Н и ч е г о.

So, this post has been a long time coming. Part of the delay was(is-ish) a lack of any real inspiration for something to describe, revel in or moan about. Scratch the last, I have a good amount of shit to moan about, though I prefer not to do it through this forum. That's what winter ale is for (I've been mostly avoiding vodka, although a friend of mine did enlighten me with the fact that decent Russian vodka solves every problem life presents you with, except alcoholism).
The other delay in any sort of сообщение (report) is that things were slowly grinding up to a near-mental breakdown. Again, not going to go into the range of uncertainties and stresses which contributed to this state. Also I am only just leveling myself out now, with the help of a decent 3 hour walk today, some 5'nizza, and a White Russian. It had been a decent amount of time since I went out for a walking adventure, well, I suppose only about a week, but the last time was exceedingly far and as a result I almost sank into a bog in an ex-Soviet military complex. Every weekend has its ups and downs.
Made my way out to Kardrioru park on this bout. There is something about European parks that just completely fits the needs of urban living. The age of the park, size and the amount of people wandering around of all ages in the 0C (kuigi päikene!) weather.. it's a different sort of city feel. You can stumble upon it time to time in the States (walk around Loring Park on some summer day with all the 80 year old Russian бабушки), though the ones around here scattered with скамейки (benches) make it really difficult not to sit in the snow and open a bottle of Saku. To get to Kadriorg I walked through some of the 19th century winding back streets with 1920s wooden housing.. the houses are either in amazing or complete shit state (with the odd burned-out shell of one every few streets). It is completely mental, but I can't figure out what sort of apartment I would live in if I had a choice of any. One in the wooden houses would be grand, with the smell of wood stoves floating through the streets. At the same time, a fresh, modern sharp-edged piece of steel and glass is ravenously enticing (however with my recurring career choices that type would be far far off). Completely separate from both of those, and the most offsetting attraction I have (for housing; this says nothing for cheese with pancakes) is to the 1970s Soviet panel housing. Given this is probably highly romanticized for now, and would only apply if I was living in such housing alone or with a partner and 1 or 2 bedrooms and an IKEA interior.. however.. the bareness of it somehow captures me. One of my next fresh air city bouts will be to Lasnamäe, an unfinished 1980s Soviet housing project now filled with Russian speakers and heroine needles. Should be something decent to write about that.

Side note, check out the Estonian film Sügisball (Autumn Ball) if you get a chance.. it's not on DVD for a while though it might have somehow escaped with EEuropean pirating. That's the actor I hung out with and the area I'm talking about. Film about loneliness and solitude and fucking. Those come in one package all too often.

There has been a revival of русский язык for me lately as well.. partly due to my frustration with not being able to stutter out simple Estonian phrases and the basic familiarity. Partly because Russian brings with itself a love-hate sort of relationship (ironically domestic violence in Russian households probably stems from the same excuse..) along with a fantastic ability to go from romantic to repulsive. So.. in an amorous 2am flush one night, I applied for the Critical Language Scholarship with the State Department.. if it follows through, I will be in venemaa over the summer в Самаре, Нижном Новгороде, или Томске (Samara, Nizhniy Novgorod or Tomsk). All three of these could be fantastic in the way that getting drunk and speaking Russian for two months in Siberia can be (..it's a different fantastic). There is also the problem however of.. well.. what my life would entail before that and after that.. Thus winding back into my overall unease over the last few days.

So, what has this post accomplished? Just, about, shit. Exactly what I feel the motivation for accomplishing right now.

Edasi..

Sinna, ja tagasi.. seiklus on nii liiga väike sõna. (To there, and back.. adventure is too fucking small of a word.)

