Latgale Trip V3: The Third Crossing – Into the Blue-Grey Heart of Eastern Latvia Prologue: Why Version 3.0? Some places demand repetition. Not because they reveal everything at once, but because they conceal their essence under layers of mist, silence, and stubborn tradition. Latgale – the easternmost region of Latvia, bordering Russia and Belarus – is such a place. My first trip (V1) was a hurried reconnaissance: Daugavpils’ fortress, Aglona’s basilica, a blur of lakes seen from a bus window. V2 was a summer solstice pilgrimage, all bonfires and midnight sun. But Latgale Trip V3 was different. This was autumn. This was intentional slowness. This was the search for the region’s true signature: not the obvious landmarks, but the sajūta – the feeling – of a land where time bends. This is the account of 120 hours in Latgale, October 2026. A journey by diesel train, rented bicycle, and foot. A journey into the blue-grey.
Day 1: The Rail-Route of Ghosts Rīga’s central station at 6:47 AM. The train to Rēzekne – the region’s unofficial capital – is an electric marvel by EU standards, but inside, the spirit is Soviet: worn velvet seats, windows that fog with collective breath, a samovār (tea boiler) that gurgles like a dying accordion. I choose a compartment with a Latgalian grandmother crocheting doilies. She doesn’t speak Latvian – only Latgalian and Russian. I understand one word: “ezeri” (lakes). The journey east is a slow revelation. First, the coniferous monotony of Vidzeme. Then, near Jēkabpils, the landscape begins to fold . Low hills. Birch trees stripped half-bare. And then – the lakes. They appear without warning: Cirišs, Rušons, and later, the sprawling majesty of Lubāns, Latvia’s largest lake, more a flooded plain than a proper body of water. The grandmother points: “Ūdens dvēsele” – water’s soul. By the time we pull into Rēzekne at 10:15, my notebook is already wet with dew from the open window. Rēzekne: The City of the Unexpected Rēzekne is often dismissed as grey, post-industrial, forgotten. V3 forced me to look again. The city’s heart is the Latgales Māra – a towering, brutalist-symbolist sculpture of a woman holding a cross, erected in 1939 and defiantly restored after Soviet neglect. She stands on a hill overlooking the railway yards. From her feet, you see the real Rēzekne: not the crumbling factories, but the wooden houses with sky-blue shutters, the Orthodox church with a green dome, and – crucially – the new Latgale Culture and History Museum (reopened 2025 after a decade of renovation). Inside, V3’s first discovery: a room dedicated to Latgalian ceramics . Not the polite folk pottery of tourism brochures, but fierce, glazed figures – horses with human eyes, demons with three heads, jugs shaped like pregnant women. A sign reads: “Keramika – runājošais māls” (Ceramics – speaking clay). I buy a small bowl, unglazed on the outside, cobalt-blue within. The vendor, an elderly man with one tooth and two world wars in his posture, says: “Tas ir Latgale. Smags ārpusē, dziļš iekšpusē.” (Hard on the outside, deep inside.) Lunch at Kafejnīca Rēzekne – grey pea soup with smoked pork knuckle, washed down with kvass. No tourists. Only a railway worker, a priest, and a woman reading a newspaper printed in Latgalian script. I try to read a headline: “Sātai vaļā” – roughly, “The heart is open.” Yes, I think. That’s the key.
Day 2: The Lake Circuit – By Bicycle Through Liquid Silence Rented a battered “Ardis” bicycle from a garage near Rēzekne’s bus station. Destination: the Rāzna National Park , specifically the 30-kilometer loop around Lake Rāzna – the second largest lake in Latvia, but the clearest. The route is called “Zilais loks” (The Blue Loop). V3’s true test. Morning: Ezernieki and the Wooden Church The asphalt ends after 6 km. Gravel begins. Then, pure dirt. But the reward: the village of Ezernieki , population 37. Its Old Believers’ prayer house is a masterpiece of unadorned faith – no icons in gold, only hand-painted wooden saints, their faces eroded by candle smoke. An Old Believer named Agafya invites me in. She speaks Russian, but writes a word in my notebook: “Pokayaniye” – repentance. Not sorrow, she explains. “The act of turning around.” Latgale is full of such turning points. Noon: The Lake Itself I leave the bike at a wooden jetty near Mākoņkalns (Cloud Mountain). The hill is only 40 meters high, but from the top, Lake Rāzna spreads like a shattered mirror. Islands dot it – 13, according to legend, one for each of Christ’s disciples minus Judas. The water today is not blue. It is grey-blue , the color of a storm petrel’s wing, or a soldier’s winter coat. A cold wind from Belarus. I sit for an hour. No phone signal. No sound except the klunk-klunk of a distant fishing boat’s engine. Later, a swim. October water is bracing, but Latgalians believe every lake has a ūdensmāte – a water mother – who heals joint pain. I emerge shivering, convinced my knees are younger. Placebo or magic? In Latgale, the distinction is irrelevant. Evening: The Village of Kaunata A detour. Kaunata is not on most maps. It has a Catholic church (white, modest) and a Soviet-era cultural center (concrete, boarded). But behind the center, a miracle: a hand-pulled ferry across a narrow strait. Operated by Jānis, 67, who has pulled the rope for 30 years. Cost: €0.50. We cross in silence. He points to a house on the opposite shore: “Mans tēvs tur dzimis. 1923. Viņš runāja tikai latgaliski līdz 20 gadu vecumam. Tad nāca latviešu valoda. Tad krievu. Tad atkal latviešu. Tagad – klusums.” (My father was born there. He spoke only Latgalian until age 20. Then Latvian. Then Russian. Then Latvian again. Now – silence.) I sleep that night in a homestay in Makovka (yes, the Russian name remains on some signs). The hostess, Irēna, serves sklandrausis – a sweet-savory carrot-and-potato pie, baked in a wood oven. We eat by candlelight. She says: “Latgale nav vieta. Latgale ir laiks.” (Latgale is not a place. Latgale is time.)
