Public transportation in the city where I now live is anything but convenient. If I want to get to the grocery store by bus, I get to take a 45 minute trip to go 4 miles, but only after walking a dandy 1.5 walk to get to the bus stop itself. The only convenient thing about any kind of mass-transit is the university shuttle, which gets me to, well, the university. Put a Target or regular-sized grocery store on campus and I'll stop complaining.
To put it most simply, I miss Riga. I miss Latvia. I miss a public transportation so convenient and consistent that I know it like the back of my hand. I miss living in a city where it takes me only 15 minutes to get from point A to point B, pretty much no matter where you are in downtown. I miss bus tickets that cost LVL 0.70 (~USD 1.40). I miss a round-trip train ticket from Riga to Sigulda that costs me LVL 2.10 (~USD 4.20).
I miss not having my hands tied. If I at least had my bike here or, hell, even a skateboard or Razor Scooter, I'd feel less boxed in than I feel now.
If you're in Riga or planning on going, definitely take advantage of the mass-transit system, if only because the prices are cheap (in comparison to countries like Germany or Italy).
Riga also now offers several rentable bike systems, everything from a bike shop on the eastern side of Vermanes Park (Elizabetes Street), to BalticBike (by airBaltic). BalticBike I know costs LVL 1 per hour; register for it online here and enjoy a decently convenient ride with bike stands located throughout Riga and Jurmala (Radisson Blu Hotel Latvija in Riga, across from the McDonald's in Old Town, near the beach in the Bulduri neighbourhood of Jurmala, and several locations in the Majori neighbourhood).
The train station is much less shady than it was back in 1994, and much more convenient. The EC Fund has even helped out in sprucing up train car interiors. The passenger train network itself is fairly well-developed, but does not - I repeat - DOES NOT travel internationally, with the exception of a once-daily train to St. Petersburg (and which DOES NOT excuse you from needing a valid visa to travel into Russia). It's always cheaper (though by only a few santims) to buy a round-trip ticket instead of two one-way tickets. Tickets are bought for specific destinations and have no time stamp; they can be used at any time of the day on the date the ticket was bought. A round-trip ticket is valid for a trip to the destination on the date the ticket was bought and a return trip from the same destination either on the day the ticket was bought or on the following calendar day.
The Riga Public Transport system, I love. Sadly. Tickets are best bought in the new "e-Talons" card format, which are most easily purchased at Narvesen convenience stores. Yellow e-Talons tickets are essentially single-use tickets good for 5-20 rides. Single-use as in once the rides are used up, you toss the card. For once, buying an e-Talons is cheaper than buying a ticket from the driver (which you have to do if you don't have an e-Talons or if yours winds up being out of trips), which now costs LVL 0.70 per person, per ride.
The easiest way to get around and even out of Latvia in a bit more style and comfort (which honestly depends on the destination...I've ended up on a scary 30-person minivan for a 2.5 hour trip to Saldus mid-winter) is to travel by coach. Tickets are reasonably priced and best bought a few days in advance, especially if traveling to larger cities on the weekend. Tickets can be bought online at www.bezrindas.lv, but it really is easiest to just go to the Coach Station and buy them from a service counter. On that note, Vilnius and Tallinn are both a mere 4 hours from Riga!
I have none of these options here - or at least none of these options in a convenient way. I think I've made my point for now.
Showing posts with label latvian post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label latvian post. Show all posts
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Driving in Latvia
Latvian drivers SUCK. Period. Amen.
Yesterday I got to experience three different kinds of angry, stupid drivers. In a way it was my best worst driving day ever -- and that's a comment to the skills and consideration of the other people and considering I tend to follow driving rules and speed limits like the Bible.