Nii.. So..
The epic recount of my travels this last Saturday (laupäev) begin not on laupäev itself, rather the day before, Friday (reede.. if you are committed to reading my blog, you are going to learn some fucking Estonian.. eesti keel.. remember? Alright, carry on..). This due to the fact that I went out reedel to a club, was entranced with the (wait for it).. trance (ooh I'm good), and returned to my apartment at around 3 or 4am. The ferry I was taking to Helsinki left at 7.30, and I was to be checking in around half an hour previous. So, fuck sleep. All well, however, seeing that this last few days I have become heavily addicted to watching the show "Weeds". It's probably for the best that I started at the third season, so I am not waiting to expand the story (until the fourth comes out). I plan on staying addicted to watching it, but it will be less pressing as I will just be filling in the other seasons that I missed.
Also, watching a large amount of "Weeds" has been making me feel a bit more gangsta' lately, which may have contributed to me surviving and carrying through the epic journey. Proceeding (продолжаем)..
I took only one plastic bag of small bits.. arming myself with a two-foot piece of rope, a copy of "Guns, Germs, and Steel", and two open-faced sandwiches (võileibid). Bring it on, Soome (Finland).
I live unladen walk (hold that detail..) of about 10 minutes from the Tallink ferry terminal, which will probably come in handy if Nazis ever invade again and I need to evacuate to Soome. Nothing extremely interesting occurred on the ferry.. staked a spot to watch the lights of Tallinn fade into the darkness as we crashed through the Baltic, and fell asleep a bit uncomfortably on a stool. I succeeded in finding a more comfortable bench to lay across, though only with a half-hour until our arrival in Helsinki.
Amazing, on that.. we docked and the doors opened at exactly 9.30am: two hours after we left and the exact time on the ticket. Go fuck yourself, Gatwick Airport.
The Helsinki sadam (harbor) is also part of the main city (learn something here, Sweden (Rootsi)), so the walk was great for stretching out and starting off on some random street turns. My return ferry was leaving at 6.30, so I set IKEA off for around for a few hours and attempted a handle of the city. It is small, though still a city and reminded me more of Stockholm.. really beautiful and chill. If I had discovered it before Tallinn, it would have been a hard decision to make when I moved. Most of the streets were empty, given that it was earlyish on a Saturday; the time that only travelers, dog walkers, and alcoholics are moving about. Enjoyed walking the hills, the architecture, and some de-fuckinglicious coffee (it's been a while) served by a cute soomlane (Finnish girl).
Most people describe Helsinki as fully enjoyed in a few hours, though in my almost-few hours of random turns I realized that I will be returning quite often. It's possible that people just concentrate too much on the landmarks, the monuments and seeing certain buildings on a tourist map and such (of which, Helsinki has many large lighted ones around which are amazing. The other cities I have seen this in are Kiev and Stockholm (I think), and even for residents this would be a brilliant idea..). Getting the flavour of a place is completely different, and only possibly boring after a good 4 months. It's like getting to know a city that you are even living in permanently relying mainly off of chance, through which you slowly build up your conception of where the larger locations are at along with the small interesting or more unknown spaces between them. Approaching Helsinki as such, I saw one 182nd of the city.. and am very intrigued.
Right. So, found the main bus station, and after locking the location into my broader conception of things I found my way around a bit more. There were supposed to be free buses leaving for the IKEAs (two around the city), though a few hours between trips only coming out to about 3 complete rounds a day for each. I figured that at least for getting there while I had much time, it would be good to take one of these and then return on one or figure out the local bus back when struggling under the weight of my purchases. So, I waited at the bus station. Where the IKEA buses were supposed to come. Yeeahhh.. no. Apparently the general area has the larger name of M-iasdaoi something Finnish, and the IKEA buses stop in front of some shopping area nearby (according to the Finn Air bus driver: cheers, mate) and not at the bus-stop. Makes total sense.
I had done some slight research as to the location and some local buses to take to either, so with bus 270 pulling in I quick snap bought a ticket from a machine, had the driver reassure me that IKEA was on the route, and sat for the ride.
The hour-long ride.
No problems.. it was great to see a bit more of the country than just central Helsinki, and with some dense fog about it would really fit great with driving and Mum. The driver was a decent guy as well, and alerted me to the correct stop (after I almost got off a mere 30 minutes in).

