To get to Karosta, I take a mini bus from the city center. The problem: I do not know exactly where I am going, there is no bus map, the driver does not understand what I say and only stops on request. After a while, I decided that I should have arrived and I was dropped on a deserted road. To put me completely in the mood, there are only signs in Russian.Finally, I am lucky and find a map, I'm only two kilometers from the sea and the fortifications of the military port. I begin to walk in another world: everything is wild, the houses are dilapidated, the fishermen with their complexions weathered by wind and sun, tourists are rare, so with my camera, I stand out in this landscape!
Liepaja is called the Windy City because of its orientation between the sea and a lake. Today, the wind blows and there are big waves. Far away, stands the Saint Nicolas Orthodox Cathedral. I pass by the beach to go there, the water is warm, a few daring bathers dip their toes in the water.
The Cathedral with its gilded onion domes stands out in the middle of a gray background. A ray of sunlight sparkles on the roof. Two notable features: built in 1901 on a model from 1700 and the domes are supported by cross-vaults and not by columns. During the Second World War and until 1990 it served as a cinema and sports complex ...
I then passed through immense deserted alleys and walked on to the Karosta prison. Central to the area, it was built by Alexander III in the late nineteenth century and has been in use until 1997. The Soviets used it as a military prison and even today it is possible to pay to pretend to be a prisoner. By paying 10 Lats (14 €), you can spend the night in jail sleeping in a dilapidated, damp cell, you are woken in the middle of the night to do push-ups in the middle of the courtyard under the screams of the guards. Tempted?
The welcome is cold, the "guards" shout at me as soon as I pass the porch. The alarm is triggered, an "officer" runs towards me and shouts disapprovingly at me in Russian. When I answer in English that I would just like to visit the place, he says, rolling his r’s, that I must delete the photos!... No need to scream, really.
Left alone in the middle of the courtyard, I sit on a bench and wait for my turn. Then I see a column of tourists advancing along the walls and they are listening obediently to the "guard" who orders them to turn about, only the images of concentration camps come to mind. It is too much, I refuse to pay in order to play the Soviet slave. I clear out without asking any questions.
Like a prisoner on the run, I wander the alleys in search of a bus. Nobody and no bus stops, just me and my tired feet. I cross a bridge and decide that any vehicle will do. It is another mini bus that drops me off in the town centre and finishes off my tour of Karosta.
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