Ööpäike (Night-sun).

Nii. Legs are feeling it. Lungs are breathing it.

The full swing of a Scandinavian summer is more than in the wings. Actually as of .. yesterday (Pööripäev), it's officially here. And as of tomorrow, the waking up at 4-something to 10-something sunlight starts its recline. Much work is at hand as well, though we've been striving (together with Tuuliki.. I haven't started speaking in monarch-style. Yet.) to cycle and paddle it into the background for as long of periods as possible.

I take back all talk of possibly selling Лайка (Laika, my bike) in favour of a sportier, forward-leaning springed and multi-geared version. No more. Although she's as old as the Soviet space program (most likely), she's also as eye-raisingly durable as it (though appearance and funding may show otherwise!). Yesterday she definitely proved herself.. adventure details are as follows.

I own a telk (tent) (as anyone reading my posts on Pärnu a year ago may remember) and a magamiskott (sleeping bag). Both bought on the same day from very discount locations. Both are flipping awesome as well. Worked out getting off of work for a few concurrent days with Tuuliki, and we decided to head out into the woods. Well, bog.

Tuuliki's cousin had a lõpetamine pidu (graduation party) somewhere outside of Kohila, so we figured a drop in on that and spin out for some camping would be fantastic. Oh, and it was. Took the train to Kohila (costs as much as a bus ticket if you buy it from the driver, i.e. more expensive than a regular bus ticket.. I resolve to make more use of trains soon) and biked out from there. Passed up buying beer until we made it closer to the campsite, which we later found out to be a misfortune, as the closest store on that end of the trip closes at 4pm on weekends. Makes sense, right? No one puts their party shoes on after that time on a Saturday.. Anyways, found out the place while evading wild dogs and enjoyed some kuklid (sort of like biscuits) and grilled sausages while playing the relative-get-together-game for a while. Got my ass kicked in a basketball shoot-out by her drunk uncle, who then started calling himself Jordan non-stop. I put smiles on faces, that's me. After escaping from the madness (and after enjoying a fucking a m a z i n g kringel made by her vanaema), we rode once more past the dogs ready to break-dance our legs into chew toys and headed for Järlepa järv (lake). After long length, found our way past the mõis (local mansion once belonging to the Baltic German feudal lords), locked up the bikes together for the night and ran cheering into the bog. Words drop out of usefulness in describing this part of the journey.. absolutely brilliant, it became. Found a dry spot (more like the dry spot) about half-way around, facing the sunset (a phrase used somewhat lightly, as it doesn't exactly get dark again for more than 5 minutes until late July), with the door a meter at most from the waves lapping silently into moss. Made Tuuliki a pro with her first bear-bag, roasted some õllevorstid (beer sausages) and burgsid, and.. well.. breathed it all in. Deeply.

Next day made it onto the 'road' (another lightly-used term, and something that makes me wildly proud of Laika's performance given the fact that I can see the stitching under the tires in some places) around noon, bidding a 'tšau' to Järlepa järv and the two residential swans (and five ducklings and two ducks and a billion tadpoles and the signs of põhjapõder (reindeer) and metssiga (boar) we found around the tent), and in wistful glances at the place as long as this sentence, headed in a south-east by north'ish direction. In avoiding big roads, we found out what the different styles of lines on the map meant. The one we took initially, for example, is described on the legend as being something used about 150 years ago for logging and now is mainly just a jumble of rocks. Incredibly beautiful, and despite running through situations in my mind of how long it would take to hike back to civilization and find a bike tyre the deeper we got in, it was.. well, still incredibly beautiful. Made our way basically all the way around the lake and bog and mets and such on that road, which took us to Oru; another 'town' with an old mõis, school, and jumble of Soviet communal farm buildings (well, another light term: more roof than building in some cases. In Soviet times, you made use out of what you could get your hands onto. This architect got roof pieces.). From there, Tuhala. Amidst gathering storm clouds, we peered into the Nõiakaev ('Witch's well') and loaded ourselves up with some natural energy from an energiasammas (energy-post.. in a spiky editorial I'd like to write, I'd very much propose replaing the Vabadussõja võidusammas due to be opened tomorrow with one of the log posts as in Tuhala.. much more fitting and much less of a fucking annoyance). From there, made our way back off of our shortly-enjoyed asphalt and onto a mid-quality gravel road for a long though equally fantastic bout.

It should be mentioned that in almost no, I repeat, no small Estonian town, both to my and Tuuliki's aggrivation, can be found as much as a bar to order a bowl of instant noodles from, much less small restaurant or .. anything. HahahahhahaAAARRRRRR.

Journey went something like Tuhala-Nabala-Lähtse-Kiili-Mõisaküla-Kurna-Jüri-Lasnamäe. Altogether at least some 55 km. And a delicious Puls ingveri õlu to follow (ginger beer). All with Tuuliki. Here's another spot where words take their leave.