Short digression.. Soome is Europe. Really Europe. Eesti is definitely European (adj., plus a bit) and possesses many cultural and architectural ties to that shifty identity, though the mere presence and impact of ethnic Russians and the Soviet Union remains evident. From its Germanic, Danish and Swedish past, Eestipicked up a fundamental cultural element which is European, and was able to retain and keep this active due to close contact with Soome throughout occupation. Being neutral (and a two hour ferry ride away), a level of interaction was allowed throughout various periods between the two countries. Soome television and radio was broadcast at levels strong enough to pick up, and kept ties strong between subdued Eesti and surviving Soome. Culturally and linguistically, the countries are also close.. also helpful for getting around when I understood at least 20% of signs in Helsinki. However, Soome has been practicing its Europeanness for more than the last 60-something years, and has had much closer ties with Sweden due to its proximity.
Eh, still not with the story, though I will post soon on identity in Eesti and its claims to being Scandinavian. Another fundamental reason that I have strong reservations about my current short-lived job working with a paper spanning the Baltic states (Leedu - Lithuania, Läti - Latvia, ja Eesti). The conception of Eesti being "Baltic" only comes from its experiences under domination of some foreign entity (referring to "Eesti" here as a cultural and ethnic identity). Under the Soviet Union, it was grouped with the other two states as having stronger economies than most satellites, even called "our West". However, the linguistic bases in even Läti ja Eesti are completely different (eesti keel is Fenno-Ugric, against the Indo-European läti), and eesti keel is very close to Soome which has always worked well with trade and cultural exchanges. Thus, many eestlased (Estonians) view themselves more as Scandinavian and are trying to shake off even conceptions of being a "Baltic" state, not to mention the oily remnants of occupation which are holding back their return to the north and west. Veel kord, продолжаем..

