Сдача не надо. Tagasiraha ei vajalik. Keep the change.

Täna oli üks esimestest päevatest et ma tunnin nii kui olen kodus siin. (Today was one of the first days that I really felt like I was at home here.)

Well, home is a different sort of feeling. This was.. comfortable, pleased with things. A good haircut will do that for you. If my haircut had turned out extremely shitty, I might have been writing this from the bottle of a bottle in a ditch sapping wireless off of a homeless shack (I assume they are set up) and all of this would just be a string of characters punched from my tears falling on the keyboard. Appreciate a good haircut. Especially when it works out while speaking Russian.

Really, though.. it took a while for the feeling to develop and for me to understand what the specific flow was behind it. Over the last month, comfort and dis- of the previous have come and gone, often multiple times within the course of a few hours. Makes one a bit staggered. It takes some time for small ins and outs of thoughts and trivial occurences to have less of an impact on your overall conception of place and your life. So, I have come to attempt to ignore most of this rocking back and forth with the waves of an uprooted life. Not ignore so much, just.. deal with, and.. justify. So it takes larger happenings to really make me motion sick after a period. The little occurences keep their impact, however.. and it was one of these miniscule and usually trivial processes that gave me a fuzzy.

It is smalltalk (lobisemine).

Really, and this is one of the more difficult things to stumble into in Eastern Europe on top of that. For effective smalltalk, one needs a grip on the language at the level of a toddler (although I was really downtrodden when this 18 month old totally schooled my ass today in Estonian.. she's got it coming, just wait..). This also requires about the same level of time, dedication and immersion in the language. I was able to make remarks today three times. Ridiculous. Given, it lasted no more than a simple exchange of a sentence or two, but it is the ability to be understood and to demonstrate that you understand and can even make light of something that starts to root you into a population. The feeling is alleviating, incredibly uplifting. It also gives a new stimulus to remember words, to increase proficiency at the language from basic encouraging non-formal exchanges. Apart from these usual sentences of "Please, give me xxx" or "Excuse me sir, it isn't to my liking when you stab me" being devoid of much personality and basically mechanically reproduced utterings from a textbook, the formality of basic command and respond is tiring. I barely make every other sentence completely serious in English; this inability to joust with words has been an unrealized source of discouragement for me, apparently. Much more to go, and endlessly more up and down to come. Kuigi now, there is a renewed spark.. an increased chance of expression and things sorting out in more intricate ways. Järgmine (next), solid friends with whom this can occur.. I suggest along with this (and before this) that those dear to me in the States get your Estonian down and get over here sharpish. There is only one microbrewery in Estonia, and it is shit. I see opportunity, and free beer. These thoughts will move forth in time. Responses?

Aside of such rambling, I am shaking loose this curse of a journalist position as hard as I can, am starting a few shifts at a private cafe next week where I will speak ainult eesti keeles, applied for a Critical Language scholarship Venemaal suveks (in Russia for the summer), and have moved to the next and final stage for approval of a Fulbright scholarship here Eestis. That sentence could be another 12 paragraphs, however there is a bottle of A le Coq in my külmik. The scale weighs unevenly in this case.

Edasi..

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..

"What? Aah, no I don't speak much Estonian. Wait, what? Eh.. ahm.. yes.. those letters on the sign spell "Hansapank"..", jne..

