Winter Solstice

The shortest day of the year is over.

December 21 Sunrise: 9:00 am
December 21 Sunset: 3:22 pm

Duration of day: 6 hours and 22 minutes
Duration of night: 17 hours and 38 minutes
The days only get longer now... and sunnier. Woo-hoo -- Now, this is a reason to celebrate!

Feuerzangenbowle in my living room!

Last weekend I hosted a gathering at my home involving lots of flaming alcohol. Feuerzangenbowle is a German student tradition involving a movie about university student pranks and a flaming bowl of alcohol. The drink is made by laying a cone of sugar over the top of a pot filled with spiced red wine. A very highly concentrated bottle of rum is then ladled over the top of the sugar and lit on fire. The dripping caramelized sugar that ensues sweetens the drink while burning. The whole event is a visual delight and warmed both my apartment and the lovely spirits of those that were here to witness it. Perhaps it is not the most Estonian of ways to begin the holidays, but I think that the international bunch (Estonian-American-German-Russian-British) enjoying the event and the drinks would agree that it was a festive way to begin the holiday season.

Christmas tree updates

Last weekend some friends came over for a night of playing a German board game called Settler, and, together, we made some new paper cut-out additions to my tree. This creative collection of ornaments carefully constructed during a cozy evening of game playing makes my tree an even more special centerpiece in my living room. Perhaps you can appreciate the difference a few adornments and warm company adds to the tree.

From Game Night

The tree is actually better captured without so much light. Its multi-colored glow reflecting in the glass of my window begs me to slow down in the evening (or morning or night -- it's now dark here a majority of the time!) to admire its beauty and reflect on the season.

I have made one very important philosophic and linguistic discovery this season: Christmas tree is not only a noun but also a verb, something to be contemplated and done during quiet winter evenings as the holidays approach.

Impressions from way out east

Last week, I traveled to Narva, a town situated on the very edge of Estonia where this city meets with the Russian border. Mentioning my travels, even to Estonians within their own rather geographically small country, garners a few appreciative inquiries and a whole slew of stereotypes. A predominately Russian town (90%) technically within the borders of Estonia, the town is known for its different character, industry, economic problems, and Russophone environment. A sceptic for all generalizations about places and people, I was prepared to defy the opinions of those who gave me a verbal preview of what I might find there. Listed below are a few things that I found.

1) Russian is, in fact, the de-facto lingua franca of Narva. Upon arrival by bus, I became suddenly aware of this difference when I asked for directions in Estonia and was met with a quizzical "ja nepanemayo" in Russian before trying out my own skills in Russian (quite conveniently, there is a lot of transfer from Slovak, the Slavic language I speak).

2) Towering over the river next to the city is the 14th-century Narva Castle. Although originally built by Danes, it has also had Swedish and Russian ownership. Now, in true Estonian style, there is Wi-Fi in the courtyard and a juxtaposition of cultures as Narva's statue of Lenin is also here.


One of the best views of the castle and Ivangorod Castle on the Russian side is from a Swedish lion gifted to the city.

3) English teachers here are friendly and excited about teaching! I spent four hours with teachers-in-training at Narva College (a branch of the University of Tartu where I normally teach) and a couple of hours at the American Corner at the Narva library working with local English teachers. They were approachable, fun, and quite creative as we spoke about language, culture, and pedagogy.

4) Bohemian life is also a piece of Narva's cultural landscape. For the two years prior to my arrival, there was an ELF (English Language Fellow) located in Narva, Kim. As chance would have it, Kim and I just happened to be colleagues at graduate school in Monterey and are still in contact with one another. While preparing for my trip, I asked for some advice about the area and Kim kindly put me in touch with some of her friends. We went out to a bar called Modern that was seemingly non-descript from the outside (you would never find it if you didn't know it was there). Truly Bohemian, the marker for the bar is a picture of the familiar Czechoslovak character, the Good Soldier Švejk. Apparently Svejk also mentioned Narva at some moment, and a plaque showcasing this quotation along with a picture of Svejk is tacked outside beside an lit advertisement for Czech beer. Needless to say, I felt quite at home in this artsy cellar drinking beer and philosophizing with Kim's friends.

Minu Jõulupuu

It's getting rather dark and gloomy outside as daylight truly dwindles. Last weekend was the "official" opening of the Advent season though and, suddenly, lights have appeared everywhere, somehow making it easier to cope with the dreariness of a December without snow. My home was no exception and I put up my Christmas tree this weekend! I take all of the flak for an artificial tree; it's a first for me and my preference, of course, would be to have the authentic spruce-scented article in my living room. However, the sparsely decorated item (more decor to come as I plan to hand-make some ornaments as time slows and the season nears a bit) really brings a lot of light to my living room. I can spend hours in the cozy darkness -- the advantage here is that it is dark more than light this time of year in Estonia -- contemplating the season.

P.S. Isn't jõulupuu a lovely way to say Christmas tree?

Anniversaries, Traditions, and Torches

This past Friday was the 87th anniversary of the University of Tartu as an Estonian Institution. Full of tradition and celebration, the university shut down at noon to commemorate. The president of Estonia visited... there was song... there was torch carrying and processions... there was dancing. Unfortunately, I did not attend it all (or understand it all probably), but I did enjoy parts and managed to snap a few photos of some of the highlights. Here are pictures of the torch-carrying ceremony on Friday when fraternities, university staff, and local businesses processed through town to the university main building where they were met with greetings by the university rector. An impressive site, as you can appreciate, even from my shoddy photography!

Another part of the festivities included an anniversary ball, the Tartu Ülikooli Aastapäevaball. Unlike formal dances in the States, this one included fancy dress AND formal dancing with the dance card printed for all to preview ahead of time. Highlights included live orchestral music, a performance by a well-known choral sextet, fireworks, cake and cognac, and of course the spectacle of everyone out for an evening of fun and dancing. I was no exception and enjoyed getting gussied up and breaking out my dancing shoes. My spirit did get caught up in the fantasy of the event; smiles didn't leave me the entire evening. It will remain a great memory of my time so far here in Tartu. Apparently, the event has been captured by others better than by me, so perhaps pictures will be forthcoming. The community of Tartu is rather small and everyone seems to be aware that I appeared at the ball (bit of a Cinderella story, no?) -- apparently some of images, hopefully flattering, of me dancing were captured by the local TV station and aired the other night!

Receptacle for emotions

The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape... Pablo Picasso

The days are rather gray here and they have been for a while. I guess the daily hours of sunshine that I shared earlier were in earnest. We don't get many glimpses of the sun and days shift from dark to gray to darkness once again. It feels cozy and exotic to be surrounded by darkness -- four o'clock in the afternoon feeling no different than three in the morning. It's rather disorienting to loose your grasp on time, and I suspect it is nearly a year-round phenomenon in northern places where summers are also affected by copious amounts of daylight. Everything in its own balance, I suppose. At the moment, the lingering darkness provides the perfect repose for cups of tea, introspection and creativity. I guess that Picasso had it right; our emotions and artistry often do fall out of the air around us.

