I’ve now seen 117 countries, and the question I get most often after “which was your favorite?” is “where are you actually from?” The answer surprises people twice, first the city, then how good it is. This is my home-base love letter: Riga.
The City Nobody Expects
Riga holds one of the largest collections of Art Nouveau architecture in the world, entire streets of facades with faces, dragons and sunbursts that would be world-famous in Paris or Vienna. Here, you photograph them alone on a Tuesday. The UNESCO-listed Old Town is compact, cobbled and genuinely lived-in rather than preserved for tour groups.
What Coming Home Looks Like
My July weeks here are the counterweight to the rest of my year. The Central Market, housed in old Zeppelin hangars, which is exactly as cinematic as it sounds, for morning produce. The canal park cutting green through the city center. Evenings in Miera iela’s cafés, where the creative crowd runs on flat whites and unhurried conversation. And when the Baltic summer performs, sunset lands after ten pm.
The Sea Is Twenty Minutes Away
Jūrmala, a pine-forested string of beach towns with wooden villas and white sand, sits half an hour from the capital. A capital city with a genuine resort coastline in commuting distance is a combination most of Europe can’t offer at any price.
Why It Matters for the Work
Practically: Riga’s airport reaches most of Europe in two to three hours, costs stay sane, and summer light here is long and forgiving. But the honest reason runs deeper. This city is where I first picked up a camera and decided the world was worth chasing. Every trip I take is measured, somewhere in the back of my mind, against the streets that taught me to look.
Next post: the actual guide, where I take everyone who visits.
