Celebrating Mr. Columbus

Whatever the controversial founder may or may not have discovered, I am thankful for the Monday off and took full advantage of a gorgeous, fall weekend here in DC. Here are some highlights of a weekend bike trip up Rock Creek Park and to visit a few sites. The fourteen-mile trail was filled with bikers, walkers, and joggers out enjoying the sunshine and crisp air. We stopped to rest along the way and stopped to see the new Martin Luther King, Jr Memorial, breeze through the Roosevelt Memorial and sit by the Tidal Basin. A perfect day in the Capital--I can't resist sharing the day with all of you!

Сколько лет, сколько зим

Сколько лет, сколько зим or "how many summers, how many winters" is how Russians greet one another when it has been a long time. Consider it the idiomatic equivalent of "long time, no see!" Somehow it seemed an appropriate post title as I've been incommunicado for a while.

My life has been consumed by a new study schedule and life rhythm these past five weeks. Enrolled in an intensive Russian program, I have the privilege of taking time off of work for full-time language study. Indeed, I do feel lucky. I've tried often in vain to simultaneously study language while working abroad, and it is very hard to make much progress with so many demands. It is also insightful for me to be on the other side of the desk once again as a full-time language student. I have been thinking so often of my former Georgetown University students from the Intensive English Program and empathizing with their overloads and concerns. It's interesting to be in small groups (we are only three at the moment) for so much study and in such a codified program. The inner teacher in me has a hard time turning off from monitoring the "how" of our learning. My fellow students are incredibly hard-working and motivated -- I feel as if I have to run to keep pace with everyone and not fall behind.

Most notably, I have felt incredibly tired. My daily routine consists of an early wake up, 2 hours of self-study at home or in the library, my bike ride to work--35 minutes of phonetic drills in my ears so that I can repeat aloud and look looney to other commuters, 2 hours of class, 1 hour of lab, 1 hour of lunch/study, 3 hours of class, bike ride home (without phonetic drills--for this one I stare into space, dazed), dinner, study, and sweet, sweet sleep. All just to keep pace. It feels something like writing all day with your left hand - possible with concentration, but, ultimately, exhausting.

Speaking of writing, I now can read and write in Cyrillic. It's not as tricky as characters or Arabic script, but I did learn to write cursive. Last week during a lecture in English, I noticed myself at a loss for how to get some cursive letters in English started. Sheesh!

I am sure that once my brain is better conditioned, I will start to fall into a routine and feel as if the language learning schedule is old hat. Until then, I am trying to be patient and get plenty of sleep.

As a plus, TIME magazine ran an article Why Speaking More than One Language May Delay Alzheimer's, so my mental health may ultimately be the better for it as well!

Cultural Learnings

This weekend, I grit my teeth and bore the brunt of the hideous hit called Borat. Although I had an honest try at watching when the movie came out, I felt as if I should be more motivated and informed about the controversy. If this is the one piece of information known about the place where I am going and if folks are apt to make endless jokes related to this character, I should at least be aware of the reference, right? It was not so awful and so much more awful at the same time. Perhaps I just don't have the right kind of sense of humor.

I was a bit happier to see the damage well mitigated by the following piece of glittering tourism advertisement I came across this morning:



What more enticement do you need to visit us in this "glorious nation"?

*For yet another perspective, the 2008 film Tulpan about a sailor's return to the steppe is well worth watching.

Strawberry jam and toast

This morning, I stumbled to the kitchen to put on a cup of coffee before making breakfast - two slices of buttered toast with strawberry jam. Without rush, I sat down to eat, news radio on and a newspaper open on my kitchen table. Biting into my toast, I glanced down at my feet, toes recently painted "Revlon red."



Phooom! I was taken straight back to my grandmother's kitchen in central Wyoming, mint green colored kitchen cabinets, red geraniums on the sill, Fiestaware dishes, and Formica table. With backcombed hair maintained through weekly visits to the hairdresser, striking blue eye shadow and red lipstick as well as a huge collection of beads and costume jewelry, my grandmother always ate toast with strawberry jam for breakfast, often while mulling over a crossword puzzle in a housedress, and always with red toenails.

