Legend of Tureida Rose

Dear Friends,

Saturday afternoon I got a call from Elizabete, daughter of Amanda, whom I met at church. While I had not met Elizabete, I knew from talking with Amanda that she was about my age and had a twin sister, Beatrice. Over the phone, Elizabete informed me that the three of them -- mother and daughters -- were out on a ride and were wondering if I'd like to go for a tea. I responded affirmatively, and we set a time to meet.

When the ladies picked me up, they had reconsidered plans and wanted to take me to Sigulda, a city east of Riga that I had heard of many times -- it's one of the more scenic areas in Latvia -- but had not yet visited. So, we were off to see Sigulda!

"Countree road... Take me home... to a place... I belong..." Elizabete, a soprano, sang solo in the car. "West Virgeenya... Country mama... Take me home..."

The ladies proved to be engaging company, and I was touched by their hospitality. Beatrice, the driver, is still in the beginning stages of learning to drive. I could sense the tension in the air when the ladies bantered (in Latvian, of course) about Beatrice's driving. I held on and pretended not to notice.

Once in Sigulda we stopped for dinner and drove on to an amusement course of sorts where the girls and I took a ski lift up a hill and zoomed down it on toboggan-like carts on a track. (Not dissimilar from the Alpine Slide in Wyoming.)

"Teem, did you enjoy the motion?" inquired Elizabete enthusiastically, back in the car.

My brain: "Well, quite frankly, it was a needless, jarring jolt to my senses that frightened me half to death."

My mouth: "Oh, yea. What a great, after-dinner thrill!"

Elizabete released an aberrant howl of laughter as if I were Johnny Carson in the backseat.

The anticipated highlight of the day's journey was seeing the famed Gūtmaņis Cave or Sandstone Cave somewhere on the skirts of Sigulda. It's the largest cave in Latvia and contains carven graffiti from the last four or five centuries. Twain would have a heyday.

"Teem, do you like natural places?" inquired Elizabete.

"Yes, I really do enjoy being in nature," I replied.

"Ohhh," she cooed.

You see, Elizabete had a story to tell. And, as this slow writer remembers it, this was approximately the beginning.

"Teem, there is ancient story about this cave."

"Oh?"

"Um, yes! There was a maiden. Her name was Tureida Rose."

"Lida Rose?"

"Tureida."

"Treeda?"

"Turr-."

"Turr-."

"-eye-duh!"

"-eye-duh! Trureidiah!"

"Close enough."

"She was very beautiful, see. But her condition was such that she saw bad luck in life."

"Oh. Okay."

"So, she had grown bigger playing in cave as child. And when she was woman, she fell in love with gardener."

"Those gardeners, I tell you!"

"Yes, I tell you. He was not rich man, but he loved Tureida Rose."

"Uh-huh. A good man."

"One day, a bad man come along and wrote letter like gardener and gave to Tureida. He says to meet at the cave."

"Ohh."

"In the cave he try to... do bad thing."

"Really?"

"He tried to thief her virgin."

"He... um... ?"

"He was very bad and--"

"He tried to sleep with her, okay, Teem?" that, coming from sister Beatrice, who up until this point had been a mild bystander.

"Ahh, yes, yes. Okay, so."

"Well, she wrapped scarf by her neck and say, 'This scarf makes me invisible. You pick up and try with your sword.'"

"Oh, no. That doesn't sound good."

"So the mean man picked up his sword and swung and her head fell off into the sand."

"Right here?" I shuffled my feet.

"Yes."

"Why did he do that?"

"She would rather be dead than be with him."

"Oh, what a story! Thanks for telling me... What about the gardener?"

"He still maybe plants roses at the castle and dreams of Tureida Rose."

And while I cannot claim to have dreamt of the lovely, star-crossed Tureida Rose that night, I tell you this: I went to bed praising God for the kindness of strangers and the steadfast gift of stories shared.

Yours,
Tim