24 December 2010

Juovllat, šnaps, lumi and cheer. The slow unwind.

Ohh, holidays. The redefining of such occasions with age is indeed a thing of wonder. Some of the 'magical' properties, winds filled with the mysterious change in public attitude and excitement, do abate somewhat.. however other pleasant aspects erupt in their place. All the more reason why some people despise widely-celebrated holidays .. obligations sometimes pop up and seem to fully rob the days of this deserved, almost human right of a calm, self-pleasing spirit. If such mandatory indentured hours can be avoided, though.. well hot damn, it can be doused right back in the adult version of a magical time.
Today, for example, has been fantastic so far. Woke up rested around ten o'clock, had some tea and a cinnamon roll, lit the lights on the jõulupuu / ёлка / Christmas tree, put on some music to fit the season, hit up the shop for hõõgvein / glögg, verivorstid / blood sausages, piparkoogid / gingerbread and some proper winter porter, came back to sit and read for a bit with coffee, and am now heading out with my suusad / sabet / skis for a bit of biting cold air, then back for indulging in the hõõgvein and just generally .. enjoying the holiday just as it means by definition. Slowing everything down about forty notches, enjoying the holiday greetings from here and there - from deeply missed friends afar, and letting every molecule in my body simply take some time off from the rampaging rush that is the other side of 'progress'.

So more on that quite soon, and in the meantime - häid pühi, happy holidays to all. Just take a breath and smile.

Edasi, вперёд..

17 November 2010

Hereandthereandhereand.. - Siinjasealjasiinja..


.........so now a day later (don't mind the time stamps, like I mentioned - this takes time), I feel I'd like to go off more on the expat topic.

I had forgotten. It sounds quite romantic and mysterious, though the truth is - I did. Part of this was planned, of course. I feel that I never really was an expat until about eight month ago (give or take). The method in which I wanted to dive into eesti keel required this status to be waived .. at least my realization of the status. After I moved here, I refused more and more often to speak in any language other than eesti keel or русский язык. Not the easiest way to make friends, contacts or rapid progress in linguistic proficiency, but effective nonetheless. Essential.

Along with comfort at how proficiency was progressing came an easing of aversion to anything English. Mind you, a lot of this is internal now (and welcome!); however I at least allowed myself to associate more with fellow expats.. even though it took a while for the 'fellow' identity to set in! I read a fantastic article written by another US-born nomad upon being back on that side of the ocean (albeit temporarily -- I still remember the first times I experienced those blips of life between plane tickets!).

One of the comments on the blog post contained an amazing quote, along with a similarly insightful reply from the author herself:
"Forever lost no matter our location" - I feel like I've
retained "otherness" even in coming home.
This is for good, for real, deep down, on like prawn. Embracing your instilled expat identity dispels all boundaries. Minneapolis I love, yet there is a constant yearning to be here when I am there.. all the same, when I am here I pine for Minneapolis, and Suomi, and Sverige, and Ísland and........ it is fantastic. Intoxicating and uplifting. Not merely a lifestyle, or a life, but a complex and indescribable identity in itself. I am not detached from any of the places, nor am I so deeply rooted that I can not survive - can not feel them and still enjoy and revel from afar.

If that all does not call for a beer, then.. well. It does.

Edasi, вперёд..

15 November 2010

Embracing the expat within..



Well, as the fog rolls in and winter winks slyly, it seems only right to finally write a post that is actually meant to be informative.

Life in Eesti..

As I type this part of this post (given the fact it is supposed to be descriptive and understandable, composing it takes a bit of time!), I am sitting with soothing soft jazz and the constant flow of trickling water surrounding me in a café. One thing that seriously defines a country is its array of cafés.. I deeply miss the culture in Minneapolis: good music, provoking elements piecing together to become some corner Uptown espresso joint, interesting people coming through and living their lives as they live them alongside you - just a small table or couch away.. these atmospheres are impossible to replicate or transplant. I believe that some places of this type exist in the UK and various pockets in Western Europe, however they are surprisingly absent here. Even when I was in Suomi looking for a place to sit down with a book and some temporal calm existence, it was a bit difficult to track down somewhere outside swarms of tourists, non-corporate and not just a shack with an automatic Nescafe dispenser. Maybe my searches have been too short and too limited (I suspect this), as I have only done so during the course of tethered travel and time-space deadlines.