Nii.. everything is a crazy flurry of comprehension, developments and waiting on development. It is really hard to grip on.. anything. To sort anything out solidly. Not that this is making anything bad, I can tell that it isn't bad. Things are good, though things are also incomprehensible. There is little flow as of yet, as I am restructuring the base of my life. Wild.
I have a (provisional) job.. which if it plays out will start the underworking of settling. I (am, and will possibly remain) the journalist for the Baltic Times newspaper; the single English-written publication spanning Leedu, Läti ja Eesti. It is as foreign to me as most other things. Yeah. Life is a bit foreign right now. After years in service and dealing with people, I am taking on people from another angle now. It feels a bit impersonal, intruding.. awkward. The first issue of the new year is delayed to 9 January, which is a bit of relief. I believe that I only have to write one large article for it, and then work out the 3 or 4 news articles and corresponding news briefs the two days before going to press. However, this is sort of consuming me as well.. and 'work' may only slightly dominate the consumption (shit, it is a disease..) of worry as well. Just the organization and coordination of something like this is strange. Figuring out the sources and the angle which I am going at the article came a bit smoothly last night, with Google slaving under my fingertips. My flatmate Rain came out with a superhero suit as well, getting me the number of probably one of Estonia's most famous actors. I was able to set up an interview with him.. got myself stoked up, dashed some questions down which still seem absurd to me when I read over them (I now avoid this and am waiting to curse myself for during the actual interview), made a jaunt out to make sure I know where his place was.. and.. got there and rang.. and.. not home. Perfect. Journalism sucks.
Returning to getting in contact with this actor.. crazy. This is a small country, and people really do live amongst other people, know other people, have random schedules like other people. After spooning down some Eesti kohv (Estonian coffee, and yes, for later explanation, this does require utensils), taking some cold showers, running myself through the washing machine, and revving myself up with some 'Steve Holt!'s, I called. The few words I took from the mechanized recording meant the line was busy immeiately.. so, alright, give it an hour before Holting again. After a few minutes, my mobile rang with an unknown number and an eesti mees was on the other end..
"Tere! Siin on Rain..".. ah, so I thought. It's my flatmate Rain, strange that he jumped into full Estonian so fast. So, in friendly reflexive response I shot back, "Tere, Rain! Kuidas läheb?". "Aaah.. hästi.. asasdoiasdjaoijasoij (or its Estonian equivalent.. I heard the letter "l" for sure.). I realize my own idiocy more quickly more often now, and I asked to switch into English if possible, then figuring out that this was the actor who I had received a busy signal for. Set up a meeting for a few hours later (eh, well..), and it was (initially) simple. Crazy. At his apartment, not so far from mine, where I would meet his wife and glance over his awards from the Venice Film Festival. Eh.
This is around where, while incredible in itself, a dose of familiarity with something work related would allow me to grasp and make intelligible.. other elements. Give me a steam wand and an espresso grinder, some mindless task and a flow of people and language being the main concern, not the (ugh)"profession" itself. It is part of living, though. Part of this, and the next stage of things along with everything else which is heaped on and on its way. It's fantastic. And fucking scary. It as if, had this been for a month or something and I had returned to familiarity and a semi-established life routine, this would all focus now or then to some extent. Though I realize that this is ainult üks nädal, ja veel pole kuud (only a week, not yet a month). And the holidays give another edge of surreality.. things shut down for literally three days surrounding Jõulupäev (Christmas, and more often simply referred to as Jõulu, which eliminates the confines of päev, which is the word for a day..). Raske, aga põnev ja kõik aeg läheb edasi, kuhugi.. alati kuhugi.
Piparkoogid ja glögi. Mere, aah ja taevas all.. see meretaevas, pime ja lõpematu ööd. Sellepärast,

Edasi..

Meie natukene algemined meeled.. (Insomnic Ramblings..)

It's been a good hour or two blaming an array of things on my lack of sleep, when somehow I became wrapped in the need to post a digression on the human soul and such.. usual response to jetlag and slight dehydration.
Actually, I came around to thinking on a comprehension of life, and how we are rooted in a primitive conception of size.. no matter the abstract or completely illusory qualities of such. So.. right, the obvious means by which I came to tossing this around is moving across countries. There is a slight fear, not so much for myself of the action, though of slighter steps along the way (a return flow of income (I'm all for helping the Baltic economies.. though.. help mine..), resident status and said visa which precludes this, setting up a bank account and getting the sweet European card with the chip on it (although only a more dramatic form of debiting), jne). Even a city, or at least the parts not fully explored, contribute to this mental preoccupation with size. Subsequently when things are 'mastered' or at least figured out to a point that it doesn't look like you are a first year university student learning how to use silverware, it is as if 'size' shifts in dual form. Fear or unfamiliarity 'diminishes' as you 'rise to expectations' or the 'occasion' or whatever (stop laughing, Kim.. this is serious). Progressing and gaining a semi-distinguished (though often still laughable) position or grasp on your situation depends largely on your conception of what is bigger and more dominant. Aside of whatever various significant others may claim while getting up and leaving the room to 'Just get some tasty water', size does matter.
Again, this is all process though. University was at one time bigger (at least undergrad.. eh.. Global Studies department..), until one may take some kicks, have some temporal victories and slowly learn when to make moves and when. Conceptually, a challenging entity has been subdued, and we then move onto the next saber-toothed tiger to seem larger than. The slight excitement of danger before this is reflex, though possibly unavoidable. I mean, you still need that bigger club. And then some metal stuck into the club. And next atomic fission to make the club decimate. Holding to the irony of life, however, the smaller particles which you may disperse the adversary into sometimes then become the issue themselves (Chernobyl demonstrates, however, that just ignoring things for long periods also has its benefits), along with the next giants. So all there remains is to furiously launch ourselves higher, and hope that the next lessened bits of problems trump, or at least provide a good cock fight, with those previous.
Sense? Little, as this progresses. However, it has given me a bit of initiative to take a proverbial club to this couch I am attempting to sleep on and beat it into comfortable submission.
Edasi..

Tuulispask..

Nii.. I meant to set myself onto writing this post much earlier. 'Earlier', meaning around 20 minutes ago, when I attempted to take the cork out of a bottle of glögi (hot mulled wine) Amerikkan style, and subsequently found myself with the same cork mashed into small traces now floating in the upper stratum of said glögi. Nothing like the spice of the holidays.. I'll work myself back around to how I am drinking this, writing this, sitting on a window ledge with Soome Järv (Gulf of Finland) melding with the sky to my right.. punctured by small shots of golden light which strike between the sea and sky.. and sudden complementing shards which slide past; ships coming into the harbor. Ilus. Aga esimene, reisist.. (Though first, about the trip..)