Funny how such a small moment can trigger such a vivid memory. Even funnier when you can see those pieces of your personal history - family and friends - reflected in the way you go about doing things. We are who we know and have known... we have in us where we are and where we have been.

Family memories seem to strike me when I least expect it. Humidity and heat followed by a sultry summer storm take me right back to my other grandparents' farm and the summers we spent there, stealing grandma's chocolate chip cookies from the deep freeze in the basement, helping to do chores, playing Uno and rap poker with my grandpa for ice cream, picking peas in the garden, and attempting to ride Smokey, the most ornery horse. Early morning dishes clanging and the smell of pancakes, mealtimes signaled by a triangle hanging by the door, coffee for anyone who might show up, and quiet evenings eating peaches with sugar and a bit of cream on top. We fixed ourselves up to go to "town" in the car, but we liked getting dirty even better so we could help bale hay or drive around on the tractor with grandpa.

They were good summers that my brother and I spent visiting our grandparents' homes. From the time we were really small kids until we were through high school, we spent one or two weeks every summer at the North Dakota farm, and, until my grandma moved to Gillette, we spent a week each summer in the big city of Casper. The contrast between my two sets of grandparents could not have been bigger. However, I am glad that I got a chance to really know them, to understand where I came from, and to internalize those details about their habits and lives. And, I am most grateful that memories surface on quiet Saturday mornings when I least expect them.

Digressions

I've been composing a come-back post in my head during my commute to work, turning over how to describe to you all of the newness that has been happening lately. How those 30 minutes are the most tranquil of my day as I trail up the Potomac and whiz past Roosevelt before giving Lincoln a good morning wave on my way to work. The city so green is most beautiful in the morning when it seems like another innocent Capital City (that is before those on Capitol Hill have sipped their coffee and begun their partisan bickering about the debt ceiling). But I digress.

"The Potomac," you say, "that doesn't sound like it's anywhere near Tartu." Indeed, in the proper tone of summer, we've had more transitions. I'm endeavoring to be the most revised entry in your address books, although I am sure many of you have already given up. One year after returning to leafy Tartu, the winds have switched directions and taken me to another green city, albeit hotter and stickier, on the other side of the Atlantic. In fact, I find myself right back where I was about a year ago, as a resident in the nation's capital of Washington. If it seems wild to you, you cannot imagine how it feels as I re-encounter friends, co-workers, neighborhoods, and old haunts after just saying a definitive good-bye. I guess "see you later" is always a safer way to leave things.

After a slow but beautiful spring in Estonia, I began to feel restless and ready for some new adventures. My first adventure was a long time in coming and I had it in full sight during my 16-week training program. The end of May, I ran my first Marathon - 26.2 miles (42.2 kilometers) in Stockholm. The feeling of training for something so big, especially as a non-athletic sort of person, is really indescribable (but I'll try). My muscles and endurance grew and grew each week, and I could feel and see myself get better at running, especially when nature thawed things out. Most of my training was done in sub-zero temperatures, and, quite to my liking, I only ran in shorts once before the marathon. Cool temperatures make running a lot more pleasant and a lot less sweaty, so Estonia was the perfect training ground, even if it meant jogging on snow and ice. Uli came along as my one-man cheerleading team, and he did a brilliant job of racing around town to meet me along the way with energetic smiles (and a camera). The scenery in Stockholm was spectacular and the weather was dry and about 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Another cool thing about running so far in a race is that they have so much water, energy foods, entertainment, and really cheerful crowds along the way -- it beats pounding out 20 miles on your own by far! I had some moments when I was truly sloughing along, but with only about a kilometer of walking, I made it! To be honest, I almost cried when I finished. Not because of pain, but more a feeling of accomplishment, of setting a really huge goal and finally reaching it. At the finish line, I got a t-shirt and a medal. Perhaps the most disappointing part of the race was that my medal didn't have a string on it so that I could wear it around my neck for the next several weeks to show off. I'm not sure that the euphoria was enough to stir me to run another marathon, but it did feel pretty awesome. OK. Even these thoughts are a digression.



