Postcard from Riga

Paldies Riga

Before I set off to go to Riga, I was asked to list three things I connected with Latvia. My answer? The Baltic Sea, forests and Black Balsam. To my great shame, I knew little beyond superficial, stereotypical knowledge. A few days before leaving, I stumbled from one website to another trying to absorb as much information as possible, scrolling through photos, swiping fingers along maps, practicing greetings on my Latvian learning app.

But as I stood outside the hotel on a Sunday morning waiting for a lift back to the airport, I realised that nothing could have prepared me to be part of Page Break, the international poetry festival organised by Madara Gruntmane, Efe Duyan and Kaspars Bērziņš. I never imagined that I would be able to take to this clean, kind, gentle, unasssuming city within just six days. Three weeks later, I can still see the old town and its rounded stone streets as I close my eyes, still feel the unexpected passion of 16-year-old students for Welsh poetry and poems, still hear voices and accents from all over the world getting closer in the small hours.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that I gasped out loud at seeing who the poets were who would be part of the festival. Yes, a few names were new to me, and a few others were poets I've admired for many years and read their poems over and over again. Meeting everyone and getting to know them, getting to hear their poems and stories, being able to share a stage with them, having chats and discussions was a thrill I will never forget.

'My mind has been opened, stretched so wide. Like I've just opened a map and spread it across the table and I see uncharted territory in front of me – places waiting for me to find them, lanes that call my name, paths that give me itchy feet, names that dance on my lips, people smiling at me kindly.'

Those were some rough sentences in my phone notes at 4.37am on the last Saturday in Riga. Yes, I saw the Baltic Sea and felt its chill on my cheeks, I gazed at the endless forests from the airplane window and a small bottle of Black Balsam came back in the bag with me. But Riga means a great deal more than that to me now. Madara, Efe and Kaspars have undoubtedly created something very special and I am extremely grateful to the three, to the poets, to Riga and its people and to Literature Across Frontiers for the opportunity. Paldies.

Postcard from Greece

Little did I know, when applying for the Ulysses Shelter programme in October 2019, that a pandemic would arrive to wreak havoc and disrupt every aspect of life, affecting travel as much as anything. In March 2020, I was at my first residency on the Croatian island of Mljet, when a hasty departure became necessary due to the closing of international borders, and the start of the first lockdown.

In August 2021, twelve months later than intended, I land at Thessaloniki to complete the second of my residencies in Lárisa. The pandemic has not disappeared (indeed, numbers are rising everywhere) but things have relaxed, for a while at least.

I got to spend the first week of the residency by the sea at Velika, a coastal village where the temperature was gentler than the high temperatures of 35-40 Celsius experienced in the city. I was staying with a fellow Ulysses Shelter resident, a poet from Slovenia called Uroš Prah. I spent the week finishing my second collection of poetry, Merch y Llyn, and it was lovely to have the peace and quiet to really ruminate on the poems, and examine the structure of the volume, as well as regularly popping down to the sea.

After a quiet week in Velika, it was time to return to Lárisa. A small city of around 200,000 people, Lárisa is the main city of the Thessaly province and home to Thraka press. Thanos and Marija, from Thraka were our hosts throughout the residency, and they are the organisers of the Thessalian Poetry Festival, a huge festival which is held over 5 days, in Thessaly’s main cities: Lárisa, Volos, Trikala and Karditsa.

As part of the festival, I had the opportunity to read my work in Makrinitsa, Trikala, and in the closing ceremony in Lárisa. The festival included tens of local poets from the different communities of Thessaly; poets who had travelled from other parts of Greece, such as Athens, and a handful of international poets, from Slovenia, Spain, Croatia, Bosnia and of course Wales. It was a pleasure to discover the work of other poets like Uroš Prah, Ana Svetel, Denis Škofič, Thanos Gogos a Marija Dejanović, and to discuss the situation of poetry in the different languages over little glasses of tsiperou or a pint of Fix.

I want to thank the staff of Literature Across Frontiers and Wales Literature Exchange, Sandorf and Thraka from the bottom of my heart for working together to provide these fantastic experiences, which have substantially enriched my work and my contacts over the period of the residency.

Grug Muse

Postcard from Larissa

Yesterday, while waiting for my train from Thessaloniki to Larissa, I was surprised to find a small chapel in the station - situated somewhat unflatteringly by the lavs*.

I think this is a feature we should install in UK train stations, because - despite being broadly agnostic - I do find myself exclaiming, "God! Christ! Jesus! Mother of Mercy! Etc!" an awful lot while using the trains - usually after the second or third delay and/or platform alteration. Perhaps installing a direct line will ensure Heaven truly knows what I think of Bristol Temple Meads?

When I return from two week residency in Larissa I shall entreat whoever is in charge of the country to take on my earnest proposal. Which - as of time of writing - could literally be anyone/anything in the nation. My bet is on a slightly ripped poster of ABBA (Britain is a nostalgic kingdom after all) and a particularly rightwing box of crayons (got to keep the ERG happy).

Keep safe everyone,

Lloyds

*To be fair I too have sometimes desire a deep spiritual cleanse after using a public restroom.