Return to RO mania

I spent last weekend traipsing around my old digs in Romania with old familiar friends. It was completely lovely and it was completely crazy. I had forgotten about the fascinating character of Romania and the peculiarities of big industrial cities like Craiova.


I spent an entire academic year in Romania last year as a Fulbright grantee teaching English (and the like) at two universities: the University of Craiova in the southwestern geographical region of Romania called Wallachia and the University of Transylvania in the central mountainous area around Brasov. Stepping back into the city felt almost like stepping back in time; as I wandered around the city once again and met with familiar and friendly faces, I felt somehow as if I never left. A strange feeling considering I left Craiova last February.

Over a couple of Silvas at a local pub, my friends and I once again reconsidered Romania. As relative outsiders (as Americans, Spaniards, and French) and insiders who had recently spent time abroad (in England, Scotland, France, and the U.S.), we pondered the marketing of Romania to the outside world. What do people know of this place? What should they know? How is it presented? How should it be?

What do people know of this place?
We agreed that people are generally aware of only a few facets of Romania, some of them closer to the truth than others. There are the well-known persons and features such as the famous gymnast Natali Comeneci and the coach Bela Karolyi. There's Vlad Tepes or Dracula and the legends he inspired. The name of Ceausescu rings a dark bell to most outsiders as well. And then there are the images presented by the press about abject poverty, the large number of gypsies living in Romania, and abandoned children living in horrible orphanages. I, for one, have seen two documentaries on Romania in the news since arriving in Estonia. Perhaps the world is taking note or investigating what this place really is about as Romania plans their ascension to the EU. These residual pictures the world retains about Romania are, in a global sense, none too positive.

What should they know?
In my opinion, the world should also be aware that Romania's history has deeply affected what it is today and to understand anything of the contemporary environment, one has to delve a bit deeper into what it was and has been in the past. (This is no less true of any other place or people really, I guess). There are undoubtedly current issues and serious problems with employment, sanitation, education, health care, corruption, and child welfare. They are not so hidden -- you can see them easily when you visit or live there. More difficult than identifying them is understanding why they exist and are perpetuated; I am not sure that I do.

However, there is also a kind of joyous embracing of life, the good and bad, that can be infectious. On my visit, I was struck by laughter and loud, excited talk in the streets, markets, and bars. People are passionate and open about their perspectives -- much in contrast to the Nordic stoicism of Estonia! There is also a kind of unbridled reaction to life that can be contemplative (if a little fatalistic) and rendered into a creative or artistic look at life. At least this was true amongst many of the Romanians I came to know well while I was there.



The landscape varies considerably and the contrast amongst regions is considerable. The breath-taking mountains of other parts of the country are hardly at all like the flat, fertile plains around Craiova. Industry with all of its ugly concrete and smoke towers abuts wide open spaces just as modern technology is often juxtaposed with crumbling building facades and the use of old-fashioned horse-drawn buggies.

How is it presented? How should it be?
After spending some time in Romania and recently returning, I think that it is often presented pretty accurately to the outside, but it is not presented completely. There are rough edges in the country -- some of them are quite unpleasant and some of them are downright frightening. However, there is also life and there is also beauty. Last year, while I was traveling in Slovenia over the holidays, I saw an advertising campaign poster plastered to the back end of a bus that read "Romania. Land of Contrasts." I don't think that I could capture it any better and I am thankful that I returned once again to be reminded of some of its more colorful aspects.

Good friendships anywhere are amazing and I was comforted by visits with former students, colleagues, and friends over the three days I was in Craiova. I love it when you can renew a friendship by picking up where you left off. Wonderful conversations and fellowship warmed my heart and made me wish I could transport all of those lovely people back to Tartu with me. Long conversations on train rides or over coffee, trips to my favorite gypsy market, games of monopoly, chilling out at a jazz concert, enjoying a lovely meal or cartofi praziti, and catching up skew my vision of Romania in a positive direction. I have posted below a web album containing a few pictures from my recent stay so that you, too, can enjoy the contrasts.

Return to RO mania

A red toenail tribute

A time to keep silence... My blog has been pretty quiet lately. I guess that is because I, too, have been feeling a little bit quiet these late autumn days. The gray days here in Tartu are perfect for quiet reflection and even a bit of brooding, and I guess I have had a few things on my heart that weren't ready for sharing quite yet.

A time to speak... Tonight I did a major house cleaning and later showered and painted my toenails bright red. They are really bright and shiny and actually kind of pretty. I don't usually prefer red polish or even wear it during the winter, but I painted them in a tribute to a very special woman, my grandmother who peacefully passed away two weeks ago today.

A time to mourn... You would think that it would be quite easy to say goodbye to someone who hasn't around for a while. My grandmother was in the nursing home after suffering from one or more strokes a few years ago. On my visits to see her over the past four years, she hasn't usually recognized me or often times even herself. Pleasant enough I suppose, her existence was a strange one of living amongst other equally disoriented elderly people. Knowing that her time finally came and she left us gently to find peace is very comforting to me.

A time to weep and a time to laugh... I take this night and this time to remember a woman who was a true lady and, at the same time, begin to let her go. My grandmother, whom I often called "Grandma Casper" to distinguish her from my other grandmother by using the place where she lived was colorful, distinctive, and dignified woman. Here are a few memories of those things that made her special:

• In the fashion of her times, my grandmother had two first names rather than a first and middle. Although spelled with a space between them, her name was Mary Ellen and never just Mary or simply Ellen.
• She loved ice cream, sweets, and popcorn, and, much to my delight as a child, she always had a candy dish full of hard candy (the best ones were butterscotches) in her living room when we visited.
• For most of my childhood, my grandmother lived in a big, old house two and a half hours south of my hometown. My brother and I spent a week visiting every summer, and we spent hours sorting through an old wooden toy box on the porch and discovering toys my mom and uncle had when they were kids (a seeming impossibility at the time -- how could such grownups have once been little? ). The basement was stuffed with boxes and discoveries just waiting to be made. We made trains out of boxes and spent afternoons navigating the backyard with them.
• When I was a little bit older, I would get up early to go walking at the mall in Casper with my grandma. After morning exercise, we treated ourselves to cinnamon raisin biscuits dripping with frosting at Hardee's.
• She had a signature dish that she fixed for my mom, homemade chicken and noodles. The aroma filled the whole house and it was the yummiest part of a visit. She also had these special multi-colored dishes in that house that we always ate on. I loved them because everyone got a different colored plate.
• For the holidays, she always made a kind of pistachio salad with whipped cream and maraschino cherries. She liked to make celebrations special in some way and often brought small, seasonally-shaped chocolates that she propped up beside each dinner place setting.
• She was a competitive and quick-witted Scrabble fiend. She always played for points, and I can remember serious games being played after dinner on our visits.
• Grandma Casper wore her hair backcombed with a little curl in the front and went to the "beauty shop" to have her hair done once a week. She maintained it carefully between visits by wrapping her hair and tucking it into a hairnet at night. In my memories, she also wears blue eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. As a girl, I remember getting my own hairnet to wear to bed so that I could be like my grandma.
• Her cars were always Buicks and, before driven, they had to be to be shiny and clean.
• She was a loyal Wyomingite and UW Cowboy football fan. We traveled to California twice to watch the Cowboys lose the Holiday Bowl -- the entire family decked out in matching brown and gold!
• Every summer, she made the best strawberry preserves that I can ever remember eating. When visiting, we ate them on toast at breakfast time while Grandma did the crossword from the newspaper.
• More than these particulars, I remember my grandmother as a lady who may have seemed fussy at times but had a lot of dignity. One of her signature features was her long, beautifully painted fingernails and her toes which were always, always painted a bright and brilliant red.

