Häid Jõule, Merry Christmas, & Frohe Weihnachten

No matter how you say it, may your holidays be bright and contain the magical touch of Christ this season! I wish you all a cozy holiday full of peace, joy, and love!

Merry Christmas!
Feliz Navidad!
Veselé Vianoce!
Craciun Fericit!
Häid Jõule!
Frohe Weihnachten!

I really don't know life at all

Tonight, I went to a brilliant concert by an Estonian jazz vocalist, Liisi Koikson -- a tribute to Joni Mitchell. Listening to her renditions of songs about community and conflict and living, I was drawn to the lyrics and the emotion of the music. Raw, funny, philosophical... I realized that I also don't really know life at all, but I do know how to appreciate a nice evening in pensive musical atmosphere.

Both Sides, Now
by Joni Mitchell

I've got a flat

I suppose it is both literally and metaphorically true at the moment. I came home tonight to see my beautiful red bicycle devoid of air. Some tricksters must have targeted my pretty wheels that were parked downstairs while I was at work and liberated their tires of air. A sad sight, indeed, as the bike can nearly not stand up on its own kickstand at this point. In my mind, a pretty harmless prank but one that reflects a bit of my own energy level at the moment. Someone must have also sneaked in when I wasn't paying attention and stolen some of my air too.

I try not to dwell on the darkness, but in tiptoeing around the very obvious reality that there is an absence of light at this time of year in this part of the world only drives me yet further from any illumination or chance of sunny disposition. When the sun does shine for a few hours (2 days so far in December) and I am faced with all the brightness of the sky, I am reminded of the Allegory of the Cave we read in my 12th grade English class with Ms. Bierbaum. I feel a bit like one of the cave dwellers emerging from a world of mere shadows. The honesty of the sky and the sun seem shocking and overwhelming -- one has to squint to look into the blueness of the sky overhead. On these days when the light appears, my urges to run outside and plaster myself somewhere, anywhere in the light feels a bit absurd (I'm quite certain the locals would stare). I have probably been too spoiled by an abundance of this truth of natural beams of light around me in the past. Only now can I appreciate what is missing as I emerge from the shadows to see reality basked in sunlight. If I had to rewrite one of my essays from 12th grade English answering the question What is truth? I would most definitely write that light is truth. (Yes, Ms. Bierbaum, I have finally progressed a little on that particular quest!)

Faced with these truths in the forms of absence of air and light, I understand why I feel flat and a bit lifeless these days. The bears have got it right; the only solution is to hibernate.

Signs of winter

Lately, I've been focused on the dulldroms of late fall and early winter in Estonia. It's a bit gray around here, and it doesn't help that the sun rises at 8:49 and has already set by 3:21 (December 10). As I write this, the filmy cover of clouds slowly turns from ash to a seamless back in color. Someone from a year-round sun-drenched climate, I struggle with feeling sleepy and a bit grouchy. In Wyoming we endure blizzards, windstorms, tornadoes, and an occasional rain; we have violent weather, but we also have an abundant amount of sunshine, with the glowing red orb reappearing after each tempestuous interruption. After a mere one or two days without seeing the sun, Wyomingites begin to complain of the oppressiveness of the weather. Estonia is perhaps a good test of character for those of us from the sunny prairie.

A student of mine recently gave me a copy of Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson after she discovered with horror that I had never experienced the Finnish children's popular series about Moomins. Cute, fuzzy creatures captured by Jansson appear misshapen and a bit strange, but I was delighted to find the books such an accurate description of Nordic humor and perspective on this dark time of year. In this story, Moomintroll awakes from his winter slumber and cannot return to sleep. He ventures out amongst the creatures of winter and the strange landscape of the season. In a sudden outburst, he shouts this angry summer song:

Listen, winter creatures, who have sneaked the sun away,

Who are hiding in the dark and making all the valley grey:

I am utterly alone, and I’m tired to the bone,

And I’m sick enough of snowdrifts just to lay down and groan.

I want my blue verandah and the glitter of the sea,

And I tell you one and all that your winter’s not for me!

