A Reflection of Herself

Trip to Latvia

The big day had arrived, Silvija's family had arrived at the airport in Latvia. They walked outside with their suitcases and found a taxi. It was spring green with flowers on the front grill of the car, a clear sign the festivities were about to begin. When they got to the hotel, Silvija's mother gave the taxi driver a maple candy they had brought from Canada. They dropped off their suitcases at the hotel and headed out to explore the old town. As they walked along, they noticed flowers on every corner, many people dressed in traditional costumes, and everyone seemed to be celebrating.

"Wow! Is this how it always looked, Vecmāmiņa [vets-MA-min-nha]?" Silvija asked her grandmother.

"Not always," her grandmother laughed, "They've dolled it up for the festival."

"Well, it's really pretty."

Her mother and grandmother agreed.

~ ~ ~

After dinner, they head back to the hotel and went to bed early, feeling a bit jet lagged. From the open windows they could hear people singing and celebrating late into the night.

Silvija woke the next morning, got dressed and went out to see the artisan market with her family. It was huge – there were rows and rows of market stalls, full of colour and people and hand made traditional items, such as linens, blankets, jewellery, wooden crafts and more. The first stall had Latvian dolls, crafted out of yarn and fabric, and they bought a couple of them. Her grandmother spoke to the vendor in Latvian, and Silvija again wished she could speak the language.

Latvian Dolls

A jewellery stand caught Silvija's attention. They walked over and looked at the necklaces, bracelets and rings. Her mom looked at a pair of earrings and her grandmother looked at a brooch. Silvija spotted the Seven Day ring, with all its dangly pieces and traditional motifs etched on them.

"Ooh, can we get this?" Silvija asked her mother.

"Maybe...let's look at everything else first and we can come back later."

Latvian Seven Day Rings

They continued browsing and shopping. Then, Silvija noticed someone giving a wool spinning demonstration. And there, right next to her, was a stall selling monogrammed bookmarks and knick knacks. Out of curiosity, she walked over, and found it – a woven bookmark with Latvian symbols – and SILVIJA written on it! She was so excited and called her mother over to show her. They bought the bookmark and Silvija felt like she belonged. It's kind of funny that something as small as a bookmark with my name on it could make me so happy. Silvija thought. Names are really important though; they are strongly tied to identity.

** Latvian bookmark. Photo edited from original to change name.

Inspired by the market, Silvija and her family went back to the hotel and she put on her traditional Latvian costume. She then posed in front of the Freedom monument for a photo. The costume included a hand embroidered blouse and wool dress, with a flower headdress, with her hair in two braids. Silvija felt and looked very Latvian!

Later that night was the big dance show, with over 15,000 dancers in traditional costumes, who came from around the world to participate in the festival. The show started at 10pm.

"I am not sure I can stay up that late," said Silvija's grandmother.

"We'll poke you and keep you awake!" joked Silvija's mom

They sat in bleachers in a huge outdoor stadium. Though it was late at night, it wasn't dark yet and the stadium was lit up. There were large mirrors, so the audience could see the dancers and the intricate formations they created as they weaved in and around the stage area. There were dancers of all ages, all with different costumes showing the various regions of Latvia that they were from. For Silvija and her family, it was truly awe-inspiring. It was incredible to be in a space with so many other Latvians, something Silvija had never experienced before. It was exciting, the air was electric and it was so beautiful and moving.

~ ~ ~

On the five-hour plane ride home, Silvija reflected on everything she had seen and felt in Latvia. She thought about how she recognized many of the songs and dances. She thought of the outfits and how Latvian she had felt wearing hers. She thought of her Latvian name, and how her mother addressed her in Latvian. She thought of how every night until she was about 12 her mother had sung her a Latvian lullaby, Aija Žužu. She thought of her Christmas and Easter traditions. As she drifted off to sleep, she decided she was Latvian, even if she doesn't speak the language or participate in all the traditions. She realized identity cannot be measured in percentages. It was a feeling, a feeling of belonging.