Australia: Where ‘Midsummer’ is cold and dark

Daina Grosa | 2002. gada 17. June

It gets dark at 5 p.m. these days in Melbourne. Every morning the chill in the air is more and more noticeable. You can see your breath billow out in front of you when you go outside before the sun has started to warm the land. Even though most of the European trees have now shed all their leaves the Australian natives are still green as always.

Although it feels cold (no, never as cold as in Latvia or North America; the temperature rarely drops below -5C), by looking at the countryside you wouldn’t know that it is midwinter because the bush as well as the towns and cities are still primarily green. That’s except for the Australian Alps where the gum-trees will soon have a white cover (yes, it does actually snow in Australia).

To Latvians living in Melbourne this only means winter is well and truly here and that it’s time to start getting ready for the annual Jāņi celebrations as they have for the past 50-odd years.

It’s not that easy to go out in the meadow to pick fresh summer wildflowers to make your vainags (flower garland), like you would in Latvia. Some of the native bottle-brushes, grevilleas and gum trees are still in flower, though, but most Latvians still prefer to make their vainagi from more traditional European flowers. That’s why most of us would head to the nearest florist’s for our vainagi ingredients.

The men, if they’re lucky, can have their traditional oak leaf vainagi, as some of the oak trees, surprisingly enough, still have their leaves.

Some adventurous Latvians have been known to make their vainagi from eucalyptus leaves. The traditional decorating of the premises for Jāņi has often been done with branches from the gum tree branches instead of the birch, the customary Latvian pušķošanas plant.

This brings us to the celebrations themselves. If they’re happening out in the bush (as they do annually at the Latvian scout and guide camp premises “Tērvete” near Kilmore, an hour’s drive north of Melbourne) then Jāņu svinēšana is usually begun at about lunchtime, so that the bulk of the celebrating can be done during daylight hours. As it gets dark at 5 p.m. the remainder of this fun night has to be continued in darkness. The bonfire takes on a whole new meaning. It is a source of light as well as warmth for the revellers or Jāņu bērni. Everyone rugs up in a couple of layers of clothing for this celebration that takes place on the longest night of the year.

I’m sure the format of the celebrations is similar to those in other countries where Latvians have resided for 50 years and have formulated their own recipe for this annual festival. Usually song sheets are printed where the format of the celebrations is spelt out: first the coming together of the Jāņu bērni (Jāņu guests) and the mājinieki (the locals), then the apdziedāšanās (sex-segregated singing of līgo songs where the men make fun of the women and vice-versa) and then the rejoining of the groups where everyone promises to live together happily for the rest of the year. This, of course, is very simplistic, as other traditions such as the blessing of the house and farm could be part of this format, as could songs about the taste of the cheese and pīrāgi made by the hostess or the quality of the beer brewed by the host. And then we mustn’t forget the search for the mythical papardes zieds (fern blossom). We’ve never really found out if it blooms in the middle of winter.

One great thing about celebrating Jāņi during midwinter is that wearing your national costume may be the best decision you’ve made that year. All those woollen clothes and shawls will certainly keep you warm! Of course, there’s the other extreme in December when we celebrate Christmas in midsummer: 40C+ and flies everywhere! But that’s another story…

Daina Gross is editor of Latvians Online. An Australian-Latvian she is also a migration researcher at the University of Latvia, PhD from the University of Sussex, formerly a member of the board of the World Federation of Free Latvians, author and translator/ editor/ proofreader from Latvian into English of an eclectic mix of publications of different genres.

Put on your pastalas and get in the game

Daina Grosa | 2002. gada 20. May

I first read about this compact disc, released in December 2001, on one of my many virtual journeys on the Web. I was quite excited as I know there is not much out there in the way of recordings of Latvian “dancing games” (or rotaļas as they’re called in Latvian) and made a mental note that I must get a copy of Latviešu rotaļas as soon as I can.

The album is the second by Maskačkas spēlmaņi, a Rīga-based folklore group formed in 1995 and led by Ansis Ataols Bērziņš. It includes 27 songs chosen from the book, Latviešu rotaļas un rotaļdejas by Harijs Sūna.