Eesti has a few positive locations that at least provide some elements of decent coffee-shoppery. Yet almost all of these are accompanied by some sort of disqualifier - for example, I'm currently enjoying my work day with upper-mid-priced coffee at the second-level café in Rahva Raamat bookstore.. located at the very top level of Viru Keskus shopping center with a great window booth seat overlooking the consumer orgy below and with a skylight above. Not bad, overall.. jazz is playing (as I said) and there is also an interesting fountain to the one side of the cafe (constant trickling fantasticness).. yet no free bathrooms. All in all, it is my favorite spot in Tallinn next to Kehrwieder locations.. however I technically work for those place and the customer flow there is much more active. In any case, all the above have much better results than usual attempts to 'branch out' a bit. I tried a small café that has always looked interesting, yet is directed towards the daily business crowd and is only open until 18:00. It was good to give it a try, I suppose.. and in doing so, find one of the few locations in downtown Tallinn that make you feel like you are at some rural bus stop between Moscow and St. Petersburg. Watery brown-ish Nescafe straight from a discount vending machine, music that will either make you want to down half a bottle of vodka or go postal after three minutes, and absolutely no character. The majority of other cafés here tend to bear elements of this or go to the exact opposite extreme -- über-classy and low quality with looks of scorn as you try to relax. A good number of cafés here tend to cross or try to smudge the line between coffee place and restaurant.. given, 'expert reviews' judge them on their kitchen as well and I know from violent experience (literally - an intoxicated pensioner swung a punch!) that clients expect there to be some sort of 'praad' - i.e. main dish. Makes sense that physical conflict should ensue if the establishment does not follow up on their 'obligation' to provide solutions for drunken munchies.

Müürikohvik in Haapsalu completes the top-three of places at which I am comfortable working or unwinding.. though given the multiple-hour bus ride required to hit up the location, I am sadly unable to frequent it often. Maybe it is just a lack of integration on my part - who am I to think that a café is not defined by its array of faux-Indian dishes, cognac menu and an atmosphere that is either prepping you to get back in your BMW or drink yourself slurry?

Cases such as these cause me to question levels of integration overall -- does the term entail living it and shutting up, or is there room for criticism in the process? For some reason, I am often in turmoil with the preconception that while still undergoing integration you really only have the right to openly and directly criticize certain elements after you understand why they function as such and after determining whether or not they are beneficial for the target society in question. I concur - the reason such conflicts exist is that the world is still chock full of diversity. This is a positive aspect, and even some things that may seem negative to the outsider or even to a lifelong member of the culture are still necessary for it remaining unique. Where does the line run between having arty cafés dotting the streets, filled with thinkers and conversationalists; and a monotone urban landscape void of geographic peculiarities? I suppose the only way to go at it is to give it a try -- however the former spots did themselves arise from a certain environment and it might be supposed that such corresponding cafés or whatnot should do the same in their own country. Progression vs. reform vs. renewal.. vs. a preserved form. Inspiration? It would be fantastic to open up some place combining all the things I would like personally in a cafe - Kehrwieder is actually a fantastic example of this, as a Canadian expat with Estonian roots and a life story encircling the globe succeeded in creating the type of Estonian café he always wanted to patron. Possibly some day and with some kind of capital and loads of freedom to keep up a somewhat nomadic existence.. that must be it. Integration is an individual process through and through, and each minuscule element is a personal decision, a determination of the level at which one floats or submerges. We nomads and cultural vagabonds are not merely aquatic or of land -- gills in some tidepools and wings above others.

Edasi, вперёд..

14 November 2010

Influence - Mõju


Output is essential, though what falls under question is quality, form, means, motive. Motivation itself is quite the positive, propelled sort of output. Yet what then, if motivation is the purpose in itself? How do all these elements really interplay? The ends seems to be a thing of value, something of function and purpose in itself that will utterly lead to a further stage in this sloped progression. Motivation entails momentum, which is not a static thing, is not fixed. The two interplay to make for positivity, yet the presence of both is essential for real motion, for movement. Is it always the object that is a catalyst for inspiration? Does the energy flow outward, only giving the appearance that it is emanating from the actor, and is actually still quite reciprocal? Or is it possible to acquire this from another source, independent of the intended direction?

Indeed.

Edasi, вперёд..

25 October 2010

Cloud exchange - arutelu pilvedega


The paradox of seasons is lovely in all its pauses and moments of furrowed brow. I already miss near-daily contact with the sea. Expression unleashed through spinning XX cm tires or tyres on pavement, on stone and grace to wherever that trifecto might lead. All the same, it takes a different and strangely communal alternate form now, in the time of wind, snow, golden red carpets spread past the horizon and a fulfilling promise of transition. Summer meditation is an exchange directly with loodus-luondu, encounters with mountains of moss and sea spray. Autumn brings a proposal to commit these thoughts to more visible, revisit-able form. Form in itself.

No harm done. Progression.

Edasi, вперёд..

