Two times I walked the long road from Bauska Castle to the station. Two times the promised bus to Rundale failed to arrive. The ticket window was closed and boarded up, the timetable on the wall told me nothing that the internet already hadn't. Both were wrong.
The Riga bus pulled out of its bay, a young girl cried on a bench while her mother slapped her face, dust blew across the square. There were three hours left to kill so I walked to a cafe. Closed on Monday said the sign on the door.