Architecture in a Baltic spa town

We were staying in the small seaside resort of Majori, the most urbanized part of the region known as Jurmala ("seaside"). It had the feel of an out-of-season British seaside town, complete with disconsolate candy-floss and ice-cream vendors, a small fairground, an amusement arcade amusingly named "Bumerangs", and a burnt-out nightclub -- although there were far more people selling pickling cucumbers than you get in Blackpool. However, it did provide a wonderful variety of architectural styles:

From late 19th century clapboard houses tucked away among the pine trees:



to miniature castles:



to lavish, yet sadly deserted, beach-side venues:



and to hulking, Soviet-style brutalist hotels. Mmmm, brutalist hotels!



A tremendous amount of building work was taking place, presumably installing modern plumbing into many of the Victorian-era houses -- originally, their owners would bathe in the sea each morning, rather than using any of that new-fangled hot water. I daydreamed idly about selling the apartment in Amsterdam and buying a doer-upper in Jurmala, conjuring up my own little spa haven just behind the beach. Unfortunately, my clapboard castles in the air were rudely destroyed by the realty magazine that was the only reading material in the waiting area for the pearl baths: Jurmala is home to some of the most expensive real estate in Latvia, with properties going for upwards of 1 million euros. How many pickling cucumbers and candy floss would I have to sell to raise that kind of cash? No Latvian spa for Dumpling this year!