21 October 2010

Flicker - virvendus

Expression must simply flow outward, uninhibited. Pen to paper - pastakas paberi peale - that's how it starts. Uncharted at first, at last. Somewhere in-between as well, likely. The points shift and shake, in a daze between themselves and that which they are not. As soon as it begins, it begins. Ending is not an option, the only harsh reality in the otherwise flurry of forwards rushing.
Far from a discussion.

Edasi, вперёд..

19 October 2010

Inclusion - omaks võtmine

Now that my seasonal transport cycle has swung into its more heated, padded, expensive segment, bus-waiting and bus-ride musings have returned. A recent one (I think it was a bit after reliving the shock of discovering that all ducks are wearing dog masks - cue existential crisis!) phased in and out and around the Estonian phrase 'omaks võtma' -- literally, to make or take as 'one's own'; to accept and welcome into your sphere of 'belonging'.

This seems to summarize one of the fundamental reasons for why I came to Estonia, in both 'directions' of the word. Estonian language (and, to a great extent, culture) was to become 'oma' and I would like; wouldn't mind, really; just -- come on; to be part of the social sphere.

Estonians are, in a way, a lone bubble. Watching from afar what happens if you let too many other smaller bubbles merge; fearing that moment of opening and merging going out of control and bursting the entire fabric; yet at the same time wanting to be one of the bigger bubbles. Yes, culture and language must be preserved, promoted and developed unconditionally. Hyper-fear does not help anything, on the other hand.

Estonian officials piped up far too loudly on Europe's Roma issue, in my opinion. This should be reserved for countries with experience in the Roma matter and attempts to compare it with Estonian Russians should definitely not be made. We find it unappealing to accept refugees here (even with the carrots of EU support and free reign to require as much language training and immersion as we like); it is even unconstitutional to accept Guantanamo inmates into the prison system. The moment that German Chancellor Angela Merkel spoke of how Germany's vision of 'multiculturalism' has failed, the story was put on a pedestal in bold lettering here. No matter that Merkel was speaking specifically about Germany's problem, Germany's official state policies and Germany's immigrants -- many will, for the most part, chorus this instance.

Prior to status as (one of the) 2011 European Capital(s) of Culture ('assistant to the manager'), a 'tolerance' campaign I very much support is indeed underway, entitled 'Erinevus rikastab' ('Difference enriches'). It has brought forth some positive support in the press along with those articles voicing the horrid opinions of some people that you, pleasantly enough, do not and would not hear from otherwise. I'm glad the discussion has been increased somewhat, 'preparing' us for greater integration (come if it may), and hoping that this does not turn out to be rhetorical as have so many other similar campaigns. Maybe that's just the Estonian tinged negativity seeping in - võtan omaks!

What people often fail to realize is that the Estonian bubble has not burst over thousands of years and maybe, possibly, there is a shred of chance that letting more elements reach the status of 'oma' is not such a bad move; assuming of course that these elements thoroughly learn Estonian and at least appreciate certain cultural elements definitive of Marjamaa. 'Purity' means inbreeding. Of course, if you do want to go for that, then great - keep it up. Just don't get into any decision-making positions and keep it to yourself for as long as your genes hold up.

The key to doing so is by being sneaky, though.. takes some tact on the part of those wishing to integrate with Eesti. Currently underway here are Hõimupäevad - Pan-Finno-Ugric Days - , for example. I have to say, this is one of the most inclusionary (a word that does not pop up often!) gatherings of people that I have stumbled into. Although maybe this is in part because we (i.e. Finno-Ugric peoples) commonly condemn Russification and certain policies undertaken by Russians (not Finno-Ugric, mind you) throughout.. well, a long, long history.

This actually raises an interesting question - would Estonia and many of these others be so pro-Finno-Ugric were there not the 'Russian problem'? Would there be a hall full of people dancing to Mari, Hungarian, Livonian etc music together if subjugation was not still a pressing topic? I'd like to think so, but there is that sneaking suspicion we would instead be putting this effort behind our status as a Nordic country and aligning ourselves with such cultures. Anyways, tangent upon several preceding tangents.

Where was this going? Oh, right. All ducks are wearing dog masks. We know relatively nothing in life. Might as well approach things accordingly.

Edasi, вперёд..

13 October 2010

Pondering, panga peal.

I saw a single leaf fall from a tree today in the wind. I must get out there more often, for if I had not been there, who would have seen it fall?
Edasi, вперёд..

17 September 2010

Sustenance. Ülalpidamine.


I do think that people often draw connections in formerly Soviet-occupied countries too quickly between between those times and these in several situations. That said, I think it is also fun to do so and support the hype.

I was not so naive to think that I would be faced with stark, empty shelves and long lines when I first went to Ukraine in 2006; nor when I went to Russia in the same year and absolutely not upon moving here to Estonia. I really never expected to see anything of the sort: we are upstanding members of the European Union and much more of a Nordic country than Eastern European, or even Baltic. Politicians make cases for it all the time and are desperately reeling in the line pulling us towards Scandinavia. A liberal, population-friendly, stable social-welfare state with all the European ideals you could want in 45,228 square kilometers.

