A Return to Lithuania

It is quiet and chilly on the cobblestone streets of Vilnius' Old Town (photo on left) this early Sunday morning. A few cats are out, perhaps attracted by the chirps of morning birds, but not many people. We've left the keys to our cozy guesthouse room on the table and thanked the room for our visit in Lithuania, and are now headed for the bus station and our return to Estonia.

The Italian bakery (see photo later in this posting) is due to open at 9:00, and we peek hopefully through the shutters at the women putting fresh-baked goods on the shelves. This sort of place didn't exist in 1997 (though we were happy to discover that local Lithuanian rye bread is still among the best we've ever had!).

We walk along a bit farther, as church bells from first one direction, then others, begin to sound, overlapping and continuous, and I find myself reminded of the sunrise call to prayer in Muslim Istanbul as the first muezzin reminds everyone "it's better to pray than to sleep," then is joined by others from all corners of the great city.

We push open the heavy wooden doors to the Polish Catholic church whose baroque decorations amazed us fourteen years ago and still do today--and find ourselves in the midst of the early Catholic mass. And soon we are happy to find that the bakery women are bringing up fresh, warm, crusty morning foccacia (with onions, olives, and tomato toppings) which we begin to gobble along with a latte. Sigh.

Some of you will remember that our first big sojourn overseas was in Vilnius in 1997, when I (Bruce) had a Fulbright to teach at the Women's Studies Centre there, the year after we got married (mid-life newlyweds). So, this year, we wanted to take a short break from Barbara's Fulbright teaching here in Estonia to see how things there had changed.

Some things had not--the photo of Old Town above would look similar in 1997, except that then there were no tall buildings from which to take it (!). And a walk to our old neighborhood showed few changes--though the Russian Orthodox Church (photo to the left) had finally been repainted (when I walked by it most days in 1997, a man was hanging by ropes from various places, slowly repainting it--the green domes had still not been completed by the time we left!).

But our apartment building looked pretty much the same (photo to the right), though with more graffiti than I'd remembered (true for the city as a whole). What was amazing for us was how many memories kept bubbling up of places, people, experiences, even bits of Lithuanian, as we strolled around to our old haunts. Perhaps our brains keep more of our lives stored for us than seems apparent; perhaps our experiences in 1997 were too vivid to be truly lost.

Vilnius is a place of historic churches, many of which were in a state of disrepair or neglect in 1997. Under Soviet rule (ending in the early 1990's), nearly all public religious observance was forbidden, and many churches were turned into storage areas or museums, the rest simply closed up.

We were pleased to see that some of those churches have now been restored, though some others are still in the middle of the process (including a few historic ones where we found mass being held in the midst of construction materials). Many of the churches are baroque in style (in other words, "over the top"!), including this Russian Orthodox Church (photo on the left) with its wonderful green color scheme. (All this can suggest bad puns: "going for baroque," or "if it's not baroque, don't fix it!)

Some of this restoration, and that of the Old Town more generally, represents not only an attempt to restore the area, but also some economic growth--at least until this current crisis, which has hit Lithuania as well as the rest of Europe. Another big change we saw in Old Town was the arrival of a lot of up-scale and trendy shops (along with a rise in prices, which are approaching those in the U.S.). The "milk shop" where older ladies would make you a cup of weak hot chocolate, and where I enjoyed seeing mothers with their kids during the season leading up to Christmas in 1997, was gone.

Vilnius was once over one-third Jewish, known as the "Jerusalem of the North," with over a hundred synagogues. In 1997, and now, there's only one synagogue left (the "Choral Synagogue" seen in the photo with Barbara on the right), though there are Orthodox services twice a day (morning and evening), as well as on Shabbat. And the Jewish Community Center, where Barbara did some work in 1997, is still humming. But there's still an irrevocable sadness about the memories and lives forever lost that seem haunting.