The bigger adventure came in the form of a phone call the second week of May. Unsuspectingly, we were hosting a slew of friends for a film night in our basement when the phone rang. A job application process strung out over the last two years had come to fruition. The offer to be a Regional English Language Officer with the Department of State hit me with an incredible force. I had just booked a vacation to Tblisi. Uli and I were strategizing for a potential future move elsewhere in Europe or North America. We'd already made a map of our summer cycling trip through the three Baltic States the previous day. However, the position had great promise as well as a position from which we could continue living overseas, doing meaningful work, and receiving the kinds of financial and logistical support to make that lifestyle comfortable (don't get me started on buying yet another toaster -- that discussion is a true digression). And I was asked to physically (also psychologically?) present myself in a mere three weeks time. Adventure had knocked and demanded a 24-hour turn-around on my response.

We said yes and decided to embrace chaos in these months (and years) to come.

After a whirlwind month in which we were "packed out" by movers, hurried to make arrangements for our "stuff" and our apartment, and gathered friends yet again for farewells, I also finished my final courses at the University of Tartu. As an institution which I have served longer than any other, this was tough. With the realization that I may not be a classroom instructor for a long while, this was even tougher. I had three fantastic writing groups of Freshmen this semester, and, somehow, our course finished without it sinking in. You see, the new job is more about facilitating exchanges and supporting programs, matching institutions and resources, representing America abroad through English language teaching. One-off workshops are possible. Long-term relationships built over a semester, not so much. The kind of end-of-semester stress and handing in term papers did not seem adequate for the kind of farewell I wanted to give, quite selfishly. Nearly two months later, this identity shift still has not really sunk in. I hope it never will.

So, what am I doing in Washington? I am scraping along here and trying to learn the ropes. I've endured orientation and have discovered some aspects of the culture of the Foreign Service. I'm uncovering every single day more information about what it means to be a RELO (Regional English Language Officer - pronounced as a word: Reee-low) and how I might fulfill those duties. See this link for an overview as well as my potential future homes. I'll be here for the next 12 months continuing to figure things out bit by bit.

I'm here at the moment without Uli, and this is hard. The biggest highlight of our last year is that it really was our last year. We were together, on the same continent. Well, most of the time. It was wonderful. Because Uli had to stay and tie up loose ends with his work and also to entertain visitors this summer, we are spending an excruciating 10 weeks apart. I know that it shouldn't be so traumatic after our cross-Atlantic commuting, but it is. We've decided not to do this anymore. Let's hope we don't have to. However, come mid-August, we are a team once again, and that is very good for my sanity.

So what next?

Well, after 10 months of intensive Russian courses, we are headed to Astana, Kazakhstan, where we'll be based (visitors very welcome) for two years. I'll cover this immense Central Asian region: Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Turkmenistan. Did you know that Kazakhstan alone is the 9th largest country in the world? Overwhelming... I am incredibly excited at the assignment and cannot wait to learn and explore. The Central Asian Steppe, with its wide skies and dry but extreme climate and vegetation, may just be Wyoming with a huge twist. Not to mention that it is classified as lower Siberia and is one of the coldest (if not the coldest) capitals in the world? More on that in the months and years to come.


View Larger Map

In the meantime, we'll be located here in Washington (visitors always welcome). I've had an amazing summer of reunions and new Washingtonian experiences. The Delaware beaches with friends, bluegrass at Wolftrap, the Folk Life Festival on the National Mall, to name a few. Reunions have been numerous and surprising. I've managed to reconnect with several pasts - a Romanian connection 'bumped' into me at the Folk Life Festival and a former Slovakia Peace Corps staff member happened to process my voucher... the world is small indeed.

Just to add one more random remark before closing (if you are still reading at this point). I have joined a knitting group and am trying to cultivate a craftier side. Here are my first two winter hats, as products. I guess I am already planning for cold weather...



Not much more less to confess or digress. Please don't lose track of me in the midst of all of these adventures and craziness. My family and friends are cornerstones reminding me of who I am and where I have been - I need you all to keep myself grounded. (Demanding action: update your address books yet again!)