“Just you wait until my sun’s coming back to look at you, and then you’ll look silly, all of you,” Moomintroll shouted and didn’t even care about rhymes anymore:

Because then I’ll dance on a sunflower disk

And lie on my stomach in the warm sand

And keep my window open all the day

On the garden and bumblebees

And on the sky-blue sky

And my own great

Orange-yellow

SUN!

From Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson, 1957, pp. 39-40

I have no problem relating to little Moomintroll and could stand outside right now and shout nearly the same thing at the VERY gray sky! However, I restrain. I am not a Moomin. I am an adult. Focus on the positive. Think brightly (after all, the sun did shine here yesterday).

There are pretty holiday lights,



and fancy university balls



and sometimes snow



and good friends to visit with over mulled wine (feuerzangenbowle)



and don't forget Grandma Bea's Christmas cookies!

The Christmas season has begun here and that brings some brightness. I can throw myself into this time of year, even if the days are dark and a bit lackluster. After all is said in done, I will learn, just like Moomintroll, to appreciate some of the finer points of this wintry season (Jansson, 1957, p. 151):

“Do you know, when the snow comes, it falls down from the sky like tiny and very cold stars. And up there in the blue sky you can see fluttering blue and green curtains.”

…

“Yes, and even if you can’t walk on the snow you can slide along on it,” continued Moomintroll. “It’s called skiing. It makes you rush ahead fast, like lightening, in a cloud of whirling snow, and you’ve got to look sharp or else!”

Ever wonder how the world sees you?

You may just be too frightened to recover once you've answered this question. See some of the action shots taken while I was giving a presentation last week, below. Captured as a still life, I am not sure how attractive my expressions are... What exactly was I saying? I'll let you be the judge (I just can't remember and am too shocked to comment further).

A Finnish Thanksgiving

This year I spent turkey day stuffing myself with good food and great company! I celebrated in Finland this year. It was an excuse to visit Vaasa, catch up with a good friend, and, even more so, to share an important American holiday.

Don't be mistaken -- Thanksgiving is not a Finnish holiday; if you want to know more about the day, visit The History of Thanksgiving to watch an illustrative video and read more.


View Larger Map

Taking the duty of being good American cultural ambassadors while abroad quite seriously, we initiated a large group of Finns, Estonians, and Germans to the rites of Thanksgiving by preparing and eating loads of traditional foods: Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, pecan pie, scalloped corn, cranberry relish, cranberry bread, mashed potatoes, brussels sprouts, sweet potatoes, squash rolls... It was a really cozy and fulfilling (or rather filling) cultural exchange. Take a look at the resulting pictures, below!





Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!

Popsid goes global

The wind band I play in was featured in a brass band podcast yesterday. Check out Popsid, including three of our songs and an interview, at Brasscast. You can either listen or download the podcast for November 18, 2007 here.

Enjoy the music!

Talgud

I had a chance to take part in something especially Estonian, a Talgud or collective work day. An Estonian friend who lives out in the countryside near Tartu invited friends, students, and family for a day of work at his rural home. The idea is that the more hands, the quicker and more fun the work to follow. Our group of eight worked to pull down three trees, strip them down, move them, and clean the area by burning the extra wood. (Estonia is in no danger of running out of firewood and forest fires are of little concern in this area of bogs and wetlands.) Not too much work with so many to help out. We enjoyed a crisp day of team work and fresh wintry air followed by time in the sauna, beer, and plenty of feasting in the evening.



In tandem with this festivity of work was the celebration of St. Martin's Day or Madripäev in Estonian. Marking the end of fall and beginnings of darker wintry times ahead, Madripäev is preceded by St. Martin's Eve when children dress up in dark costumes and go door-to-door to perform a song or dance and ask for treats or money. The day of Madripäev is a feast day that happened to fall on our Talgud. Together with a few families and our Talgud workgroup, we enjoyed a special beet-based salad and tasty hani, cooked geese filled with cabbage, apples, and prunes. I was so distracted by the delicacy that I lost interest in pictoral documentation after the salad... you can imagine how mouth-watering it must have been.