The best example was a woman who was on the bumper of my rental car going 90 km, which isn't fast, I know, but it's the legal maximum in Latvia on highways. So I'm driving the speed limit because I don't want a ticket, not today, thankyouverymuch, when this woman tailing me starts honking her horn like it's her job. In the rear-view mirror I can see she's waving her arms wildly and her mouth is flapping as she rattles off a series of what could only be curses and poxes upon my house. Alright, she's upset, I get that. Then she swerves into the other lane, barely zips diagonally between me and the car in the neighbouring lane, speeds up to at least 120 and then cuts back across to the other lane without signalling and speeds off into the afternoon.
The funny part of her actions? Her car was covered in triangular stickers with a red border and black M in the middle - the stickers that tell you the car is a car used by a driving school. This woman was an instructor.
And thus I learned the probably source of all crappy driving in Latvia. Huzzah! Just in time to leave the country for a bit and soak up western European civility.
Yesterday I got to experience three different kinds of angry, stupid drivers. In a way it was my best worst driving day ever -- and that's a comment to the skills and consideration of the other people and considering I tend to follow driving rules and speed limits like the Bible.
The best example was a woman who was on the bumper of my rental car going 90 km, which isn't fast, I know, but it's the legal maximum in Latvia on highways. So I'm driving the speed limit because I don't want a ticket, not today, thankyouverymuch, when this woman tailing me starts honking her horn like it's her job. In the rear-view mirror I can see she's waving her arms wildly and her mouth is flapping as she rattles off a series of what could only be curses and poxes upon my house. Alright, she's upset, I get that. Then she swerves into the other lane, barely zips diagonally between me and the car in the neighbouring lane, speeds up to at least 120 and then cuts back across to the other lane without signalling and speeds off into the afternoon.
The funny part of her actions? Her car was covered in triangular stickers with a red border and black M in the middle - the stickers that tell you the car is a car used by a driving school. This woman was an instructor.
And thus I learned the probably source of all crappy driving in Latvia. Huzzah! Just in time to leave the country for a bit and soak up western European civility.
Moving, Cats, Dust
There is an old woman sitting dejectedly on a chair on a balcony across the courtyard and two floors up. She looks like she's being punished. The door is closed behind her and she looks less than thrilled to be out in the fresh air. I wonder what she's done wrong.
Irrelevant. Today is the final day in the Riga apartment. Excitement and sadness. And a bit of frustration. I'll start with frustration. I love my (now former) flatmate and she's a wonderful friend and person, but when you move out and leave your key in the postbox without cleaning anything in the apartment and leave a bunch of your unwanted items behind for me to clean up, my positive feelings become a little harder to dole out. Good thing my best friend is coming out later to help me put this place back to order.
Sadness. This is a good place. It's a good location. The rent was decent enough. The landlady was a riot. The fridge is big enough to hold all of our assorted jams, mustards, and sauces (as we rarely had real food around). My cat had plenty of windows to guard from the onslaught of angry, dirty pigeons. Etcetera. Also, moving in general is a stressful undertaking.
Excitement. I leave with a few friends for a 10-day trip around Germany(!!!) and France. Then I get four days to pull myself together again before jetting off to the US for the rest of July. This will involve carting the cat, howling and piss-stained (the cat, not me), through four airports and three flights, followed by a two-day car ride across the eastern states. I'm excited for all of this, minus the piss part, but am also concerned for the cat. After today's vet visit, he has even ME convinced that I'm the worst person on the face of the planet. I hope the huge bay window facing the bird feeder in Minnesota will more than make up for what is to come.
As soon as I publish this post I'm off to keep throwing my belongings into unmarked boxes and bags -- it'll be like Christmas when I open them again in a few months or just days. I always want to write something more frequently, but June was a wild month in Latvia. I finished my contract at work and went in part-time to help out until they found someone to replace me (which has yet to happen), did some driving around Latvia with my dad, who was here on research/vacation purposes, and then the whole moving thing.
I can't keep my family obligations and thoughts straight right now. Hopefully I'll get some mental air cleared soon so I can make things interesting on here again.
That old woman is still out on the balcony. Now she's chewing her nails. What a world.
