A reflection inspired by the Blue Zones research and the traditions that shaped my childhood.
By Ilze Ziverte | Founder of 50 & Thriving
When people talk about the Blue Zones—the places where people live the longest and healthiest lives—they often imagine distant islands or remote mountain villages.
As I began reading about them, I found myself thinking,
“This feels strangely familiar.”
Growing up during the Soviet era, our Latvian traditions were never replaced. They lived in our homes, our songs, our dances, our forests and our families. They had been passed from one generation to the next for centuries, and no political system could take them away. They were—and still are—part of who we are.
We sang our folk songs. We danced our traditional dances. We spent time in forests gathering berries, mushrooms and herbs. We grew our own vegetables, preserved food for winter and gathered with family in the pirts (traditional Latvian steam bath). These were part of our identity, and they remained so despite the political system we lived under.
The more I learned about the Blue Zones, the more I realised that many of the habits scientists now celebrate as the secrets of longevity were simply part of the way I was raised.
Meals: A Lesson I Learned in the Hospital
Growing up in Soviet Latvia, I spent long periods in hospitals and rehabilitation centres. Looking back now, I can see that the daily meal pattern closely matched what researchers describe in the Blue Zones.
Breakfast was always light—just enough to begin the day.
The largest meal arrived between midday and early afternoon.
There might be a small snack later in the day.
Then, before bed, we ate only a light evening meal.
That rhythm always suited my body. My energy stayed steady, I slept well, and I rarely felt sluggish or overly full.
Today, many of us live completely differently. We rush through the day, often skipping breakfast or lunch, then come home exhausted and eat our biggest meal late in the evening before going to bed.
I understand why.
Many people work shifts, long hours, or even two jobs simply to keep up with rising bills and the cost of living. Finding a healthy work-life balance can feel almost impossible.
But both the Blue Zones research and my own experience remind me that even small changes in when and how much we eat may make a meaningful difference over time.
Pirts: The Heart of My Latvian Heritage
Nothing reminds me more of home than pirts.
Almost every weekend, my family gathered there.
We talked about our week.
We shared simple homemade food.
We gently warmed and massaged our bodies with fresh birch, linden or herbal branches.
Then we cooled ourselves in a nearby river, lake or sometimes the Baltic Sea.
Pirts was never simply about getting warm.
It was about slowing down.
Connecting.
Laughing.
Listening.
Healing.
Today I sometimes enjoy the sauna at my local gym in the UK, and I’m grateful to have it. But it isn’t quite the same.
I miss the scent of fresh birch leaves.
The herbs.
The sound of nature.
The feeling of leaving refreshed in both body and mind.
As I grow older, I realise these rituals nourished far more than physical health.
Returning to Traditional Food
Another change I’ve noticed is that I’m naturally returning to the foods and skills I grew up with.
I enjoy making my own jams.
Pickling cucumbers.
Fermenting sauerkraut.
Cooking meals from scratch.
I know exactly what goes into every jar.
No unnecessary additives.
No hidden ingredients.
Just simple food, prepared with care.
Without even realising it, I’ve been following what the Blue Zones researchers call a plant-slant way of eating—but through my own Latvian traditions.
Movement Was Simply Part of Life
Latvians didn’t need gyms or fitness trackers.
Movement happened naturally.
We sang together.
We danced our traditional folk dances.
We walked through forests.
We gathered berries, mushrooms and herbs.
We worked in our gardens.
We chopped wood because many homes were heated with wood-burning stoves.
We carried water from deep wells because many village homes lacked a central water supply—and in some places, they still don’t.
We spent time outdoors because that was simply how life was lived.
Reading about the Blue Zones reminded me that perhaps we haven’t become less healthy because we exercise less.
Perhaps we’ve become less healthy because we’ve stopped living in ways that naturally invite movement into everyday life.
Coming Home to What Matters
The more I read about the Blue Zones, the more I realised they are not offering us a magical secret.
They are reminding us of something many cultures once knew.
For me, those lessons are deeply Latvian.
They remind me of simple homemade meals.
Weekends in the pirts.
Long walks through forests.
Growing vegetables in our garden.
Preserving food for winter.
Sharing meals around the table.
Looking after neighbours.
Spending time with family.
One tradition I have tried to keep is the importance of sharing an evening meal whenever everyone is home. We sit together, enjoy our food, talk about our day and simply spend time with one another. Those quiet moments of connection are what I miss most from my childhood, and I treasure them even more now.
Looking back, I realise these weren’t simply traditions.
They were everyday habits that quietly supported health, resilience and happiness.
We may live in busier and more stressful times than previous generations, but the wisdom of our bodies—and the wisdom of our roots—is still there, waiting patiently for us to rediscover it.
Perhaps healthy ageing isn’t always about discovering something completely new.
Perhaps it’s about remembering what we’ve forgotten.
Perhaps the greatest gift of growing older is realising that the answers we spend years searching for are sometimes waiting quietly in the traditions we grew up with.
That is the journey I hope to share through 50 & Thriving—bringing together modern science and the wisdom of our traditions to help women age with strength, confidence and joy.
Inspired by
This reflection was inspired by Dan Buettner’s Blue Zones research, which explores the lifestyles of the world’s longest-lived communities, and by my own memories of growing up in Latvia.