Brief Estonian recap: Rongiga Kohilasse, rattaga Järlepasse siis sissemine rappa ümber järve, seiklusemine, telgimise kohta leidmine, telkimine, siis tagasi Järlepasse, mingi metsatee ringi Orusse, Tuhalasse (nõiakaev), Nabalasse (pärast aega ja tormi), Kiilisse, Jürisse (ka pole mingit kuradit restoranit) ja lõppuks Tallinnasse. Homme: Vääna-Jõesalusse! Uued kummid? Vist mitte.. sõidame ikka edasi!

Today: some work. Grudgingly, hurried, necessary.

Tomorrow: Jaanipäev!!

Somewhere in the blog archives should be attempted recants of last year's. What is tomorrow.. I rest even attempting to ette kujuda (.. mm.. jah.) the living. Heading to somewhere around Vääna-Jõesuu, mere ääres (next to the sea).. Saun, sõbrad, vorstid, õlu, päikeseöö .. ja kõik koos Tuulikiga.

I'll make attempts to translate all of that as everything goes forth. Literary expression always follows in the wake, though.. it's the 'then' .. the inexpressable and uncatchable moment which carries the full interpreted meaning and warmth.

Edasi, вперёд..

Sorting, and the sort.

..and now for the inglise keelne version of my thoughts. This has been coming around less quickly recently, and while oft lacking in as much depth (due to sõnastiku restraints.. mmmrrr.. vocabularic? Those involving vocabulary?), is thoroughly enjoyable and stimulating.

I've slightly mentioned before (I know, this describes about 94% of my blog content) the current issue of 'reluctance' in which I've been treading. I want to stress again, as a general disclaimer, that this is in no way a feeling of repellence from my home of the Cities. Enough other posts have cleared that out as a possibility, especially through the thick of doubt concerning my life choices a good 10 months ago. Then again 8 months ago. Not forgetting to mention the one at around 6 months, and varied moments of gradually increasing increments.

Quick break to mention an important discovery: the first Estonian beer that I've enjoyed which keeps its head! It might be the maritime climate, or the local historical claim of '700 years of slavery,' though whatever it is, the lack of emancipation given to a creamy top on õlu (beer) brewed within the territorial claims of Eesti is highly noticeable. Let it be known, that Puls Jõulu (Christmas) 'Legend' defies this law of brewed physics here! That is all.


Back into it. I've attempted (miserably) to express to others in at least three different langauges the intricacies of the 'push-pull' factors here. I've got overriding 'pulls' towards Minneapolis, and those towards Tallinn have (vaid viimasel ajal) grown over a precarious balance of slight indifference. That's the wrong word.. underlying attractions and inexplicable draws have, since my first moments here in 2006, peppered intrigue with the language, people and land. A lack of tactile definites and, moreso, confidence in myself being here hinged it in the period of back-and-forthishness which so often decorated rants throughout the spring and then on and off in the summer. One element I overlooked (and in rash times forgot) was the length of time generally and naturally taken for adjustment. If I chose to study in California for a masters, I'm sure it'd be the same or worse (I also doubt I would hold more than a transitional level of patience with living there). Overall, it's a respectable period of time that is rarely avoidable. It's fascinating, and somewhat of a trip, following up on Erinn's blog, 'Planned Movements,' accessible through the 'Dancing on Maple Leaves' located on the left side of the cabin next to other emergency exits from my blog. Erinn is a long-time close friend who recently moved to the northern neighborhood of Canada. Integration into a culture that is so strongly entrenched in maple syrup would be a bit much for me, I fear, and I'm proud of the progress she's made so far.


A similar stream of this reluctance now, I feel, comes from making it through so many of these ups and downs of doubt, and then the timing of moving to Minneapolis (I avoid saying moving 'back' because this, I also warn, is merely the next stage of the next stage, with many more of such goings and arrivals to come). Doubt is low about the spot I've strenuously carved out here for myself. This is probably better, as I will be going with a bit of assurance already precluding my return. Had I fully broken out in the fall, ties would remain, however with different forms and material of thread, with less intricacy of the binding, with musings in the place of what is now a grasp of belonging.


Here is home. Minneapolis is also home. I am part of two geographically separate rahva seltskonnaid. Different senses, different lengths and social ties, though in all it is positive and, while bittersweetly tinged, especially fulfilling.

And all reinforced by the remaining millimeter of foam (that's some metric for you) resting atop the Jõulu Legend. Swirls of this and that, only slightly comprehendable in the flit of a moment at hand. All calls for another pint close, the thoughts of blue eyes, and some quality time once more taking in The Life Aquatic. A sip for those at home, another sip for a particular architect in the making at here-home, and still two more for the ground and water and roots under all.

Edasi, вперёд..