A time to dance... Thinking about my grandmother as she was when she was still a lady is much better than contemplating some of her final and rather incoherent days. I am happy to know she is now in peace and I am glad I have so many fine memories of who she was. Looking at my red toenails peaking over the top of my laptop as I sit here, makes me smile and dance in celebration of who she was. So, I post this red toenailed tribute in honor of my grandmother, knowing that she is still with me and hoping that she watches on with a smile and brightly colored toes.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. ~Ecclesiastes 3:1-

First Ski

I did it! I skied. Today, I joined the ski club here in Tartu for my first training. Since there was enough white stuff on the ground, we put on the skis and went outside.

WOO-HOO!

It was so much fun. Not much instruction, but perhaps it is a a sink-or-ski, natural sort of teaching method. I was given some skis, some poles, some shoes, led outside to the snow, and let loose. After an hour and half of training, I felt like I was beginning to get it... more practice is needed, of course, but it was a good start. The group seems nice and moderately athletic (I think I can fit in without feeling too awkward as soon as I get the hang of it). I am feeling excited about it and more and more Nordic already. Good ski pointers and tips for beginners are welcome, if you have them!

As an English teacher you need to be practically perfect, eh?

Perfection is over-rated, even for English teachers.

Some readers of this blog really absorb each and every word that I write, hanging onto every word, analysing every sentence, noticing misusages, comma splices, and the horribly offensive typos that creep into my writing once in a while. It has been noted that occasionally (or perhaps frequently, depending on your perspective) my postings include some infelicities. I once misspelled waist as waste (!), I've been known to replace they're with their (!!), in the last posting I spelled teachers without the "r" (!!!). You can stop reading now if you've found this news difficult to swallow and are too shocked to continue. You may consider discontinuing your readership of this blog! For the brave, my confession continues...

Shame on me! ... and I call myself an English teacher! You could fault my training. You could blame me for being inattentive to language or just downright deft. You could also just call me human. I get so excited to have a free minute in which to share a thought or two that sometimes I get distracted by the message. I don't always painstakingly proofread my postings as I might for a handout or an article. My friends and family know that I sometimes write with my "hair on fire" and stream-of-conscious is a bit more natural to me in a blog than other forms of writing. After all, a blog is literally a web log or type of journal for jotting down observations and notes, right? Not that I don't care about spelling and correct usage, but everyone needs a place to let their hair down, right? (Yes, there is a pronoun agreement problem in the last sentence, but I am fairly unconcerned.) I know that my friends and family will forgive me and not let it shed bad light upon my character. We all need a little bit of grace.

Someone recently pointed out some language-related issues in my blogging. The comment was as follows:

"As an English teacher you need to be practically perfect, eh?"

I beg to differ. I know how to analyze my audience and having a typo or two probably does not interrupt the message or offend the readership of this blog ostensibly. Secondly, I never aim to present myself as a perfect language user to my students. I do like language. I do like grammar. However, my goal as a teacher is not to present myself as something that I am not. I make mistakes sometimes. All language users -- in writing and speech -- sometimes do. Almost all human beings do at some point or another. It's okay. The interesting part of being a language teacher is presenting language and everything that it is, including a few infelicities, in such a way that students can access and become more aware about how it works. It is a brilliantly challenging job. As many of you know, my work pervades my outside life and a day rarely passes that I don't tuck something away for my students or future language work. Any language is complex, even English.

It is fascinating that this antiquated notion of the flawless English grammarian continues to be a persuasive model for what language teachers do and the kind of character they have. Language is not a thing to be captured and molded; rather language is a tool molded by its users for a purpose, generally communication. Rules and regulations about right and wrong (even if they are petty typos or spelling errors) fall short of explaining the reasons of why language evolves and operates as it does.

That said, my purpose for making this posting is to invite those of you who have issues with my language use to consider whether or not you have understood the message. Make a joke about my errors (I do!). Enjoy them! Use them as an affirmation that your mistakes are a common part of the human condition. Before you seek to chastise me with comments or give me advice on editing, please remind yourself that blogging is for fun. I have taken off my professional hat in this setting. I do far too much professional and academic writing during the day to be worried about being reprimanded for a missing letter in a word that you understood correctly the first time anyway.

Thank you for listening to my diatribe; I hope that I have not steered you in the wrong linguistic direction with any errors as I have not followed the advice of carefully proofing this message. After all, I guess if I misspell one word for every thousand or so here, I consider that to be a pretty good ratio of accuracy to mistake!

**This message was approved by Jennifer Uhler, occasional bad speller despite the fact her mother made her write her mistakes in her spelling words 100 times when she was a child and even though she is now an English language teacher. The reader should be warned that I did not save this as a draft or read it slowly word-by-word to find typos and missing words.

beyond the weather

Now that I have warmed up with a short discussion of the weather, I suppose that a few updates are in order. I feel as if a million things have passed in the last weeks and I haven't had time to share. Here are some new developments (beyond the weather) in Tartu:

English teachers are cool. They really are. Perhaps teachers are cool in general, but I can't speak from that perspective as accurately. This weekend, I attended a conference for the Estonian Association of Teachers of English (EATE) and met many language teachers from the area. There were some good speakers at the conference, many of them from abroad, but the real highlight was meeting participants. I have felt a little bit professionally isolated since my arrival, especially since I am sponsored by and situated within an administrative university unit rather than a faculty. Having conversations about teaching and language was just the confirmation and energy boost I needed about my vocation. Woo-hoo!!!

I've joined a cross-country skiing training group at the ski club here in Tartu. The group is for adult beginners and meets twice a week to exercise. Last year, several members of this beginning group later participated in the Tartu Maraton in mid-February. Estonia is famous for its skiers and has had several Olympic medalists in skiing events in 2006 -- No small feat for a country of 1.3 million people! I don't have any Olympic ambitions (ha, ha, ha) but it does seem to be a great way to enjoy a country that has such a long winter and great skiing places. The Estonian winter paradise is just south of Tartu in Otepaa. My training at this point includes exercises and running, but I am waiting for a bit more snow so we can really practice! I'll keep you posted on my progress...

