In the latest issue of Sirene Magazine (that you can borrow from the Sea Library), there’s a feature about a surfing photographer. In the introductory article you can read: “Ezequiel Rivero first visited Costa Rica’s Santa Teresa Beach in 2008, in a small house 50 steps from the ocean. No more easy access to Wi-Fi, media, shopping, news or people. Just a very simple and fulfilling life ruled by the tides. A dear friend, Axel Glittenberg, introduced him to surfing, Hawaiian lore, Captain Cook’s journals and all kinds of surfing literature and storytelling. Gradually he started to look at surfing differently, not just as a competitive sport, but how its roots had a much deeper connection to the forces in play, a more spiritual practice. This all somehow merged with Ezequiel’s early childhood fascination with Greek mythology: Ulysses, Jason, the Nereids. And he wanted to find a way to communicate that vision or try to express it in some form.”

It inspired me to acknowledge the life-changing place where I moved with my family more than 10 years ago to start a different life. This house, which was built around 1910 and enlarged, transformed, changed in the years to come, is where the Sea Library emerged from my imagination and into a room on the first floor. This house, which needs a lot of care, is truly loved by my family of two boys, 14 and 9, my husband (who grew up here) and me. It’s also Nemo’s house, our one-year-old border collie lives here, too, on the peninsula between river, forest and sea. In a place that has changed me into a better human being. With the Sea Library and nearly 1000 books about the sea under its roof, it’s a place where I’ve anchored after life-times (it does feel like that) of traveling around. A mixture of thing that were here before us, and things added, broken or repaired by us, a mixture of books, movies, art and memorabilia of boys growing up.

This house is my island, my surfer’s hut, my ship, my home.

Come inside and take a look:

The living room is full of light from morning till late evening. In the hallway we mark not only the height of our children year by year, but also measure our friends, haha. The huge bookshelf photo is a poster made by my dad, an artist, long time ago, when he photographed his mums’s shelf and these posters were seen around bus stops in Riga. There were no such thing as shelfies back then, also smartphones were just an idea, so people waiting for the bus, could explore the titles.

Our first two cats, Gabriels and Granāta, are immortalised in an art work by my cousin, and just right there through the magic doorway, you can glimpse the Sea Library. And yes, that’s how Nemo sleeps when he wants to rest. When he was a tiny puppy, he found the place behind the coach safe and silent, now he is a large dog, but still tries to fit in there.

Last night was a Strawberry full moon. To celebrate it (and the summer solstice), a neighbour brought us a bowl of berries grown in his garden.

Bits and pieces – a painting by my best friend, a clay bowl made by my boy, a batik by my grandmother and a tiny Buddha statue by a Latvian artist. Everything mingles and lives together in the house of a library.

In the hallway, there are two paintings made in different years by two different artist. By a coincidence, they fit so good together. Upper one is “Lagoon” made with a blue pen by my mum, and the other one is a blue bookshelf by my best friend. For me they symbolise “Sea” and “Library”. Upstairs is where our boys live and were we all sleep under the stars.

I can’t help taking photos of the jasmine blooming each year. The third photo is of the Sea Library window.

We have a large green garden, perfect for Nemo and boys. I haven’t got the courage to start proper gardening, but this summer I planted my first flowers in a secret flowerbed out of sight. Let’s see what will come out of it.

This place showed me who I am. I’m forever grateful.

Goodnight, the Sea Library window.

Anna x