Walking into my local Selver supermarket, it does not look like the economy just hit a hitch bringing us back to the early 1990's or wartime. Nonetheless, the utter absence of even a single staple product is a bit of a shock to someone who has never experienced living in a time of full-scale economic turmoil, and what's more, when the country in question where the product is missing now is not in trouble either at the moment!

Specifically, many shops here are out of buckwheat. The secret network of pensioners released a directive to hoard up on the stuff for good ole' hoardin' time's sake, leaving non-imminent-apocalypse proponents like myself slightly bothered. Hassled. Oh, what an injustice in our modern world.

Yes, this is buckwheat we're talking about here. Not exactly something I have morning, noon and evening with a spoonful and a topka of vodka before sleep. Well, not always. At the same time, I had just reached the end of the last pack (took me a good four months), and it was simply time to get more. A disappointment, but no matter. So I go through the next items I wanted to pick up, head to the spices section to snag some cloves for autumn apple pies, aaaand.. nothing. Ravaged by the old women boiling jam in their kitchens, stirring large evil-looking cauldrons and chortling. Damn chortlers.

Estonia will adopt the euro (a bastard child, in my opinion) on January 1, 2011. Those familiar with how things went the last time we switched currencies and lived through price fears surrounding accession to the EU in 2004 apparently haven't gained much confidence. Most just dismiss the case as such - but fear-mongering is so enjoyable! Plus it gives this wayward Minnesotan-Estonian a chance to see some of those fabled empty shelves.

As long as beer isn't next up (articles shrieking about gargantuan grain prices because of the Russian export ban have been gaining momentum in the press), it's a quirk that's making me grin a bit.

Edasi, вперёд..

06 September 2010

Suund. Direction.

The air is crisp once more, breaths become deeper and I find myself engulfed in the struggle to live every moment in life just as the one in which I was in before. The definition of this 'before' of course ranges, becomes every more widespread and varied as time curves forth. Eks proovingi ikka.

Summer has softly relinquished to autumn, which enters in a moment with a light wave. I feel myself grappling with the moments, turning them over carefully for elements of tangibility. Not that I expect to find any, or would even wish for it. More merely a process with which to acknowledge and grasp more deeply. Truly. Madly? That's enough.

Adventures numbered many throughout the warmer months, thus a lack in expressing them through typed form. Each provided moments for meditation of various frequencies.. and I'm thirsty for more. The one which would have spun me like an ocean surge unfortunately was delayed until the moment (and numbers in my bank account) strike. I had planned on keeping the compass needle firmly on N, heading to Anár (Inari) and delving into Ijahis Idja, a Sámi music festival in late August. Alas the sharper end of capitalization caught me and travel conjoined with accommodations near +10 C would have left a large gap in my monetary sustainability. Nonetheless, I ended up heading to the mansion owned by my German friend Patrick's family in Saare (Lyckholm), Noarootsi. Haapsalu really entranced me, and doing the spiral bike ride (+/- 50 km/suund) through the encasing indecision of fog and misty rain was a well-centered breath.

Meeting up with Patrick and a pair of Minneapolis friends passing through definitely embolstered, though now I feel a drive for solo travel and transit once more. The likes of here (2006/07), of Copenhagen 2007, Paris 2008, Amsterdam of the same year. Even mere bus rides, train rides, moments passing with Múm in my ears. Moving as part of the mass, unnoticed yet present and rising. Mist the unknown, in common transit as well.

It approaches once more; in Eesti or degrees of latitude North.. the crisp air will accompany, with scarves and deep breaths throughout.

Edasi, вперёд..

05 July 2010

Yes and yes. Jah ja ja. Juo ja juo.

In inadvertently semi-false responses often lies a sort of truth more interesting to defend.

That said, it's invariably more difficult to understand someone when they speak in straight-off-the-isles, rapid-speed Estonian and are at the same time pricking blood vessels and constricting various parts of your body. Mind you, this was one of the nicest tädi's at the blood donation center (and they are all ten times sweeter than any grandmother); yet easy to mistake what they say.

"Asakjask shssaass hsaahaa," is how it sounded. Often faced with this when living in a language I've been speaking for a few years, I'm used to such a sentence. I asked again (variating proficiency makes me feel like an elderly person with a malfunctioning hearing aid sometimes). Her repetition of the question was disappointingly similar.