Today there seem very few visible remnants of Soviet rule. That's understandable, given the experience of people in Lithuania with Soviet control. But I found myself glad to see the old iron statues on the Green Bridge across the Neris River still there, attempting to inspire heroic sacrifice and struggle among people who've now turned their eyes from east to west. In the photo(left) you'll see several historic periods symbolized: the old Catholic church on the river banks (built long before Soviet rule, though during the time when Lithuania was part of Poland), the statues of a young farm couple (during Soviet time), and in the background the mid-sized (20-25 stories) skyscrapers that represent post-Soviet Lithuania--and which had not yet been built when we were there in 1997. A few people we spoke with, 30-somethings, felt ambivalent about the last: on the one hand, skyscrapers were part of modernization, westernization, development, and so forth; on the other hand, there was a feeling that the old city and its ways might be overwhelmed and lost, missed by people whose childhood had embraced those ways.

We saw some of that difference, between old and emerging ways of life, represented in the marketplace. We visited several "traditional" markets, one the central city market (a covered market), on the edge of Old Town (photo to the right), with its myriad of small stalls for fruits, vegetables, meats, fish, cheeses, shoes, clothing, and so forth), the other an "open" market farther out. These markets bustle, sell things that people really need, are full of energy and color, and are great for people-watching. They are also relatively inexpensive, and give people a chance to encounter neighbors or long-familiar salespeople.

At the other end of the market spectrum are the new, sometimes quite large, shopping centers that have been going up. A photo inside the "Europa" center is on the left. It's clean, bright, with up-scale cafes; it carries lots of fashionable goods that many people would not be able to afford to buy, or would need to buy, though it provides style and (as the name implies) a sense of belonging to European culture and ways. And it provides a place for young people to hang out, to window shop, to buy an inexpensive drink, perhaps to consume them with friends in one of the "pods" hanging on cables from the ceiling (which I thought were pretty cool). Note the red sign: "The Economist (magazine) partners with Lithuania."

And the current economic crisis has been hard on Lithuania, we were told. We had supper one evening with a student we'd gotten to know in 1997, then 20, now 35 with four children. She's doing pretty well, but hundreds of thousands of Lithuanians have migrated to places like London in search of work (there are only 3-4 million people in the country). (The rise in the number of younger people who now learn English rather than Russian facilitates this kind of migration.) But if too many young people leave, what will the future bring? Will those who remain search for bargains the shopping centers can't provide? Or will economic recovery arrive?

The creation of small businesses like the Italian kepykla (bakery) (photo to the left, with Barbara waiting hopefully while the owner opens the doors and shutters) seems to be one strategy some Lithuanians are pursuing. And it's one we were grateful for--there are many more possibilities for eating out in Vilnius now than when we were there, particularly for any food other than traditional Lithuanian fare.

Still, while enjoying my time watching the "sons of Gediminas" (young boys playing under the watchful eye and sword of Gediminas, led to found Vilnius with his iron wolf), I couldn't help wonder about their futures. What will they choose, and what will be possible? (See the photo below of the statue, standing next to the restored cathedral in central Vilnius.)

Another change we enjoyed (in addition to the more diverse eating possibilities) was the new national art museum (photo below). Both the Lithuanian art museum, and the similarly new national art museum here, feature art almost entirely by their respective citizens (rather than the "great Western art" seen in other European capitals). We much enjoyed seeing the Lithuanian work--some portraying "old ways" and pastoral scenes, some reflecting the influence of movements such as Impressionism, some reflecting the pressures to create "Soviet Realism" in art, and some to sort through what Lithuanian identity and culture mean now that, in this post-Soviet time, artists have a chance to go in directions they had not considered before.

Standing outside the art museum is a statue of a woman from whose right hand a flock of birds is taking wing (see photo below). I'm never sure what art "means," and I suppose any piece means many things, but I see in it a representation of the hope that Lithuania will itself take wing, into blue skies. And so I liked it very much.

Bruce

Half-way to the Summer Solstice in Estonia!

Tere (hi)! As Barbara noted in her last post, spring seems to be here--and not only on the calendar (arriving yesterday) but also in the growing daylight hours and the weather (as I type, it's 40F or 5C out, with bright sun). I walked over to the national library this morning (just a few minutes walk) avoiding puddles rather than icy spots for a change. Last week (see the photo of eager local folks outside a cafe in the old town square) some people jumped the gun, happy to be able to enjoy their quart-size beers once again at the outdoor tables, though only a day or two later a fresh blanket of snow had once again arrived (see the photo below). But that's now gone.

