Noh. Nii.
There has been a stealthy combination of nothing to speak of and everything to speak about of late. Mainly because this has been process, and with process in its continuity, there is nothing absolute of which to state.
What follows in a sudden urge to write is more a rush of small bits and illustrious moments than a single straight-wound tale (jutt). So I start at the end.
Currently in Glasgow, Scuootln', staying in a friend's flat for a few days to stave off the hungry last days of legality in Schengen. Well, the UK cooperates on police activity with Schengen but not on the visa rules.. so.. I think I win. The conversation in Estonian with the passport control lady inquiring of this reassured me. Not exactly sure why, as when I have such necessary conversations they often devolve into me comprehending basic trends, locked in by specific understood words and numbers, corralled by expression and body language. So by these standards, I 'can' come back into Estonia 'sometime'. Given that my point of re-entry should be Finland, and hoping that the information system isn't as connected as they would hope or that the border guard is more concerned about the ringing in his ears from the previous night's death metal show, shouldn't be a problem. Getting to London for the leg of this flight on Sunday might be, seeing as all of my credit cards were blocked and my Estonian one can't be used online. Makes sense. So I might take the train down, spend a night in Heathrow (wouldn't be a trip to the UK without an overnight airport stay!). It is quite odd being here and hearing 'English' spoken around. Of course it being English is debatable, this is Scotland. The accent and slang make it something that I try to translate in my head immediately after hearing; especially after striving to do this for the last three months with every conversation heard. This isn't helped much by hearing Gaelic (however unbelievably sweet.. though disappointing when it isn't accompanied by pikes, horses and large cuts of mutton) around from time to time.
The flight here was everything that amazes me about Eesti.. actually started missing it a bit as I was leaving. The terminal is all under construction, and after waiting for a bit by the gate which we were supposed to leave from, another check on the board showed that it had been quietly changed to the opposite end of the airport. The plane was parked a kilometer or so away, so took a bus to it. Problem was that the bus driver wasn't completely sure which plane we were getting off at and we sat in front of the wrong one for a few minutes before being shuttled three more down the row. There was massive turbulence around London, seeing as a hurricane had just gone through in the morning (ridiculous, and I am serious).
I have never been in a plane that was fishtailing before. I didn't know that could even happen. Amazing though, how laughter came before fear. Possibly because there was a big group of British staggers in front joking the whole time, giving a nice air freshener of cynical humour to the cabin. In their minds I'm sure one of the first thoughts was, "Well shit, if anything happens at least BBC will be spot on in time to get us on the telly!" That and "Fancy some fish and chips?" What. I'm in Scotland now, I have a right to say that. Plus any person who willingly covers themselves in apparel advertising drinking experiences aimed at ripping through the turf while binge drinking in the establishments and populations of transforming former Soviet states can shove it. Get some fucking courage if you are going to do stag weekends. Go to Yemen.
Right, so, anyways.. Glasgow is brilliant. Staying in a friend's flat who was in the eesti keelne suvekoolis, which is on the edge of a somewhat dishy part of town (not sure if that is actual slang, though just allowing a slight influx of actual UK English into my vocabulary while here has had drastic effects as such) but is quite new, incredibly clean and IKEA (so refreshing). Given this is accompanied by literally millions of posters of Celine Dion and Eurovision paraphernalia, but that is mainly confined to the bathroom and part of why Paul is so awesome.
Walking the other direction from toothless Highlanders and their dogs throws you into some really great streets however.. loads of industrial revolution era buildings everywhere, rising and falling over the hills (aaahhh, terrain!). The wind is somewhat surprising here. Given it is moreso as I am constantly reminded of it; the door to the balcony was likely put in place by a Scot tired from a long hour of work and ready to slam some 8 pints at the pub (after the shift started at 10am). Really, though.. I could sympathize. Buying bottles of beer seems rare, even browsing the one stand of it in the market here I felt like it was far too classy (and definitely expensive) an activity to undertake. Wine goes off the shelf a bit more, spirits in the mid range. Faced with that, why not take a pint? Wait. Faced with anything that is twice the dollar, why not take a few more pints (Tori if you read this, I had somewhat of a kick .. with myself .. in the plane when I realized 1 pound equals two dooolllarrrrsssz. I hope that makes less sense to you than it does to anyone else.)
The impressions I sort out from here are quite conflicted. At first I actually was dredging down being dumped back into Western culture, suppose in a way it takes less effort from me in daily life to prove that I am a part of it. Getting by seemed too easy in a way, being understood by and understanding everyone around me offsetting. It's been seeping in though, and I really enjoy the place. In one end, it's still not my home culture.. in another, it's provocative to stumble on the differences with British culture and society as well. It's a bit foreign to me again, and at the same time, something which would with proper drive and application (and funding, fucking hell did I complain about the conversion rate yet?!) could become part of my life, and lived. It's a bit cloudy as of now to try to digress more upon, however.. it's incredibly interesting. Some things are startlingly familiar, some faintly, some even set aside from anything touched upon before. It's in comprehending, acquiring and mixing these elements that everything focuses as its whole over time.
Näiteks; plastic bags. Don't need them. Carry them around with you, saves loads and once you see people diving through entire puffed up wads of them at the market it is sickening in a way. Alright, I didn't pull out the bag I always carry with me immediately here: I need to stock up on more bags to take back to Eestisse (score!). A somewhat lighter demeanor, the open possibility for banter, the openness and liveliness of friendships seen around the streets.. these however are well placed elements of the society. Obviously there is always the increased possibility for pricks as well, however that is what comes out of waking up every morning and thinking "What sort of smoothie should I have?" instead of "I wonder, if this unmaintained Soviet apartment made of cigarette butts collapses, will the asbestos, spent uranium stored in the walls, or infected needles from the apartment above me kill me first?" Complex.
Ну ладно уже, piisab. More to unfurl soon under the irony of island skies and fresh rain. Eyes drawn to ida (East).
Edasi..
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