14.10.2018. Still Not a Rant

I know, I know - I've been promising a food rant. I was actually ready to do it this week - but realized I don't have pictures to include. I'll make a point of taking them throughout this week and hopefully satisfy the rant-meter soon. (I still have two months here - will do it at some point, don't worry.)
Instead, I've been visited by a feeling this week. It's aquamarine in colour and makes me listen to Latvian songs. Yes, yes, I admit - the traveller misses Latvia.
Let me rephrase. I don't miss Latvia as a country. Not the nature, not the weather, not the economy, not my home, no. I would still move to Alaska in a heartbeat.
I miss...Latvian. Latvianism. Latvianity?
Not anyone else's. My own. Coming here, I was quick to delete my background and build myself anew. Adapt to the way of life, speech mannerisms, behaviour. I was convinced that the cultural identity would stay with me, unexercised, just there. This week I realized... it stays not. It was hard for me to think in Latvian. I wouldn't read in Latvian. I'd write a sentence and then wonder if it is actually Latvian or just an English transcript. Now, ladies and gents, THAT was scary.
I'd never doubted language and culture were inseparable. I'd also never denied that for years, my preferred language has been English. But thinking in English in Latvia is different from adapting to a completely new culture, using exclusively English, and that's that.
So, I got scared. What'd I do about it?
Well, firstly, wrote a poem in Latvian (cleaned up by a good friend) - to test my remaining vocabulary. Poem here.
Secondly, got up this morning to make some traditional sklandrauši. A dish doesn't get more Latvian than this - thought I'd share the recipe.

1. Order rye flour from Amazon, because apparently it's not a thing.

2. Boil carrots, potatoes, make dough (rye flour + flatmate's butter + hot water)

3. Realize you've got no rolling pin. Roll dat dough with your UAS water bottle.

4. Torture a mug to make dem circles.

5. Make smol pie crusts. Discover you've got more dough than filling. Abort mission, freeze remaining dough.




















6. Mash the potat. Grate carrots and mix with sour cream. At this point, the kitchen will look like a doughball itself.



7. Fill the crusts: potato first, carrot on top. I did two versions for the foreigners to try out: a savory one with more potato, and a sweeter one with more carrot + sugar in the carrot mix.

8. Bake at 230 C (450 F) for about 15-17 minutes (might take longer if pies are bigger).

9. Take the pans out with your bare hands and burn yourself (mandatory). Top the sweeter ones with more sour cream, sugar and sprinkle with cinnamon. Can top the savoury ones with caraway seeds (didn't have any this time).












10. Serve to the Alaskan rain while waiting for the people to wake up.












The point of the poem and the rauši? No matter how far from Latvia, I'll still carry it inside. I'll still be Latvian and share my culture. I will not be afraid or ashamed of it. In the end, the emigration part doesn't matter as much. The identity is what matters. And I'm keeping my identity. Even if I decide to move away; Latvia will not have lost another person. I'll still speak, cook and remain.