A couple of international students from the university came over to my apartment this last week to do some baking for an international food fair in the student dormitory. I have an oven, and one of the Americans wanted to make snickerdoodle cookies. It was fun to have the company over and filling my apartment with the lovely scents of baking. However, they also brought with them some Kefir, a sour yogurt-like milk product common here. The Lithuanian student brought it to use as a cream substitute in one of the recipes. The kefir got left behind in my refrigerator. As I don't have any real affinity for drinking milk, I thought I would never consume it. However, I have become a huge fan of this thick drink and find myself enjoying a small glass almost every day. Opening the refrigerator the other night, I even experimented with a variation of mixing kefir together with Vana Tallinn, the rum-like liquor that is made here (absolutely delicious!). I guess you never know what you might like until you try it out.

Today is the closing concert of the Tartu Organ Music Days here. Although I would have rather attended a concert in one of the churches, I have tickets to the gala concert this afternoon. Promises to be really nice... I'll keep you posted!

Weather can be lumi-nating

Living abroad makes you an expert in discussing, in detail and repeatedly, the small things in life. Striking up conversations with strangers and acquaintances can only be done with some artful small talk. I don't know that my proficiency at initiating small talk might be rated as eloquent, but I certainly get some brownie points for frequent practice.

Of course, my favorite topic (and I think that I am not alone in this!) for these chance encounters and initial meetings is the weather. I can elongate a simple comment about rain, snow, wind, sun for a good chunk of time. After all, even my family enjoys this kind of banter. My grandmother used to write me about the weather in her letters (and I refer to a lengthy paragraph or two, not a single sentence). When I talk to my father on the phone, we spend the initial minutes (or sometimes the entire conversation!) discussing temperatures, forecasts, and such.

I begin most of my classes with some sort of commentary on the weather. My students, in tune with the predisposition of English speakers to talk about the weather as a form of "meaningless" small talk, don't always understand it or willingly participate. However, I am genuinely interested in the conversation, even if I have already had the same exchange several times in the day. I find it comforting and a good way to warm up to my audience. After all, there is nothing threatening about a short weather-related exchange. The banter is predictable and patterned, but I am not patronizing my students or new acquaintances with meaningless chatter. Perhaps it is a bit strange, but I enjoy these conversations and find them genuinely interesting... And why not when the weather can be so fascinating?

Last week, I wrote you about the sunshine and fall colors. In the last seven days the world has shifted. November came and it didn't rain. Rather, I awoke to our our first skiff of snow on Thursday morning. Chilly temperatures aside, I am quite taken with the icicles and frosty feel of everything. With the darker days and time change, it just feels right. The Estonian word for snow is "lumi." An appropriate name for something that lights up its surroundings, I think. Click below to get a feeling for the changes outside my window as lumi sadab or snow falls!

Snowy November Window

Morning Sunshine

The duration of sunshine hours for the month of November: 12

The duration of sunshine hours for the month of December: 5

The duration of sunshine hours for the month of January: 17

**Tartu in Figures 2001

This morning was SUNNY. Enough said. Here's a backyard view from my apartment windows.

From My backyard

From My backyard

From My backyard

From My backyard

From My backyard

From My backyard

Your questions. Some answers.

• Is Estonia the world's smallest country?
• Does the sun ever shine in Estonia?
• Does Estonia have a king?
• Do ferns blossom in Estonia?
• Who is a mulk?
• Do Estonians ever smile?
• What do Estonians do on the weekend?

A comprehensive guide to these and other questions you may have can be found at A Dozen Questions about Estonia.

On being American . . . and all that jazz

Kermit said it wasn't easy being green. I would have to say the same about being from a country with so much influence in the world stage and a powerful as well as pervasive media. Everyone feels as if they know a lot about the United States and most people have pre-formed impressions about U.S. culture (or lack of it, as some might try to claim), people, and politics. Thanks to powerful and wealthy entertainment and media industries, all that is American is all over the globe, for better or worse. The disadvantage, I suppose, is that nearly everyone on the face of the planet has an opinion about where I am from and a loaded perspective or bias about it before they ever visit the States or meet an American. It means that when I greet someone for the first time, especially outside of my own country, he or she already has associations with and expectations of me. The preconceived ideas of Americans are stereotypes mostly, and, admittedly, those impressions are hard to avoid forming when they are reinforced by movies, radio, TV, print media, and sometimes real-life encounters.

This week was a week full of reminders about my roots and nationality. I was chastised by a participant in one of my courses who was put off by my presentation of the American resume (the EU has a particular format they use with rules and an easy form to fill in; apparently, in the perspective of some, the more creative endeavor of crafting a resume to market yourself in the American environment is completely irrelevant). In another conversation at work, I was told of the tendency of Americans to be loud and proud of it. Yesterday, a colleague working next to me was reviewing a student thesis all about the evil nature of Americans and their plot to destroy the globe; the entire document exhibiting an alarming amount of hatred towards my nation. Someone else, in casual conversation and without knowing me well, felt it was acceptable to remark to me this week about Americans bad accents in language learning and inability to learn other languages at all (I guess they never met any of my multi-lingual and well-traveled friends!). Never mind the commonplace fat, unhealthy American references that come up on a frequent basis. Every time I turn on the television, I am assaulted by images of either pop culture being exported from my country or images of politicians and bombs. North Korea. Iraq. Elections. Political scandals. Religious ones. School shootings. It's awfully depressing. It's enough to make me cry. What is this place? Why? Is this really my home nation? Are these my people?

Just when I am about to either abandon my nationhood entirely or become unpleasantly defensive out it, I encounter real live examples of who Americans are. The stereotypes then begin to crumble a bit...

Hospitable and Generous... One woman in the community here continually throws the doors of her home wide open for meetings, dinners, and visitors. She volunteers her busy life and family home as a safe place to gather. I've been to her house many times already, and I'm continually impressed with her welcoming spirit and willingness to host another event and greet strangers so warmly.

Inquisitive and giving... An exchange student from the Midwest here in Estonia for a semester impresses me with her curiosity about different peoples and places. She not only expresses an interest in knowing what the community is like, she has gone out of her way and comfort zone by getting involved in Tartu by getting to know a local family and volunteering at a local school.

Quirky individuals... The American take on travel sometimes cracks me up. I have an Argentinian friend who likes to transform this expression into an adjective, and I kind of like it so I think I will also use it here. Americans are "crackers" (meaning that they crack me up; no reference other meanings of cracker). An American woman that I barely know and just met told a story about her family's move to Germany a few years ago. They shipped their huge, Ford super cab pickup overseas to use while they were there. Of course, the immense vehicle looked absurd on tiny European streets and was impossible to park. I love the image...

