Marooned... but at least there's Internet

You've got to appreciate a country where Internet is a basic right. You find it in the usual places such as libraries and cafes. Here in Estonia, you also find it in the forest in the middle of nowhere (denoted by a square blue sign with an @ sign). Remarkably, Estonian Internet access is also free, even at the Tallinn airport. I don't know why the attitude towards offering Internet services is so different here than in other places, but I am often grateful.

Now is one of those moments. I've been working in Kuressaare, a town on the biggest Estonian island of Saaremaa, for the last week and planned to return to the mainland this evening. However, as we all know, the best laid plans are often foiled. There is a windstorm and none of the ferries have been operating today. Nothing to do but await the return of bus services; Internet access is a welcome distraction at the moment as I am nervous about the return. You see, I have booked a wonderful SUN vacation to Egypt, and my flight leaves tomorrow morning at 8:00 a.m. The last bus possibility today from the island, if the ferries are operating, is at 5:30 p.m. Keep your fingers crossed... in the meanwhile, I'll be nervously surfing through my exile from the mainland.

So what? Valgesoo

From Valgesoo

I had my first marsh experience this weekend in southern Estonia near Põlva at Valgesoo (direct English translation: White Marsh). Although I initially wasn't very keen on walking around in a wet marsh on a chilly day, I really liked it and I learned so much!



First of all, we strapped on snow shoes, gaiters, and poles for our walk to help keep us dry, above water/snow/slush, and to make us look really cool.

Then, we went through one of the only pine forests growing in such a tough marsh environment. Believe it or not, some of the small trees were over 200 years old. Talk about stunted growth!



We stopped for a snack of cranberries nestled underneath the shallow snow. My first tasting of cranberries in the wild -- Yummy!



This is an ant hill! Estonia has some really interesting marsh animal and plant life. We learned about these large ants and their colonies, plants that eat bugs (and small Estonian children?), and also an intoxicating flowering plant that causes people to sometimes fall asleep while collecting mushrooms (sounds like Oz, doesn't it?).



We climbed up this tower when were done to see where we had been. Whew! What a great view.



And that is how it is in an Estonian marsh on a Saturday afternoon. Just lovely.

Quiet inspiration

From Viljandi Wint...

Last week, I spent four days working in a little town in central Estonia, Viljandi at the Tartu University Viljandi Culture Academy working with staff there. It is a smaller town (population app. 20,000) and a bit quieter and folksier than Tartu. It is also something of an artistic enclave with the study of dance, theatre, music, handicrafts, Estonian culture, vernacular building, and visual arts housed there rather than at the more traditional university in Tartu. A breath of fresh air, this Bohemian community has a liberating and creative spirit. You can sense it from the moment you enter the door and are greeted by students breezing by in multi-colored scarves and funky hairstyles. I attended some dance examinations and a jazz concert, and I couldn't help but take in the handcrafted rugs and artwork hung in the doorways.

From Viljandi Wint...

The atmosphere reminded me to take time to slow down and appreciate the creativity and beauty of being in such a wonderful place. To make the week even better, we were covered with the magic of snow falling wetly over us as I toured the town to learn of it's wintry secrets. After four days working in such an environment, I hope that I can slow down to take some of the freedom, inspiration, and expression of Viljandi back to my work in Tartu!

From Viljandi Wint...

It's smoking in here

Sauna is really a national institution here in Estonia. The most important decisions take place, international treaties are agreed upon, gossip is shared (the local equivalent for the idiom a little birdie told me is naised saunas räägivad or women in the sauna say...), and community is built in the sauna. Traditional saunas here in Estonia are much like Finnish saunas. Small houses separate from the house are built for the purpose of heating a room with wood, and, in the best cases, there is some sort of natural pond or water source nearby that you can use for cooling off afterwards. The ritual is also considered as an ancient way of cleaning yourself by sweating out impurities and washing afterwards. Men and women use the sauna separately as you normally enter the sauna without clothing (and the tolerance of heat seems to divide between the sexes a bit -- men test their manliness over adding extreme amounts of water to their saunas until the heat drives those that are 'less manly' out to the pond). Sometimes people beat themselves with birch branches to improve circulation as well. The whole process is controlled by adding water to the fire and increasing the heat inside through humidity. Many people have electric saunas in their apartments and homes. The sauna is sort of a semi-sacred institution here, and it is a habit I have come to appreciate during my time here. It is relaxing, and it feels cleansing. For me, it is a great coping strategy for the gray winters.

Last weekend in the southern Estonia area near the Russian border called Setomaa, I had the opportunity to try out a traditional smoke sauna. In this sauna, there is not chimney and a fire is made underneath a pile of rocks and put out. The hot rocks stay in the room and smolder. This sauna is not as hot as a regular sauna, but it is claimed to be a healthier and more authentic sauna experience by many Estonians.

In my mind, I thought it would be awfully smoky and dirty; to be honest, I was just trying it out to say that I had. However, it was a pleasant surprise. The sauna wasn't as hot and it definitely was not as dirty as I imagine. The heat is more subtle and the smoke is nothing worse than standing next to a campfire. After spending time in the sauna, we ran out to a hole cut in the ice to refresh ourselves. Shockingly, it felt really amazing. So amazing that I repeated the sauna-ice hole cycle several times. And, yes, the experience felt almost holy!