Nii, so I am dropped into pines, tundra and fog, and IKEA shining through the center of it. Wandering in and up the escalator, I saw the stairs leading down on the other side and considered just making my way over to examine the size of the boxes I would be dragging back to Tallinn. Partly due to the crowds of soomlased trudging around the aisles, I decided to sort my way through a bit slower and look over things that I would have no strength to carry over on this run.
Once at the futons, I decided to change to a different style than the one I had seen online.. the weight was only 8 kilo heavier than the first model, the mattress way better, and it is actually set off of the ground when in bed position (the other laid flat on slats). That extra 8 kilo is metal, however. Using my Scandinavian senses, I was able to figure out from the Swedish translation of the tags on the futon that I needed to talk to a sales person about purchasing the futon (I don't speak Swedish.. but the word for "person" is closer to English than the soome word is to eesti keel). After deciding to go mad-Viking style with the extra 8 kilos, given that I was making the huge fucking journey anyways, the sales girl informed me that I also needed to go somewhere else to pick it up.
Wait. What?
She handed me this amazing IKEA map (Ian, call IKEA and see if they will contract you. Their skills of imparting navigational instruction to customers is shit.) which, after she made several marks on detailing other buildings and streets, was supposed to direct me to the warehouse a kilometer away. No transportation provided between IKEA and their separate warehouse, and no free ice cream and happy-fun showers once you got there. You build your furniture, you take the shit that life gives you. The IKEA way of life.
Apparently, the warehouse in the actual building is too small to deal with all of their furniture, so they have part of this large warehouse in which they store the rest of the items that you can pick up yourself after purchasing. She did give me a few other options.. which would be delivery to the harbour (eeh.. and another 50 euro), or renting a car from IKEA for 25 euro per 1.5 hour.
Seriously, if you need to get around the city for a while (not sure if this is available in other European IKEAS), just go to IKEA, buy a 25 cent mug, and rent a car by showing them that you have a license.
I considered this, however firstly I had little idea how to return to Helsinki driving myself, and secondly I had no place to put the futon while I was returning the car. So, time for continuing the hardcore.
After purchasing the futon, asking for good luck from all people involved, and picking up another bag of small items (I did leave the 2 euro pan, which although at only 2 euro was still over a pound in weight and would have made me bleed from the tips of my hair when added to the other load..), I also grabbed a few yards of free twine from a table in preparation of hauling over 50 kilos of furniture across the Gulf of Finland (Soome järv).
As I was feeling hardcore, gangsta', geezerish, Ammmrriikkkinn, and more East-European than those around me due to living in Eesti, I also decided to make the 1 km walk into a 4 km walk. Sure, the shit-style excuse of a map may have played a significant role in my decision to experience more of rural Soome, however, 1 km wasn't enough. After walking through the fog (of which the particles were gradually increasing in size and rain-like qualities) deeper through small roads and past glowing houses with their shortly-transported IKEA furniture, I finally came across a sign. It didn't say IKEA, or really have anything connecting it to IKEA, however the crown which it depicted so resembled how I would feel if it led me to the IKEA warehouse that I decided to follow it in the general direction that I perceived the map to be pointing me. Once I began to pass a cemetery on the other side, I realized that signs are fickle, and took the cemetery itself to be another sign that this was a wrong turn.
I flagged down some pedestrians in the now-steady rain, who assisted me in broken English and Soome in locating the general direction of the warehouse. Which, aside, was in the direction I had come from initially. It was close to the main road which I had turned off of, and masked by other buildings along with its not-IKEA-like qualities. This was as gritty as a paper-merchant's warehouse, with gravel roads only brightened by the small signs reassuring customers that they were not going to be shot and stuffed into a meat locker.. just keep driving back.
Upon receipt of my furniture, I divined that I would not dismember myself completely in an attempt to bring them back to Eesti, and proceeded to start tying up the 6-foot long 3 1/2 foot tall box with the twine. Riiiight.. then I realized that dismemberment hinged upon finding something other than twine.
