twenty or
thirty Latvians I actually got to know during my trip all had one thing in
common: they were very enthusiastic. It was very easy to converse with them.
They are eager to laugh. They are fun. Regardless of whether they have an extra
toe or not, they do seem to have a sixth sense for what you are going to say
next, they all speak at least two tongues, and your average Latvian man doesn’t
look down his noses at anyone.