Irrelevant. Today is the final day in the Riga apartment. Excitement and sadness. And a bit of frustration. I'll start with frustration. I love my (now former) flatmate and she's a wonderful friend and person, but when you move out and leave your key in the postbox without cleaning anything in the apartment and leave a bunch of your unwanted items behind for me to clean up, my positive feelings become a little harder to dole out. Good thing my best friend is coming out later to help me put this place back to order.
Sadness. This is a good place. It's a good location. The rent was decent enough. The landlady was a riot. The fridge is big enough to hold all of our assorted jams, mustards, and sauces (as we rarely had real food around). My cat had plenty of windows to guard from the onslaught of angry, dirty pigeons. Etcetera. Also, moving in general is a stressful undertaking.
Excitement. I leave with a few friends for a 10-day trip around Germany(!!!) and France. Then I get four days to pull myself together again before jetting off to the US for the rest of July. This will involve carting the cat, howling and piss-stained (the cat, not me), through four airports and three flights, followed by a two-day car ride across the eastern states. I'm excited for all of this, minus the piss part, but am also concerned for the cat. After today's vet visit, he has even ME convinced that I'm the worst person on the face of the planet. I hope the huge bay window facing the bird feeder in Minnesota will more than make up for what is to come.
As soon as I publish this post I'm off to keep throwing my belongings into unmarked boxes and bags -- it'll be like Christmas when I open them again in a few months or just days. I always want to write something more frequently, but June was a wild month in Latvia. I finished my contract at work and went in part-time to help out until they found someone to replace me (which has yet to happen), did some driving around Latvia with my dad, who was here on research/vacation purposes, and then the whole moving thing.
I can't keep my family obligations and thoughts straight right now. Hopefully I'll get some mental air cleared soon so I can make things interesting on here again.
That old woman is still out on the balcony. Now she's chewing her nails. What a world.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Sock it to the Post
Let me tell you a bit about the Latvian postal/UPS/postal customs system.
I ordered Rosetta Stone goods from the States (yes, I decided to take the Rosetta leap, if you will. Hate on me after I have my post rant) back at the end of November. Somewhere in the beginning of December I got a hurriedly mumbled phone call from someone at Customs saying I had to come pick up a package. I assumed this was the package from my mother she had told me to watch for and so started planning a transportation option to go pick up said mommy-pack.
But then I got curious as to how far the Rosetta shipment had gotten and logged into the UPS tracking website to discover that it was in fact the Rosetta Stone box that had been sitting at Customs the past several days. Joy of joys! Only problem is that the UPS/Customs office is only open until 18.00 on week days. This, coupled with the inconvenient yet cheap public transportation option that takes me 10 minutes to walk to and takes 15-20 minutes to arrive at the required stop, promised to be an interesting task to manage seeing as I work 9.00 - 17.00.
I'll say now, the simple fact that I, too, work a 40h/week job seems to surprise most of the people I've had to deal with on a bureaucratic level. Ack! I'm not just some American-Latvian come to mooch your money for doing absolutely nothing all day! I actually pull my own weight (and often then some) in the local work force, just like so many other hard working townies! I know, it's INSANE!
I digress.
Then I get a phone call from a weasely sounding man at UPS, who basically informs me that the package has been at their office for some time and that they want to know if someone is ever going to come and pick it up. I then inform him that I've been trying to make it out to their office the past week, but I don't usually get out of the office earlier than 17.00. Enter surprised sound from the weasely man. I continue by saying I intend to do my best to make it to their office the next day. He then tells me I'll have to pay an additional (!!!!) percentage for customs fees. I say this is excellent. My sarcasm goes over his head as he asks me, "So, is someone going to come within the next days or not?" KICK. IN. THE. HEAD. He also adds that the hours are from 8.30-17.30, meaning that I lose a 30 minute window of arriving to get things done.