I stopped one of the warehouse workers; a hulking 7 foot piece of flesh and Viking blood, probably with a name full of consonants and raw meat; and asked if he spoke inglise keelt first off. He did, which tempted me to try to talk about death rock with him for a while and then see if he would call up a Viking buddy to drive me to Helsinki (or carry me on his back while he loped in a galloping pace, passing or stepping on cars..). I decided to forego this.. for now.
"I have a really strange question for you.. so.. ah.. Do you have anything around here which would help me to carry this onto a bus and back to Tallinn?"
Facial expressions are amazing, particularly in response to such questions.
After shaking off this expression, he rushed back to grab some locking straps (I don't know the name for this in any language..), of which they sold pairs at IKEA for around 20 euro.. gave me three and giant-stepped off into the sunset, shaking his head and plotting out how he would tell this story to friends at the bar over a cow leg and a barrel of porter.
I was able to rig up a strap for the 30-something-kilo box and used the twine for a handle around the mattress roll. Thus began the return. I was forced to stop several times to readjust and generally allow blood pressure to return to my arm and prevent nerves in my shoulder from severing. Passing cars slowed down for the spectacle (I was hoping one of them would stop and offer me a ride to the ferry. Alas, I merely remained a spectacle. I suppose this gave more people the story to tell in the end, didn't make anything easier and didn't make others miss out on the sight).
After I made my way to the main road and waited for the bus, I had to flag down the driver when it arrived.. he figured that someone with 50 kilos of furniture and light bulbs would never be loading said items onto a bus bound for the city center. Alright, that is the first person to want to get onto such a bus. I though over the rest of my journey while readjusting straps on the bus, and really debated walking the lot from the bus station to the harbour. This would be, unladen and without random turns, probably close to a half hour walk. I actually embarked upon this plan after getting off of the bus, with two hours before the ferry left. That lasted until one street over. After thinking it over a bit more while severing tendons, I realized that I had only a faint conception of where the harbour was and even less so in the 4pm darkness.
So I returned to the train station next to the bus stop, made note of the large taxis lined up outside, and stepped in to extract some more euro. There is a spectacular (-ly expensive) small standing-bar in the station, so I used some of the euro on a beer and people watching. With sweat drying, muscles on fire, cold froth, and the motion of yet another country and language rushing and shifting in front of me, it was indescribable.
Close to an hour before boarding, I lugged the items back outside and into a suitably sized taxi.. The driver was another calm and collected Soome death-rocker, and we made some great conversation while listening to Metallica and driving to the port. Tipped, sat and watch those coming off another ferry tipsy (quite closer to hammered out of their alcohol-soaked pores), and finally threw myself to the front of the crowd with my prize and settling into my chosen place. The ferry ride took longer going back, as it was more of a party-ferry and I am sure that we idled most of the journey to allow people to buy more alcohol and touch up strangers in the club on board. Living the dream.
It worked out that I could get to the bathroom and pick up some beer for setting up of said furniture during the trip; a couple of permanent-sitting eestlased across from me did the same with trading off and watching others luggage.
The journey from the ferry out to my apartment was probably the most painstaking of the entire bout, seeing as the fibre of my person was being torn through by nylon and its supported rain-soaked cardboard and plastic containers. I attempted to take a shorter route, again, not as much of a story when unladen, and came to discover that said grassy field was full of hidden tire ruts, sink holes, bear traps, and underwater fault lines. Around a half hour following, I threw my last bits of energy into propelling everything, including myself, up the three stories of stairs and into the apartment. A shower and a beer later, I set up the futon (with one defective scare along the way.. eh.. furniture from IKEA still stands with less screws), soaked in the new-mattress smell, rearranged the room, and set out the sheets.
I really feel loads more comfortable in my room now that I have a large item that is mine.. it remains a transition, one that will continue until I leave for my own apartment. This is mine, however, and reality.. one necessary item that I am actually comfortable in at night has progressed this broader conception forward, brought me to realizing that 'I' and 'here' are connected and what they are now. A different job will further construct this reality (second interview with the American Chamber of Commerce board of directors this week!), and embed me into.. this. Siin. Eesti.

