"The city where the wind is born": that's what Latvia calls Liepāja, and you only need to set foot on the quay to understand why. The Baltic air sweeps through the streets, fills the sails and carries musical notes: this port city on Latvia's west coast also bills itself as the capital of national rock, so much so that it has set a walk of fame dedicated to its musicians into its sidewalks. A local anthem even claims the wind was born here, and no one here would dream of contradicting it. Between white sand beaches, century-old wooden neighbourhoods and Soviet military remnants, the port call reveals one of the most unusual faces of the Baltic.

From the Port to the Centre, a Setting of Wood and Art Nouveau

Ships dock in the port, a few kilometres north of the city centre; shuttles and buses cover the trip in about fifteen minutes. The old quarters reward the journey: wooden houses with ornate windows, Art Nouveau façades, cobbled lanes leading to Holy Trinity Church, whose historic organ long ranked among the largest in the world. On Zivju Street, the bronze plaques of the musicians' walk lead to cafés and shops, where everyday Latvian life can be observed unstaged.

The Great Amber and the White Beach

Facing the seaside park, a honey-coloured glass monolith catches the light: the Great Amber, a concert hall inaugurated in 2015, symbol of a cultural renaissance crowned by the title of European Capital of Culture for 2027. Just behind it begins Liepāja's other pride: a ribbon of fine sand stretching for kilometres, lined with dunes and a century-old park planted with pines. Even in cool weather, the walk is worthwhile: the Baltic rolls in its short waves, kitesurfers dance in the gusts, and after autumn storms, attentive walkers sometimes pick up small pieces of polished amber washed up on the shore, a free souvenir offered by the sea.

Karosta, the Forbidden City

To the north lies the most astonishing district: Karosta, a former naval base built for the tsar and then closed to the public during the Soviet occupation, when tens of thousands of military personnel lived there in isolation. St. Nicholas Naval Cathedral raises its golden domes amid austere apartment blocks; the former military prison can be visited with guides in period uniform for a plunge into the discipline of yesteryear; and facing the sea, the Northern Forts, coastal fortifications dynamited and then eaten away by the waves, form a landscape of fractured concrete unique in Europe. The contrast with the gentleness of the bourgeois streets is striking.

A Table Between Sea and Smokehouse

Local cuisine follows the sea: fish smoked on site in family smokehouses, Baltic herring, dense rye bread, local craft beers. The Pētertirgus covered market and nearby cafés serve these products without fuss, at prices that pleasantly surprise travellers from the West.

Port Call Pointers

Before Heading Back on Board

As you return to the ship, the wind gets back to work: it erases footprints in the sand, makes the rigging sing and already pushes toward the next sea. Liepāja leaves a memory made of bold contrasts, golden domes on grey concrete, rock on Baltic silence, and makes you want to keep following this coast where every town seems tuned to a different note.