Another part of living in another language and culture is learning to be decisive and not give away your level of perception of the surroundings. Doing so means that there often will be no disruption in the scene and allows you to pick up much more from the flow instead of the particularities of situations. I was hoping this question was a particularity, a "Does that hurt?" or "Do you want your blood sample to go to starving orphans?" and not something upon which the conversation would hinge. In most cases, you can get away with a positive/negative response, and given your 50-50 choice, you'll hit the right one and things will go on as planned. Feeling like I hadn't shot out a "no" in a while (again - surrounded by a late-middle-aged crowd with sharp things), I went with that reply.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah." Confidently. Decisively.

To my surprise, this launched her onto an entirely fresh burst of the conversation filled with stories, illustrations and heartfelt enthusiasm. Again - not understanding a question doesn't mean you can't answer it.

I derived after a few sentences the fact that I answered "no" to a question I would often answer "yes" to - partly out of habit, partly out of genuine attitude. Nurse Enthusiasm (not a word you use often in Estonia) asked whether I had full-out fallen in love with the country.

No point in backtracking - it's much more engaging to go with it and at least give yourself a challenge that departs from the usual pre-approved phrases and conversational swings. So I went with it.

Nurse Put-Down-Her-Pen-Now-Enthusiasm went on to tell me about her daughter who moved to the States to study, ended up marrying a Yank and lives out there now. The daughter would like to someday move back to Estonia, however her husband works for NASA and jobs of a similar caliber are rare in Estonia, not to mention the fact that most of the information he has is probably state secrets (i.e. which vending machine will often shoot out two bottles if you put in an odd number of coins). The woman likes living in the States and has no problem carrying on there, yet still yearns a bit for Eestimaa.

"Home is home," said the nurse with a nod and an extra-firm slap of a bar code sticker on one of the forms.

I'm not one-hundred-percent staunchly behind her statements and (being incoherent and indecisive) would pad it up with a heap of qualifiers, yet it wasn't enough for me to turn around and refute. 'Home' is definitely something that develops through various periods of time, that ends up choosing you as much as you choose it. I think a person can have multiple homes and, although they can have different associations and depths of connection with the person, these may all be on a comparable level.
How would this go? A 'primary' home followed by some 'secondary' ones? This seems a bit cheap; at least enough to question using the term 'home' for anything less than all-out extraordinary. Here's where that shifty yesandno comes about.. Minneapolis is, for me, home, and Estonia is home as well, though with different associations and basis for being so.

I can't say it's just language, though the Finno-Ugricness definitely has its part. This can also be taken in a wider sense, such as how I can generally envision myself a
lso living and being contentin Suomi and Sámpi. The thing is that my draw to Estonia and my ethnic identity does not at all clash with all that encompasses Minneapolis and Minnesota - it seems rather like it accentuates and enhances that identity. At the same time, Minneapolis is a massive part of my identity itself, and has its part in defining my life here and how I express being Finno-Ugric. Ehhhhh..
I just need to build a lavvu and have some source of revenue that enables me to be nomadic between the Cities and northern Europe. No problem there - just execution. The separation of an multifaceted identity and a precise location is a tricky one indeed..

Edasi, вперёд..

18 May 2010

This is an adventure..

Almmi (pictured) is kahtlemata - without doubt - one of the largest and most sensible ways in which I have passed along money finding its way into my hands, ever. Next to trans-Atlantic plane tickets and my IKEA bed-mattress-down comforter set in Minneapolis, of course. It is freedom in a different form, with different, very permeable boundaries. Mobility conditioned by waves, wind and sun. I undergo daily sensations at various times of being on the waves, with the cells in my body retuned to the rhythm of the tide and me just along for the ride. Whilst translating copious amounts of articles about tobacco smuggling and building permit disputes and the like, dumping coffee down my throat on dry land. I just need to condition myself into being able to recall the feeling at will - sure I could make myself fall asleep anywhere or at least startle passerbys, randomly shouting 'land ho!' and whatever other maritime terminology I can dredge up. This is what a month's salary can land you.

I initially held her in a garage in Pirita next to the same shop from which I bought her. Well, technically she was there wrapped in plastic for two weeks before I got access to her and then immediately rowed her to Miiduranna, where she's all snugged up at a friend's parents' place on the seashore. Right, now to break that sentence down. After purchasing the kayak, I found out that it was located in a warehouse on Peterburi maantee and that it would be transported to Pirita after some weeks. In the meantime, I was able to freely use the other kayaks available there (one slightly older model of my own and one new, crazy-light composite that kept my adrenaline on extra-max to stay balanced). This was all fine and the idea of keeping my own kayak at the garage was suitable for some time, as: A. I had no where else to put it, B. I had no way of transporting it by land, and C. it was still snowing every other weekend. When my kayak finally arrived at the garage, the shop owner took off to China for a couple weeks to tour the factory (yes, I row a vessel designed by neutral Norwegians and crafted in a communist country - the perfect European). This was actually the crux of the slight discomfort in running down to Pirita whenever I wanted to go row - the garage was only accessible on weekdays until six or seven o'clock in the evening; not the most propitious for random bouts and prospective weekends out camping.