A weekend in Oslo

At the slightest suggestion (and an airfare sale), I decided to jet off to Norway for a weekend to visit some friends from graduate school who have been living there for a couple of years now. After all, it is in the neighborhood.

Oslo is such a great and beautiful city, and I saw it in its finest as the city prepared for the great festivities of May 17.

However, the true highlight of the weekend was spending some time with old friends, renewing the relationship and being gently reminded why their company is so enjoyable. I was reminded of that old song from my Girl Scout days as a Brownie:

"Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other's gold."

Indeed.

For a better glimpse of my weekend, take a look at this album:

2011-05-16 Oslo

Springtime revelries

This morning I read that there is knee-deep snow back in Cowboy Country. So easily I have forgotten the mixed messages that spring brings in Wyoming and how my family often didn't plant their garden until after Father's Day in June. The news does bring my whining about the recent rains and colder weather here in Estonia to a halt, though. At least we don't have snow (and there seems to be no such extreme weather to worry about up here in the Baltics). My garden has slowly been coming to life with the bulbs I planted last fall. Here's a peek!

From 2011-05-10 Tartu backyard

From 2011-05-10 Tartu backyard

From 2011-05-10 Tartu backyard

From 2011-05-10 Tartu backyard

Two weeks in Kurdistan

You may have noted the absence of my garden and weather updates from Tartu... I've been far away, hanging out in SE Turkey for two weeks to work with group of teachers. I traveled (about 20 hours in all but still in the same time zone, strangely) way down south to Diyarbakir and learned an immense amount about local culture, cuisine (delectable), and education (theirs and mine!) -- and I shared a few great moments and made some new friends along the way.

The biggest cultural highlight of my visit was a visit to a mansion where Atatürk once stayed. My hosts and I spent the evening listening to music, drinking tea, singing, clapping, and dancing. Take a look for yourself!



To get a sense of my visit and of Diyarbakir, check out the following album (there are subtitles embedded explaining the who, what, why, and when).

Snowdrop Developments

News from my backyard on today, April 14, 2011

April 7

Dirty snow. Gray sky.

Visible ground on the path to our woodshed...

A bulb peeking out!

Dirt! Bulbs! Green! Spring!

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~ Emily Dickinson

Come on over to my neighborhood

Wish you could stop by and see how things have been? You can do so -- virtually! The University of Tartu has a new online tour in English and Estonian. You can wander around town and see the streets as we do with just a simple click.

University of Tartu Virtual Tour

To be American in Kuressaare

From 2011-04-01 Kuressaare Jennifer

From 2011-04-01 Kuressaare Jennifer

Estonia is a small country. Sometimes I feel as if I live within its confines and am comfortable with the tension of small, and sometimes I feel as if Estonia is a much bigger place with separate countries embedded within its borders.

Last week I mentioned that I was in one of those far-flung countries within this country when I visited Narva. This week, I visited another corner of Estonia with its own distinct identity and flavor, the largest Estonian island of Saaremaa. The distance from Tartu is no small matter. In a country of 17,462 square miles, you wouldn't think that you could spend much time traveling. Alas! The excruciating bus ride from Tartu (central-south part of the country) to the capital of the island, Kuressaare, takes over six hours of bumpy travel, complete with stops to pick up more passengers and a ferry ride from the mainland. You feel the distance in a way that you would not feel such a distance when jumping into your car in the American West, for example. It's a journey. Above are pictures of the ferry ride to Saaremaa. After such a hard winter, there is still plenty of ice on the Baltic Sea, which, as a motion-sensitive passenger, I considered fortuitous as the ferry ride was much smoother than usual. We snapped these pictures at nearly 8:00 p.m. -- the light and ice were simply gorgeous. And, here's the small country part, when on the ferry we sat down next to the two representatives from the U.S. Embassy who would be joining us the next day in Kuressaare!

This was my second trip to Kuressaare to work with the American Corner in the public library. There are four American Corners in Estonia (Narva, Kuressaare, Viljandi, and Tartu), and they have a collection of books, periodicals, and media provided by the US Embassy to provide wider access to resources in places outside of the Capital. In addition, the American Corners host exhibitions and visitors who might meet with local groups or students on various topics. I was one such visitor.