All together, it was a fantastic day demonstrating the incredibly warm collaborative and celebratory faces of Estonians and Estonia. In the face of the country's grayest month with days diminishing quickly to an almost constant enveloping darkness, I felt surprisingly warm and bright. It's a tradition that I may have to keep once I leave this place. A talgud and feast should perhaps be a part of my own collected fall traditions.

Just another piece of paper?

This week I went to a thank you party for all of those involved in the University of Tartu's 375th Anniversary celebrations. Much to my surprise, I received a certificate of participation. As a teacher, I often give certificates and am surprised by how much adults enjoy getting them. I guess that I now better understand (I guess we don't really get certificates so often), and I must say I am rather proud of my certificate as a symbol of my involvement in a local group and participation in the Tartu community. Rather than tossing it in with other papers and odd items, I have decided this one definitely isn't just another piece of paper. Cool, isn't it?

Motorcyclists rev up Tartu

Last Sunday I was lazing around when suddenly I heard an approaching rumble coming from outside. Sticking my head out of the window, I discovered a motorcycle run in progress. The throaty sound of pipes made me homesick for my own wheels... For your enjoyment, here are the captured moments!

The Odyssey Years

David Brooks redefines lifetime stages in a recent opinion piece in the New York Times, The Odyssey Years. He proposes that my parents and grandparents lived in eras when there were several clear-cut life stages -- childhood, adolescence, adulthood, and old age. In contrast, Brooks names two additional, more difficult to define contemporary life stages -- the odyssey years and active retirement. Our life flow with this new model looks instead like childhood-adolescence-odyssey-adulthood-active retirement-old age. His article focuses on the often misunderstood stage of wandering and discovery that is sandwiched between our adolescent and adult years.

As an itinerate wanderer, I perfectly understood what he has to say about this period of odyssey, and I also had an instant grasp on how misunderstood this concept is for those who grew up with a different definition of what it means to grow up. My relatives often ask me when I will really grow up -- by this, they generally mean when will you get married, have a real job, buy a house, have a dog, cat and two children, be in a respectable amount of American debt, and mow the grass and join the gym like everyone else (although not generally in that order)? My responses are formulated and well-practiced as I, like Homer's hero, have been on my dramatic life odyssey for the last ten years. The questions posed to me that inherently define adult as something to which I cannot currently conform feel loaded and unfair. Traveling and working have not been without their challenges and glories; the experience of fighting cyclops or encounters with Calypso and Lotus-eaters characterizes Odysseus as more of a man than an aimless tout who does not understand what else to do with his life.

My odyssey has no doubt been part of becoming an adult (and it continues to be so) with lots of steep learning curves and many new realizations about myself, others, and the world. My beliefs have been challenged and my identity has been remolded over and over again. While these processes can sometimes be completely disorienting, they do not leave me doubting whether or not I am an adult. Reforming and refining one's perspective through movement is a sign of life, not of immaturity. Never have I felt more grown-up than when confronted with the cross-cultural shock and necessary adaptations of living in Slovakia while in the Peace Corps or when standing in front of a group of small children bravely entering the mire of the English-speaking world. Sometimes I am afraid and uncertain, to be sure, but, despite my marital status and lack of worldly possessions, I do not question the legitimacy of my life stage or current actions.

I guess I am writing this post because sometimes I tire of the questions and I am not always sure that the conversation partner understands who I am or what I am doing. It is discouraging and sometimes insulting to be treated as if your life choices are a childish phase gone wrong for too long. The Washington Post article was uplifting as a recognition of the validity of such misunderstanding about the odyssey years. I don't know if the new life cycle that Brooks describes demands that the adulthood stage following the odyssey still entails getting married, having a real job, buying a house, having a dog, cat and two children, acquiring a respectable amount of American debt, and mowing the grass and joining the gym like everyone else.

I suspect that it doesn't matter. Some of us were just meant to wander until we find our way to Ithaca. Adult or not, I am happy to delight in the gifts of the journey!