As soon as the owner got back and the wind lulled, I went down for the first paddle. Immediately beforehand I had locked down a place to keep it longer-term - an amazing location in a friend's parents' garden about 50 meters from the sea. SCORE. Yeah. Two million points. I planned on doing the maiden paddle, placing Almmi back in the garage and then doing the trip from Pirita to Miiduranna later in the week. Mentioned this to the shop owner as she was going out for a run, and agreed how to leave one door unlocked so I could put the kayak to rest for the eve; the owner would close up later before she left. At first, I planned on a short, half-hour bout. Ha.
Went upriver, ran some small rapids and surfed a bit on tail-waves; then went back and out of the harbor to acquaint Almmi with the sea.. and to reaquaint myself, as I then had little experience, mostly consisting playing around the mouth of the harbor and in rowing a two-person kayak a year ago to the top of Viimsi poolsaar (peninsula).
This is why I usually don't write out stories here.. I'm sure the boredom will last for eight pages more, four cups of tea and then both myself and the reader can somehow shake off drowsiness and at least superficially direct attention to .. right, I'll just keep writing.

So when I headed back to the shop, pulled Almmi out of the water and prepared to stow the goods, found out that it was all fully locked up, as the owner thought I had already come and gone. No response to mobile calls. Standing outside with a 5.2-meter sea vessel. Fantastic! My friend was able to answer her mobile, however, and was not at work (thank you, work schedule of that particular Chinese restaurant) and agreed to meeting up at Miiduranna after I paddled there.. a good cap to the two hours of paddling I had already done that day! Sea conditions were unbelievable, however, as the pictures and deep-seeded memories show.
I almost deleted that story three times in the mix. Is this what happens when my daily English use is primarily in translating mundane articles and watching episodes of 'The O.C.'? (I know, I know - probably should have deleted that as well.. selective coherency and detail: that's my style.)
That which probably should have attained greater attention is the tale of my day-journey from Miiduranna to Kräsuli, Kumbli and Aegna saared (islands) and back - a solid 25 km of paddling in various wind and wave conditions. I actually planned to camp that evening on Aegna, brought along a tent and extra water and everything.. and left my sleeping bag on my balcony in Lasnamäe, because.. that's pure preservative-free logic, fool. The weather was extremely warm during the day, though a storm was slowly approaching by the time I landed and the breeze became cooler. Thus I figured the choice was to strain myself for another couple hours, stay near the shore and hope for a Zeusish chaos not to ensue; or to chill, walk around a bit and probably be wet and cold for most of the night with paddling planned for unsure conditions the next morn. I went with the former. After grilling sausages and having a beer, of course (see - logic).
What more to say - a few 1.8-2 meter swells (yes, really) meant that Almmi is no longer a young kayak virgin and can not be sacrificed to any undersea Baltic volcano deities, I learned that small, sparsely vegetated islands are where avian cannibals reside and one should not do more than come to shore, stamp out cramps from one's leg and then scurry back into a kayak to face the open sea waves pounding in while trying to reach more hospitable spots of land.. the usual weekend.

Most of the moments worth writing about or taking a picture of are exactly those which do not fit into words or replicable images.
My goal is rowing to the shores of Naissaare by the end of summer. Beer and sausage to commemorate the voyage, as always. Possibly even bring along sleeping bag and tent. All I need further are a red cap and a speedo. Maybe a glock and some correspondence stock.

Ho.

Edasi, вперёд..

09 April 2010

Kõik keerlemas - All in a whirl.

The last week has been one of the most work-intense stretches of time I've had in a while. Placing this in past tense is, of course, an overstatement.. it's closing in on mid-Friday, though given one special weekly media survey/translating project I have occupying part of this very night and tomorrow morning, not to mention semi-volunteer activities co-managing a creative space in Vanalinn (Old Town) and everything that entails on weekends, well, I think I might have a day entirely free of adult responsibilities sometime next month. I'm not complaining, mind you. Alright, I am complaining. Lightly. Like a soft bird-song in spring. Of a bird that is bitching about stress and wanting to travel and have a few moments of total unwind.

I've been somewhat bewildered (yes, I wildered be) by how rapidly the days pass when you are chained to an electronic device giving your fingers mad exercise sessions. The sky is now light until about 21:30, which definitely inspires and just ratchets up my giddiness for the unending eves of the coming months. Mornings are also quite bright.. that one took me about a week to get used to again; startling multiple times and checking the time on my mobile to make sure I hadn't overslept.. only to slip back into timeless semi-consciousness and repeat the action several times. It's interesting how we adapt to this.. and I ask, what adapts? Is it the eyes getting used to more light or the consciousness getting used to ignoring it?

