22 Daugavpils iela

Walking the whole distance was now looking too far. So I called the hotel and asked them in a frenzy to order us a taxi. Five minutes later the guy turned up. He didn't speak a word of English but with my fingers I pointed to two addresses and then the old town. It was to be our crazy dash round the family ghetto. The driver must have thought we were mad. First he took us here to the house in the photo and despite it's wooden structure and age it actually looked reasonably well maintained. Here it sat on its own flanked by neighbours that were clearly newer builds. Somehow this house alone survived. We didn't have time to absorb the enormity before we jumped back in the taxi and drove to 68 Maskavas but here the buildings, although not new, were unlikely to have been originals. It didn't matter we'd found what we came for. We were shell shocked and now Katarina certainly felt the connection. The taxi took us back to the old town where we planned to catch our next excursion.