Let my garden grow

This weekend I set out to test my green thumb with a true hallmark of settling into a new place: I planted a garden. Dirt under my fingernails, sweat on my brow, I seeded some herbs that aren't widely available in Estonia. Rows of rosemary, red basil, thyme, marjoram, and mint neatly await sunshine and water. As for me, I will carefully tend them with conversation and a song or two while watching for tiny green sprouts... Updates forthcoming!

Kuningas Gustavi Gala

My last post mentioned that the wind orchestra that I play in was playing in a concert for the 375th University of Tartu Anniversary. The gala concert was also recorded and televised, so now post-concert I am basically a huge star here in Estonia... ha!

Take a look for yourself at the video feed: KUNINGAS GUSTAVI GALA. You can watch the whole concert (about 2 hours in length), but if you just want to skip to the really good part, you can fast-forward to catch Popsid at the 1:07:00 mark. We play two songs at that point and one more big hit near the end of the video feed (1:27:00). Enjoy!

Happy Birthday!

Today marks the celebration of the University of Tartu's 375th birthday. There are gala concerts, new statues, and a slew of invited dignitaries. The entire town has had a makeover -- streets are fixed, building have new paint, and there are fresh flowers planted everywhere, not to mention all of the decorative flags and banners sprinkled throughout town. As an outsider, it is nice to be a witness to all of the fanfare and a participant in the party.



Today, I waved at the Queen of Sweden as she made her way into the Main Hall of the University (see photo, above). I am not sure if she saw me in the crowd, but she did smile and return a wave or two in our direction.

This evening, I will play together with Popsid in the gala concert for the anniversary. The entire concert is a huge affair with choirs, folk ensembles, and folk dancing -- a true show in honor of the long history of the university. I look forward to taking part!

Violated

This has been an especially exciting month of my life in Tartu. Here's the short version:

I couldn't move into my apartment on time because my landlords decided to stay in the space while they did their renovations.

Fine. I stayed at a hotel for a few days, worked like mad to prepare for my work in Austria for the beginning of the month.

Okay. I return from my work. The first night in my new home I was robbed. In the night. While sleeping. Nobody hurt. Electronics and cash and sense of safety went missing.

Good. Police fill out report, take finger prints. Very professional. Must be a fluke. Can regain a semi-coherent sense of safety somehow.

Let's settle in. The apartment was not as furnished as promised. I bought some extra linens and tableware. Built some furniture. Cleanse the energy and air of the place. Settle in.

Manageable. I leave for work-related conference for a week.

Upon return, receive phone call and rush home. Place was broken into. Brutal force used to smash windows. Alarm sounded for 12 hours and no one "noticed" or called. Nothing taken but feel completely violated. More police reports. More fingerprints.

Stay with a friend. Must move. Rental market very tight in Tartu after opening of school year. Overpriced. Tough negotiations. Concerned about location, price, security, and quick availability. Worried about being an "outsider" in the process.

Manage to find a place. New air. New location. New move. Uff!

The police find the intruders. They visit our old home to tell their story. Landlord reports that the criminals are mere children who laugh hysterically while indicating what happened.

Shaken. Tired. (Exhausted.) Emotional. Safer (really!). What a feeling. Nothing of mine is missing... or is it?

Litmus Test

Every time I visit a new location, I apply a litmus test. Not one for chemical acidity, to be sure, but the could-I-live-here litmus test, applying a rigorous number of criteria to ascertain whether or not I could dream of returning on a more permanent basis.

This week I find myself in Bolzano, or Bozen in German, Italy for a conference on Bi- and Multi-Lingual Universities. It is a truly bilingual city nestled in the mountains of Northern Italy.



Here are some of the ways in which it passes (surpasses!) the grade:

1. It is multilingual: German and Italian are spoken here interchangeably. Although I do not speak either German or Italian, I would be interested in learning both of them. They are widely spoken, literary and musical languages. Hallo! Ciao!

2. There are mountains... and water: The town is surrounded by breathtaking mountainous landscape that is easily accessible (I walked there today) and a river runs straight through the town.



3. It is a university town: There is learning taking place here and the university (Free University of Bozen-Bolzano) is tri-lingual with German, Italian, and English as languages as instruction. There is also hope of employment!