I roll into the UPS office the next day, no one looks at the passport I've brought with me, I get a piece of paper from a guy at the UPS desk and am told to go talk to the customs declarant. The customs declarant is an incredibly bored looking woman with ink smudges all over her manicured but calloused hands. She takes my "receipt" and tells me if my package contains an educational material, I'll have to pay a 10% customs duty, and if it's something else, I pay 21%. Then she looks me in the eye and asks me, "So what are we going to do about it?"
I am confused and tell her so. "Of course it's an educational material - it's a language acquisition programme." She then tells me that yes, the invoice does say "Educational Material", but this doesn't mean that they know what is in the box. I am also told that a woman received a similar package from the same company a few weeks back, and she was brought to customs inspection. This is at least what I initially heard. At this time I'm starting to get concerned. It's just a box of learning CDs, right?? I didn't do anything wrong, I don't want to be interrogated!" But then I understand that it is the contents of the box they inspect, not you. So my options are: let Customs open my shipment and poke around to make sure it is what it says it is, then pay them 10% of the total of the product, or walk away with it then, but pay 21% of the total. I say I'll take the first option -- hey, what's another 10% and more days of waiting for an item I thought I would be receiving at my local post department branch office, right?
So I sign the invoice and the customs declarant takes my phone number and tells me that the box will be brought to inspection the following day (Wednesday), I would be contacted by Thursday, at which point they would tell me how much I would have to pay in addition, e-mail me a copy of the final invoice, and I'd be able to come pick the package up by Friday. Frustrated, I ask about the office hours and she informs me that her station is open until 18.00, but that the main UPS counters I passed when coming in (and where, presumably, I'd have to pay) are open until 20.00. Great. I part empty-handed, not very amused, but glad that things are at least moving forward.
Fast forward to Friday. I've heard nothing from UPS, Customs, or the weasely man. I don't know who to call. I have no papers. I find the UPS Latvia e-mail address and write them a frustrated and slightly angry letter. Where. Is. My. Stuff.
Fast forward to Monday. I get an e-mail from UPS Latvia saying that my package has been taken to the Customs inspection department near Riga International Airport and that I need to show up in order for them to open up the box and look at it. I also need to take some document with me that proves the contents of the box. Big, ol' WTF. So I call the number at the end of the e-mail, get a somewhat sympathetic woman on the other line, who tells me the exact same thing the e-mail told me. Which is okay.
But then I tell her I'm just really confused why I have to go all the way out to the airport, when the customs declarant at UPS told me I would be called once everything was taken care of to come pay for and pick up my package. The woman on the phone (ba-bah-daaah, bureaucracy!) told me she had nothing to do with what the customs declarant told me, but I would still have to come to them to get the package. Also, I'd have to show up by 16.00 in order to draw up the declaration papers (which, oh, I get to pay for, too) in a timely manner and get the package. I tell her about my 40h/week job and I am not surprised that she sounds surprised. I am then told that my other option is to give UPS Express the authority to fill out the sheets for me, which I'd have to pay extra for, and then they'd deliver the package to my place of work. I ask if this is something the post office would take care of. Of course, it isn't. I didn't ask, but I would bet money that I would have to physically go to the UPS office, fill out countless documents to give them said authorisation to go take care of my stuff for me. The woman asks me if I want her to give me the number for UPS. I think for a second, then tell her very bluntly that no, I do not want to call them. I want my package. It's been in the country for almost a month, I've had all this unexpected stress and ridiculousness to deal with and I still don't have my property. She kind of sympathises, but not too much. She then reiterates that, if I trust UPS Express to handle things, I could still try that option. I bite my tongue to keep from telling her just how much I actually DO trust UPS Express in comparison to the standard postal system.
Then I figured out I could try to take care of all of this next Monday. The woman agrees this would work. I ask her if I can pay by debit card. She says no. I then ask her how much money am I supposed to know to bring with. She gives me a ballpark number. BALLPARK. Jesus Christ on crutches on ice.