A large part of me wants to smite much of London Gatwick Airport with an ice pick. Nothing telling occurred on the flight to London aside of an empty seat next to me (score!), allowing me to uncomfortably curl to the side over both for a solid restful hour and a half or so (in place of uncomfortably sitting with my head to the side). Watched some Darjeeling Limited.. good film, though I would come to somewhat loathe the catchphrase of 'sometimes you realize that it is the journey that matters more than the destination' or something..

After a good fifteen minutes (I believe everything I hear, and that is how long the captain said that we would be circling.. timekeeping devices might report longer, though how reliable are those? Y2K slipped past our perception and is still fucking things up, hear you me..) hanging around LGW from the air, we landed and started our taxi to Glasgow and back. Given, I didn't fully mind as I had until 6pm until my flight to Tallinn was scheduled to take off.. the less I would spend in the outer-suburbs-1960's-mall-type interior of the airport, the better.. aaah, the fickle dreams of youth..

My ticket was actually ready sharpish from the desk, and I spent the next three hours staked out jamming to some Anima System and Adjagas.. couldn't really summon the energy to move beyond the A section of the iPod anyway. I found out around 2 that you couldn't begin check-in until 2 hours before your flight, so restaked myself with an expensive club sandwich until the time came.. then when I returned below, I found the entire passenger list of the plane lined up for two workers. Given their combined weight, I was figuring that they would have enough energy to speedily complete the task at hand. Aahh.. with boarding time fast approaching, I finally made my way to the front, and as I figured, was slapped with some large fees for being some kilos over the weight limit. This meant that I had to leave the line, join another line, find out that that was the wrong line, join yet another line, fight some Bulgarians to keep my place (I threatened them with revoking their EU membership.. said I had powerful friends.. felt like it was possible..) before finally ascending the summit to the front of that line. Although my receipt showed the simple price needed to be paid, this involved a 42 step process, some indentured servitude, shoe shining, reciting the script of Tommy Boy backwards, mimicry of Britishness, and other things not fit to write. Got the fee paid (..more than my plane ticket itself..), felt slightly powerful as I was able to punch straight past the rest of the line and pick up my ticket, and shot out towards security (with a few minutes to boarding).

Now, LGW has a brilliant system for boarding. There are several screens positioned around the lobby showing flights from throughout the day (as early as from 8am.. useful information, late in the afternoon). The staff feel themselves a bit Bondish, I believe.. you know, only when you need to know. This includes which gate your plane boards from. The status of flights will show 'Please wait..', and suddenly decide to flash red with 'Boarding closing at gate XXX'. Keeps people on their toes. Also makes people really anxious, something of which traveling is too often devoid. After at least five flight to Italy were canceled completely, mobs were looking for chairs to throw, the other people (many whom had been waiting 9 hours with multiple delays) sitting on these chairs and the general floor, and every single other flight on the televisions was delayed until a certain time, the next escalation for the masses would have probably involved petrol bombs. Ridiculous. Upon seeing 'Tallinn - Please Wait' on the board when I entered, I was slightly reassured and set of seeing how to best spend the 1P in my pocket left over from some other time in Gatwick. When I returned to the board, I was just as disassured when I realized that my flight no longer showed on the board. At least I knew what happened at 8am.

So.. shoved my way through the crowds to the front of the screaming mob (literally.. don't piss off Italians on multiple accounts..) I at long last divined that my flight was delayed until around 7.10 boarding. Brilliant. This at least released me for an overpriced pint of Murphy's to soothe the atmosphere. I really want to find out how many kegs that bar went through.. ended up talking to some bloke who works for BAE systems, moaning about how this was literally the worst day to fly (I didn't realize when booking, though the Friday before Christmas is.. well.. not.. good..). He offered to buy me another pint, and we stood staring hopelessly at the boards before I cut him off on a story about how his father had dual citizenship with the States for a while before they found out and he just decided to retire to the Senior-Jungles of Florida when I had a flashing boarding gate for my flight. Rushed off, slightly feeling the pints, and finally boarded (again with an empty seat next to mine, though across from an Estonian quite angry at the video games he was playing..). Again, never make the misconception that 'boarding' the plane means that you are in any way separated from Gatwick. So.. another probably 40 minutes at the gate before we were allowed to turn on the engines. Then we again embarked on a taxi to Malta. Fucking L.

Arrived in Tallinn around 1.30 AM here, scheduled for 9.50 PM landing. Fucking timepieces.

Took a taxi to my new place, dodging keys thrown from windows.. met the new flatmates, drank some glögi and soon dropped onto my foam block of a temporary mattress. I'll probably take down some details of the last two days soon, though it feels as if they never existed. I am only now touching down mentally.. with people and rushing around the last few days and all smothered with jetlag, I haven't had any time for settling.. for realizing and coming to. Only tonight, with all out to other cities for the holidays and myself in my apartment.. only now am I starting to make those connections. Myself. My apartment. Here. Lights and languages. Dark and dusk. With coming days, these will become wound into other words and sentence structures.. paragraphs and storylines following a continuum. Forging a continuum.

