¡Viva México!

Although it was a bit of a belated 200th birthday, we celebrated México in the Nordic countries this week. Today, I attended a phenomenal lecture by Dr. Beatriz Espejo, story teller, author, feminist, academic, and, without a doubt, Mexican patriot.

Relishing the chance to sink into a two-hour lecture in the lilting cadence of Mexican Spanish, I was captivated by this woman's narrative as she brought to life the letters of a Scottish woman, Madame Calderon de la Barca, who spent time writing letters about her new experiences and chaos of Mexican independence as she accompanied her husband there in the 19th century.

The lecture reminded me of the color and brilliance of México - exotic Mangos, leaders such as Miguel Hidalgo, the murals of Orozco in las Cabañas... Espejo as such an animated story teller of Madame Calderon de la Barca's life in México brought me back to my own former life in México and realize how much I adored the chaotic, vivid way of living. So, I wax a bit nostalgic for those days and also cry in earnest, "¡Viva México!"

Curious about Espejo? I definitely would like to dig up some additional reading. Here are some additional links about her (I couldn't find anything in English, which is a pity, as I was so impressed by her person):

• An article (in Spanish) about winning the Bellas Artes Prize
• An extended written interview (in Spanish) about feminism, writing, and life as a woman

Just another weekend adventure

The weather here in Tartu over the last weeks has been abnormally beautiful with sunny, crisp autumn days, vibrantly colored leaves gently falling down. On such days, you must jump outside to enjoy every minute of this dry, pleasant weather and take in as much Vitamin D as possible (apparently Estonians don't get enough -- see the related UT Newsletter article) before the weather turns to the short, rainy days of November.


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We decided to hop on our bicycles to enjoy the day and hunt down an Estonian adventure. Taking out our bikemaps and studying a good route for a daytrip, we decided to head eastward out of town in the direction of Kallaste (Lake Peipsi) with the hopes of reaching a cultural highlight described on our map, a huge bolder called Pollikivi. Never heard of Pollikivi? That doesn't make you strange at all. In later describing our biking adventure, we didn't find even one Estonian who knew what we were referring to! However, I'll let you in on the secret here, and you'll have a leg up when it comes to Estonian geographic landmarks.



The day was absolutely delightful and we stopped to check out St. Bridget's church near Vara where you can also see a very, very big "sacrifical oak tree." Without more narrative in our guidebook, I can just say that it was pretty and that I really enjoyed being outside and taking my new bicycle to a road test (it passed with flying colors).

As we road onward past Sookalduse, we noted that there were no road signs for our destination, and we frantically tried to figure out from our biking map and the description where to turn off. After veering onto an unmarked dirt road and riding for a couple of minutes, we saw the following sign indicating that Pollikivi was only .8 km (.5 miles) that way.



Yep. We had reached the destination... almost. The sign pointed directly into a nearby forest. There was absolutely no path, and the ground was marshy and overgrown with tall grasses and weeds. We had no choice but to lock our bikes to the sign and continue on our quest, bushwhacking our way in the direction indicated by the sign. As we were about ready to give up and head back to our bicycles before we were lost in the forest, we saw a small improvised bridge over a stream, and, yes, a really big moss-grown rock. Turning the corner, we saw the official sign for Pollikivi and knew we had reached our underwhelming destination.



Now, I know that you are thinking that this story is absurd and that such a destination must be a farce. Who would write about such a thing? Let me tell you a bit more about Pollikivi.



Pollikivi is the biggest boulder in all of Tartu County with a circumference of 29m, height of 4.3m, and length of 13.7 m. Not big compared to the schists and rocks of the Black Hills, but it's not really a fair comparison. Furthermore, this rock was purportedly thrown by the epic Estonian hero, Kalevipoeg. Admittedly, I have not read the national epic written by Kreutzwald (read it here), but my understanding of this mythic national hero is that he was extraordinarily strong and brave and his weapons of choice were large stones that he flung at his enemies and also used to help form the Estonian landscape. Pollikivi is one of those stones left from his slingshot.

It was a funny adventure and perhaps not the most notable of all destinations, but I do have to say that the leaves seemed to color and intensify during the ride. Upon our tired reentry to Tartu in the evening we were surrounded by autumn's brilliant gifts.

Palamuse Pops

I know you are thinking, "Where/What/Why is Palamuse and how can it possible pop?"

Where is it? Why, it's just about half an hour northeast of Tartu.


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What is there? Why, it's just a cute little town to visit with some historical places related to a famous Estonian author (Oscar Luts, author of Kevade, etc.) and a famous pharmacy where you can buy a mysterious elixir to cure any ailment (this one is more than a bit mysterious to me as it was explained in Estonian, but I suspect it is something like schnapps).