During this week I also got a "Repeat Reminder!!!" notice from the regular mail saying I had a package waiting for me some time. Funny, because it was the FIRST NOTICE I HAD GOTTEN. But they delegated UPS Express to bring it to me (who signed on those papers, I wonder?), so it worked out in the end. Then yesterday I got a letter from my friend Andi and her husband Brent, something that I'm guessing is a "Thank you for being at our wedding!" (I was on Skype conference, different story) photo of the two of them. I say guess, because the envelope was put back together with sports tape due to what the stamp basically calls "being opened upon receipt". The envelope looks like a Rotweiler slept face-down on it. The paper of the envelope is worn and liquid-stained and has completely adhered itself to the face of the photo. The front of the envelope with the addresses is mysteriously unscathed, but the back... The postal system here is kicking my butt.
So I am going to go to the building next to the airport next Monday and hope that I have enough time after filling in the declaration forms to tell them exactly how I feel about their absolute crap lack of inter-departmental and office communication. I AM FUMING. You just can't tell because all the snowfall we've had lately is masking it.
I ordered Rosetta Stone goods from the States (yes, I decided to take the Rosetta leap, if you will. Hate on me after I have my post rant) back at the end of November. Somewhere in the beginning of December I got a hurriedly mumbled phone call from someone at Customs saying I had to come pick up a package. I assumed this was the package from my mother she had told me to watch for and so started planning a transportation option to go pick up said mommy-pack.
But then I got curious as to how far the Rosetta shipment had gotten and logged into the UPS tracking website to discover that it was in fact the Rosetta Stone box that had been sitting at Customs the past several days. Joy of joys! Only problem is that the UPS/Customs office is only open until 18.00 on week days. This, coupled with the inconvenient yet cheap public transportation option that takes me 10 minutes to walk to and takes 15-20 minutes to arrive at the required stop, promised to be an interesting task to manage seeing as I work 9.00 - 17.00.
I'll say now, the simple fact that I, too, work a 40h/week job seems to surprise most of the people I've had to deal with on a bureaucratic level. Ack! I'm not just some American-Latvian come to mooch your money for doing absolutely nothing all day! I actually pull my own weight (and often then some) in the local work force, just like so many other hard working townies! I know, it's INSANE!
I digress.
Then I get a phone call from a weasely sounding man at UPS, who basically informs me that the package has been at their office for some time and that they want to know if someone is ever going to come and pick it up. I then inform him that I've been trying to make it out to their office the past week, but I don't usually get out of the office earlier than 17.00. Enter surprised sound from the weasely man. I continue by saying I intend to do my best to make it to their office the next day. He then tells me I'll have to pay an additional (!!!!) percentage for customs fees. I say this is excellent. My sarcasm goes over his head as he asks me, "So, is someone going to come within the next days or not?" KICK. IN. THE. HEAD. He also adds that the hours are from 8.30-17.30, meaning that I lose a 30 minute window of arriving to get things done.
I roll into the UPS office the next day, no one looks at the passport I've brought with me, I get a piece of paper from a guy at the UPS desk and am told to go talk to the customs declarant. The customs declarant is an incredibly bored looking woman with ink smudges all over her manicured but calloused hands. She takes my "receipt" and tells me if my package contains an educational material, I'll have to pay a 10% customs duty, and if it's something else, I pay 21%. Then she looks me in the eye and asks me, "So what are we going to do about it?"
I am confused and tell her so. "Of course it's an educational material - it's a language acquisition programme." She then tells me that yes, the invoice does say "Educational Material", but this doesn't mean that they know what is in the box. I am also told that a woman received a similar package from the same company a few weeks back, and she was brought to customs inspection. This is at least what I initially heard. At this time I'm starting to get concerned. It's just a box of learning CDs, right?? I didn't do anything wrong, I don't want to be interrogated!" But then I understand that it is the contents of the box they inspect, not you. So my options are: let Customs open my shipment and poke around to make sure it is what it says it is, then pay them 10% of the total of the product, or walk away with it then, but pay 21% of the total. I say I'll take the first option -- hey, what's another 10% and more days of waiting for an item I thought I would be receiving at my local post department branch office, right?