Jazzy, classy, yet unpretentious... I went to a jazz concert last night and saw Freddy Cole's Jazz Quartet (he's Nat King Cole's younger brother!). His soothing voice and way of making commonplace into brilliant musical material as well as his easy smile and open character made me smile throughout the entire event. Something I can't quite put my finger on that made the disposition of Freddy Cole and the entire event very, very American.

Not to get too warm and fuzzy about the U.S. There is good and there is bad. There is enough diversity to make my head spin, and I am probably unaware of most of that diversity that is out there. People are people. However, in a country of 300 million and counting, I wonder if all Americans are what everyone wants to label as "All-American." More than ever, no matter how inconvenient it may be, I think my country defies stereotype. Can you really capture who I am in a song, a hateful thesis, a movie, a news report, a presidential address, a jazz concert, or a blog entry?

I am who I am, and I guess I am American... and all that jazz.


** I know that the use of "America" or "American" offends some who consider them references to the entire continent rather than to a specific nation. I use the terms "America" and "American" to refer to the United States of America and people who live there, not because I seek to offend but merely because I find it too cumbersome to continually use United States and think those terms are commonly used to mean the United States or its inhabitants. I hope that you do not find the usage offensive. Perhaps the mere fact that I feel it necessary to include this caveat speaks to the edgy, defensive nature of people from the U.S. trying to navigate dialogues with those around the globe. Ridiculous, to a point, isn't it?

In Coherent Thought

I have decided that there is reason to be wary of someone who begins a sequence of ideas with "I've been thinking about..." Somehow, it suggests too much premeditation and over-thunkenness and probably forebodes that something totally incoherent is to follow.

That said, I've been thinking . . .

My inner monologue has gotten pretty active these last few weeks. I suspect anyone who spends time alone has a fair amount of talk going on in his or her head. If you magnify this time by traveling or moving around a lot, I think you develop not just an inner monologue but rather an entire dialogue. I have entire conversations with myself on some days (some of them quite good!). Although I am somewhat aware that I often talk to myself while at home or at work, I never thought that I would be one of those crazy people on the streets talking to an imaginary person or into a pretend cellular phone. I thought I had this habit in check. However, I guess it's hard to keep this habit in check when I am overwhelmed by something else. I caught myself in steady conversation while shopping this weekend.

Ah! Consumerism. I officially am done with shopping for the moment. It's gotten cold here in the last week. My summer/fall things simply aren't going to cut it. There were sales. I went shopping. I visited every single shop in the central area of town. Twice. Sweaters. Jackets. Coats. Boots. There are some serious winter items for sale here, and I suspect they might just be the early fall items. Yikes. Indecision. Paralyzed by choice. I talked to myself. Saleswoman convinced me the coat I had initially chosen would not be warm enough. I gave up on shopping. Went back the next day. Calculated my budget. Talked to myself a lot. Went back the next day. Decided the woman didn't know what she was talking about. (Her level of competency in English was not convincing). Tried the coat on. More dialogue with myself. Bought the coat. Alas! I am prepared to be warmly-clad this winter as I wander the streets whispering to myself in completely coherent thought.

That said, I should probably begin having some dialogues with myself in Estonian. I have a big test tomorrow (5 chapters!) and should be a bit stressed about the amount of competency I am expected to demonstrate. I just didn't feel up to memorizing bajillions of new vocabulary items that I have never spoken aloud in class, let alone in inner dialogues or with a real, live Estonian! We'll see how it all goes when I get there tomorrow.

One last ramble before I go. To ease your minds, I have been meeting plenty of interesting and fun people here in Estonia and have even perhaps made a friend or two. I was inspired by a video I saw this morning, and I thought maybe I could also advertise free hugs as an icebreaker? Or would that be too strange? :)

The Free Hug Campaign

Identity

My suspicions are confirmed: I'm an almost normal American who was meant to be a Spanish German Shepard. (I apologize for the silliness . . . I just couldn't stop at one or two!)

Your Inner European is Spanish!

Energetic and lively. You bring the party with you!

Who's Your Inner European?

You Are 56% American

Most times you are proud to be an American. Though sometimes the good ole US of A makes you cringe Still, you know there's no place better suited to be your home. You love your freedom and no one's going to take it away from you!

How American Are You?

You Are 45% Normal

While some of your behavior is quite normal... Other things you do are downright strange You've got a little of your freak going on But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

You Are a German Shepherd Puppy

Intelligent, quick witted, and a bit aggressive. You've got the jaw power to take a bite out of anyone you choose.

What Breed of Puppy Are You?

It's Kama to me!

Today, as I headed to the library to pick up a book I ordered on interlibrary loan, I had the pleasant surprise of running into one of the faculty members in one of my courses. She was the organizer of a semiotics conference, and she and the participants were heading to lunch. They had extra places at the dinner, so she invited me along as a "hungry person" who needed to eat.

The menu was great and much better than the tuna sandwich I was heading home to prepare: cream of broccoli soup, pork chops potatoes with creamy dill gravy (chunks of pickles in this white sauce!), sauerkraut, and a fantastic Estonian desert of ingredients that don't fully exist in the same way in my world of English: "Kohupiim jakama moosiga." It was lovely enough to warrant a fuller description and a future repeat appearance in my Estonian diet.

Kohupiim (curd) Kama (grain mixture) moosiga (with jam).

Everyone warned me that I wouldn't like it. It was supposed to be strange. Grain sprinkled in sour cream/curd/cottage cheese/cream cheese. . . "Foreigners just don't like it," I was told. I was prepared to try it out but not anticipating anything scrumptious. It was really fantastic and defies a translation or simple explanation.

A website put out by the Ministry of Agriculture explains: Kama is a quite traditional, however initially only a seasonal dish and it is one of the undisputed classics of Estonian cuisine. The kama flour is a mixture of rough grain flour and peas. The composition of kama is not very clear. There is an Estonian saying about a situation when something does not matter: "It's kama to me!"

In the summer, many Estonians mix kama with keefir (sour milk) for a refreshing drink as pictured here, above.

For more about Estonian food and how Estonians eat it, visit Estonian Food!

Do you want to know the secret?

Last year, when first arrived in Romania, I participated in city tour in Cluj given by a history professor from the University of Babes Bolyai. Cluj is a Romanian city in Transylvania and a nexus of several faiths, peoples, and histories. This particular tour, given in the pouring rain, was rather comprehensive. Throughout the three-hour excursion, our guide would stop at a particular point of interest, name it, and then ask, "Do you want to know the secret?" I think he could detect our exhaustion but knew he could rope us back into the tour with the question because, inevitably, we did want to know. After all, who doesn't want to be in on a secret? The very suggestion is enticing, right? That's what I thought you'd say...

Tartu in October

Oct 6, 2006 - 27 Photos

Today, I will tell you some small secrets about Tartu on this quiet, rainy Sunday afternoon. It has been pouring rain for the last couple of days, so when a few rays of sunshine peeked their way in my window this afternoon, I took to the streets for a good walk in the autumn leaves, camera in hand.