Maa on pole lumi, taevas ja mere without end. Edasi..

Täna, siis Homme.. siis..

All has risen into a surging crescendo... a flurry and a rush.. and only the prelude. I feel as if everything has become more porous. I notice things, constantly seek to realize the simple transition of last sightings and initial departures. Nothing will become so tangible for a few weeks, after it has passed and may be recognized as a frozen history. It is odd completing things which I mused over months past.. returning library books, sorting DVDs, sorting farewells, dividing and disposing of personal goods, fusing and propelling forward relationships. A constant movement has come about, one which is only loosely bound (and even these ties only nudge and provide slight shadow.. as.. say.. final exams..). These are the moments of lifting.. before toes may only stretch to scrape the ground, though a firm stance has diminished. Invigorating.. and only a firmer stance will result.
Edasi..

Nakonets.. kirjutasin!

Nii.. the final version of my undergraduate thesis has been completed. Nothing fantastic, though this should provide a launch for possible (Fulbright?) research across the Baltic. Try getting to it here. No promises. No refunds. Best read while sipping on a White Russian.
More substantial digressions varsti.. Üks nädal veel, siis..

Edasi..

'Mis?' or 'Donetsk-mining-style-consciousness with a lack of Saku..'

I have lately been lacking in much-any motivation to post here, or to complete much else. A bit of it is the frenzied slam-pow of the semester which I undertook, and its physical and mental repercussions (I finished the last of 3 papers the week before Thanksgiving.. all due by 13 December. Possibly this occurred as one of the papers concerned monuments of Lenin, and all these crazy images of his office in Smolnii Institut kept popping up, and a subsequent nation-building internationalist (shit, that could get me now if I apply for the 'farm', couldn't it..) fury took over my writing. At least I wasn't writing on Stalin..). Digressing, I am feeling fucking tired.
Which is where the cold, sharp-profiled face of chance gave me a bit of a break.. I now have an apartment Tallinnas (in Talinn)! An Estonian friend gave me some assistance with connections, and following a few emails reassuring that I wasn't a neocon, neolib, terrorist, Holocaust denier, vampire, or Schroeder supporter, they offered a spot in a 3-room apartment to me.
Note, '3-room' (3 toaline), and not '3-bedroom' (3 magamistoaline).
There will be much more on all of this.. when.. motivation recurs. I am really shot, and kahjuks (unfortunately, k sozhalenuiu) this is about all that I am able to scratch out for the evening. The surreality of selling everything, finishing everything.. the motion and the rush which is only in an initiation of building.. it is running me through this disoriented state. Things are coming together, and I am progressing steadily and moving forward, though it is like watching a film drunk. Soon will be a more steady grasp of things.. or a sobriety.. and hopes that there is coffee, clouds, and a view through the horizon of the sea when this occurs.
This post was meant to be much more detailed and.. fuck if I can't even finish a sentence..
Closing in on kaks nädala veel.. edasi..

Korterid ja Kvartiri, all while listening to Hungarian eskimo lounge..

Nii..
Üks kuu ja natukene rohkem.. one month and a bit. Looking around at places online is almost like following something to take a bet on, so many ups and downs and unknowns.. and then if I say 'fuck it' and place that bet and get there, me losing the bet means stabbing and raping. I would prefer the stabbing first, I sort of win that way.
With the price range I am looking at, it is really either way.. some places show such a fantastic scene that I have serious reservations about their willingness to offer it for that price. Some openly show a pile of shit. Most of the offerings just don't show pictures. It's like a really fantastic horror film, what you can't see psychologically messes with you. Faaantastic. So. Here are some of the places I am sending emails for.

www.kv.ee/635762

This one is in Põhja-Tallinn, great location close to the main city, though around 89.4% of the apartments there are sketch. Much of the housing is wooden or stone, only a few scattered panel houses. I love it when they advertise a shower, bathroom, and WC.. then say that they are only connected to the 1-room (or 2-room at times.. makes me curious to what is so important for the second room that the architect didn't want to sacrifice it for a toilet) apartment. My proposal is 'meat freezer'. The buildings are really old (some pre-Soviet occupation), a few are renovated. Mmmm.. so.. bodies in the walls.

Just finished another one.

www.kv.ee/633403

Nõmme is actually a really great area, there is a low dead body-resident ratio. It is a bit far from the centre however, so I would really have to get on top of renewing my ISIC for a year and thus landing cheaper, student metro passes. Also I enjoy the idea of being able to pull a shower curtain around myself on the toilet.. it is good planning to be ready for almost anything in Eesti.. All of the landlords (feudal masters.. few differences.. this is eastern Europe..) I have sent emails to have Russian names.. I am really only planning on paying half of any rent, and having the other half come from telling them I can speak vene (Russian) keel if it is easier, then seducing them (regardless), learning their ways, and then buying the ground from under their feet so the tables are turned. Should only take a few months of living in the snow.

Just to illustrate, here is Nõmme..
..and Põhja-TallinnEdasi..

Mere ääres, siis läbi.