Day 3: Daugavpils – The Fortress, The Mark Rothko, and The Unbroken A morning bus south to Daugavpils. The city is often called “the least Latvian city” – majority Russian-speaking, industrial, blunt. V3’s challenge: to find its hidden tenderness. The Daugavpils Fortress Built by Tsar Alexander I after Napoleon’s invasion. Never saw a single shot fired in anger. Instead, it became a prison, a barracks, a concentration camp (first for Poles, then for Jews), then a Soviet garrison, then a museum. Walking the ramparts at 9 AM, alone except for a stray dog, I feel the weight of nested tragedies. A plaque in three languages: “Here, in 1941, 1,400 Jews were held before execution. Among them: children.” But V3 is not about despair. The fortress’s eastern wing houses the Mark Rothko Centre – because Rothko, the abstract expressionist, was born in Daugavpils (then Dvinsk) in 1903. The centre’s current exhibition: “Black on Grey: The Latgale Years.” Rothko never painted Latgale directly, but his late, dark canvases – those floating rectangles of maroon, charcoal, and deep blue – are Latgale. They are the landscape of lakes under storm clouds, of faith without dogma, of silence that speaks. Afternoon: The Unbroken Church Walk from the fortress to Boris and Gleb Cathedral – an Orthodox cathedral of brick and five gold domes. Unlike Rīga’s tidy churches, this one is raw. Inside, no pews. Worshippers stand. Women kiss icons. A deacon chants in Old Church Slavonic. I light a candle for my grandmother, who fled Eastern Europe in 1944. The flame trembles. So do I. Evening: Latgalian Suburbs I skip the city center’s chain cafes. Instead, I take tram #3 to Grīva , a working-class district on the old Polish border. Here, wooden houses lean into each other. A bar called “Pie Alekseja” serves piva (beer) and šprotes (sprats) on black bread. The clientele: factory workers, a retired KGB officer (he tells me; I don’t ask), and a young Latgalian poet named Zane. She recites a line from memory: “Mūsu valoda ir migla / Mēs elpojam cauri vēsturei” (Our language is fog / We breathe through history). She gives me a photocopied chapbook. Price: a promise to read it on the train home. latgale trip v3
Day 4: The Sacred Triangle – Aglona, Andrupene, and The Old Believers’ Island No bicycle today. A hired car (€35, driver Jānis, who chain-smokes and listens to Latgalian folk metal). Destination: the holy triangle of Latgale. Aglona Basilica – The Vatican of the North Aglona is to Latgalian Catholics what Mecca is to Muslims. The basilica, built in 1760, is baroque but humble – white, twin towers, a statue of the Virgin on the roof. Inside, the famous icon of Aglona Mother of God (painted 1698) is covered in votive offerings: silver hearts, crutches, wedding rings. Mass is in Latgalian – a language that sounds like Latvian spoken underwater, soft and guttural at once. I am not religious, but when the choir sings “Esi sveicināta, Marija” , I feel what the anthropologists call hierophany – a rupture of the ordinary. Jānis the driver whispers: “My grandmother walked 90 kilometers here in 1944. Barefoot. For peace.” Andrupene – The Ceramics Village Thirty minutes east. Andrupene is not a museum. It is a living village of potters. I visit the workshop of Pēteris Martinsons , 84, whose hands are cracked like dry lakebed. He throws a bowl in 90 seconds, then explains the glaze: local sand, birch ash, and a secret he calls “zaļais spēks” (green power). I buy a jug shaped like a rooster. He laughs: “Tas dziedās tikai tad, kad būsi laimīgs.” (It will crow only when you are happy.) The Old Believers’ Island – Lake Peipus’s Hidden Shore A final detour to the remote village of Jaunsloboda on the shores of Lake Peipus (the border with Russia is 2 km east). This is an Old Believer community that fled Tsarist persecution in the 17th century. They do not use electricity on Sundays. They pray in a chapel with no windows. They bury their dead in unmarked graves facing east. An elder named Timofei invites me into his izba. He serves sbiten (a honey-spice tea) and shows me a handwritten prayer book from 1789. He asks: “Why do you come here, to the end of the road?” I say: “To understand slowness.” He nods. “Then you must stay three days. One day is curiosity. Three days is truth.” I stay only three hours. But I leave with a truth anyway: Latgale is not a destination. It is a method – a way of being present in a world that prefers speed.