I looked forward to visiting Kuressaare for a lot of reasons. It is a beautiful place, and, because it is a bit more remote than other places in Estonia, I have not had a chance to explore as much as I would like. The town also hosts some of the nicest spa hotels in Estonia, and I booked a room at the Georg Ots Spa, knowing that the restaurant had a really good chef (amazing chocolate cake) and affordable massages. The chance to get out of town and meet with a different audience was also appealing. My work in Kuressaare was twofold: primarily, I was to work together with a small group of local English teachers on the topic of teaching reading; secondarily, I offered to speak to the general public in conjunction with a video presentation about my experiences at U.S. National Parks.

When putting together my materials, I anticipated the visit and felt satisfied about preparing materials that would be useful, thought-provoking, and fun. I do have experience working in Estonia and am quite sensitive about issues such as professionalism and culture ethnocentrism, and I keep these in the back of my mind when stepping out into the world with the label of "American" slapped upon me. I am very aware that my very nationality can make it difficult for others to listen to me fairly. I am also aware of the powerful effects of worldwide mass media and pop culture and how those imbue impressions of me. As an long-term resident outside of the United States, I know I must be humble and sensitive. My ulterior motive as a de facto representative of my country is to give an alternative impression. I acknowledge that stereotypes are usually founded on some shared cultural traits, but I also cannot help but have a visceral reaction to the slovenly, uneducated, glib American that is expected.

As a teacher, I am always hungry for good conversation about how teaching/learning/language works. As a global citizen, I am always hungry for honest cultural exchange. In my preparation, I was eager to have conversations about culture, nature, teaching, and language.

My expectations for the visit were met. A nice group of people came and reacted pleasantly to a slide show and conversation about Yellowstone National Park. A couple of dedicated teachers showed up on a rather gray Friday afternoon to talk about teaching. I had a good look around town. I ate the chocolate cake I remembered at Georg Ots. I had a nice morning run around the fog-filled city complete with sounds of seagulls. I was even in the local paper. Saarte Hääl (link to the story in Estonian here).

On my way to the bus station yesterday afternoon, I stopped at a kiosk to see how the newspaper looked and picked up a couple of copies. Even with my weak Estonian skills, I understood most of the article and was pleased. The picture didn't make me look much weirder than I really am, and I thought it would be a nice souvenir from the visit.

Today, I received the online link from the reporter who interviewed me and had a chance to run the story through Google Translate for an even more discombobulated version of the visit. I noted that there were comments attached, and so I vainly ran these through Google Translate as well. The gist is something as follows: 1) Why is an American here to teach us when American schools are substandard with bullying. Estonia is better and smarter, and she should be here to learn from us; 2) American high school is like our 7th grade; 3) Wonderful picture--the body language says it all (I am pictured together with the Assistant Public Affairs Officer from the Embassy and we are both standing awkwardly with our hands held in front of us).

There is not a dearth of comments and clearly these folks have their own bones to pick. However, they did take the time to sign in and leave a comment. In my experience, the feelings shared are not far from the critical view I perceive in daily life. (On a related side note, just last week, a group of English teachers informed me about the inferiority of the American accent and the unfortunate state of Estonian English as a pidginized half-British half-American variety. Sheesh! What happened to accepting multiple varieties? global English? European English? Just plain comprehensibility?)

As a sensitive, well-intentioned American living here, I cannot help but feel disappointed at the consistent undercurrent. There is so much baggage that does not necessarily come with other national identities. The question is not only about my place as an English teaching professional (who happens to be American) but it is also a broader question about being an American woman (who happens to be abroad) struggling to find an agreeable sense of identity and place.

