Tappity-tap.

Snow will bring us together

I've noticed one thing in this beloved, oft-times frigid northern climate. Snow is the best means of integration and community. At least the first snowfall. Alas, this has melted off for now and the self-reassuring dreariness, fog and rain of the Baltic have extended their lease through the end of fall. Winter made a couple of advances a few weeks ago however, and it was fantastic to watch (and partake in) the aftermath. It seems that people drop their boundaries, at least temporarily, and catch sidelong glances and smiles of pure enjoyment at the odd tactile meteorological representation that lies about. People almost wrap themselves in it, and bring others into the fold. I went with Tuuliki to snatch some hõõgvein (the popular winter hot mulled wine) and head through upper vanalinn (Old Town) and my favorite park in the vicinity. Standing next to Pikk Hermann, I invented a contest throwing snowballs down onto the spotlights beaming up onto the ancient Danish fortress remains. A snowball fight which had earlier sputtered between us here and there came into full swing, and a few strays happened to bring a young Russian-Estonian couple into the cross-fire (well, 'stray' means that it wasn't exactly 'cross', but past Tuuliki or over her head and onto their apparel). I gave a short-breathed apology and they seemed jovial, so Tuuliki coaxed them into turning against myself. Our small three-on-one went on for a good five or ten minutes and provided me with some much-needed exercise darting and lurking behind trees (my usual mid-day exertion of energy is moving my leg from a crossed position to supporting my feet on the radiator and back, while the translations flood in).

It was a light, energetic experience that crossed out the awkwardness of language or deciding in which tongue to even communicate (I dropped some Estonian and shout some things in Russian at them while Tuuliki also seemed inadhered to a single linguistic array). The experience was short and mostly unspoken, but true and a demonstration of at least the possibility for such encounters. I plan to start further random wars with unknown passerbys through flinging objects at them that won't leave them wounded, unconscious or covered in any sort of unpleasant liquids. Summer will be the time for spontaneous pillow fights. Let it snow.

Living in a Soviet block is "boring" (bad pun).

So one thing that I have come to grips with living amongst crumbling stacks of concrete is that, regardless of how hopeless the buildings appear to be on the outside (and what you can assume to be the internal structure, which is quite an unnerving thought when you actually live there), someone is renovating. This word is used very loosely, as I highly doubt that the performance of the act dictates a real, formidable or even tactile outcome. Quite the opposite - 'remont' anywhere in the Soviet crack stacks really means drilling into any surviving bit of concrete to be found in the hopes of the entire building collapsing upon itself and the residents being sent to freshly constructed municipal housing. Panel construction means that the rusted rods which the remaining bits of concrete stick to resonate at every poke and prod from a drill, which on any given day someone will decide to implement in their endeavors. What I fail to understand and why I come to the conclusion that these home-repairers aren't actually doing anything is that I can't figure out exactly why they would find it necessary to incessantly make holes in the concrete. A few days ago this reached a new high - of course, during summer after moving to the apartment in 2008 I became accustomed to the fact that the screeching would reach its peak around eight or nine in the morning.. this time, however, it was at 10 in the morning, right as my daily stash of documents to be translated started to pour in, and this time seemingly just on the other side of the wall. Finding the source is tricky, though, and the ruckus happened to be coming from a man dangling from a rope attached somewhere on the roof, boring into the seams between the concrete slabs from the outside, one floor up and a few apartments across. Which made sense - the noise was using my eardrums as a timpani. I about quit work and ran out screaming after the first fifteen minutes. Luckily, it ended a bit later as they moved to the other side of the building to cave out more load-bearing material. The walls aren't the thickest or the most solid in the first place. There's an electrical socket next to our bed which seems to be fit into a hole opening up into the apartment next to ours. Were our neighbors extremely quiet or even head-banging trancers on ecstasy, it'd be one thing. However, the situation helps to make up for the fact that I disconnected the cable television a year ago - some crazywoman living there regularly decides to begin chanting, singing and generally werewolfing at three in the morning (six in the morning, two in the afternoon, seven at night.. there's not much of a pattern), shouting into the air (more like my electrical socket) for some long-lost relative to return so she can make her dinner - this is, naturally, accompanied by pot-banging from time to time and then the older man that lives there yelling at her to shut up and give it up already. I'm content with the fact that I extremely rarely run into either of them in our shared, empty hallway to the stairwell. There's been worse all in all and returning to the structural topic - I felt the entire building literally sway a few inches from side to side one day (the curtains moving helped me to figure out it wasn't just my body going into some sort of alcohol-relapse days after the actual drinking. It was probably just something collapsing in the limestone quarry across the road (further brilliant Soviet planning - build a massive residential district downwind of where tons and tons of dust are shot into the air from a large pipe 24 hours a day). No worries. It's Lasnamäe.