The waves, life itself, is in a state of fluidity, rushing. The last few days have been a torrent of this, in all, the last few weeks as well. The distance in separation that you can feel from yourself in a mere few weeks is incredible. The excitement and apprehension of the process of further becoming stands remarkable as well. Daily I fel closer to a comfort, residence. Breaking over the waves (in a 4-bed, windowless room somewhere that in earlier days of maritime transit was reserved for vagabonds and hidden pirate romance) tonight towards Scandinavia will be, well, leaving a developing home. The excitement and newness of daily encounters and wrong turns into brilliance continues, though the more settled, no, more thoroughly accustomed life in the West looms. Where singularity of language overpowers, where to most things that are kõikjal (everywhere) in society and in every word and glance, suddenly in an ocean away are absent. This is what I am returning to, and will return from januaaris. Towards red metal roofs covered in sea breeze and snow, towards where öö is a common word.

The difficulty of language will pervade, for years and on. Difficulty in the sense of absorption, of self exclusion from what is known (and to most others as well, with misfortune) and kiire (quick) in comprehension to myself. With possible work as well, one of the 'skills' I will shower around will be native English speaking, loodan et with avoidance of 'tourist' ends in such work. There are possibilities rising now, with NGOs (mmmmtf), ülikooliga (viisteist krooni espresso iga hommik, jah!), and assistant research possibilities (sort of like sex, except also with the ode kohv). The months before such already arouse a longing. The absence of some fucking great people from the Cities, the absence of a sea and common comprehension of täpselt, the days will probably progress in altering speed and drift. Ööd alongwith.

The discoveries are only rising and turning, with a horizon stretching forth. Saaremaa, Hiiumaa, Soomi, Samimaa, põhja, siia ja sinna. The rush, the tide and taevas. Edasi,

Tõesti.

Breath takes visible shape through vihm, lingers näo ees hommikul, õhtul ja veel (before your face,morning, night and then some). Torn away with the mere tuul (wind of the sea). Veel kord (again) I could spend hours aimfully, effortlessly, endlessly typing on things Eestis. This will probably come in bits through the next week or so, with increasing opening (or closing) time. Time spent on this only limits the time spent allowing more to flow forth. Complex of complexities, digressing on the life and the living, in the moments of months before a more permanent settlement here, januaaris(?!). Aga veel, see kiire tuleb. Edasi,

Keelist, ja lainest põhjal.

Nii, siin olen. Reflection or recapturing has openly not been any sort of effort that I have really attempted to take this far, one week into. Finally now, a bit, a breath of sea. The sand cascading over my feet, waves lapping my consciousness, see oleb. Täna oli (Today was) esimenese päev (first day), kui ma olen missing several things, the first in a while that I have thought back over the Atlantic to anything. Kõik (everything) is really, really great. Aside of a lack of any way to cook in the hostel (Amend that, there is a stove. Which is fine, as long as I have no problems with cooking anything directly on the burners or using my hands as a pot, then eating off of my charred palms without using any sort of silverware in such a task. Brilliant.), and an extended ride linna multiple times a day (40 minutid, kuigi ma võin näha the more peripherals of the city and do not regret being that far from kesklinnalt), things are really kõik on korras. Most on the programme (around 98% to remain scientific about all of this) are from all around Euroopa, for incredibly varied personal reasons or professions (EU or Dutch foreign service translators capable of speaking in around 5 other keeled (languages), the usual). Throughout such a rush of local Estonian complexikty and interest, along with Euro-foreign, I am almost a bit stressed from time to time. Not from the onpouring of life so much as from the realization of my own lack in such, well, suprisingly my English is temporarily returning for a bit, linguistic fortitude. It's the not-fully-wanted-though-easier end of the stick (Though what would the other end, or sides or offshoots of such a figurative stick appear like, and is that actually a common English phrase at all?), it is an ease and a disadvantage to have a native language spoken everywhere. This is not cutting on the presence of a common keel at all, the the interactions where one language can translate anything woven through such varied populations is incredible. Though it is unfortunate to not be fluently working interactions in a foreign language (much less learning another foreign language in this foreign language), given with small gaps in knowledge of words or grammatical deviations, as most others are. It is sort of a motivation to dig harder though into русский язык, into eesti keel, and to more often push others into speaking it. Therein inevitably follows another realization on my lack of full proficiency (More or less, and an annoying feeling like gnawing at my wrists with lack of vocabulary. That is also a common English phrase, jah?) in either. It's a thick struggle, though papered with triumphant interactions and Saku Tume throughout.
Nii, so I am at the sea, põhjal, and in the soothing cacophonous lilt of the incoming tide. Kõik on.
Edasi,

Vasak ja parem, ja vasakule paremaga (parmale vasakuga).