4. Great food: The best of two countries -- pasta, stinky cheeses, wine, olive oil, strudel, espresso, gelatto. There is also a beautiful fruit, vegetable, spice, and cheese market in the middle of town. Need I say more?



5. A lively population: A town of only 100,000, similar to the Estonian town of Tartu where I currently live, Bolzano is bustling with energy and people in the streets. Refreshing!

6. Long lunches (and siesta?): Everything closes for 1-2 hours for lunch. You gotta love people that know how to take a minute or two off to appreciate the best things in life.



7. Recreation: With the mountains, there is year-round activity. Skiing, hiking, rafting... Ah! I love the outdoors! (There's even a dance school in the center for some indoor activity)



8. Climate: Today was a gorgeous, sunny, warm day (around 75 Fahrenheit). There are four seasons, but they don't seem to be overly extreme. An adequate amount of year-round sunlight/darkness is also attractive.

9. It's old: There is history... Europe's oldest mummified human resides here. Pretty old :)



10. General charm: The town is quaint. Great skylines, nice architecture (I lvoe the shutters), and friendly people. I am traveling with a colleague and her one-year-old baby, who receives coos and attention from every age and gender on the streets.

I may sound enamored. I may be. More thoughts to come... or maybe I'll begin to seek opportunities to stay longer!

V srdce, ja mam staru turu

It was a bit like coming home to my second family. At the end of my stay in Austria, I was able to squeeze in an overnighter in the village where I did my Peace Corps service nearly 8 years ago. Stara Tura is a small town situated in the Carpathians in the western part of Slovakia, and there live some people that remain incredibly precious and loved by me.


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My trip was not premeditated or well-planned, but I arrived to see the colleagues and friends that I could manage to find. Waiting for me at the train station was the best friend that I had during my two and a half year stay in Stara Tura. A smiling face and warm heart, she graciously invited me back into her home and life. Preoccupied during the train ride from Vienna about my Slovak language skills, I found it simple to ease back into our bantering routine of walks, coffee, and meals. I was welcomed so completely at her home, disturbing any routine she might have had. I felt like a long-lost daughter as we began to catch up on what had been missed in our letters over the last four years. She cooked for me and fussed over the cold I was beginning to catch. A true friend, she listened as well as talked as we celebrated and sympathized over new developments in our lives. Not to continue sounding cliché, but it was timeless, as I guess any good friendship should be.

From Slovakia 07

During my visit, I realized how beautiful the town is and the nice collective that I had at the schools where I worked while I was there. Remembered as I reunited with a couple of close colleagues, we reminisced together (amazingly enough, po slovensky!). I was reminded that for those of us that wander, we leave second and third and fourth homes scattered here and there. Somehow, for me, I am always surprised and grateful at the blessing it is to keep coming to those homes. I guess that we leave a bit of ourselves behind and, at the same time, a bit of each place and people is planted within us. I still marvel when I rediscover the places where my heart belongs.

Mozart is a great composer, sir!

A very true statement. I have spent the last couple of weeks working in Austria with different groups of teachers, and on the weekend that broke up the seminars, I was able to do a bit of wandering in Vienna. My Sunday morning was completely remarkable.

I made my way in the morning down to the First District (or historical center) of Vienna to enjoy the wonders the city has to offer. Weaving between beautiful architecture and famous historical places, I managed to arrive at St. Augustin’s cathedral in time for Sunday mass. Admittedly, it was my intended destination as it hosts well-reputed musicians to perform special music during the offertory and postlude. I was not disappointed. Although crammed into the pews of the small and beautiful church with other tourists and church-goers, I enjoyed some Mozart and Buxtehude. Gorgeous sounds of choir, organ, and orchestration! I was truly convinced, as the young and defiant soldier Andrew in the movie The Barber of Siberia that Mozart is a great composer.

Afterwards, I continued to enjoy my morning at a historic Viennese café, Café Central. Amidst beautiful pastries and steaming cups of hot coffee, I breakfasted and read my paper, taking in the other customers and soaking up the moment.