And with that, I announce plans to find a place in some wood-plank 1930's house in Kalamaja. I feel the urge to write about an adventure not involving the Migration Board. Curses on them; setting sights on the other end of the city and the shore of the sea.

Edasi, вперёд..

You be who?

Preventing diversity only encourages local extremism.

That's what I've been trying to get out. Probably a statement I should have warmed up into, though early rising on Tuesday mornings to Russian electricians doesn't exactly cultivate deep analytic moods.

Take religious preferences approach, for example. I'm not a religious person by any means; if you don't count me watching Lost 'religiously' (that's more of an addiction) or 'religiously' having a cup of black tea before coffee in the morning in that category. As such, I actually blend into the average population better here in Estonia than in the US. The last time I was in Minneapolis, I was shocked by just how many places of worship dot just about every other streetcorner. It's a mode of power and social control yet deeply entrenched in American society - a more noticeable state expression of this (never mind that rumor of 'separation of church and state') is the Sunday ban on liquor sales in Minnesota. How does that regulation promote a free and fair economy? What reasons preclude the ban which are not associated with 'purity' or 'honoring' or 'values'; all of which tie right back into some sort of organized where-does-my-soul-or-thetan-or-whatever go after I've really just decomposed and enriched the soil for plant growth? Anything? Bueller?

I do support the right of everyone to peacefully believe what they believe and to act upon it in their own right, as long as its doctrine doesn't infringe upon the same of others. This, again, is the same diversity which is crucial to the health of a society. It's inherent, and in the absence of a very visible form, the society will turn upon itself to search out minute variations in the fold by which it can both differentiate and define itself. That said - although I disapprove of the lack of tolerance for non-religious types in the States, I'm also dissatisfied with the absence of tangible variation here in Estonia.

True, there is very little history of religious variation in Estonia as compared to more fiery, border- and formely empire-ridden parts of the world. Paganism, Christianity (via the Danes, Swedes and Germans) and Russian Orthodox (guess who) have been in practice. Hare Krishna (the musical procession may be seen on Raekoja plats every day at exactly 17:14) and Buddhism are in the wings along with Scientology and, I suspect, one or two Flying Spaghetti Monsterists. A grand seven Jews were left in the wake of the Holocaust in Estonia; not a widely-taught reality in history lessons. The first synagoge since WWII opened up on a Tallinn side-street a few years ago; brilliant architecture, classy restaurant, a few token Israelis and a lot of Russian speaking. I've yet to see any resemblance of a minaret in the city alongside the towers of Tallinn's city walls. I somewhat doubt any are in the making.

According to the Estonian Statistics Board, there were 1,387 Muslims in the country in 2000 (on a side note, it's interesting that there isn't a link for 'Religious preference' under the social statistics section of the web page - no preference means not making it into an issue and less of a problem. Or is that just the lack of noticeable diversity again?). I'm sure at least half of them are forced to be on call to interrogate any would-be dark skinned and bearded arrivals at the airport. Not that Estonians have any deep-seeded racist tendancies or outward fears, though they easily could. Exposure to diversity is incredibly low and very, very few people are even open to the idea of considering stepping it up.

A few weeks ago, Estonia announced that it would decline a request from the European Commission that it participate in a migrant-relocation program. Basically, migrants mainly washing up on the shores of southern member states granted asylum would be found a home and support in other member countries (who pledged to help each other upon acession .. right?). I'm not entirely clear on how much in assistance funding would be acquired towards these purposes from the EU proper, though let's take a look at why Estonia turned this down, ey?

"Estonia is not planning to take part in the relocation program because the state of our budget does not allow it and our society is not ready for this today."

Uku Särekanno, Estonian Representative to the EU

Oh, right, not 'today'.. next week, maybe. Just the fact that it was slipped in as a side-note and not admittedly presented as the main cause drives me mad. If you're going to say it, don't preclude it with a bullshit excuse. Say the bullshit excuse, or say the truth - both don't cooperate well together in the same sentence. Estonia is afraid of differences, and it is exactly this fear that will hold the country and the society back from accepting and appreciating them. Yes - not all Estonians are the same by any standard and it's amazing how tribal affiliations are still celebrated and promoted.. this is something I think should only deepen and become richer in form.. however, allowing immigrants to come in and experience the give-and-take of integration will not threaten or abolish these ties. It will only give them an even greater value as people confront the commonalities and differences between them and other races and life approaches.