The sun lingers, clinging to what it may outside of winter months and its little-roused hibernation below the sea horizon. Classes are grand, slightly deep into the water of conversation and my delayed responses, though I enjoy swimming in the depths. After full mastering of the tops-5 words required in any language for ordering food or õlut (beer) and not allowing myself to be conviced that that level of proficiency means anything, things lähevad, are progressing. So much vocabulary, and the initial grasp of grammatical concepts becomes more valja (necessary) with ominisity of 'exceptions' approaching and winding through conversation. Nothing aside of uninhibited attention feels enough, though pausid must be taken, an extended peering around and intake of surroundings and the autumn leafish flurry of life and land (maa) in and around. Neither end presses harder than the other, neither demands or shies away from the other. Kõik olla. Edasi,

Põhja.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

10:34 PM

Disclaimer - I realize the pictures aren't up, they, also aren't on my laptop as of now. There is no wireless in the hostel and this is all a bit rushed, more on soon, oota!

Eestis again, ja наконец! Everything läks smoothly, almost late for the plane thanks to the hordes descending upon the one cue for all SAS flights, though fought the way through. The flight was suprisingly brief, grand view of the island off the west coast whilst peering over the person in the window seat. Bus from the airport kesklinna (to downtown) was simple enough, I haven't fully figured out what the charges are for transport, so, I only paid for one ticket on both busses. Works out, right. I live a decent bit from kesklinnalt, figured out the right stop with assistance from a crazy Eesti man who overestimated my abilities to speak the language (understandable, I asked if it was peatus Raja in Eesti keeles) as well as to drunkenly joke in the language (I was a bit deficient at both of those ends). It is really solid living this far out from the center, though. Figure the prices will be a bit lower in these parts, now that I have finally found 'a' store. I took the sort of figure eight route, which, ended me out close to the hostel where I started, and in such the store I had been looking for to stock up on groceries. I'll be figuring out if the grocieries I attempted to stock up on are actually regular things in these parts, I have often recieved the question asking me if it is really difficult to find food and if all of the stores in Russia and around these parts are still empty and shodden down. Suprisingly for them, the 90's ended a bit ago, not to mention the early ninties. This store was actually some sort of chain, possibly newer or just undergoing, well, somthing, as that question was a bit qualified täna. Most of the coolers were empty,the shelves were all cleared out and any merchandise displayed was a bit lacking in quantity. I was able to land bread, a bit of sausage (there are no knives in the hostel kitchen as it is shared with one other double room, right, also no pans), soap (solid), cereal (muesli?), and no cheese (right before I left the store they stocked some sort of freeze dried cheese into a random cart?). Же странно. Works out, if the buses run a bit more tomorrow I'll head closer to kesklinn for some other semi-necessary. I might have figured it out immediately after leaving, I dipped into a Nurga Baar (corner bar) next to it and divided by a classy looking bank, the baar had pizza advertised for 25 krooni, sounding both less expensive and more filling than the (incredibly delicious) croissant with sausage and cheese I downed before my train-to-airport-journey-fun-bucket earlier in the morning. I was being stared down by Russians the whole time calling their friends to order them to pick up some закуски (what you eat following shots), one Russian cab driver, and the light Russian pop music coating the room. The owners of the place were nice enough, the keg was dried out so they were providing bottles in place and the microwave oven pizza was decent enough. This rambling has no and intends no direction, digressing.

So many things to attempt to impart, I have thought about getting more of this out earlier, not so much sure for myself or for informing others, though actually writing it threatens with dissolution the intangibility of the thing it adresses. So, edasi.

The houses out here are incredible, in the figure eight towards empty shelves I wandered through some forests with narrow streets and reconstructed medieval replicas. Again with the shimmering.

The picture is of the sky at past kell üksteist õhtul (11 in the evening), no flash, loads of shimmer.

Homme siin, ja veel täna. Edasi,

O/(mix those)

I have the constant awareness of almost being eaten by bikes. Everywhere, riding though the paltry summer air (15 C) and swarming through traffic lights. The clouds hang lower, mist hangs higher, the colours spar for tepid or powerful hues. Edasi,

Nädal, и тогда,

I am becoming quietly frenzied in anticipation of departure. I really should touch up studying eesti keel a bit this next week. I've been taking on Master and Margarita to great proportions lately, though, this time around actually in Russian. Great for submersing a bit more in it, though much of it is heavily stylistic , which is at least messing up my sanity in flipping around the beautiful hulk of a Russo-English dictionary which I own. Should really land a Russo-Estonian dictionary when I am back Eestis. If anything, just so that I can determine what are in picture-less mystery boxes of food or drink in produkti stores and lacking any translation into any more comprehensible or non-Fenno-Urgic language (bar Dutch, still have no confirmation on my tickets!). Really made a mistake on that one morning, the type of morning where for various reasons your throat is dry and your head hurts and you jacket bulges from pint glasses stolen somehow in the dusk of the previous evening, that sort of morning. Reached into a cooler to pick out a bottle of some interesting looking, presumably non-alcoholic, locally produced beverage. Paid some kroons, opened the cap, in took an amount larger than a sip, and delightfully discovered the flat, underside of a Soviet mattress taste of kvass permeating my bone marrow. Vanilla Coke would really have been a great choice.
Really, though, stoked for the flights and settlings in a weeks time. While scratching this out (I'm dabbling in the new OneNote, mainly because whenever I attempt to post pictures through the blog it's harder to carry through than an Icelandic visa) I actually got a call from Abby, friend of mine who is studying in Copenhagen and providing a couch in an IKEA-drizzled flat for me the first few days. Should be a really chill unwinding and settling into the European landmass, wandering around coffee shops and trying to carry over a native Nordic appearance. I'll hold much digression on such for when I am actually across the Atlantic, just thinking over this is accelerating my excitement loads.