Chips and salsa

As humans, I suppose we are drawn to experiment and test boundaries. That feature is exactly what makes experiential learning such a powerful educational tool, right? Learning something first-hand through trial and error leaves a strong impression, and, although you may find yourself retesting some of those boundaries now and then, you do usually remember not to purposefully set your hand near the hot clothes iron or not to click mercilessly on an object on your computer screen when it does not react as you think it ought. (Doubtless, we all can remember times when we've temporarily "forgotten" the consequences for these actions by accident, distraction, or distress). In addition to learning from experience, I imagine it is also healthy to retest what we know as adults to retain a healthy amount of wonder (or skepticism?) and to resist becoming stagnant know-it-all schoolmarms. When living in a new environment, I catch myself doing things that I otherwise might not. In fact, often my past experiences should lead me to better conclusions and decisions.

Case in point. I just finished licking my fingers after cleaning the crumbs out of the bottom of a bag of Santa Maria Chili-flavored tortilla chips. I feel about as disgusting as I might after cleaning out an off-brand bag of cheese puffs. Santa Maria is a Finnish Tex-Mex brand sold here in Estonia. Probably I should know better from the start as Finland is about as far from Texas or Mexico as one can get, and the palate of the local target consumer market here has no proclivity towards the piquant. (A short diversion--because it is too good of a story not to share: A well-meaning neighbor recently gave me some feedback on some pumpkin bread I made for her family. She inquired about the "essence" or spices used(nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice) and mentioned that her children thought their mouths were on fire. The adults managed to choke it down but thought that I had messed up the recipe!)

As someone who considers chips and salsa as a food group unto itself, I sometimes waver over to the "exotic foods" isle of the supermarket just to see if anything new has appeared. Although the shelf has become fuller of these Santa Maria products over the years, there generally is not too much of interest. Sometimes though, I convince myself and those chips and salsa may have improved. Sometimes, I buy them. Almost always, I bring them home and gobble too many of them up, and I am left with an artificial taste in my mouth and an unsatisfied craving. I make yet another mental note to myself about Finnish Tex-Mex products, only to expire when I eventually I waver over to that particular isle and decide to retest the boundary.

From the border

After the tribulations of my last week of teaching and life, this post very well could be entitled "from the border of insanity (and back)" but that is not where I would like to focus this blog entry.



On Thursday, I went to Narva, the Estonian border town with Russia, to work with a group of teachers. Although it did snow a bit and was rather blustry, I had a chance to take a walk and once again admire the dramatic border of the Narva castle, river, and impending Russian fortress on the other side. It is a spectacular border and view.

Not only is Narva characterized by this physical border with its neighbor but also by the predominance of the Russians who live there (a minority elsewhere in Estonia). You can feel that you are on the edge of something different beyond language. I cannot quite explain it myself but I like the "something different" in Narva--perhaps because it is different (or perhaps, as a friend suggested, it is my inner Slav who feels more at home). When I rode the bus back to Tartu, I felt like I was returning from another country much farther away... and I thought that I would like to go back.



I've visited Narva before, always for work-related purposes, and I've decided that I would like make a return visit to enjoy Narva when the weather is nicer. Perhaps I'll even have to attend the Narva Bike 2011 to get my fill of border city and biker subculture.

Twelve hours

Today, on the first day of spring, as it gently snowed outside of the window as I worked, I did not cry. I made the most perfect cup of coffee to dissuade any negativity. As I sipped, the caffeine persuaded me that twelve hours of daylight was indeed a convincing sign that seasons are in flux.

See for yourself the amazing product of my new coffee machine, neatly displayed in a promotional coffee mug from UT. And, if you feel compelled to join my caffeinated spring-time revelry, come over for a cup of coffee!

Birds

One thing I really enjoy about living in a place that is so walkable is that it gives me time to observe my surroundings and a chance to stop and watch or listen. This week, I caught a bunch of fat, black birds in action. (Sorry, I really cannot identify the exact bird; I am not much of a bird person -- if you happen to know, I'd be happy to discover!)

They were gathering branches and flying up to the tops of the still bare trees to put together nests. When the birds' flight refocused my attention upwards, I was surprised to see so many nests built together. I stood for a long while strangely observing these birds busily getting ready.







My weekend has not been spent in the trees, but I have been gathering up loose ends and cleaning my nest. I am getting ready for something -- I can feel that it is time for some change, even if the snow continues to fly outside of my window. Sometimes it feels good just to be home, taking time to sweep, gather things together, fix a meal, use the sauna, and hunker down. Anything else would simply be for the birds!

