I can think of few better places to spend a holiday than Pāvilosta, Latvia. It is quiet. There are only about eight blocks of houses in town, and most of them dead-end right into the sea. While Tyler spends the day programming, I leave to buy groceries and take a walk around town.

As I meander, a lone car drives past, kicking up a trail of brown dust as it bounces down the town's dirt and gravel roads. The houses here are mostly are faded clapboard, paint peeling and boards worn to the bone from the relentless sun and winds from the sea. The village exudes a quaint sleepiness.

The afternoon sun is HOT and people seem to alternate between retreating to the cool darkness of their hotel rooms for a siesta, or out to the sea for a refreshing dip. On the way to the grocery store, I walk along the shore for a bit. There, on a stretch of long beach, a handful of families have planted themselves in the sand while their children run and play.

After splashing my feet in the cool water, I head to the sole grocer in town for snacks. Inside, I wait in line behind barefoot, sand-covered kids doling out coins in exchange for popsicles and ice cream. I buy food for dinner, a popsicle for myself and Tyler, and carry on towards our small hotel.

Hours later, melty popsicles long since consumed, Tyler and I go for a walk on the beach. The sun is intense and I have fun squinting into our camera's view finder, snapping photos of Tyler silhouetted against the orangey glow:

I feel as though I could stay here forever.