Пока, thumping beats of electronic apprehension, winding up the BPM towards a transition. Siis, ja sinna!

Vaga vaga vaga vaga varsti! (Not a Finnish pop-song refrain)

This has been my sort of project aside of furiously delving more into eesti keel and then watching countless Russian films online (probably while loading up my laptop with electronic tracking friends from all of the sites). This will all become гораздо more interesting (well, farther away at the least) in a shortening amount of weeks. Вперёд!

Üks, kaks, kolm, neli, viis, kuus, seitse, kaheksa, üheksa, kümme!

It is on!
Purchasing air tickets is so exhilarating and exhausting. So many combinations, so many possible days, possible destinations, connections, transfers, one way, round trip, seat choices, number of pillows that you would prefer allocated to you. I have probably spent more time digging around through possible configurations for flights than I have spent for some of the classes which I have taken, and absolutely more time than I should have available to me with the ominous final exams shooting glares from a few days away. Конце концов, they are purchased and the Atlantic will be traversed in the approaching months!
To fill in the background on all of this, the precursory information if you will, I undertook an extensive research project for one of my classes this semester (and one of the only ones I really enjoyed at that). Through this research project, I started delving into ethnic segregation (state or self-imposed) and marginalization within post-Soviet Tallinn, Eesti. Light reading, right? It really drew me in, and I ended up foregoing work for other sub-par classes in favour of more research for this. There (suprisingly?) lacks an overwhelmingly large array of information from academic journals and such, most of the information I found came from Helsinki or Tallinn itself (which was really solid information and written really well into English), so possibly in the futureish I will try for a grant to fill in the gaps. Digressing, I stumbled onto this site of the Estonian Institute (www.einst.org) and, in some procrastinative dabbling, checked out the various 'activities' sponsored. The institute turns out to sponsor two international students to study for part of the summer in Tallinn (and two in Tartu), covers everything with the exception of airfare! So I dropped in an application, the hardest part of which was the 'Letter of Motivation', which in itself was not so much hard as just describing my time spent in Tallinn.
Results came around a few days past, and I am accepted for a spot!
So, back to Eesti! Back to Saku Tume! Back to -not- drinking copious amounts of unexpected 2-for-1 Tequila with French and Dutch this time and thus retaining 6 more hours of memory of personal life events than I would have (vodka or Saku could substitute)!
I will be stopping around Cophenhagen on my way towards the Baltics for a few days to visit a friend (Abby) there in architecture school (Simon or Pam, trip to the north?!). Another really great part of ordering plane tickets, it is complicated in English, just try it in Dutch. I couldn't find the translated page and figured that prices would probably be higher (airline sites are tricky like that I believe), so after guessing my Dutch moniker (I took the first one with the M in it, figuring that gender issues on airline sites probably had not yet switched the female prefix to before the male) and unticking boxes in hopes of not being inadvertently signed up for hordes of crap emails coming my direction, I locked down the ticket from Gatwick to Copenhagen. I'll be hubbing out of picturesque LGW with my flights over the Atlantic, and I have all flights booked up to Tallinn. Assuming that Russia does not invade during this time, I might make my way West following the programme (first few days of August) through Helsinki, or through the other Baltic states, or, however it plays out. So stoked!
The time spent between these travels will be intense, and exhilarating as well. I'll be 'studying' Estonian language and culture. This is also the focus that I am holding myself back from now to attempt to put some sort of formidable effort into finals, and which will dominate my open time for the next few months. If I can somehow attain a decent proficiency at Eesti, patch up my Russian proficiency a bit, and retain native English, I could search around for some sort of position with those cards following graduation (December, oi). No idea what, though hopefully it would be a bit more involved than an attendant on an Estonian ferry, avoiding projectile fluids from drunken Finns.
Tak hästi! On and on and on and on, terviseks!

Clicks ticks and hums.

Far longer than expected, and to carry on as such for a bit. Tramp around L'Envers du Regard on the left side here in free or несвободной time. Clouds are far harder to grasp when not low hanging and grey. On and on and on and on, terviseks.

From Within Clouds and Kohvi.