Secret #1: Autumn is undeniably here in all of its gorgeous splendor! The colorful leaves and crisp feel of the air are things of true beauty and wonder.

Secret #2: Culture with a capital "C" offers Estonian insights. In my free time, I have been going to a lot of cultural events in town -- Opera (Mozart, Idemeneo), a jazz/improvisational quartet, and, this weekend, the ballet (A Midsummer Night's Dream). All of these events have been well-attended and extremely accessible in terms of cost. A third row ticket to the opera cost a mere $5 and the ballet less than $4.

This past Saturday, I set out expecting Mendelssohn and a dreamy, fairy-like production. I was only partially right. There were fairies. There was some Mendelssohn. There was also a director ranting in English (and dancing) mid-production about choosing opening music. There was a somewhat inexplicable overweight man wearing a dress and chasing the fairy queen onto the stage (he later fell asleep on the side of the forest with a can of Estonian beer, Saku, in hand). There was a small inset concert on a musical saw. There was a troop of older women wearing fairy wings, sweeping, and singing a song in Estonian, and even I could understand the lyrics -- Head Ööd (Good Night)! Fascinating. I haven't revisited the original Shakespeare for a while, but I don't recognise these elements. I'll just let the events speak for themselves. It was entertaining.

Secret #3: I set out on a rainy walk this afternoon and stumbled across one of Tartu's secret treasures: the University of Tartu Botanical Gardens -- colorful trees, moss-covered stairs and pathways, still-blooming flowers, and strange pieces of artwork placed as though coming up through the carpeted garden floor.

Secret #4: Part of the Struve Geodetic Arc is here in Tartu. I neither fully understand it's purpose nor importance, but I stumbled upon it on my walk this afternoon. For those of you that want to know more of the secret, The Struve Geodetic Arc is a chain of survey triangulations constructed by Struve, the German-Russian scientist, to figure out the dimensions of the earth. The arc covers ten countries and over 2,820 km, from Norway to the Black Sea.

University of Tartu on video

Check it out! http://www.ut.ee/105840

Pickles on pizza, mushrooms in hair, and other Estonian insights

Some somewhat random observations gathered over the last week or so:

Pickles on pizza: I ordered a vegetarian pizza the other day for lunch. Amongst the cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms, olives, corn, and onion were heaping amounts of pickles. Now, I have eaten a lot of weird things on pizza before (and corn does not even rate among them!), but this was my first experience with a pickle pizza. Being a big fan of almost all pickled, I gave it a try and dug in . . . and it was pretty good! I may just become a regular consumer of pickle pizza.

Mushrooms in hair: Estonian romance must be an interesting phenomenon. In my Estonian class, we listened to a song that has been popular over several generations called Mis värvi on armastus? or What color is love? The song has been rerecorded more than once as a testament to its continued relevance to the Estonian concept of romance. Lauding the features of his beautiful love, the narrator of the song praises "your hair as brown as a mushroom". I know that Estonians have an affinity for mushrooms, but I had no idea that it was an attractive hair color. Actually, it seems kind of strange considering that many of these Nordic men and women have beautiful white-blond hair. Perhaps mushroom-colored hair is a bit exotic? ;)

The next Shakira?: I went to shake my hips at an Estonian belly dancing class this week. Most Estnonians, I am told, are not well-known for their abilities to dance and generally stick with somewhat restricted body movements on the dance floor. I figured that this environment might be a safe one to try out my own belly dancing aptitude. At the door, I was offered a bangled scarf to tie around my waist and I struggled to keep up with the instructor, who, by the way, didn't exhibit any of the afore-mentioned inhibitions about moving. I think I may just have to go back . . . after all, I could be the next Shakira.

Dustbunnies under my bed: I have now been in my Tartu apartment for a month. As I celebrated the anniversary and undertook a major clean yesterday, I uncovered a number of dustbunnies under my bed and in the corners. I have the following thoughts: How is it possible to have accumulated so many? Where do dustbunnies come from? Why do we call them dustbunnies? They are not cute, so perhaps it is because they multiply rapidly?

Sauna: Estonians take saunas often and consider them a necessary ritual nearly year round. Almost all apartment buildings or homes have some sort of sauna in them; my apartment is no different and has a sauna attached to the upstairs bathroom. I fired mine up (no worries -- it's electric!) yesterday night. I may still have to practice getting the right combination of heat and water, but the experience was incredibly relaxing. I may have to take on this Estonian habit as my own.

Big feet: I really like shoes. Really like shoes. One of the major downsides of living and traveling abroad for me has been difficulties in finding shoes my size (not enormous by American standards, but still a size 10 or European 41). Another reason why I love Estonia: women have big feet! I can find my shoe size nearly everywhere -- this bodes well for an upcoming winter boot purchase.

Sandals in the rain: Experiences in Central and Eastern Europe taught me that many people are strongly set against wearing sandals when it is cold outside or raining, not to mention have a deep disapproval of leaving the house with wet hair or sitting on cold cement surfaces. I have been chided and reprimanded for doing all of the above. Said in a caring or disgusted manner, my friends, colleagues, and students have had the best intentions in telling me such things; one can get sick (or, in a worst-case scenario, become infertile!) from such careless actions. My upbringing and education has led me to believe that such advice is formed upon superstitious wives' tales. I expected to encounter some of these same attitudes here in Estonia. However, I have been pleasantly surprised. It's almost October, getting pretty chilly, and, even in the rain, Estonians are still sporting sandals and bare feet. Perhaps they are only cooling off from the sauna?

New Estonian President

In case the suspense has been killing you... the results are in!

Ilves won, most Estonians I know are pretty happy about it, and you can read more about it in a short English article published in the Boston Herald: "U.S.-educated diplomat wins Estonia's presidential election".

First day jitters

This summer, I went on tour of Paxton Elementary School in Missoula, Montana. The wonderful librarian there read us a story that seems like an appropriate way to explain how I have been feeling the last couple of days. First Day Jitters is a picture book by Julie Danneberg about a new teacher who is afraid of going to a new school and meeting her new students.

Last weekend as I was preparing to enter the classroom for the first time this semester, I encountered some of the same warning signs as the teacher in the book: insomnia, wanting to hide in my bed all morning, a churning stomach, obsessing over course preparation, agonizing over first day clothing choices, and an incredible amount of procrastination (shower scrubbed, 20 games of suduko, an apple pie, bad television movie, grocery shopping...).

Although I really do like teaching and school, I really had a hard time getting revved to enter the classroom this year. I guess those first day impressions seem pretty important when you have to present yourself to whole groups of people for the very first time, especially when those people are all university faculty!

