Too soon to write my memoirs?

Maybe so, since there are many more adventures ahead. Still, I can at least begin.

I was born in Talsi, a picturesque little town of narrow winding streets built on nine rolling hills and encompassing two lovely lakes.

Unlike many parts of present-day Latvia, most of the inhabitants speak Latvian, not Russian. Unscathed by the destruction of WWll a large portion of the dwellings retain their old world charm.

I was born lucky, inheriting some small part of my mother’s beauty and the sturdy strength of my energetic father. I also inherited their sense of adventure and love of travel.

It all began for me in Talsi Hospital on September 5, 1942 where my uncle had rushed my mother in a horse drawn carriage from their country house of Beki.