Barbara's more tied to a schedule than I am with her classes, department meetings, and occasional additional workshops, and I've been using some of my time alone to explore. I'm still finding small, winding cobble-stoned streets and alleys in the Vana Linn (Old Town) I somehow hadn't seen before. These sometimes have shops full of Estonian handcrafts--some machine-made (if good quality, such as heavy local sweaters), some still created by hand. I happened on a very small shop yesterday, run by a woman who was busily knitting a pair of mittens on three needles, who was pleased to show off the carefully made and uniquely patterned mittens piled before her, and I plan to return when it's time to decide on some souvenirs and gifts. The photo below on the right shows some traditional weaving and mittens at a different shop; I'm not sure whether the ties are traditional, though the woven cloth from which they're made definitely is, and all show the love of bright colors we often see here.

I also made a stop at the Museum of Applied Arts (Tallinn seems to have dozens of small museums, often with exhibits interesting to me for historical, artistic, or sometimes just sociological reasons; admission is inexpensive for a pensioner like myself, now a senior, and each room is looked over by a older woman who does her best not to actually let you know she's keeping an eye on things and is often startled when I say "tere" and render her at least temporarily visible). The museum included a small display of traditional mittens (see photo below); note that the pattern is different on each side, perhaps just for interest or beauty, or perhaps to demonstrate the skill of the knitter. And in the "old days" (and even now!) good mittens and socks are important--people wear warm things about eight months each year.

I've also had the opportunity to enjoy the "classical" arts as well as traditional "folk" arts and crafts. Below is a photo at the conclusion of "Carmina Burana," at the Estonian National Concert Hall (about ten minutes walk from our place), a wonderful performance (recall that Estonians have not only a central or eastern European appreciation for classical music, but also a widespread tradition of song, so Carmina Burana makes the most of those two Estonian strengths). The hall was packed with local folks, and I dressed as respectably as I could manage with the few nicer outfits I carried here in my

travel pack (folks get fancier at the opera here,

but a formal music event like this also calls for a bit of elegance even towards the back rows). At intermission (the first half was Dvorak's "New World Symphony") many people rush to get wine and a snack, and I rush out to watch them (I am part enthusiastic participant, getting almost "blown away" (literally!) by the powerful opening of Carmina Burana, but always part observer). I only wished Barbara might have shared in this music she loves, but she was teaching that evening and it was a one-time-only performance.

Whether Barbara and I are out exploring or eating or attending an event together, or separately, at the end of the day we climb the spiral staircase (photo at left) to the fifth floor of our 1935 building, perhaps puffing just a little as we reach our door, anticipating the coziness of our apartment, often a bit weary, but also grateful for the opportunities being here provide.

Bruce

So how do you say hag Purim (happy Purim) in Chinese??

Spring has technically arrived, despite the light snow that is falling as I type and the dirty white piles of snow and ice that are covering much of the ground outside my window.  Although there is an appearance of winter on the surface of things, the miraculous signs of spring approaching are emerging as well. As I walk to school I notice that many of the flower shops ( there are almost as many flower (lille) shops in Tallinn as there are koviks, have pots of bright yellow daffodils for sale outside their shop doors. The snow that used to surround the large trees in the parks has melted and soft, muddy earth is visible.  The many restaurants and cafes in Townhall square have table and chairs set up outside in the sun, and usually (unless it is actually snowing) Estonians are sitting outside to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes in their winter coats, hats and covered with a blanket of lamb fur.  AND, the streets and sidewalks are no longer icyily lethal for strolling. (Bruce and I continue to be amazed at how much more we can see, when we are not scanning the ground for the next ice patch-of-death.) And of course the sun is palpably rising earlier and going down later each day. Last week, during an unusual warm spell (about freezing temps), I wondered if the artists in the geodesic dome felt trapped rather than liberated in their glass summery home. (The dome is an art installation- a space of warm summer with flowers,  trees and calmness. Every hour, a different famous Estonian artist enters and spends their time doing whatever they want inside. I have seen people with children, on laptops, reading books or just looking at the world. The idea for the instillation is remind people of how light and warmth and time are necessary for creativity to thrive).