After three weeks of planning, meetings, class observations, and testing, I finally had three of my first course meetings on Friday, despite sweaty palms, racing (caffeine-induced) heart, sleep-deprived mental state, and wily hair (my attempts in the morning to tamp it into a presentable state were thwarted by a day that insisted on being humid, thus inducing a constantly-growing, curly, frizzy, out-of-control mass of curls).

And, as it turns out, it wasn't so bad. In fact, it might have been pretty good. Perhaps I am a drama queen, and there was nothing of substance to be scared of. Estonian professors are people, after all. Based on observations of quivering hands and voices, I suspect some of them were equally nervous.

Whew! We made it... the first day is over. Now, if only I was ready for day two!

In the News: Controversy is everywhere

Picture by Steven Alkok

Estonia . . . a small, relatively quiet Baltic country. What more is there to know? Perhaps you would be interested in a couple of hot topics and controversies taking place here:

1) Anniversary of Soviet Occupation Demonstrations: This Friday, September 22nd, several demonstrations were expected to occur in Tallinn in relation to the 62nd anniversary of the Soviet occupation of Estonia. Two official demonstrations were scheduled to take place. According to the police, there were to be series of unapproved demonstrations organized by extremist groups taking place at the Bronze Soldier Monument and at the Liberty Clock in front of the Tallinn City Government main building on Vabaduse Väljak. I have not heard how these events shook out (I'll keep you posted).

2) Bronze Soldier Monument controversy: Keep it? Move it? Get rid of it? The statue mentioned above has been a controversial focal point in the center of Tallinn for sometime. A lot of time is spent discussing it, and a lot of resources are spent in security for the site.

"Most ethnic Estonians see the Bronze Soldier stature, erected in 1949, as a sign of nearly half a century of Soviet occupation, while for many Russian-speakers it is a symbol of the Soviet victory over Nazism during World War II. They adorn the monument with flowers on Victory Day, May 9, and on Sept. 22, which they claim is the anniversary of the liberation of Tallinn from Nazi occupation. In the past couple of years, the laying of flowers has acquired an increasingly political flavor." (The Baltic Times, June 23, 2006)

It's all about how you look at history, I suppose. In case you are curious, here is a picture of the object, there is a great ppanorama of the Tallin monument in this collection of World War II landmarks.


And that's not all in terms of statues. In the predominately ethnic Russian border town of Narva in Northeast, a similar debate brews.

3) Presidential Elections: Old school iincumbentvs. New school cosmopolitan
Rüütel vs. Ilves
>Estonia’s electoral college meets today (September 23rd) to choose the president, and the election appears closely contested. I don't know that I understand the entire situation or its outcomes clearly, but it is clear that there are strong feelings about the outcome on both sides. If no candidate wins a two-thirds majority, a potential scenario in this case, the decision goes to a collection of members of local-government. Check out this brief posting on the topic from Edward Lucas from the Economist.

Õppige!

Learn is an action verb in my Estonian class, and it can be given in the imperative -- Õppige! I suppose we more often use the phrase "Study!" - at least in American English. I have more traditionally thought of learning as a process rather than an action that I set out to do, but I think that perhaps this is a personal interpretation colored by my preferences as a learner and work as an educator.

Grammar translation is far from dead in the class I am taking here. We work through texts, translate them, learn (also a synonym for memorize?), and move on . . . all at a harrowing pace. I just finished making some flash cards to help me learn new vocabulary items so that I can begin to practice those pesky grammatical elements of the Estonian language. My stack of flashcards after only six classes is nearly two inches thick, particularly shocking as I am working with paper and not cardstock or index cards. Yikes!

Normally, I suppose that labelling a language class's methodological character as grammar-translation is a bit of an insult in the contemporary language teaching environment full of words like communicative, autonomous, learner-centered, and ecology. However, I don't necessarily intend it that way. Our instructor is energetic and seems to be experienced in teaching Estonian as a foreign language. She probably is better aware than I am about how to teach her multi-national and multilingual audience effectively. I suspect that other students in the class who have learned many languages in a similar manner before coming to Estonia are receptive; they may expect this format as they systematically plug in another new value for known expressions, grammar, and vocabulary items.

... but I struggle to be so mechanical about my language learning! My quirky and restless desire to actively communicate come to the surface during nearly every class period. I have not taught or learned in a class relying so heavily on a shared language (English, in this case) in some time. Language classes using more of the target language appeal to me a bit more, I guess, because the teacher and students are required to be more active in pairing images and actions to words rather than word-to-word correspondences. My brain craves these sorts of experiences with language and is accustomed to the challenge and stimulation of problem-solving. I miss the implicit humor in those activities. Of course, it is also possible that the pace of the class is quicker than what I am able to keep up with, and I assume that working with vocabulary without English would slow things down a bit as we would be obligated to spend more time on the introduction and practice stages of learning.

I don't mean this entry to be a learning tirade . . . rather it is meant as a reflection on my language learning experience here. I am giving the rhythm and format of our class another chance and attempting to keep up by forming my own associations with that thick pile of picture/color flash cards and other mnemonics.

That said, Meie õpetaja räägib: Õppida eesti keelt on raske. My teacher says: Learning/Studying/Memorizing Estonian is difficult. I will take her word for it and get back to work!

Race Day

I ran a race today. I don't think that I have run any races at all since my obligatory track and field days at Twin Spruce Junior High School, and that has definitely been a while ago.

I decided to get out for some fresh air and exercise before heading home this evening. In the middle of my regular route was a small stage with speakers and runners starting and finishing some sort of event. Not a super-avid runner, I was not keen to continue on the path with a number of seriously athletic sorts, so I stood to watch for a bit. I noticed all kinds of participants -- old ones, young ones, serious ones, silly ones, small ones, big ones, short ones, tall ones, green ones, purple ones. Okay, maybe not green or purple ones, but you get an idea of the variety. I decided to ask one of the Estonian runners who had finished what was happening. The three guys I asked did not speak English well, and my Estonian has a long way to develop before I can begin fruitful conversations with strangers to get such information. Through action and mime, I understood that the race was open to the public and only a 4k. There were promotional fliers from my bank everywhere; I thought at least I knew what one of the sponsors was about, even if I didn't appreciate the goal of the event.

So, I joined in. It was fun. It was an Estonian race I didn't understand, and that seems at least interesting. I think I like running with people (as long as they are not scary and I am not running from them!); it's motivating. I did not get a blue ribbon, but I felt cool when I crossed the line coming back (applause, please!).

Finnish(ed) for now… a weekend in sunny Vaasa

I trekked up to Finland this weekend to visit a good friend of mine, Jen with one "n". She is living and working in the sunniest city in Finland, Vaasa.

Located on the west coast of Finland, her new home and my visit there were full of highlights:

• Double-decker buses, trains, and ferries: The transport from Tartu to Vaasa is rather complicated, but the long journey compensates for itself by a number of different and novel types of transportation. I took a double-decker bus to Tallinn, a ferry named the "Super Seacat 4" to Helsinki, (pictured, right) and a 4-hour train to Vaasa. Whew!