Ah, right.. all the effort, the view and the people made for an unbelievable set of hours.. and now..

I am writing this from my personally fucking imported Soome bed.

Edasi..

Amongst vikings, Lapin Kulta, and design. Keskel viikinged, Lapin Kulta, ja kavand.

Make a story with the pictures. In a few hours I will throw together the actual grand and exotic tales which comprise the epic journey. Place: Finland (no specifics) Destination: IKEA. Best of luck.

Tegi jutt, kasutanud selled fotod. Mõned tundid pärast, ma koostan selled tõelined suursuguned ja eksootiline jutustused, kui hõlmavad mu reis. Asukoht: Soome (kindelita) Eesmärk: IKEA. Õnne sulle.

-7 C on ju soe kui koos lumega..

Nii.. so, first off (esimest) a translation (tõlge) of the last post (I don't know that one and I'm not about to look it up).

I was moaning a bit about not speaking eesti keelt (Estonian).

Covers that. On not speaking, it's slightly double sided as well. I don't, and can't as often as would be comfortable (i.e., all the time.. kõik aega). There are the basic obstacles of vocabulary and grammar to things, along with the simple ease and relative speed of coming across in English (I've complained about the mere ability here before). Even as I hear myself speaking, I realize the array of words which I could have said eesti keeles. I feel a bit awkward (though I am more comfortable with that) splicing in half and half (more like twenty percent and eighty five percent); much like the structure of that sentence. Even the bits which I more often now attempt to carry across explicitly in eesti keeles are met with a tilted head, caught breath, furrowed brow.. after which I usually repeat in English, the accent for which I can roughly maintain. If I become more obstinate in life, it will be due to my increasing refusal to respond to anything in English, and inherent refusal to sound pleasurable or as intelligent due to these barriers. Faaaantastic.
I believe that tomorrow is my first -real- day at -work-.. using 'believe', as I have no idea what time I would be expected at the 'office' ('room with a desk'), or, still, what 'provisionally' means. I hope that in the English dictionary that I do not have here, the word 'provisional' is followed by 'still paid and provided with a press card and a visa'. Someone with the proper resources should check on that one for me.
Finished my first article, however unsure I am about my freelance status. It's.. well.. coming from me, crap. The materials which I scraped together to construct it are really great and have potential for a spectacular article; two interviews from alternate ends of the Estonian film industry and offering dual perceptions of optimism and frustration, with the optimistic side even addressing the perceived problems of the cynical view. If I could take that and put it in a box, shake it around, and have a finished article.. spectacular. Fuck this having to write it myself as well. Doesn't feel like my job. I am also a bit unsure about doing all of this -as- a job. It could be the post-graduation settling into a tract and responsibility demanded from a different source, though I'll see how it all plays out. At the same time that I am feeling that out, I question the amount of effort that I want to put into anything that wouldn't be a possible full-out career. Something that after I pleasantly devote myself to for years (people who get divorced because they are 'too busy' with work just can't deal with polygamy. What.), I 'retire' to some northern island that I own and farm reindeer off of my pension, while providing consultations online for beer money. If you can dream it, you can do it (unfortunately I'm not wearing enough glitter to say that with full emphasis now).
So.. I am actively searching for another position, and might have an interview this week with the US Chamber of Commerce in Estonia (Eestis). The open position is Marketing and Design Coordinator. Sounds a bit.. well.. Carlson, though the 'design' bit intrigues me. Along with that, it is a semi-government type agency, which follows into the broader direction of my current acquired experiences of drinking and speaking foreign languages.
I planned more to write in a bit on walking through ghostly deserted and crumbling Soviet behemoths along the sea.. though.. that is its own stream in soon time. Through the winding avalanche of rusted and crooked stairs, over snow and vines clawing down silent railroads, then concrete flat and glowing faintly with frost in empty space (silenced by ice resting along the shore).. spilling into pure emptiness itself, where lights hang faintly between the dark sky and darker waves. Mmmm.. jah, varsti sellest.

Edasi..

Enwhelmed.

(Note: No freaking out and renouncing manifest destiny or eating a bag of coffee and learning Estonian.. English or Russian translation to follow sharpish.. ish.)

Noh, mida kirjutada? Ma ausault pole teanud millest rääkida (isegi kuidas seda rääkida.. eesti või inglise keeles) sest on nii palju ja ka nii vähe, kui on ilmne. Elan, ja kõik läheb edasi.. kui alati, siin ja seal elanud. See on külmem, ja jälle hõivatud olen, aga nüüd ma hakkan ehitada (какой-то) tunniplaan. Kui minul on ju kindlalt töö, ma tunnen et mida järgneb oleks samuti.. stabiilnem. Ожидаю. Mina ootan seda. Näiteks, keel. Kirjutan nüüd, aga on nii elementaarne, on lihtned sõnad ja mõted. Kui ma kõndin tänaval, kuigi tihedamini kesklinnas, ja ma kuulan vene keelt mind ümber.. on nii mugav. Kindlasti ma ikka ei saa aru kõik et räägivad, aga see on sageli umbes 90 protsentit (vähem kui nad olnud purjused.. aga milline on venelane purjus?!). Mina ka tihedamini natuke tõmbun tagasi kui kuulan inglise keelt. Kodus (ja kui külistan mõnad sõbratega) palju on inglise keeles. Minul on vähe sõbrad siin kui oskavad vene keelt. Noo.. ma mõtlen et isegi kui olnud, ma rohkem tahaksin eesti keeles juttu ajada. Siis tagasi sellesse kui ma ei oska üldse eesti keelt, ja avatud vestlus ikka ei tulnud. Ega ma olen juurem.. ma vaatan seda, ja sellega lõpmatu mere aknast ja see taevas kui segab pimega.
Edasi..