The sun climbs higher over the horizon than I have seen it in a great amount of time. It is really startling, already close to a week into such a life, though still holding light disbelief every time I contemplate its position. Climbing over the clouds of Riga on the BA flight to Gatwick held the same sort of feeling when the sun shot through the windows, the only partner for the plane in the barren clouded landscape. That is always one of my favorite moments when flying, when a dark day is suddenly dispersed, crazy.
The two days of traveling were really monotone, holding a strange melancholy from the movement of temporarily parting with Europe. After not sleeping on New Years to ensure making it to the station for the ridiculously early bus to Riga, dragging suitcases over cobblestones the entire way, I took a few hours for sleep on the smooth ride under intrinsic Baltic skies. New Years consisted of a few Saku Tume with a Polski couple staying in the apartment wing of the hostel, champagne and dodging fireworks in the centre square of Old Town, another drink following at Levis Väljas, and listening to that crazy translated conversation. Forward again to the bus ride, after arriving and making the mystery pull of currency from an ATM with unclear perception of what the exchange rate was or what that meant for the amount that I withdrew, I took a later-realized incredibly overpriced taxi to the aeroport and then spending almost an entire Lat, fucking L, of the 50 that I withdrew on a few items to counter the mixed state of underslept and overdrank waiting for registration to open for the flight. Enjoyed one of the best samples of coffee that I had consumed in four months, and then set off for the island. At Gatwick under the shouting of warnings detailing the acquisition and ultimately, 'maybe', destruction of unattended luggage, I took a breath of UK air outside the door and settled into two constantly drifting chairs for the night. I was stopped at one point by a, constable?, sporting one of those incredibly visible and at-the-ready automatics and went through a random security check. The check was great, actually, probably a hassle for rushing passengers, though as I was forty minutes into the 18 something hours which I would spend in the time zone, I was completely cooperative with such. The guy was great to talk to for a while, better than any conversation I had in Russia with actual citizens there, and I came out of it with a UK police report copy detailing how I was checked under the 2000 Terrorism and something Act. That is getting fucking framed.
The return stateside was really, well, anticlimactic and sort of lonely. After Tori picked me up at MSP slightly late, which in turn actually worked as I was delayed some 40 minutes, we talked about random back at the flat for an hour before she left for some friend's birthday and then off to live in Orno for the rest of break. Sam is still in Wisconsin, so the entire 3-bedroom is left to myself and the cascading rhythms of Miwon and Pastacas, staring at the emptiness of the horizon. Readjusting to Western civilization and the time zone and such has mostly taken place through an overload of cleaning the apartment, which, in most part of it, is the first time in four and a half months. No worries though.
I realized another element that felt dragging down of spirits in Russia, as everything in that region it is two sided, though ultimately slowly degrading. Immersion into that culture raises a lack of suprise for most occurences. As things descend into increasingly shocking circumstances, shock and suprise at such fades and forwards that lack. It is slow to notice, as the enacting of such takes place slowly through multiple, constant, parts of society and lfie. Even the response of a shaking of the head, rerealization and trailing off statement 'Fucking Russia,', with the reoccuring exposure to such, other emotions dwindle within the borders of such culture. Crossing into the Baltics felt as a reawakening every time I crossed the border. Not only a reawakening into more Western civilization, the architecture and institutions and people and interactions, it was also a sort of reawakening of expression. It is a reopening, a sudden break into the unobscured sunlight and shattering of surrounding tethers.
Even as I have a mobile for contact now, most are absent of the city for break, takes in a strange and staggered reentrance into this culture. Realization of such has come in bursts, a blank second and a stare at the start of my first shift back at the 'Buck, which transitioned into flawless reimmersion into 15 second shots and drink calls. Things are either strikingly different or strikingly unchanged.
Snow is falling in scarcity. Thoughts swell and drift to urges for a Saku and a walk to the end of the world with some half French, followed by the swan along the shore. Terviseks!

Hours.

Last few hours in Tallinn, crazy. I spent the New Years in the main square of Old Towne, talking to a couple from Polska and avoiding the random personal fireworks spurting from all sides in suprise. This last stretch is surrounded by Eesti, French, and English, and all drowned in glögi. Would any other way really trump this? Lack of sobriety is possible, following a few Saku, some Chilean wine, some rum and coke, possibly something else at Levis Väljas, just known to English speakers as the underground, with the Poles, why should I remember? I have spent the last hour clutching consciousness as my bus leaves in a few hours and the walk to the departure point will take a while. There is a French guy translating through an Eesti guy to the Eesti guy's sister that he, well, wants on her, through English, and in the last few minutes another French guy has jumped in the trio to clear the English a bit before translation. The Irish guy, John, that basically runs the place will probably be in within a few minutes to shout it all down. He usually has some crab pants on, really great guy after you are here a while though. I can really catch his point. After a few weeks, even days, in a hostel like such, you see such varied crowds. John has been around since, June? I saw him my last time around the city when I was at the other hostel, he has been saving getting 'proper fucked' for a while now, and sadly as last night was the time for it, it was called off with some late registrers. That is an English word now, write that one down. The gap separating now from later posts will probably be a bit longer, as I will spend most of the time in transport or in aeroports the next two days, then taking myself into the timezone back in the Cities. So crazy, hours?!
Turning point in the French-English-Eesti, she is 16?! The French aren't much over that either, making me feel like a well-weathered gentleman already, I should be waving a cane and shouting for some quiet in these hours. I'll just bury myself in this glögi and thoughts of the crowds and other part French times already past, for now.
Skylines loom. Terviseks, prost!