the summer dome at night

Summer Palace in Kadriorg

 We continue to explore, using our new non-icy freedom to visit the St Peter's Summer Palace in Kadriorg, taking the bus to Pirita, just outside the center of the city to walk in the quiet, birch and pine filled woods and also just hanging out in our (now) favorite coffee shops. At Mamo, they greet Bruce with a cheery hello and good-by  when he goes for coffee and I have discovered that most non-tourists use side streets when going through the Old Town, to avoid tourists in Townhall Square.  Town Hall Square itself, is becoming a tower of Babel, as it fills with more and more languages, behind people pointing cameras in all directions. 


We have also been exploring interesting places to eat (of course) including a quasi-Moroccan restaurant in an area that was new to us...with great decor, yummy kebobs and a chicken harrira salad on a bed of cabbage, couscous and sesame seeds  and with a thick sweet-sour dressing. Bruces dish came with vegetables that were so breaded and deep fried it was hard to even know what the original vegetable was (not Moroccan at all).  We are also loving all the different types of fruits  from all over Europe and  Africa-blood oranges, clementines, and mandarines plus others we dont know the names for and apples from Germany, Poland and Holland, all with a slightly different look and flavor. I look forward to spring berries and fresh greens in the near future. 


My time is full.  I am also getting busier with teaching and workshops and my days are filled with grading papers, planning classes and figuring out how to do powerpoint outlines (Yes, I am slowly entering the 21st century, but it is not an easy journey.)  Getting to know students has been wonderful. They are smart, inquisitive and very brave in trying new things. There is much they know and much more they want to know and sometimes my hardest task is trying to get them to slow down and not be angry at themselves that they don't know everything perfectly yet.  (I can recognize that tendency in myself as well, so perhaps it is a good fit.) 


We are also starting to plan longer exploratory excursions into greater Estonia- a conference in Haapsalu (we Fulbrighters were volunteered and will br speaking to nurses, police, road safety experts and perhaps a few military guys?????); Parnu- a rowdy beach town in the summer but, we hope, a peaceful quiet place to visit in the early spring;  Tartu, for an ancient music festival in May; and perhaps some teaching in Helsinki, (which-after all- is only 2 hours away by ferry).  Bruce has been attending concerts, going to museums and reading wonderful books..but I will let him share his adventures on his own.   


To get to the title of this blog, we returned to the synagogue for Purim. And what a celebration it was. The theme was Purim in China, although we are still not sure why. (Perhaps reason for Jews to pretend to be eating traif???) We ended up hearing the megillah read twice (three times gets you maximum mazel points). (NOTE: For those who have no idea what I am talking about, Purim is one of the many Jewish holidays that celebrates a time when Jews were threatened with annihilation and by courageous acts and miracles they/we were saved. This one happened in Persia, and it was the king's advisor (Hamman) who was the bad guy and the heroine was a Jewish woman who also happened to be married to the king. End of story- bad guy, family and friends are killed, Jews survive, Jewish queen is honored and everyone is happy!!!! (That is the short version, more more details consult you local Jewish resource).  The holiday is celebrated by reading the story of the event, eating pastries filled with sweet seeds or other yummy fillings, celebrating alot, giving to those who are needy, giving gifts to others and alot of cross dressing, drinking and breaking of rules.  It is a perfect spring holiday, and is a time to be wild and silly. 

Notice the women sitting with the men in schul!!!

We attended first the morning service and megillah reading, which seemed like a practice for the afternoon party. Then in the afternoon, it was read again. Both times the rabbi performed an amazing feat of speed reading barely pausing to breathe or take a break. Accompanying him was a DVD of, what looked like Israeli or Russian mimes acting out the story on the screen at the front of the synagogue. 

