I FEAR the Mediterranean's beaches in summer. The idea of fighting the rest of
Europe for a patch of sand brings me out in a cold sweat. It's not just the
crowds; it's the heat. When you have two ginger kids it's a shade-hopping
marathon of sunscreen smearing and keeping hats on heads.
What I need is a resort with great beaches where there is decent weather but
the kids won't torch the soles of their feet flitting between beach towel
and the water's edge, and which hasn't been overrun by visitors from the
rest of the Continent. Could there be such a place? I was told that Latvia
might have what I was looking for.
The spa-resort town of Jurmala is strung out along a 30km (20-mile) stretch of
very gently shelving white sandy beach, 15 miles from Riga airport. It is a
resort from another time; undeveloped with 19th-century mansions in the pine
woods along with sanatoriums and some hideous concrete hotels, where in
Soviet days 300,000 Communist Party workers came every year for reward
holidays.
Things are changing, however. The Russian new rich are moving in and
“renovating” the beautiful villas. Some are done tastefully but often huge,
inappropriate extensions on beautiful wood do not gel. A number of houses
have been destroyed in mysterious fires and enormous new homes built in
their place. “Russians! Mafia!” sneered one local, gesticulating at a
particularly hideous creation.
We stayed in Villa Villakula, a late-19th-century wood house with Art Nouveau
influences, 180m (200 yards) from the beach. It was bright and airy inside
with blond wooden floors and windows offering glimpses of trees and lush
grass.
There is a reason that the grass was so lush. In recent years the summers here
have been good, but the season is short. We stayed into the first week of
September and there was an autumnal feel, with housekeepers sweeping the
first leaves from the porches of empty mansions. Locals told us that July
had been hot, but we had to dodge the rain showers.
Or not dodge them. “Come on, Dad!” chided my three-year-old boy when I wavered
about heading into spitting rain. There was a moment, as I was crouched on
the beach in a deluge, following my son's instructions for digging a moat,
as my wife pushed our baby daughter into the trees, when I wondered if I had
made a mistake. Over the week we had enough decent weather to have a good
time, but I would suggest going earlier in the season.
The beach was regularly swept and two stretches fly the EU blue flag. Locals
kept recommending the aqua- park in Jurmala, which boasts that it is the
largest in the Baltic region. Older kids would no doubt love it, but it
looked hellish and I reasoned that my kids were too young. My son was not
convinced and had to be distracted every time we passed it.
The main entertainment focus is in the district of Majori, where children can
ride carousels and gorge themselves on wild blueberries sold from roadside
stalls. Adults can play “spot the mafiosi” as men in dark glasses escort
blondes into restaurants.
We ate well. Particularly good were dumplings smothered in cheese and
mushrooms at Slavu, a Russian restaurant, and garlic shrimp at an Armenian
place. Black caviar was expensive in the Caviar Club at the Baltic Beach
Hotel, but a lunch of blinis with red caviar for £11 did not seem exorbitant
on a bright day, after a swim in the pool and a massage.
Ah yes, the spa treatments. The sulphur springs and mineral-rich mud have been
attracting visitors since the 18th century. At the plush Baltic Beach Hotel
I was ushered into the inner sanctum of Irina Lapaine, the hotel's mud
specialist. She made me disrobe and put on the skimpiest thong ever devised
for the humiliation of man, and a shower hat. She then slapped mineral-rich
black mud from Crimea all over me. “Beautiful,” she said when she was done.
“There is nothing comparable in Europe.” I think she was talking about the
mud.
She wrapped me in polythene and a blanket and left me for a bit. Then I had a
shower. I felt warm and tingly and all for £15. The hotel offers a huge
range of treatments and at that price it was unsurprising that tourists were
booking several each.
Riga is half an hour away on a great clunking Soviet train and is worth a day
trip. You can have lunch in a cobbled square in the Old Town, a Unesco World
Heritage Site, and the Art Nouveau architecture is reputedly the best in
Europe, although with two kids in tow we didn't find the best of it. There
is not a huge amount on offer for children in the capital.
Jurmala does not have the sophistication of the French Riviera, but that
accounts for its charm. If you want an alternative to the Med's roasting
climate, give this corner of the Baltic a try. But go soon, before it
becomes a Russian gangsters' paradise.
NEED TO KNOW
Damian Whitworth travelled with Baltic Travel Company (0870 7537747, www.baltictravelcompany.com).
Villa Villakula sleeps eight and costs £1,050-£1,400 a week or from £175 a
night.
Getting there Flights from Gatwick to Riga with Air Baltic (www.airbaltic.com)
can be arranged by Baltic Travel from £140 return. Ryanair (0871 2460000, www.ryanair.com)
flies to Riga from UK airports.
As a Latvian i can advice anyone to go to Jurmala, but definitely make it earlier than September. The best time is July and August, June can be rainy.. And yes it is true that Jurmala has become a playground for rich. Its used to be known as THE place to be for Russian 'mafia', but now days its more wealthy Latvians there than Russians...however all those wealthy people make sure the city is nice and tidy, so enjoy Jurmala and dont forget all the water sports they offer there and in the evenings make your way to Riga Old town for a delicious meals!!!
Gunta, Riga, Jurmala, Latvia
Did you know that Latvian and Russian businessmen burn down the old Jurmala houses to build new - uglier - ones. Jurmala is no longer Latvian helath resort but businessmen entertainment resort.
Uga, Jurmala, Latvia
I enjoyed your piece Damian, but emphasises the Russian influence all the way through, from the mafiosi to the meals. There really are wealthy Latvians too you know. Even the 'local' is not identified as a Latvian. I think many would read the article and believe that Latvia was still under Russian rule.
I McDonald, Neath, Wales