Day 5: Departure – The Train West The 6:47 AM train from Rēzekne to Rīga. Same route, but reversed. The lakes now appear on the left. The grandmother with the doilies is gone. Instead, a young soldier heading to base, reading a thriller in Russian. A nun eating an apple. A child drawing a house with a blue roof. I open my notebook. Words: clay, fog, rope, ferry, candle, rooster, silence. Not a travelogue. A lexicon. At the window, the landscape blurs. But Latgale holds. It is the water mother in my bones. The unglazed bowl in my bag. The promise to Zane the poet, kept now. What V3 Taught Me
Tourism is not pilgrimage. The first two trips collected sights. The third collected wounds and salves – the fortress’s grief, the basilica’s hope, the ferryman’s dignity. Latgale Trip V3: The Third Crossing – Into
Latgale’s color is not blue. It is blue-grey. The color of lake ice, of old wooden churches, of Rothko’s late period, of the language spoken between breaths.
Version 3 is never final. As the train enters Rīga, I already plan V4: winter. Ice fishing on Lake Rāzna. Christmas Mass in Aglona. A silent retreat in an Old Believer village. Because Latgale, like all deep places, requires return.
The last line of Zane’s chapbook: “Mēs neaizbraucam no Latgales. Latgale aiziet mūsos.” (We do not leave Latgale. Latgale walks into us.) Walk on, then. Into the blue-grey. Latgale – the easternmost region of Latvia, bordering
End of Latgale Trip V3 October 2026 | Rīga–Rēzekne–Rāzna–Daugavpils–Aglona–Jaunsloboda
Latgale , Latvia’s easternmost region, is often called the "Land of Blue Lakes." Known for its deep-rooted Catholic traditions, unique Latgalian dialect, and heartfelt hospitality, it offers a starkly beautiful contrast to the more urbanized west. Whether you are planning a road trip or looking for a cultural deep-dive, this guide covers the must-see highlights of the region. 1. Daugavpils : The Cultural Citadel As the largest city in the region, Daugavpils serves as the perfect starting point for any Latgale adventure. Daugavpils Fortress OpenDaugavpils, Latvia This 19th-century bastion is the only one of its kind in Northern Europe preserved without significant alterations. You can explore its vast grounds for free 24/7. Rotko muzejs Art museum ClosedDaugavpils, Latvia Located within the fortress, this world-class museum houses original works by the legendary abstract expressionist, who was born in the city. Orthodox Cathedral of Saints Boris and Gleb Orthodox church ClosedDaugavpils, Latvia A unique site where four different denominations—Orthodox, Catholic, Lutheran, and Old Believer—have churches built within sight of each other. 2. Spiritual and Culinary Traditions Latgale’s identity is closely tied to its faith and its local flavors. Basilica of the Assumption of Blessed Virgin Mary, Aglona ClosedAglona, Aglona Parish, Preiļi Municipality, Latvia Latvia’s most important Catholic site, this white Baroque masterpiece is a major pilgrimage destination, especially for the Feast of the Assumption on August 15. Don’t forget to fill a bottle at the Aglona spring , believed by locals to have healing properties. Aglona Bread Museum ClosedAglona, Aglona Parish, Preiļi Municipality, Latvia A quirky but essential stop where you can learn about traditional rye bread and enjoy a hearty Latgalian meal. Shmakovka Museum ClosedDaugavpils, Latvia Located in Daugavpils, this museum is dedicated to the region's traditional strong spirit. It’s an interactive way to learn about the history of "šmakovka" and the local crafts of the area. 3. Nature and the "Land of Blue Lakes" With over 2,000 lakes, nature is always within reach in Latgale. Daugavpils Fortress Part-preserved bastion fort dating from the 19th century & home to the Mark Rothko Art Center. Things to do in Latgale, Latvia - Go Eat Do