Two Rabbis and a mime walk into Shushan....

Between the speed of the Hebrew and DVD being dubbed in Russian, the only way I knew which chapter we were on was from the mimed story. As usual, the rabbi was the most excitedly vocal and energetic when it was time to make lots of noise at the mention of Hamman's name in the morning, but in the afternoon, the many costumed children in the congregation also joined in. 


The Purim in China party was in the afternoon and the synagogue was packed with people of many ages and wearing all sorts of costumes.  Following the second megillah reading,  we all descended on tables of non-traif (kosher-like) Chinese food like locusts (or at least most of the Russian congregants did). Within 10 minutes all the food was gone. We managed to get a few tastes but were intimidated by the life-threatening hoard surrounding the tables. 

Rabbi inviting us to eat and drink 

I was most moved by conversations I had with two women I had met during  the morning service and reading. One woman was Jewish, is from St. Petersburg and a hemotologist. she talked about her upcoming move to Tel Aviv, speaking poignantly about the wonderful feeling of belonging she has in Israel and her excitement at being able to live someplace where she felt she was not an outsider because of her heritage. The other women, an Estonian had an even more interesting story. Although her family has been Estonian for many generations, she talked about having always felt Jewish and being drawn to Jewish traditions. Her father and grandfather also felt similarly. She is in the process of officially converting. (although she seemed a bit upset that she would have to put in so much study and learning to become something she had always felt she was)  It was interesting to hear the depth of her longing and to see the brightness in her whole body when she talked about being and becoming Jewish.  She too, will probably end up in Israel at some point and I felt happy for her but also felt some ambivalence as well.  Both of these people helped to remind me that, in many places of the world, there are people who do not feel safe as a Jew, and that they long for such a place of safety and 'home'. And I also worry that this will contribute to Israel  (and Palestine as well) becoming even less safe for any of its citizens.  I dont have an answer or solution, but was struck with the challenge of how to bring all of these different stories and needs together. 

Family in Costume

Waiting for hamentaschen

Rabbi's kids behind the mechitza

Two grandma's????

Final comments: As we walked toward Vanalinn today, 

on the first day of spring, the dome had been taken down..so, now warmth is free to enter the world-  no need to contain it.  Summer is coming hurrah, hurrah......(despite the snow and cool temperatures) ....let the melting begin !!!!!! 

Dilemmas of the Spirit

It's Lent here in Estonia. Well, more or less. It turns out that folks here are, for the most part, not very involved in, not too observant, when it comes to at least the formal or outward forms of "doing church." (I'm talking about Christian heritage folks: the Jewish festival of Purim is coming up this weekend, which we're planning to attend: what do people do to celebrate the deliverance of the Jews from evil rulers who sought to wipe them out millenia ago, in a country in which such a ruler actually succeeded in doing so--declaring Estonia "Juden-frei" or Jew-free? But that's a different story.)

In some ways, cultural traditions which announce or prepare people for the coming of Lent seem more important than Lent itself. Such traditions are festive and enjoyable here, if not as extravagant as ones like Mardi Gras elsewhere. In the old days (at least in theory, or in my imagination), Lent was a time of reflection and renewal preparing the faithful for Easter. It was also a time of self-denial, or sorrow, when believers might give up the richer foods they could occasionally afford and enjoy (like meat, dairy products, and eggs). Fat Tuesday (or here, Shrove Tuesday) was a last chance to pig out (literally), to enjoy holiday dishes like pea and ham soup, pork and potatoes, and whipped cream buns (see photo below). For some, it was a time to eat up such goodies so one's house would be free of them (a little reminiscent of ridding one's house of bread crumbs and yeast-based products before Pesach or Passover for Jews) during the days of fasting. Jesus is said to have fasted for 40 days in the desert before he began his ministry, and his followers could go and do likewise.

I've been talking here about ethnic Estonians, native Estonian speakers who traditionally have been primarily Lutheran (the pea soup and cream buns folks). But ethnic Russians, who are traditionally Russian Orthodox, have similar traditions, substituting delicious pancakes (or blinis, or crepes) for the cream buns, and whose festivities are, in our experience (as Barbara described in a previous entry), more full of song and dance and music (see photo below). But the idea's the same.