Somehow, in this half day, I felt more rejuvenated than I sometimes do after a week of vacation. Breaking my routines and taking time to appreciate art and life slowly reminded me of the importance of taking time out. I aim to do it a bit more often, whether set to Mozart and Sacher Torte or not, once I return to Estonia.

Through the looking glass

Reflections are probably only as precise as the instrument used to cast the image, I suppose. What you see mirrored in a lake is different than in a piece of tinfoil, a storefront window, or above the bathroom sink. Depending on how, when, and where you see a reflection, you may get a completely different idea of the original or actual composition. I too am a type of reflector, emitting a sort of reflection of the attitudes, diversity, interests, education, and ideas of my own home place. Depending on the lighting and materials surrounding me, I portray "my people" (a group whose composition or location may change at my own whim or for my own purposes) in a completely different shades.

From 2007-08-13 to...

I mention the metaphor because I can suddenly see my country through a new looking glass. Often while I am abroad for long stretches of time, I become incensed when others try to capsulize Americans into a clearcut list of stereotypes: Americans are stupid, fat, loud, casual, materialistic, insincere, patriotic, smiley, etc. I also add to these kinds of generalizations in an attempt to understand myself and where I come from in contrast to a different place or people. I have found myself uttering things such as "In the U.S., we do it this way..." or "Americans are usually like this..." Thwarting my own attempts to dispel such stereotypes, I contribute to an idea that you can capture a nation's entire reflection in a sound bite or mere reflection.

From 2007-08-08 Bi...

However, we all know that what we see in the mirror is just a bit different than how others perceive us. There is a likeness, but the image does not capture a whole person. Distortions increase proportionately when we try to take a look at ourselves in the back of a spoon or in a rear-view mirror while driving. A reflection helps us understand in someway the person others see us as, but it doesn't begin to tell of three dimensional shapes, lines, wrinkles, sparkles in eyes, or wide-mouthed laughter. In order to see those rich features, like Alice, we must step through the looking glass to encounter the person or place in its entirety.

From 2007-08-12 Bo...

My one-dimensional reflection of the United States while abroad has been warmed and enhanced during my visit home this summer. I have traveled in company. Hosting guests in Wyoming, South Dakota, and D.C. while home has helped me appreciate and understand those places better. Rose-colored glasses removed, I feel as if my reflections have improved with sharing. Through the eyes of visitors and hosts, I'm reminded of how askew my reflections sometimes become when I am not so close to home. I'm reminded that it is impossible to single-handedly capture the United States - or any place on this earth - with only your own eyes and devices.

From 2007-08-05 St...

Here are some of the things that have renewed and clarified the way I look at places I've known and visited for a long time:

• Wyoming is indeed rural and quite brown
• My family is funny, easy-going, and very cool
• Americans we have encountered along the way are über friendly and talkative
• I have a cool job as an ELF
  
• Air-conditioning is over-used and overly cool and I don't like it
• Food here is HUGE but can also be scrumptious
• The Big Horns are quiet and gorgeous
• Motorcycles (although very cool) are awfully loud sometimes
• The sky in Wyoming is enormous and very blue
• Summers are hot
• Washington, D.C. has a lot to offer
• Baseball is fun -- Go, Bowie Baysocks!
  
• Good friends are good friends no matter where or how often you meet
  
• I like living in Estonia
• Eavesdropping (because I can!) assures me that Americans are just like people everywhere else mostly (phew!)
• English is an interesting language that I fail to appreciate at times; I am still learning it and appreciative of its innovations and deviations (my family and friends are full of idioms and expressions new to me)
  
• Life here really requires a lot of driving, and I don't really like driving 15 minutes to the grocery so much anymore
  
• Basically, life here isn't so much different, depending on where you look, than anywhere else
  

From 2007-08-08 Bi...

Vroom vroom

I know that I professed a love of my bicycle, but nothing beats riding my motorcycle through the foothills to see Devil's Tower.

Black Hills Beauty

When I am in range of my hometown in Gillette, one of my favorite places to visit is the Black Hills National Forest, a small mountain range in Northwestern Wyoming and Eastern South Dakota. I made numerous trips to the Hills as a child, worked two summers in Custer at a camp when I was in college, and still really enjoy playing tourist in the area.