Ever since I’ve had children (they’re six and three years old now) and started teaching Latvian folklore at the local Saturday school, I’ve been scouring the Web (and music stores when I was in Latvia) for music to play to my kids and resources that will help me with lesson preparation. In recent years there have only been a few CDs released that tackle this subject: Latviešu danči and Danco Dievis, both produced by UPE Recording Co. as part of the Latvian Folk Music Collection, and Rotaļas un danči, recorded by Skandinieki.

I feel this part of Latvian traditional folklore is extremely important as it is the introduction to Latvian folk dancing for the very young. In my classes the kids love it when I say, “Iesim rotaļās!” (Let’s play a game!). They, I’m sure, presume that while we’re doing rotaļas, they’re not really learning anything. I know better: The more rotaļas I can get into their memories, the better.

These supposedly simple games are most certainly not only for the young. Rotaļas were danced for centuries at family celebrations not only by children but by everyone who had the strength to get up and move to the music. The dance steps are easy to learn and the beat of many of the dances is merely a gentle shuffle, a far cry from the polka-jumping and intricate maneuvers required for the folk dances that you see on stage at Dziesmu svētki or other more formal occasions.

In Latvia, you’ll even find venues both in Rīga and Daugavpils devoted to just that: simple dances that may be only a tad more difficult than the basic rotaļas you learnt as a child. Rīgas Danču klubs and Laimas Muzykantu danču krodziņš both open their doors to anyone who is interested in dancing these basic steps, which at the same time are ancient and therefore culturally and historically meaningful. Ilga Reizniece of post-folk group Iļģi fame is also very devoted to the passing down of these traditional dances. At the two 3×3 cultural camps I have attended (one in Melbourne, Australia, and the other in Rucava, Latvia), she had everyone who was interested learning these simple dances in a few minutes.

Latviešu rotaļas will certainly further this very worthy cause. First, I am very pleased that the text is both in English and Latvian (therefore available to a wider audience) and the quality of the English doesn’t make you cringe. Second, and more important to me for lesson preparation, are the clear and concise explanations of the steps of each rotaļa. I had already consulted quite a few folklore books, which had explanations of the steps to many dancing games with accompanying musical notes, but for a musically challenged person such as me (I never learnt an instrument) they were of little use.

Maskačkas spēlmaņi definitely show musical talent and, more importantly, they seem to possess the “oomph” required to make people want to join in and dance along with the others. I highly recommend this CD to anyone who is interested in traditional Latvian culture be it at home, in a classroom situation or some other group setting.

So slip on your pastalas, put the CD on and learn some new rotaļas. And don’t forget to include the younger generation. Your children or grandchildren will be so pleased with your interpretation of spending quality time with them!

Details

Latviešu rotaļas

Maskačkas spēlmaņi

Rīgas skaņu ierakstu studija, 2001

RS 036

3×3 in Rucava: A personal perspective

Daina Grosa | 2001. gada 12. August

Our family just attended our first 3×3 camp in Latvia. We had already had a great introduction to the way 3×3 works back in January 2000 when we braved the Australian summer heat and headed off to the camp in Falls Creek, Victoria, for what proved to be an exhilarating experience that we wanted to repeat in the near future.

At the time we were rather exhausted as we had ventured to the camp with an active four-year-old and a (barely) one-year-old toddler. Our children are now slightly older and as we have already started to forget our “trials” in 2000, we felt ready for something on a grander scale.

The 3×3 camp in Rucava was to take place July 15-22 in the southwestern Latvian town close to the Lithuanian border. We had been informed that we would be transported to the camp from Rīga by bus on the morning of the 15th. So we headed off to Dailes teātris at 10 a.m. The first bus drove off without a hitch. But tragedy had struck the second bus—the one we were waiting for—on its way from Rucava to Rīga. We were deeply shocked to learn the driver and his young son died when the bus collided with a train at the Kalvene railway crossing and rolled over. Even more astounding was the news that the Rucava 3×3 camp leader, Dace Jurka, had originally planned to be on the bus but had changed her mind at the last minute.

Such an eerie introduction to the camp left many wondering about fate, God and the powers that be.

This was the 22nd Latvian 3×3 camp held in Latvia. Many of the people in charge looked like they already knew each other well and greeted each other with warm hugs and smiling faces. Seeing as we were true newcomers (as were most of the other camp participants), we entered the Rucava school grounds with a touch of apprehension but a strong feeling that we would very soon feel at home here.

