Rundale Palace, stands majestically in its yellow grandeur surrounded by apple orchards on the plains of southern Latvia. For all its majesty it now sits in the middle of nowhere. As we approach from Vilnius, wind gusts blow dust and dander up my nose, so I’m not inclined to hang around for long. And where is that much vaunted rose garden? In such absence, I tread warily squishing over fallen fruit under the trees in the apple orchard trying unsuccessfully to reach ripening red beauties on branches beyond my reach. I do gather some low hanging fruit in my arms to take back to Dominic because our driver that he can take home and pickle.