So I sign the invoice and the customs declarant takes my phone number and tells me that the box will be brought to inspection the following day (Wednesday), I would be contacted by Thursday, at which point they would tell me how much I would have to pay in addition, e-mail me a copy of the final invoice, and I'd be able to come pick the package up by Friday. Frustrated, I ask about the office hours and she informs me that her station is open until 18.00, but that the main UPS counters I passed when coming in (and where, presumably, I'd have to pay) are open until 20.00. Great. I part empty-handed, not very amused, but glad that things are at least moving forward.
Fast forward to Friday. I've heard nothing from UPS, Customs, or the weasely man. I don't know who to call. I have no papers. I find the UPS Latvia e-mail address and write them a frustrated and slightly angry letter. Where. Is. My. Stuff.
Fast forward to Monday. I get an e-mail from UPS Latvia saying that my package has been taken to the Customs inspection department near Riga International Airport and that I need to show up in order for them to open up the box and look at it. I also need to take some document with me that proves the contents of the box. Big, ol' WTF. So I call the number at the end of the e-mail, get a somewhat sympathetic woman on the other line, who tells me the exact same thing the e-mail told me. Which is okay.
But then I tell her I'm just really confused why I have to go all the way out to the airport, when the customs declarant at UPS told me I would be called once everything was taken care of to come pay for and pick up my package. The woman on the phone (ba-bah-daaah, bureaucracy!) told me she had nothing to do with what the customs declarant told me, but I would still have to come to them to get the package. Also, I'd have to show up by 16.00 in order to draw up the declaration papers (which, oh, I get to pay for, too) in a timely manner and get the package. I tell her about my 40h/week job and I am not surprised that she sounds surprised. I am then told that my other option is to give UPS Express the authority to fill out the sheets for me, which I'd have to pay extra for, and then they'd deliver the package to my place of work. I ask if this is something the post office would take care of. Of course, it isn't. I didn't ask, but I would bet money that I would have to physically go to the UPS office, fill out countless documents to give them said authorisation to go take care of my stuff for me. The woman asks me if I want her to give me the number for UPS. I think for a second, then tell her very bluntly that no, I do not want to call them. I want my package. It's been in the country for almost a month, I've had all this unexpected stress and ridiculousness to deal with and I still don't have my property. She kind of sympathises, but not too much. She then reiterates that, if I trust UPS Express to handle things, I could still try that option. I bite my tongue to keep from telling her just how much I actually DO trust UPS Express in comparison to the standard postal system.
Then I figured out I could try to take care of all of this next Monday. The woman agrees this would work. I ask her if I can pay by debit card. She says no. I then ask her how much money am I supposed to know to bring with. She gives me a ballpark number. BALLPARK. Jesus Christ on crutches on ice.
During this week I also got a "Repeat Reminder!!!" notice from the regular mail saying I had a package waiting for me some time. Funny, because it was the FIRST NOTICE I HAD GOTTEN. But they delegated UPS Express to bring it to me (who signed on those papers, I wonder?), so it worked out in the end. Then yesterday I got a letter from my friend Andi and her husband Brent, something that I'm guessing is a "Thank you for being at our wedding!" (I was on Skype conference, different story) photo of the two of them. I say guess, because the envelope was put back together with sports tape due to what the stamp basically calls "being opened upon receipt". The envelope looks like a Rotweiler slept face-down on it. The paper of the envelope is worn and liquid-stained and has completely adhered itself to the face of the photo. The front of the envelope with the addresses is mysteriously unscathed, but the back... The postal system here is kicking my butt.
So I am going to go to the building next to the airport next Monday and hope that I have enough time after filling in the declaration forms to tell them exactly how I feel about their absolute crap lack of inter-departmental and office communication. I AM FUMING. You just can't tell because all the snowfall we've had lately is masking it.
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