In any case, the shifting seasons are doing exactly that, and I feel a lack of full, rightful participation in the process. As much as you say, "Damn, that week went by really fast because of all the work" in a positive sense, it still is just a celebration of the fleeting. Yes, fantastic that all of that work was completed and now the weekend (alternate work) is here. The speed of passage isn't that important, though, as more is on its way. Waves and waves of it. Again, not complaining. I'm absolutely mystified and certainly reminiscent (though admittedly glorifying a bit, as one does) of the times in Uni when I had that majestic feeling of time. Of course, working 30-40 hours per week during most of the time I was in Uni and the growing will to research certain topics on my 'own time' did set semi-permeable bounds on this sense of the rolling minutes. At the same time, it was such a comforting feeling in its own right - the ability to manage the things you wanted/needed to accomplish within a wider set of sun-revolvements. My life at the moment is defined by deadlines - half-hour, hour, by-the-next-morning, what have you.. in all, transforming my sense of time into something a bit overly tangible. I have this sense that in Uni, the concept of time and its elapsing varied depending upon various transient events. A long paper was due or an exam on its way, things became less fluid and a bit more scheduled; though after the completion of this event, the particles scattered back into a wider and less minute picture. Work, of course, was something still very bounded; however it was together with people I enjoyed (coworkers and customers alike, for the most part, with some horrid exceptions) and doing something which really translated into active meditation for me.

Cue warmer conditions and unfurling opportunity. The sea ice has broken up and breeze is becoming less chilling; some paddling for hours or, when employment allows, days, be on its way..s. I'm also trying to locate a cheap, older frame so I can Frankenstein Laika (my bike) into a form of full capacity; whatever roads and trails and turns appear will follow. I don't suppose that what characterized my sense of time in Uni is something which is faded or must be pushed back until I'm collecting pension. It's nothing lost; just untapped. There has to be a way to get into that rhythm (yes) more frequently, really, somehow daily. As difficult as it is for me to turn down or shed off more time-constraining activities, it's something that I must allow for in the future.. I'm used to packing the schedule to the brim and then building up shorelines above that. Balance is always key. Time for the eyes to adjust.

As Benny Benassi says: "Time. Time is what you need." Cue bass.

Edasi, вперёд..

22 March 2010

Gos..

So, in times which constitute the recent, I've slacked off from mass updating via blog form. Part of this I could attribute to lack of time; another part to my aversion to touching digital objects when not doing so for work purposes (which runs back into my first reason); another is, well, not a lack of motivation per say, but whatever drives said motivation. Sparks it up a bit. Gives it the giggles. Digressing further, maybe this is just associated with the cold-and-darkity of winter. I'm comfortable blaming it on that, in any case. While I do thoroughly enjoy the season (I'd put it tied with summer at number two for top seasons, with čakča (sügis, fall) taking its rightful golden leaves), at times I feel that a mild hibernation over this period would be totally justifiable. Not in the sense of sleeping it through (well, overall), but in leaning next to an open fire and emerging only to do the necessary (more beer.. and of course other things). The more I contemplate this, the more I realize that my bodily clock is likely set on a nomadic northern European lifestyle circa a few hundred years ago. Probably not only my bodily clock.


While I don't generally implement this blog for speaking of recent life news or events, this line of straw-grasping does lead to one significancy - I purchased a süst (kayak). It's something I've informally contemplated acquiring for a long period of time, and with the help of an awesome deal (not to mention a new translating customer from the whole bout) and the absurd logic of it being quite, quite useful in the event of civilizational collapse (works for me), I decided to go with it. She's over five meters in length, lime green and yet-unnamed (waiting for the sea ice to break up before embarking on the first voyage, understandably). How this locks up with the previous line of incoherency is that I'm very stoked to get out, into some physical and meditational shape and onto some islands for purposes of randominity and camping and such. Mobility outside of bus lines and shoveled sidewalks is something I've felt amiss throughout the deep frost. I know that waist-high snow shouldn't hinder me (it doesn't, and sometimes didn't) from such escapades, but, well.. informal hibernation. Back to all that is local nomadism. I've come to realize that this is a deep-set trait; not always in the far-flung sense, though not quite set in staticity.


This is all highly likely to lead to me someday getting another liberal arts degree. Or building a saun and acquiring some reindeer. Maybe both. Bures.

Edasi, вперёд..

09 February 2010

Mii?

This winter seems to be lacking in subtlety, which I firmly enjoy. Packs a punch. And an extra hat.

