What language is spoken in Riga?

Latvian is one of only two surviving Baltic languages (Lithuanian is the other), and Rigans are quietly proud of it. The script is Latin-based, so you can sound out street signs on Brīvības iela or the menu at Folkklubs Ala Pagrabs without learning a new alphabet. The diacritical marks matter, though. A macron over a vowel (ā, ē, ī, ū) lengthens it, and the small comma under consonants (ģ, ķ, ļ, ņ) softens them. Riga is a bilingual city in practice. Roughly 37% of the population is ethnically Russian, and you'll hear both languages layered over each other at Centrāltirgus, the enormous 1930 market hall where the smell of smoked sprats and dark rye bread drifts between pavilions. Vendors in Maskavas forštate, the neighborhood south of the rail tracks, tend to default to Russian. Across the Daugava in Pārdaugava, the same pattern holds.

Latvia ranked in the 'high proficiency' band of the 2024 EF English Proficiency Index (top 30 globally), and that assessment tracks accurately in Riga's tourist areas. Bartenders along Kaļķu iela, reception staff at hotels near Vecrīga, and waiters around Līvu laukums will switch to fluent English without a pause. Under-35 Rigans tend to speak it well. The gap appears with taxi drivers over 50, kiosk staff at Rīga Centrālā stacija, and the older women selling warm smoked fish from open trays at the market's outdoor section. Walk 20 minutes northeast into the Soviet-era apartment blocks of Purvciems, and Russian becomes more useful than English. Google Translate's camera mode handles Latvian menus well, but at any restaurant a first-time visitor would choose, printed English menus are already on the table.

The phrases worth learning are fewer than most guides suggest. 'Paldies' (PAL-dee-es, thank you) said after receiving your morning kafija at a café on Audēju iela earns a warmer response than 'thanks.' 'Lūdzu' (LOOD-zoo) pulls triple duty as please, you're welcome, and here you go. Those two words cover 80% of polite exchanges. 'Labdien' (LAB-dee-en, good day) is the safe formal greeting for shops and the ticket desk at the Museum of the Occupation of Latvia, founded in 1993. Worth noting, Latvian pronunciation is almost perfectly phonetic once you learn the marks. Stress falls on the first syllable of every word, which feels more natural to English speakers than the shifting stress of Russian. The letter 'c' in Latvian always makes a 'ts' sound, and 'j' is always 'y.' Those two rules let you decode 90% of the signs between the Central Station and Vecrīga.

One thing catches people off guard at restaurants. Menus in Vecrīga are almost always bilingual, but the English descriptions can be thin. At Folkklubs Ala Pagrabs on Peldu iela, expect English-speaking staff who will walk you through the difference between pelēkie zirņi (grey peas with smoked bacon, a salty warmth that sits with you) and skābeņu zupa (sorrel soup with a sharp, grassy tang). At cheaper lunch spots along Tērbatas iela, you might see 'zupa,' 'gaļa' (meat), and 'zivis' (fish) with little else. Prices are in euros. A main course at a mid-range Vecrīga restaurant runs €12-18. The tipping norm is 10% for good service, rounded to the nearest euro. Nobody expects it. The Latvian phrase for settling up is 'norēķināties, lūdzu' (no-RAY-kee-naa-tees LOOD-zoo), but pointing at the bill and saying 'paldies' works fine.