Amidst a supposed tidal wave of Baltic immigrants hitting our shores in January, out East, Latvia reticently prepared its self to join the Euro. My rudimentary fiscal understanding is that the Eurozone isn’t actually the best gang to be in any more. That was certainly the vibe I got from the locals as I landed in Riga with a fist-full of euros.

I was in Latvia to document their transition from LAT’s to €’s for Bloomberg News. I was aided on my trip by my valiant driver Arnus, a 70 year old, former priest who whizzed me over cobbles and ice more like a teen with an ASBO.

First stop for Arnus and I was a local market (an old Zepplin hanger) where he helped by fending off a scary looking old women who was brandishing a herring and far from keen on having her picture taken. I put the hostility down to the impending currency change. In December they were accepting both Euro’s and LAT’s.

A far more cordial environment was in the supermarket next door. Now, I can’t explain it and it certainly wasn’t set up but… people, yes more than one… were pushing their pets around in shopping trollies. Baffled, I left.

My packed itinerary also included a press conference with a Mr Valdis Dombrovskis… who was in a state of no mans land himself… he had just stepped down as PM after a Supermarket roof collapsed and killed 54 people. He was now being subjected to a weekly press conference to the assembled media (myself and two others). Having watched a man deliver a speech in fluent Latvian for a hour, I asked him to pose for a quick portrait, which to my surprise he did. Albeit in the very serious manor his position dictated.

Having slid and shivered for 3 days in equal measure, I blew my remaining LAT’s on cheap Vodka at the airport. Surely the most fitting way for my crumpled notes to end their days.

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