When I walked off the ship along the Daugava River and entered Vecrīga – the Old Town – I felt like I'd stepped into a living museum where eight centuries whispered their stories all at once. Bishop Albert of Riga founded this place in 1201 as a base for Christianizing the Baltic region, and you can still feel that medieval gravity in the narrow cobblestone lanes, in the Gothic towers of St. Peter's Church and Riga Cathedral (the Doma), in the Three Brothers houses huddled together like they're sharing secrets from the Hanseatic League days. Every corner of this UNESCO World Heritage Site (inscribed 1997) reveals another layer of the past – medieval merchants' warehouses, guild halls, the reconstructed House of the Blackheads with its ornate stepped gable gleaming like it never fell to the bombs.

But then the city pulls a magic trick: you walk a few blocks northeast from the medieval heart, and suddenly you're standing on Alberta iela – Albert Street – surrounded by the most astonishing Art Nouveau (Jugendstil) architecture I've ever seen. Over 800 Art Nouveau buildings grace this city, and Alberta Street is the crown jewel, a parade of ornate facades by architects like Mikhail Eisenstein (yes, the film director's father). At 9 a.m., when the morning light hits these buildings, the screaming faces, mythical beasts, maidens, peacocks, and writhing floral motifs seem almost alive. The contrast is breathtaking: medieval modesty gives way to Jugendstil exuberance, Gothic spires competing with curving turrets and elaborate balconies. I stood there marveling at how Riga holds both architectural worlds in perfect balance – the sober stone of the 13th century and the ecstatic decoration of the early 20th.

The Central Market is housed in five enormous former Zeppelin hangars – industrial heritage repurposed – and walking through it is sensory overload in the best way: black balsamic vinegar aged 25 years, piles of smoked sprats, amber honey, hemp butter that tastes like nostalgia, vendors calling out prices in Latvian and Russian. We had lunch at a Soviet-era milk bar, cold beet soup and piragi bacon buns for pocket change, sitting on plastic chairs like locals. The city is beautiful, affordable, and genuinely friendly. The cruise terminal sits right along the Daugava, an easy walk or quick tram ride into the heart of everything.