We had chosen to board with one of the locals. We were immediately whisked away to the other side of Rucava (a two-minute drive away!) and introduced to our “landlady” for the week: a homely, smiling rucavniece who showed us to our quarters. We had stayed with friends and relatives in the countryside before so we were not surprised at all by our accommodations. Our main criteria for a pleasant stay is hospitality and a smiling face from the host. We immediately felt this warmth from our host, so we were certain we had been put together with the right person.

The walk back to the camp at a brisk pace would take 20 minutes. But with our two dawdlers in tow—who had to inspect every cow, dog, chicken and cat on the way—the walk took a bit longer. Our motto: the more fresh country air we breathe, the better!

We knew a few people—all “Westerners”—but in no time at all we had chatted to strangers with smiling faces and warm hearts, keen to meet this Latvian family from “down under.” It did not take too long to feel like part of a big family. A great way to meet people was at mealtimes. I don’t think we ever ended up sitting next to the same camp participant twice. I hope the reason for this was not our active children who scared mealtime “neighbors” away! Every mealtime proved to be an introduction to another soul, some keen to chat, others more reserved. The 3×3 organizers actively promoted this by encouraging everyone to greet each other using the personal pronoun “tu” instead of “Jus” in conversation, to wear our name tags at all times and to deliberately find a new person to sit next to each mealtime.

Some statistics may be worth mentioning at this point. There were 426 people in the Rucava 3×3 camp, including all the participants, organizers, cooks, cleaners and local rucavnieki who attended. Of these, 102 participants were locals while the remainder came from all four corners of the earth, some from the United States, Canada, Magadan (in far eastern Russia) and Australia, but most from within Latvian borders.

The first evening was spent in the Rucava open-air amphitheater, enjoying the talents of the locals, both young and old. Particularly impressive were the elderly Rucava ladies (our host was among them) singing ancient local songs in their national costumes. The festivities came to a premature halt when nature took over. A freak storm—a sudden wind followed by a full thunder and lightning extravaganza—put on a grand show that was later described by camp organizers as consistent with the theme of the camp, which was “fire.” We all later marvelled at the pine trees that had been struck by lightning only a couple of metres from the camp buildings.

The next six days of this camp raced by like a whirlwind. All I remember is that at a constantly hurried pace I was forever either handing my children over to the camp kindergarten (for three- to six-year-olds), racing to an ievirze (as the camp activities are called), being transported somewhere by one of the camp’s buses, eating yet another delicious meal or falling exhausted into bed after a full day’s activities (after killing an army of vicious mosquitoes that had taken us hostage in our bedroom).

The ievirzes at this 3×3 camp, about 30 in all, were many and varied: floristry, jewelry making, felt toy making, the art of ancient Latvian weaponmaking, theatre, discussions about Latvian politics, the Latvian oral history project (mutvārdu vēsture), a seminar focusing on family issues led by Māra Tupese and Līga Ruperte, Latvian cooking, literature, various folklore topics and many, many more activities. It would have been a hard task not to find at least one activity that sounded interesting!

In addition to all these ievirzes, on offer were excursions to a list of interesting sights in the Rucava region: the Latvian brumbies (savvaļas zirgi), the local “holy spring” (svētavots), Pape beach for regular swims, and a half-day excursion to Lithuania, including the dolphin show near Klaipeda and the amber museum in Palanga. However, the most interesting of these excursions was the trip to Nida beach where the organizers had planned such a varied program that it was impossible for anyone to complain about boredom: a sports carnival, a folkloric performance by Liepaja theatre actors, the opportunity to join local fishermen when they hauled in their day’s catch, and a feast of fish soup and rye bread. The most moving of this afternoon’s activities was a theatrical yet deeply symbolic “uguns daudzinājums”—fire worship—as a climax to the theme of this year’s 3×3 camp.

Most of all I enjoyed the chance to exchange ideas about any topic under the sun with other participants young and old. Our children had a great time as well, playing with Latvian kids in Latvian, not English, as they are used to doing in their home country of Australia. It was also interesting to chat to Latvian teenagers (there were about 50 of them at the camp) and catch a glimpse of their world view.

Overall the whole family found this week to be a hectic yet extremely positive experience, one we would certainly want to repeat sometime in the near future!