The area known also as Paha Sapa to by the Lakota seems like a special and sacred space to me. Its geological formation adds to its uniqueness -- created by a volcanic uplifting, the formation of the Hills is circular with rock formations jutting out and pointing to its most central point at Harney Peak (incidentally, one of my favorite hikes). From an areal view, you would see the center with several mountainous rings moving outward from it, like ripples moving from a disruption in a still pond. My summertime memories there are full of very dry and strong pine scents and sunrises watched from the top of rocks or other peaks. There are also the dozens of tacky tourist traps jutting out into the curvy roads promising a peak at the old west, its precious gems or gold, or other auspicious and out-of-place amusements such as the Flintstones village in Custer, SD.

I had a chance last weekend to revisit my favorite sights, and, in case you've never visited, I thought I would share the beauty with you.



The Days of '76 Parade and Rodeo in the historic downtown of Deadwood, South Dakota



A lone prairie dog stands watch over the whole prairie dog town in Custer State Park




Bison? Buffalo? Whatever you want to call them, we saw a whole herd on the wildlife loop in Custer, South Dakota



The Needles Highway still captures me with its spectacular shapes and heights



Silvan Lake is at the heart of the Hills



No trip to the Hills is complete without visiting the Faces at Mt. Rushmore



... and who can forget the cute little chipmunks scurrying underfoot!

Hiiumaa: A land for forest nymphs, fairies, and cyclists

If I could ever imagine a place that might be filled with small magical nymphs or fairies flitting about, I think that place would be Hiiumaa, a small island north of Estonia on the Baltic Sea. The last ten days I spend cycling through the woods listening to the sounds of singing birds, wind whipping through the tops of trees, and the occasional mosquito honing in on its next target.

The map
The itinerary

Day 1-2
Place: Tartu - Pärnu
Means of transport: Bus
Weather: Pretty rainy
Mood of vacationers: Excitement undampened

We are rained out and resort to kicking off our vacation by bus and head to the seaside resort town of Pärnu. While there, we stay with a friend's parents and are able to do some exploring of the town and even take in some of the flicks associated with the international film festival taking place there.

Day 3
Place: Pärnu - Virtsu - Muhu (over 110 km)
Means of transport: Bicycle, ferry
Weather: Cloudy and cool but without any raindrops
Mood of vacationers: Thrilled to be biking finally





Finally, we had a clear day, so we took off from the city to the bike trail going up the coast towards the port to the islands. Although we had intentions of making more pit stops, the weather looked a bit threatening and we were feeling energetic, so we kept on. This was our longest day of biking, but it felt good. Quiet forest roads with only one patch of nasty construction. When we rolled into Virtsu and the ferry was waiting, we decided to make our way to the island of Muhu for the evening. There, we lucked out and were able to stay at a rustic horse farm in a stable-like room with good company and really scrumptious home-made and home-grown grub.

Day 4
Place: Muhu - Orissaare
Means of transport: Bike
Weather: Pouring cats and dogs and other small animals
Mood of vacationers: A bit damp



We left the lovely horse farm to make it to the larger island of Saaremaa for the day with hopes the weather would improve; however, in a short distance less than 30 kilometers and a little more than an hour of biking, we were soaked and looking for refuge. We ducked into the tiny town of Orissare and found a dry place at a school-converted-hostel and spent the day reading books at a cozy cafe with fireplace. Brrr. I wasn't sure if it really was summer or not and wasn't too convinced a summer biking trip in Estonia was a brilliant idea anymore.

Day 5
Place: Orissaare - Emmaste - Haapsalu
Means of trasnport: Bike, boat, Uli's parents' rental car, boat
Weather: Brilliant blue skies in the morning later turning to dark clouds and rain
Mood of vacationers: Much like the weather



We got an early and excited start to our day thanks to the gorgeous blue skies and bright morning sun. The first ten kilometers were gorgeous. Spirits raised, we took pictures of the coast and began to enjoy the settling in of silence and the feeling of vacation. Of course, the promised day was a bit too good to be true! Uli's bike lost a pedal that resisted repair by duct tape, so he pedaled one-footed to the port where we caught a boat to Hiiumaa. His parents, also vacationing in Estonia, met us at the port and whisked us away as it began to rain to the bigger mainland town of Haapsalu. Barely making the ferry, we were happy to be dry and on the way to fixing the bike.

