Shooting through Riga

Stag parties jet in for the cheap beer and strip clubs, so what thrills can a girl expect over a fast-paced weekend in the Latvian capital? Party princess Zoe Griffin goes there to find out. Photography by Vicki Couchman

It’s a cold Saturday morning in the Latvian capital and the owner and matriarch of Riga’s Big Gun shooting range, Ludmila Belikova, is gesturing towards a James Bond-shaped silhouette. “We aim for the head and the pants first,” she says, laying a Glock handgun on the table in front of me, 15m from the target. “And then we kill him through the heart with an AK-47.”

I gulp, trying to keep down my breakfast and stifle my hangover. Ludmila is the second-best marksman (or woman) in the country I’m told – deadlier with a gun than thousands of Latvia’s men. Exactly the sort of woman I like!

Having never fi red a gun before, common sense tells me I should aim for the chest as it’s the biggest part of the body and I’m more likely to hit it. I line up, square my shoulders and squeeze off a few rounds. Thinking of all the men who’ve ever done me wrong I actually manage to hit the target. Woo hoo! Riga is turning out to be quite a surprise for this party princess, and I find myself slowly dismissing my preconceptions about the city.

Flying in late on Friday night, I had expected to see a city awash with stag-dos. I looked out for bar owners trying to lure in boozed-up tourists with offers of yet more cheap beer, and for scantily clad women tempting lads into strip clubs.

I found none. Indeed, visiting the Skyline Bar on the 26th floor of the Reval Hotel Latvija that evening, the ale may have been cheap but it was all about the cocktails. We found an extensive list – bound in a luxurious brown leather book at least 20 pages long – with a smart clientele to match. From martinis and mojitos to Champagne cocktails and ones containing local spirit Balsam (avoid unless you like cough medicine… I almost threw up), it’s all there. Prices are an average 3 lati (€4.25), a third of what you’d pay in Paris or London. Cheap drinks didn’t mean cheap decor, either. Gorgeous leather sofas dot the room, and Skyline’s floorto-ceiling windows give panoramic views of this chocolate-box-pretty city.

My guides in Riga are Austin and Graham, two Englishmen who run Riga Out There – a company that creates custom trips for individuals and groups. Before my arrival, I’d told them I wanted to do Riga to the max, with crazy activities like shooting but also luxury spas and bars – hence the Saturday morning hangover! To keep me satisfied, for lunch Austin and Graham took me to one of the city’s trendiest restaurants, Istaba, run by Latvia’s equivalent of Jamie Oliver, chef Martins Sirmais. Walking the cobbled streets to the place I saw no beer-bellied Brits – just young, good-looking people who weren’t trying too hard to dress up yet still looked fashionable. Leather jackets, fur coats, trendy haircuts – and that was just the men! For girls, it was all tight tops and tight jeans showing off waif-like figures, but with no need to get everything out by wearing mini-skirts. Riga was giving off a very cool vibe!

At Istaba, we ate warm, creamy garlic bread served with sundried tomatoes, olive tapenade and hummus with a fiery salsa, all made with ingredients bought at the local market. We followed that with a waistline-friendly roast trout, served with bowls of steaming fresh vegetables and salad with mashed potatoes on the side. Contented – and relieved because I had feared the food would consist of heavy borscht (soup), meat and dumplings – I reached over to top up my wine and noticed the bottle was in something a bit different from the regular silver ice buckets used at restaurants. “Yes, that is a chamber pot. When it comes to Riga, be prepared for randomness,” Austin joked.

When it comes to clubbing, the city is divided into places favoured by Riga’s Russian population and those frequented by the Latvians. Our first stop was the decadent, bling-tastic Russian experience at a club called Push (www.push.lv), which has the biggest sound-system in the Baltics. Eat your heart out Ibiza, I thought, as I stood on the balcony overlooking the main dance floor and watched podium dancers in fluorescent costumes strut to the pumping house beat. In a side room, reggae and R&B played, and in another people gambled at the in-house casino.

We hit a few more bars before ending up at one of the Latvians’ favourite hangouts. At first I thought its name was Penis – which would have been the ultimate for a girls’ wild weekend in Riga – but in fact the name was “Piens”, Latvian for milk. More my style than Push, the atmosphere focused on drinking and chatting (and flirting), while a DJ rocked jazz and groove. Here it’s all about comfort, with sofas, armchairs and vintage lampshades. Under-dressing is the way to get in, so ditch the high heels and bling or you’ll be turned away.

Post Penis, sorry Piens, in the early hours at around 5.30am the boys escorted me to Riga’s famous flower market. Open 24/7 there’s no excuse for men here to buy their lovers cheap petrol-station bouquets, as rows and rows of bright, beautiful roses, lilies, orchids and bluebells line the stalls. And randomly (as Austin had suggested) I found that absolutely no one would sell me an odd number of flowers, just evens – it’s a bad-luck superstition thing apparently and they simply won’t back down!

Sunday saw more surprises – no freezing outdoor public lido here in Riga but more than one top-class spa. I spent the morning at the ESPA (www.espariga.com), a pampering paradise over six floors. I sweated out the alcohol in the sauna, relaxed in the open-air rooftop vitality pool and stretched my body swimming lengths in the downstairs 18m lap pool – before topping up on Champagne at the poolside bar.

Then it was more action. I considered bob-sledding, curling, or a cycle tour, but finally opted for a maximum adrenalin rush in what is known as Aerodium in the town of Sigulda, 45 minutes from Riga. It’s a massive wind tunnel surrounded by crash mats with an air stream of 200km/h. Suited and helmeted, I was blasted up in the air, feeling like I was fl ying – or falling. It’s like skydiving without the stress of jumping out of a plane. “Girls tend to be better at this than men,” said the instructor as he congratulated me for reaching greater heights than Graham. What a high!

Back in town there was just enough time for a walking tour before heading to the airport, and yet more randomness to discover. In one park we crossed a small bridge whose railings were festooned with padlocks – left by married couples on their wedding day as a symbol of everlasting love. An incredibly ugly shop front we came across on a high street changed the moment I looked above eye level and found an incredible art nouveau building – a style Riga is famous for.

As we stood at the main bridge that joins the old town to the new I was told that every year without fail a homeless person threatens to throw themselves from the bridge unless he is bought a can of Coke and a chocolate éclair – random, or what? And with that I was whisked off to the airport in Riga Out There’s very own Moskovitch, or “Milly”, the classic car from Soviet days.

It has been a fast, crazy and sensational trip and I’ve enjoyed dictating the pace. I can’t help thinking that Riga is quite possibly a town where the women are in charge not the men. Then the magnificent Ludmila appears in my mind, saying: “Don’t point a loaded gun at anything you definitely don’t want to kill.” And I know it must be true.

FOR ACTIVITIES AND MORE, VISIT www.RIGAOUTTHERE.COM; FOR ALL THINGS FOOD, www.EATRIGA.LV; FOR BARS AND CLUBBING, www.ESSENTIAL.LV; FOR A HIGH-END STAY CHECK OUT REVAL HOTEL LATVIJA, www.REVALHOTELS.COM/EN; FOR BUDGET, www.RIGA-HOSTEL.COM