A Latvian who competed at the Winter Olympics tells James Helm about his new life in Ireland, hosing down trucks and spending his spare time studying
For Jekabs Nakums, the temptation today will be to watch the cross-country-skiing, the women's biathlon, and perhaps a bit of ice hockey as the drama unfolds in Turin. But instead of relaxing in front of the television in his home in Naas, Co Kildare, daydreaming about his own experiences of Winter Olympics gone by, he'll be studying hard, preparing for exams.
Back home in Latvia, Nakums is a celebrity. His event was the biathlon, a lung-bursting combination of cross-country skiing and shooting. In Nagano, Japan, eight years ago, he finished fifth, and he also took part in Salt Lake City in 2002.
He describes the challenge of the sport that dominated his life for 18 years, until his retirement in 2004. It requires strength and stamina to ski for miles, and a steady hand to aim a rifle. "You stop for 30 seconds when your pulse is 170 or 180 a minute. You have to hold your breath. It's not easy," he says, with masterful understatement.
Now his home is Ireland. Instead of chasing Olympic glory, this Baltic sporting hero spends most of his time washing trucks. Ireland has become his land of opportunity.
In 2004, a few weeks after Latvia joined the EU, Nakums left home and joined the flow of migrant workers heading for Ireland.
In the evenings, and on Fridays and Saturdays, he is studying to qualify as a fitness instructor. Understandably, his thoughts are drifting to events in the Italian mountains.
Earlier this week he was back home for a couple of days, after a friend paid for a flight to Riga. He joined in the celebrations as Latvia won its first medal in the Winter Olympics, a bronze for Martins Rubenis in the luge (a small racing sled event). Nakums, who comes from the east Latvian town of Aluksne, still gets recognised. "Even on Sunday, when I was in a food market, a stranger came up to me. I asked: 'do we know each other?' He said 'no' and asked where I was. I said I was living in Ireland."
The Latvian embassy in Dublin estimates that around 30,000 to 40,000 Latvians are living in Ireland. The country's 2.4 million people have grown used to watching the exodus. But the departure of one of Latvia's best-known young athletes, a graduate, to search for unskilled work abroad, attracted far more publicity and comment than most. It produced soul-searching and dismay.
His trip home to see family and friends this week reminded him again of the initial reaction. "On Sunday I was talking with people. They said everyone was talking about me, that it was a sad situation." To an extent, he agrees. Of course he'd rather be putting his skills, education and experience to better use than washing trucks, but he also has the sort of positive attitude that he once applied to international competition. "I chose my life myself. Nobody pushed me - 'go there to do that!' This is my choice, and I don't complain. I'm still strong, I'm still young." He breaks into a smile, "Maybe not so young, but I can do a lot of things."
Nakums, who turned 34 this month, is used to being asked why he moved, and why he chose here - hardly a heartland for winter sportsmen, after all - but he still pauses before answering. "I came here to improve myself. I didn't come only for money. I came here with my family. My children, they are going to school, they are talking in English when they play together." With his wife Anita, daughter Justine, who's three, and four-year-old son Edzus, he lives on the edge of Naas. Anita works part-time as a cleaner and child-minder.
In Latvia, the average monthly wage is €360. Here, many recent arrivals from across eastern Europe can earn far more in relatively unskilled sectors than they would in skilled work at home. Some send money back, or save hard for their future, to help with life when they eventually return.
After narrowly missing out on an Olympic medal in 1998, when a fifth place in the individual event was followed by sixth in the relay, Jekabs slipped back to 35th in Salt Lake City. In between was the exhausting cycle of training, travel and competition. It gradually took its toll, and for the three years before he decided to retire, he'd been dogged by sickness and injury.
When he retired, he struggled to find well-paid work as a fitness instructor, and the idea came to move to Dublin. "I knew a few people who were already here in Ireland, and they told me that in two weeks I would find a job." He started out in construction work, then quickly got a job with Fleetwash, a mobile truck-washing business, whose motto on the side of its vans declares: "We Work Better Under Pressure".
He brought his family over to join him, and has been with the company ever since, driving his van full of hoses and brushes around the Dublin area each day. He has an excellent relationship with his boss, Paul Kearns, who describes Nakums as "one of the nicest guys you could ever wish to meet", and who, Nakums says, has offered help and support along the way.
It amazes him how many fellow Latvians are here, living and working in Ireland. "I'm very surprised. It's a negative surprise. For me, it's too many people from my country. My country needs us. This is a disaster for Latvia." Some of those fellow Latvians here have become friends, but his chosen life in Ireland means there's little spare time, or money, to socialise.
When I ask if he enjoys it here, he's non-committal. It's plainly no holiday, and he tells me: "We came here to work hard, to get financial results. We can't find time for travelling." He keeps lean and fit by running in the Kildare countryside twice a week. When we met, as he went to work on a windswept industrial estate off the N7, I joked that his sporting background must have made him well used to hard, physical work in chilly wastelands. He points out that compared to home, the winters are pretty mild here. And he marvels at the speed of change in Ireland, pointing around him: "Even me, I see last year, these buildings were not here! Last year I knew Ireland is a very bad place for roads. The situation is better after one year!"
Ultimately, he wants to return to Latvia, to be near the rest of his family, although finding a job with decent wages will not be easy. He's not sure how long that will take. In the meantime, he's improving his English, working every hour he can and studying hard at every opportunity. He hopes to pass his exams in April and then find work in a gym or a leisure centre. If asked, he'd be happy to share his expertise with any would-be Winter Olympians in Ireland. "There's one problem," he laughs, "no snow".
When his own event, the biathlon, was taking place, he was sitting in classes with the other course members at the Citywest hotel. A friend back in Latvia kept him updated on progress by text. Inevitably, he misses taking part. The presence here of this likeable, determined Winter Olympian turned truck cleaner may well say much about the realities of life in Latvia, and of the opportunities in the modern Ireland. For these two weeks, though, you get the sense that Nakums's heart is high up on the snowy peaks above Turin.
James Helm is the BBC Dublin Correspondent