Did you know...

... the Black Forest is a great place for reunions?

Before Christmas, I traveled to Villingen-Schwenningen in Southern Germany and had a chance to reconnect with another wanderer living there. Sonja was the German lecturer in Brasov when I was working in Romania at the University of Transylvania (where the night classes are a real killer... he he he). Although we hadn't exchanged more than a few emails since leaving Romania and it was by chance that I was in her new hometown, we renewed our friendship over a lovely brunch and brisk walk in the forest and did not skip a beat. Isn't it amazing how easy it is to reconnect with some old friends?

... the Stuttgart Christmas market sparkles with bright lights, good food, and excellent mulled wine when you have good company?

On the same December trek to Villingen, I also made a stopover to see a friend who has left Estonia to relocate back in his hometown of Stuttgart. I had long heard of his famous hometown Christmas market and got to see it first-hand. Quite impressive! Decked out with lights and a million little market stalls where you can spend your money on all kinds of Christmas treats and gifts, the market is one of the most impressive I've seen. We also had a chance to try out some local foods and some salsa dancing before heading onto Uli's home the next day.

... that Germans still use real candles on their Christmas trees?

I had the good fortune to join Uli's family in Aachen and be a part of their cozy Christmas celebrations this year. Among many highlights (beautiful food, warm conversations, getting to know family and friends) was the beautiful Christmas tree. I had never seen real candles used on a tree before (fire hazard) and it was stunning. So warm and inviting and special. I don't know if I am ready to implement the same in my own home, but I really liked sitting and staring at the glow of the tree decked out in flickering light.

... bars in Oslo are closed on New Year's Eve?

Yes, it's true. After landing on December 31st in a new city with no plans for ringing in the new year, we set out, prepared to spend a bazillion dollars for a beer or two, in search of a cozy bar and other celebrators. However, we found bar after bar after bar (and even McDonalds!) with signs announcing closure for the holidays. Who would have thought that Norwegians don't go out on New Year's Eve? They must have some really amazing home parties!

... the fireworks made a great start to 2008?

Defeated in the town center, we took our host's advice and climbed a hill to watch fireworks at the dawn of the new year. Oslo has perhaps the most stunning private fireworks show. The entire city was alive with jumping sparks and big rockets... beginning already around 11:00 p.m. and not stopping for more than an hour. Really, it was one of the most incredible things I've seen.



... I am a ski goddess?

Okay, perhaps it is a bit of an overstatement, but at least that is how I felt when we joined our Estonian friends in Trysil for three days of magical skiing. It snowed from our arrival and was a really refreshing way to spend the first days of January. We skied all day (some cross-country and others downhill) and then spent the evenings in a cozy cabin playing games, telling stories, and recovering in the sauna. I hadn't been skiing in a couple of years and it felt great to glide down the slopes with snow floating down all around me. Winter can be so wonderful.

... there is no place like home?

After all of these travels, it is good to be back home in Tartu. The celebration of holidays and interruption of routines helped me to get back on track and enjoy my home surroundings here. It's still a bit gray, but I've been able to better appreciate what is here... with a running start. Salsa dancing, theatre, friends, good projects, lefse cooking, book clubs, challenging work, presentations and conferences, new job applications... my feet haven't touched the ground yet!

Uff da! Did you see my lefse?

Today was a truly magnanimous day. . . I made my first batch of lefse!



For those poor souls who are not acquainted with this Norwegian delicacy, lefse is a yummy thin potato flatbread made with potatoes and flour and cooked on a hot griddle. You eat lefse by slathering on butter and perhaps some sugar and cinnamon before rolling it up and chowing down. It is a really delicious treat that we eat in my family during the holidays.

In my family, my Grandma Fern was the one that always made lefse (along with that nasty lutefisk!) until my Dad decided to pick up the tradition sometime when I was a little girl. Oh boy! I remember those first tries in our kitchen -- sticky, floury potato disaster. We started out without the proper tools. Over the years, my dad got a lot more sophisticated with a special rolling pin (with small squares cut in it), a pastry cloth to stop the sticky dough, and a long thin stick especially used for turning the lefse on the cloth and the griddle. My dad and I usually work together on the lefse at the holidays -- he's the dough and rolling man. I take care of turning the lefse as it cooks on the griddle. My dad is something of a lefse expert really (see expert in action, below).



This year for Christmas, I got my own equipment so that I can take lefse with me wherever I roam. It is about time! Lefse is something that you just don't get everywhere, and I, for one, really have missed it. Tonight, I finally had a chance to try out my own hand at making lefse. My expectations were set really low because I can remember how difficult it was when my dad first started. However, thanks to all of the practice I have had in watching my dad,the excellent quality of Estonian potatoes, and my new special tools, my lefse was a huge success. Just think, I can make lefse every day! Uff da, indeed.



P.S. As a side note, I want to mention that I was in Norway over the holidays (pictures and posts forthcoming) and I witnessed lefse being eaten as a replacement for a hot-dog or sausage bun. Can you imagine?

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!”