Kindness and shoes

Over the years, I have acquired the skills to organize multi-layered projects with ease and confidence…however, I still have the annoying ability to forget the simplest things on a daily basis. Hence, after the concert last night in Latvia, I walked out of the hall in my “street clothes” and concert shoes, leaving my nice sandals in the ladies dressing room.

I noticed the improper footwear at about 11pm back at my the hotel room. My phone doesn’t work here, so I skype-texted one of the orchestra staff members asking them to pick up the sandals (they always go through the dressing rooms after the concerts and present the lost and found the next day on the buses…which once included a bra being waved around for the entire orchestra’s amusement, poor forgetful girl!) Later, when I met the staff in the hotel lobby they said that they had already left the concert hall when they got the message, but had seen my sandals and assumed they belonged to one of the women in the orchestra that plays there permanently. Dang it!

My first option was to return to the concert hall that night to see if anyone was still there. I was a bit apprehensive; walking the streets of Riga by myself at night wasn’t at the top of my “to-do in Latvia” list. However, I had no choice (they were leather sandals from Arvid!) and no one was willing to accompany me (obviously no one else was raised in America where adults preach to young woman that walking in a city at night alone is a big, old no-no). Against my better judgment I made the 15 minute walk back to the concert hall.

There were only a few blocks where I felt uncomfortable, and once I got to the city square I felt fine (aside from the frustrations with my forgetfulness!) To my dismay, the entire building was pitch black and no one answered my pounding on the back doors leading into the back stage area. Defeated, I made my way back to the hotel where a Long Island Ice Tea was waiting for me at the bar purchased by the sympathetic Leann.

So, because I am stubborn, I woke up early this morning to trudge back to the concert hall to solve the case of the forgotten footwear. Ellen, an orchestra staff member, discovered that there would definitely be a security guard on duty and possibly a custodial staff to let me into the building. When I arrived at the building there was a friendly looking old man sitting behind the ancient looking, tiny, wooden security post at the bottom of the winding stairs that climbed 4 floors above to the stage. I approached him and introduced myself.

I tried to speak clearly and said that I was an orchestra member from the concert the previous night and had forgotten something in the ladies dressing room. I showed him my badge, which he took and slowly, but proudly, read the words printed on my tag:

“Baaaaal-tic ooth Phil-harm-own-ich - Maria Fin-L-mer”

Clearly, he didn’t speak English, but was very proud of his reading accomplishment. I nodded wildly in approval of his efforts. Then, a very interesting exchange of English, Latvian, and my own personal sign language system began…I think at one point it looked as though I was stripping when trying to help him get “women’s dressing room”

We eventually began to understand each other and he said to go upstairs and find a cleaning lady to let me into the room (well, I’m pretty sure that’s what he said…haha) I climbed the spiral, wooden staircase and found an elderly woman sweeping the stage floor. As soon as I opened my mouth to ask her for assistance, she began to laugh. She knew less of my language that the security guard. This had turned into quite the task!

After 5 more minutes of sign language and such, I gathered that she didn’t have the key and I needed to visit the old man downstairs once again. At least I was getting some exercise! Back down I went, and after some “small talk”, I attained the key (which I hoped was the right one) and climbed the creaking stairs again. Success! The key worked and my lovely sandals (they are so comfortable and cute!) were there waiting.

I thanked the cleaning lady as I made my way back down by smiling, giggling, and waving the shoes. When I returned to the security desk, the man came out from behind the desk, talked at me for a moment in a happy tone, gave me a hug, and said “auf wiedersehen”. I smiled, laughed at my ignorance, thanked him, and repeated the German farewell.

I appreciated the kindness of the old man and woman so much. They could have easily sent me away, and considered me rude for not knowing their language. Instead they went out of their way to help me. I know they are just shoes, but they were one of the first gifts from Arvid. I was very happy to have them back in my possession, and delighted to encounter some wonderful Riga locals.