Day 6
Place: Haapsalu
Mode of transport: Foot
Weather: Sunny - Cloudy - Rainy
Mood of vacationers: Relaxed and happy



We stayed an extra day in Haapsalu with Uli's parents and fixed the bike in a snap in the morning. We enjoyed the beautiful coastal town and were even treated to an afternoon at a spa hotel and a brass concert on the promenade in the evening. After the rest and beautiful day, we were rejuvenated and ready to hit the road once again.

*I am reminded of my grandmother when I add the tidbit that there was excellent blueberry pie in a cute coffee shop downtown!

Day 7
Place: Haapsalu - Kärdla - Luidja
Mode of transport: Bike, ferry
Weather: Windy and cool
Mood of vacationers: Content (except for those grumpy moments when cycling against the wind)



We took off early in the morning to put our vacation back on track. We enjoyed a nice day of cycling, complete with a great pit-stop in the northern coastal town of Hiiumaa, Kärdla for a nice lunch and finishing at Hiiumaa's most beautiful beach in Luidja. We were lucky enough to find accommodation in a house meant for mothers and their young children (a kind of mother-baby camp) as it was the only room in the vicinity and we were pooped from a long, windy day of cycling. We finished our day with a sunny beach picnic and looked forward to a couple of days of rest.

Day 8
Place: Luidja - Kõpu - Ristna - Luidja
Mode of transport: Bike
Weather: Cloudy but nice
Mood of vacationers: Relaxed, happy, and satiated after forest blueberry eating







We took off in the morning to see the farthest point west on the island. Complete with wild blueberries and strawberries growing in the forest, an old lighthouse built on the highest point of the island (68 meters), gusty coastal wind and waters, and lovely forest paths, we had one of our best days of cycling and vacation exploring this remote area of the island. In the evening, we returned to a barbecue complete with three two-year olds and their parents, a couple of cats, a bottle of wine, dozens of mosquitoes eating Uli, and lovely dinner of sausages and fresh salad.

Day 9
Place: Luidja - Emmaste - Käina - Suuremõisa
Mode of transport: Bike
Weather: Mostly sunny!
Mood of vacationers: Downright õnnelik :)



What we thought would be a longer day of cycling turned out to be a piece of cake and we arrived in Käina early hoping to visit the sea or do some swimming. After searching for a sea inlet, we were disappointed and decided to instead head to our cottage accommodation in nearby Suuremõisa for a relaxed evening of strolling about the area, picnicking, and reading. Allika, the place where we stayed for two nights, was a gorgeous Estonian country home restored and decorated traditionally and surrounded by lush garden, rose bushes, and flowers.

Day 10
Place: Suuremõisa - Kassari - Suuremõisa
Mode of transport: Bicycle
Weather: Gorgeous, cool but sunny
Mood of vacationers: Completely relaxed



We took a day trip to the southernmost point of the island where it was rumored there was good swimming. Highlights did not include swimming (it was a bit too cold!) but rather a 3 km stretch of the island jutting out into the sea where you can walk and practice skipping stones.

Day 11
Place: Suuremõisa - Haapsalu - Tallinn - Tartu
Mode of transport: Bike, ferry, bike, bus, bike, train
Weather: Sunny
Mood of vacationers: Relaxed but a bit melancholic the trip was already over



Time to head back to Tartu to take care of some final details before going to the U.S. We headed off on an ambitious day of travel all the way back home to Tartu with memories of the quiet forested seaside in Hiiumaa. A great vacation.

The summary
Phenomenal trip with great memories. Check it out for yourself in the photo gallery below!

2007-07-09 to 2007-07-18 Jenn Uli Estonia (Hiiumaa) bike trip