Why Palamuse on a September Saturday? Why, there is an enormous fair, the XIII SUUR PAUNVERE VÄLJANÄITUS JA LAAT with some of the following highlights:

Gigantic Pumpkins



Folk Dancing



Smoked Fish in Every Shape, Size, and Color



Portable Sauna



Mushroom Carvings (Maybe some inspiration for my favorite wood carver out there?)



Rustic Hot Tubs



Old Time Band Apelsin
Click the link to hear a music sample -- they are really pretty good!



Lots of Handicrafts and Shoppers
(I modestly walked away with some beautiful orange wool for knitting, sea buckthorn honey, and handmade goat's milk soaps. I resisted the temptation to buy a beautiful jacket, mittens, jewelry, handmade baskets, and so many more treasures!)



How does it Pop? Why, with Popsid, of course!



Upon my return to Tartu, I picked up with the crazy but quite talented group with whom I played while I was here before. It was fun to reappear at a rehearsal a few weeks ago and to be readopted (without much fuss or fanfare) to the group. They are funny/weird/playful and also serious about their music. It reminds me a lot of pep bands in high school and college, but with a steeper learning curve. They keep hundreds of songs in their repertoire so that almost every concert involves quite a bit of sight reading and they operate in Estonian, this ever-elusive language that I continue to attempt to learn and understand better. I'm happy they've accepted my pitiful language competency and mediocre horn talents -- it is always fun to be in their midst.



Curious about the sexy uniform? Yes, we wear green overalls for concerts :-)

Knitting and yardwork

I mentioned in a previous post that I had taken up knitting. To be honest, I was not very sure I would take to it well. I don't have a very domestic background and have failed with cross stitching and sewing projects in the past. However, I must say that knitting has a rather addictive quality to it. I find that I really enjoy making something, and keeping my hands busy while listening to podcasts of NPR is a very relaxing way to spend an evening. There is a very meditative quality to repeating stitches and working methodically through a pattern. I just may have found my long-lost home economics niche!

That said, here are the fruits of my labors -- I finished my first project and have some handsome slippers made of six square pieces later sewn together. My feet were convinced -- I couldn't take them off or keep staring at my handicraft all evening. One slipper is quite a bit larger than the other, but that just makes it uniquely mine!







The friend I met in Finland last weekend also brought along some inspiration from her much-longer honed knitting hands in the shape of some awesome legwarmers. I also put these on and wore them for the duration of my stay in Helsinki. Not only are they hip but they are also quite practical in a climate that can be rather brisk, even in these early days of autumn! To top it off, the yarn is from a project called Peace Fleece, blending wools from the US, Russia, and Romania. And the color of my brilliant legwarmers? Why, Baltic Blue, of course.



I will be starting another project soon -- more slippers -- and this time in a mixed yarn so that I can learn a few more tricks before I am ready to move onto other things!

My last project of the week was my yard. I just got done mowing, and I love having a bit of a yard. Although it is quite small by American standards, it gives us some green space and is a nice buffer between the back of our apartment and other shared spaces for storage. One of the tasks we have as renters is to cut the grass when it needs it. No problem. I have some serious qualifications for mowing yards (after all, I did spend a summer mowing the Hardee's grass in the middle of my hometown, amongst other projects), and I really don't mind it a bit as long as there are no snakes that might slither across the grass while I am at it. The difference here is our method of cutting the grass. We have a small bladed mower (see picture) that works just great but requires a bit of sweat to really get at the project. I rather enjoy it, but I must admit that the yard looks a lot bigger when you are making swaths without a motor. I can imagine that people back at home really would maintain smaller yards if they all maintained it this way! I think it looks great -- and I feel like I got the workout I needed for the day.

Twenty-four hours in Helsinki

Just a zippy boat ride away. I spent Friday-Saturday bumming around the hip and beautiful Finnish capital. Markets, sharp design, good food, stylish company... take a look for yourself!

Mushroom Hunter

Last week a friend called to see if I might be interested in wandering in the forest and foraging for mushrooms. Who me? Couldn't be happier than out in the fresh air walking around and discovering things I can later eat! Besides, I had been waiting for a guide (don't trust my abilities to stay away from poisonous fungus) so that I could finally participate in the great Estonian national pasttime! We headed south from Tartu and out to a forest path outside of Põlvamaa and we found kilos of treasure hiding under moss and beneath trees.




kukeseened (chanterelles)




puravikud (red-capped scaber stalks?)




riisikad (downy milk caps?)




We also found some others that I don't remember well with my fledgling Estonian mushroom language, but they tasted yummy when cooked.




One special kind turned blue when you cut it and tasted amazing when prepared (fried in olive oil and butter, of course).



I can't wait to go again!

Baffled resident

This is me with a five-year Estonian residency and work permit -- good for the whole entire European Union -- and obtained expeditiously and with surprisingly little bureaucracy. Over all, it was the most pleasant immigration experience I have ever had. . . and I dare to say that my superlative is used with some means of comparison.