• Bike rides: I rented a bike for the weekend, and we toured around the coast and little island off of Vaasa. The weather was perfect autumn sort with cool breezes and lots of sun. (Jen and her bike, pictured left.)

• Canada geese: I learned that there are Canada geese in Finland that migrate south for the winter. Many of them were around the inlet around Jen's apartment for good viewing. I also learned that the correct term is Canada geese and not Canadian geese, as I had always heard.

• New cuisine: Squeaky, Finnish cheese (like cheese curds), cardamon coffee, dark nutty breads, cauliflower casserole, lingon berries, and a kind of sweet, brown Norwegian cheese.

• Finnish Salad: This item (pictured, right) gets its own entry because I had already tasted it while I was in Romania and got to help make and enjoy another batch. For some, it might seem to be both a strange visual and taste combination, but it really is amazing -- cooked beets and potatoes, raw carrot, red onion, pickles, and a granny smith apple all chopped up and mixed with sour cream. Mmmm!

• High latitude: Traveling north to 63 degrees, I experience my first truly Nordic country, and it was sunny and beautiful. I don't think that I had ever been this far north before.

• Dinner party: My visit had good timing and I got to take part in a wonderful dinner with Jen's warm and interesting colleagues from the University of Vaasa.
  

• Quilting: My friend is a talented quilter. With a room dedicated to her quiltwork, she has created some really impressive and beautiful designs. Check them out on her blog at http://lifesaquilt.blogspot.com/.
  

• The gift of gab: There is something great about meeting a friend to talk for a few days. You don't have to worry about whittling down the facts to fit everything into a phone conversation or narrating in a linear fashion. Renewing our friendship in a new place, our weekend-long chatter also planted our friendship in yet another context.
  

I guess that's it -- A great weekend, but I am Finnished!

When you think no one's looking

Today I was out and about for a bit, and, when I turned back to head home, I was walking on the sidewalk on the side of the street going against traffic. I consider people-watching a good sport any time, but I particularly like to study other people when I am walking for a considerable distance. I really enjoy studying people while they are driving, mostly because they think that no one else is looking. As an onlooker, I feel as if I get the privilege of peeking into a private moment, and I like these peeks because they validate some of the weird things I might do when I am alone. In the past, I've witnessed a few who passionately sing opera, carefully apply makeup from start to finish, haphazardly read papers, magazines, and books, give air guitar concerts, change entire wardrobes, chew and play with huge wads of gum, hurriedly drink or eat entire meals, and, of course, more than a few talking incessantly on a mobile phone.

Today, on my way home in Tartu, I had a great moment with a stranger who was driving the opposite direction in traffic. Stopped for a moment at a light, this guy finished pulling a peel off of an orange and discarded it into the empty chair next to him. He then crammed the entire orange into his mouth while wiping his hands on the top of his pants and gripping the steering wheel. From the roadside, I couldn't help but giggle at the absurd sight of him trying to chew and swallow and entire orange in one bite. As he placed his hands on the wheel, his eyes glanced to the side of the road and caught mine. The look altered within seconds and was really precious. After recognition that he wasn't as unobserved as he thought, he became embarrassed. However, the best part of the moment was his acknowledgment of my giggles by a glance and quick wink, the orange still visibly lodged in his mouth. More humanness and humor was conveyed by this exchanged in this glance than a whole page of words describing it might :).

I suppose this sort of thing happens to us everyday and everywhere. People are people are people, right? This incident occurring in a brief moment of my day caused me to pause and think about how much of our real life happens when we think no one is looking. The quirky moments of self-discovery (I've had a few lately, including an embarrassing episode with my skirt tucked into the back of my underwear!) are what life is really about. Most of put an enormous amount of effort into disguising these less-than-presentable moments, but I think that we lose more than we gain with these pretenses. I, for one, have lots of human moments and weird character traits... it gives me comfort to know that there are others like me out there.

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. " ~e.e. cummings

"If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise." ~Johann von Goethe

All in all, my ramblings just want to say -- Kudos to the anonymous winking, orange-stuffing guy!

Eesti Keel

Oivaline! Suurepärane! Wonderful! Marvelous!

I have graduated from my first two Estonian classes, and, so far, I have come to appreciate that the Estonian language is incredibly complex. There are so many cool new sounds and fun-sounding expressions. Here are some of my favorites:

Tere õhtust!
Good evening!
Saame tuttavaks!
Let's get acquainted!
Palun, kuulake ja lugege!
Please, listen and read!
Kas on küsimusi?
Do you have questions?
(Careful with the last word. If it is said too slowly,
it can also mean "give me a kiss!")
Tõesti?
Oh, really?

For those of you who aren't language nerds, Estonian is a non-IndoEuropean language, so it's not related to Romance languages like Spanish, French, or Italian and it's not related to Germanic languages like English and German, and it's not related to Slavic languages such as Russian. Part of the Finno-Ugric family, it shares roots with Finnish and Hungarian to name a couple of its more identifiable kin (there is also Karelian, Mongolian, Mordovian, and Khanti-Mansi, Sami, for those of you curious). There are about one million people in the world that speak Estonian. Maybe I'll be number 1,000,001!

Another constantly amusing bit of Estonian (for me at least as a newcomer) is that it is hard to decipher male and female names. It seems as if I am constantly waiting in an agreed-upon spot where I am about meet someone for the first time... and I don't know whether to keep a steady watch for a woman or a man. You laugh, but maybe you should aslo try -- here's a test (answers at the bottom):

1. Saale
2. Taavi
3. Hiie
4. Koidu
5. Jüri
6. Siiri
7. Kärt
8. Viljar
9. Virve
10. Raili
11. Rain
12. Ülle

Key: 1) W, 2) M, 3) W, 4) W, 5) M, 6) W, 7) W, 8) M, 9) W, 10) W, 11) M, 12) W

Maybe some of you have already tuned out of this linguistic discussion, but I only have one more surprising element of Estonian. There are 14 cases. 14 CASES! Did you know such a thing was possible? I did not . . . and I remember thinking that Slovak was complicated. Cases mean that the nouns have inflection or they change somehow depending on their usage; we don't really do this in English, so it probably is a somewhat foreign concept for those who haven't attempted to master a case system in another language. As an illustration, I will duplicate the example given in my phrasebook for the noun "poeg," meaning son:

Case Word Meaning

Nominative poeg the son
Genetive poja of the son
Partitive poega as an object, the son
Illative pojasse into the son
Inessive pojas in the son
Elative pojast from, out of the son
Allative pojale to the son
Adessive pojal on, upon, at the son
Ablative pojalt from, off the son
Translative pojaks for, as the son
Terminative pojana as the son
Essive pojani until, up to, to the son


Uff! Needless to say, my highest hopes are only to be a bit more functional in my everyday life. It helps that nearly everyone speaks English -- AITÄH! (Thank God!)

Wikipedia information about Estonian