Riga, Latvia — In an unprecedented and truly audacious move, the Latvian Tourism Board announced last month the launch of their 'Sky Guides' initiative, ambitiously seeking to train the notorious seagulls of the Baltic coast as official tour guides for tourists. The project, initially hailed as a revolutionary step in sustainable tourism, has quickly turned into a spectacle of chaos that experts are now labeling 'Gastromania.'

The plan was ingeniously simple: leverage the natural avian residents of Riga and Jurmala to show tourists around, using their prodigious navigation skills and local knowledge of the beaches and historic sites. However, reports indicate that the seagulls have taken their newfound duties a little too seriously — especially when it comes to the local gastronomy.

'We had thought our local seagulls, known for their charm and surprising intellect, could offer a unique perspective on city landmarks,' said Gundega Ozolina, head of the project. 'But these birds have proven that, much like your typical college student, they are only interested in two things: snacks and mischief.'

Since the official commencement of the program, tour groups have watched in awe, and sometimes fear, as their supposed guides swoop down to lead unsanctioned raids on food kiosks and unsuspecting picnickers. As one visitor, Martin Jansons, humorously recounted, 'I originally came to see the famous wooden houses of Jurmala, but instead I witnessed a tactical snack operation at the local fish market carried out with military precision.'

Despite the unexpected developments, officials remain committed to salvaging the project. New strategies are being devised to redirect the seagulls' enthusiasm towards more appropriate guiding activities. As part of the effort, a series of incentive-based training sessions have been launched — the first of their kind to feature bread crumbs and fish as motivational tools.

'We're hoping to redirect their energy from opportunistic snacking to worthy guiding,' said Ozolina. 'It's a rocky start, but truly, would you expect anything less from a plan involving seagulls?'

Even amidst the absurdity, some locals see the humor in the situation. Ieva Sirmane, owner of a local bakery that has been repeatedly targeted, has set up a 'Seagull Gallery' inside her shop, showcasing photos of their brazen antics. 'It's become quite the attraction itself,' she laughed, noting that visitor numbers have ironically increased since the incidents.

As the city braces itself for what is being humorously dubbed 'the Great Seagull Conundrum', it's clear that Latvia has, intentionally or not, captured the global imagination with its innovative, albeit wayward, approach to tourism. The tactic has highlighted a genuinely unique cultural identity: one ready to embrace both tradition and audacity, humor and perhaps a bit of chaos.

'Who could have predicted such an outcome?,' mused Juris Kaugurs, a local historian. 'Then again, who could have thought training seagulls would be straightforward? It's a fitting testament to Latvia's spirit — adventurous, a bit unconventional, and endlessly fascinating.'

And so, for now, Latvia’s skyward guides might not be shepherding tourists through historic tours just yet; instead, they might unwittingly be leading them to a deeper appreciation of life's unexpected delights — namely, keeping a firm grip on their hot dogs.