As a Peace Corps Volunteer in Slovakia, I received help from a counterpart and the papers from the Peace Corps office, but that could not save us from the military office visits to a town 12 kilometers away. The building I recall was somehow full of closed doors and a lot of waiting, even if I was being led around by my colleague Klaudia. We visited and filled out forms. Brought papers. Refilled out forms. Went to find more papers. And waited for closed doors to open. Not horrific, but definitely not friendly.

In Mexico, I was put in charge of managing my work papers on my own in the huge office in the center of Guadalajara. The papers weren't so cumbersome, but the lines were long and unfriendly. There were multiple lines. Sometimes I didn't know which one to stand in and, as there was no one to whom I could direct a question, I simply chose a line I thought could work, often to find out that it was the wrong line and that I had to start at the end of another queue and hope I made it to the front before the window closed. I visited that place and those lines many times, and I chalked it up to a colossal cross-cultural experience. The paperwork took months to sort out.

In the Romanian system, I was one of the lucky ones that got to circumvent lines and long waits. Due to the "contact" of a departmental colleague, my paperwork was rushed and when we visited the immigration police, we stepped in front of the line and right into the door of the man in charge. I had my papers in the mail before most were done standing in lines and filling out forms. The only hitch was the expiry date arranged by my disgruntled colleague who was upset with my departure to another school mid-year. Instead of papers for my entire stay, my card remained valid only for 5 months.

My experience four years ago in Tartu was not exactly painful, but it wasn't convenient either. I had to provide a lot of documentation for my qualifications to work as a non-EU citizen and the entire process was quite expensive and cumbersome for a one-year document. My colleague helped me at the immigration office, and, of course, we managed to wade through the process with success.

This new experience as the spouse of a resident could not have been more different. I waltzed into the open floor plan of the newly installed immigration police together with Ulrich, my passport, and marriage license. The woman working with us was extremely pleasant, and she processed my papers lickedy-split. Three weeks from the day of our first visit, I picked up my newly minted Estonian residency card! Simply Amazing.

This collection of personal immigration narratives, together with recent media impressions from National Public Radio and the New York Times paint a mottled picture of the acceptance of foreignness in this particular Baltic State. A possible interpretation as an outsider after listening/reading the news would be to assume that this place may not be very welcoming to those who are different. Although I realize there are differences between pursuing residency and citizenship, I might be led to assume that immigration encounters would be rather unfriendly. Not that I've had any poor personal experiences in Estonia that indicate that I am unwelcome here; quite the contrary, actually. The huge ad campaign for tourist, after all, is called "Welcome to Estonia." Tere Tulemast! Yes, welcomed I feel. One can agree, although the circumstances are different and perhaps it is a stretch to make comparisons between my personal anecdote, media attention about long-term residents and language, and tourism marketing, the picture is a bit inconsistent and confusing.

The flip side of the residency issue for me is related to immigration in my own country. After all, the U.S. is a self-proclaimed land of immigrants -- as inscribed on the Statue of Liberty: "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." We celebrate our mixed heritages and glorify the struggles and sacrifices of those who came. "We Americans" are a motley crew wrestling with our identities, highlighting our pedigrees when they are preferred and downplaying other less-acceptable roots when inconvenient. This Interactive Map from NYT is endless entertainment, as you can look at immigration patterns from 1880 to the present, highlighting one group or another as you explore your own family's immigration and map it against the larger patterns. Indeed, we identify ourselves in this funny, mixed-up way. And yet we have Arizona, we have walls, we have those (from, gulp, my home state) fighting hard to defend what is "ours." In a profound way, I don't get it at all. As a de-facto American cultural ambassador of sorts (that's really what happens when you go abroad, like it or not), I can neither describe nor defend.

To complicate matters, I am also trying to apply for U.S. residency for my husband, God help him. The contrast could not be bigger. Today is the twelve-month anniversary of our first batch of application forms and fees. With an investment of a two-inch thick binder of forms and supporting materials and over $1,000 in fees, translations, and forms, we have not yet received any confirmation that we are indeed on the right track. The process leaves me with the same bewilderment I have when trying to figure out the IRS and my taxes. The process also leaves me embarrassed. My husband is a multilingual, educated person from a developed country; the process should not be difficult for him... and it is. We have to wonder with each entry and exit to the US if he will be pulled out for questioning. It's nerve-racking.

Our circumstances aside, should it matter where he is from, whether he speaks English, how educated he is whether or not he is currently employed? What do we fear that we so heavily screen and test? In a democracy that feigns welcome and inclusiveness, shouldn't we be able to marry whomever we want, regardless of citizenship?

Yep. I'm a legal alien, and a rather baffled one at that.