Sunshine never felt so sweet

My way to the University from home

As I slipped and sloshed on my way to work yesterday, I couldn't help but snap a few pictures up of what was a gorgeous, sunny day. Spring is apparently on its way to the Baltics, even if it creeps "üks mikromillimeeter päevas..." or one micro-millimeter per day, as a friend of mine says.

There was a lot of evidence today: during my run today I heard birds chirping and saw several people sitting outside just soaking up the sun in the pose of sunflower -- eyes closed, face oriented directly at the sun to capture those sweet rays of spring time. A student in my morning class was wearing sneakers (no boots!) without socks. It's very possible that he may not have had clean socks to wear; however, I also felt on the verge of breaking out sandals at the balmy 37 degree weather. As we come nearer to the spring solstice, the days are elongated. Sunshine streams in my bedroom window before 7:00 a.m., and I noticed on my way home that it was still light after 6:00 p.m.

Today, my down coat was a bit too heavy, and, as I was walking to meet a friend for coffee in the afternoon, I had the fleeting notion that it would be heavenly to sit at an outdoor cafe! This is what above-freezing temperature on a sunny day does to you when winter has gone on just a little too long.

Here are some pictures for illustration and your entertainment. I am not exactly sure when all of this is going to melt. I can hardly wait for those tulip and daffodil bulbs I planted last fall to peak their pretty sprouts out of the ground. However, I am grateful for a nice day, melting snow, and a glimmer of hope that spring has decided to make its way here, micro-millimeter by micro-millimeter.

These are ruts in the ice (the road is somewhere far, far underneath these layers)

Notice the high snow barriers on the side of the streets made of solidly packed snow and ice.

The treacherous icy path down Lossi Street in the center of town

Consider yourself lucky if you manage to slide down without a twist or fall. I can't wait until we have traction again!

Someone started to pick away at the ice near the bottom of the hill -- uff! Look at the ice layer.

Craftiness in this new year

I've also been busy knitting up a storm (those long trans-Atlantic flights do give one a bit of devoted time to needlework!). Here are some of the latest projects from late last year and early this year.



My first pair of socks knitted for my mom for Christmas:


A scarf I knitted for my dad for Christmas (mostly in the Toronto airport during a twelve-hour layover in route, I must add):





A pair of socks for a good friend who appreciates colorful things (knitted primarily on the way back to Germany after Christmas):



Another pair of socks that I made over the holidays for my knitting mentor friend (my gauge is really small, so I am hopeful that these will stretch and fit!):





A knitted scarf made with funny bobbly sort of yarn that was a gift from my husband's Oma:





A scarf that I made with hand-dyed Montana wool for my mom (appears she was jealous of the scarf for Dad!):







Whoa! I am getting rather crafty, it appears. I guess I can't help but wonder at it all and it feels good to share the joy I am getting out of it. Next on my agenda? Another pair of slippers in maroon (pictures forthcoming!).

Where ya been?

Well... the answer is convoluted as always, but here is the short of it.

In Florida (sounds like a tropical paradise, and it certainly is a tropical paradise in comparison to the Baltics in the winter) for an all-American family vacation with the Big Mouse and a stylin' side trip to South Beach and even out to Key West. We can now say we've been to the very Westernmost tip of the nation.



In Germany for New Year's with family and some gourmet dining (see previous post for a full run-down and degustation).

In Missoula, Montana for a month of work with some wonderful elementary school teachers visiting from the Korean National University of Education. Mountainous scenery, fulfilling work with some energetic colleagues and partners-in-crime, tasty microbreweries. Who could ask for a better winter respite only 600 miles from home in Wyoming?

From Winter Missoula Jan 2011

In Estonia once again where the temperatures have not risen above freezing since my arrival 10 days ago. It's frigid, but there are piles of snow everywhere and the sun has not disappointed with ice crystals hanging in the air and sparkles glinting everywhere. (Pictures taken last weekend while skiing in Otepää, the winter capital of Estonia.

From Winter Estonia February 2011

From Winter Estonia February 2011

From Winter Estonia February 2011