It's also had some sort of indirect effect increasing my daily use of the English language. I remain cautious on that one. Several reasons or excuses could be rooted up and cooked into a soup for this: and I would list them here. Almost just did. Foremost, I would probably attribute this to a general grappling at social connections during the period of frosty, savory bleakness opposite to summer. Of course, interaction is still fully eesti keeles with Tuuliki and that's nothing I would ever want to alter. The wider composition of my daily, bi-daily and weekly social interactions has taken a turn towards the ex-pat community, however.
It isn't that this is a negative occurrence - I highly enjoy the poker nights, cocktail parties and random incursions in alcoholic beverage establishments. Furthermore, 'ex-pat' does not exclusively signify the English language holding dominance. I am able to edge Estonian back in with a good Finnish friend and I strive to splice up my usage while in mixed settings, much to the annoyance of those other outsiders who, although they have been here exponentially longer than I have, still struggle with the concept of a soft 'e' in 'tere'.

The course things have taken as of late also don't reflect a doldrums of my competency in the local lingua in any way. Estonian still maintains a majority holding of at least 70 percent of daily syllabic exchange. Odd how the twenty-percent loss can be so strongly recognizable, however.
I would gladly edge this up a bit, or at least be content to keep the majority Estonian and decrease the English component. Say, four percent more Russian than currently (i.e. monthly encounters with my racist Russian landlord, giving people the time at bus stops and refusing to buy bootleg vodka). Specifically, I'd really enjoy driving up my use of sámegiella (Sámi language) to the entire one percent in which I am bound by my current abilities in the tongue .

Although the English-language resurgence is not unpleasant and quite a good refresher (I do continue to claim that is my native language in terms of translating), I'm sure it will find its ebb with the coming of slight warmth to the breezes. In any case, it will certainly present some sort of revolting encounter as it usually does with foreigners and spin me back into the fray of cloudier linguistics. It was only a few months ago that some drunk Brit who strayed from the discouragingly permeable bounds of his stag party spent half an hour trying to convince me that Alexander the Great was an Estonian who led Russia to conquer the Baltic region. Although he did claim to know where he was located in the world at that particular moment (I asked him repeatedly) and what the hell he was talking about, the fact that he was mistaking 'Estonia' with 'Macedonia' and 'Baltics' with 'Balkans' seemed to escape him. Not unlike the neiud flitting past on the ice-packed streets. Sometime, sometime .. until then, another head shake and turn to converse with a pint.
Tagasi võõrkeelearendamise suunda..

Edasi, вперёд..

25 January 2010

Frequality.


I sense that some form of alternate media beckons. I generally don't feel like situating myself behind a laptop screen for expressing myself following several hours of doing that in a work-type environment, though I am downright brimming with that need for expression. Preferably one not sharing an interface with Facebook. True, I have lately returned to writing with real pen, ink, paper and beer-spill stains when it comes to interacting through letters. E-mails are for quick confirmations and necessary transfers of information. Their non-existence is far too transient to allow information to stick in my brain. There are a lot of things stuck there - a few pixels describing someone's child's activities last week or their new job aren't going to hang around in that dust trap for long. Committing something onto paper and receiving it back is much more fixated in every respect. I'm all about getting back to that. Plus, my laptop is bulky, I'm somewhat concerned I may get tetanus from it, the battery lasts for 1.2 minutes and in order to keep it plugged in, you have to pull back the power cord at a 180-degree angle and trap it under the keyboard to hold pressure on it so you can have your hands free. Mobility isn't its point of pride.

Maybe it's the approach of spring (which I usually try to ignore as annoying foreplay to summer). It could also be seeing the sun more than twice per week. It's definitely not the proper winter that surrounds, elbow-jabbing with its -30 C and loads of snow. I like that kind of winter - namely, one that at least embodies the seasonal term. In any case.. I feel like I'm standing on the bluffs in Tabasalu looking at the gulf, feeling the breeze and a slight pull forwards. It's that feeling of motion that I haven't sensed in a while though for which I constantly strive.. probably in vain, as it's similar to ordering a taxi at 2 AM. You can expect to get it sometime, but before then you have to stand on the corner and listen to the busy tone or, worse, a 5-second repeating 'musical' clip (ba-badada-badada-ba-babadada-ba-dada-badada-dadadaa). You will get through after a while, though there's no sense of time or progress involved in the operation.

The re-entrance of daylight into the concept of day will definitely bring more things - getting the bike fixed, being able to physically move farther than from my desk to downtown and back, fresh air here and there.. and the acquisition of my residency permit extension is also a great 'hurrah'. Double-fist-pump freeze-frame-air-jump followed by super-karate-kick. Take that, Citizenship and Migration Board. We shall meet once or twice more.

Taking pot shots at linguistic release.

Edasi, вперёд..