Estonians have other cultural traditions around the arrival of Lent as well. The local woman in the first photo above, showing Barbara some handicraft techniques, also gave her a shot of licquer said to put the blush of beauty in women for the coming year. It was also a day (Shrove Tuesday) when men and women would change places, with women free to spend the day away from household chores and drink at the taverns. We didn't actually witness this (these days at least younger women are usually at work rather than home), but it was a nice coincidence that this year Shrove Tuesday was also the 100th anniversary of International Women's Day.

I bring all this up partly because as a sociologist I'm just really interested in what people value and do in a culture, what sense they make of their lives together, what hopes and dreams give their future meaning. But also, partly, because I'm still searching personally for what life means beyond what we can see and touch and feel of it, and for what my own personal history with Christianity can offer to that search.

That search has often been much enriched by time spent with other traditions as well, some closely related (Barbara's Judaism and her practice of it), some more distant yet closer than I'd once thought (the Islam we've encountered in the Middle East). I recent years I've learned about eastern/Orthodox traditions within Christianity itself that we in the U.S. (unless we're part of those traditions) are largely ignorant of: Greek Orthodoxy in Turkey, Coptic Christianity in Egypt, Russian Orthodoxy in Lithuania and here (see the photo of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral ten minutes from our apartment, in which I've wandered amidst the dark icons from time to time).

But I'm still wondering, still searching, and part of me will feel a little sad if there's not some way to continue to grow in an encounter with observant believers here as I did with Islam in the Middle East and Buddhism in Thailand. And that may be less possible here, in spite of the fact that most of the people theoretically share the same religious framework with which I've spent much of my life.

It does make sense that people here are less active in their observance. Religious practice was discouraged (even forbidden) under Soviet rule, especially after World War II--churches were closed, sometimes used for museums or warehouses. Religious traditions were forgotten, including many of the cultural practices by which those traditions had been expressed locally. (Similarly, the small Jewish congregation here, made up mostly of Russian Jews, is said by the rabbi to know few of the prayers for services.)

It may also make a difference that Christianity came late to the Baltics, even later than to Scandinavia. Estonia "became Christian" (as part of military campaigns rather than friendly conversions) only in the 1300's, and Lithuania only in the 1400's. It's said that local people still have some pride in old pre-Christian traditions (stories, legends, and spirits). (It does seem ironic that many Europeans, feeling threatened by immigration from Muslim nations, depict Europe as a Christian civilization--as we've learned in our travels, Egypt spent about the same amount of time as largely Christian, before the arrival of Islam, as the Baltics have spent being Christian since it's arrival here.) So it's possible (though sociologically unlikely?) that Christian practices never became quite so rooted here.

A third reason for the apparently low level of religious observance here may be that Europe as a whole has become largely less religious in belief and practice than it once was--in spite of the fact that some countries still have an official state church (Lutheran for Iceland, Norway, and Sweden; Church of England for England). "Catholic countries" like Spain and Italy now have some of the lowest birthrates in the world, and church attendance in most of Western Europe is meager. So it's not too surprising that religious observance in Estonia might be something for the minority (for ethnic Estonians more than ethnic Russians).

On Ash Wednesday (the day after Shrove Tuesday), I felt a desire to find a connection with a local church. I wound up at St. John's Lutheran church on Freedom Square (commemorating Estonia's first break from Russia in 1918, a forerunner of the 1991 independence), the yellowish church in the photo above). There was a pretty good crowd, perhaps a hundred (the photo below shows the church interior, as worshippers were gathering), though I couldn't help notice that I seemed at 65 to be younger than most others there (I saw only one or two folks who were clearly under 50). And there were no ashes! Hey! Where's a guy supposed to get ashes on his forehead in the shape of a cross when he's so far from home (and after having come to terms with possible embarrassment about leaving it there all day)? This was an afternoon service; but it was the only one scheduled for the day.

Sunday I continued my search for Lent. There seems to be just one church service in town in English, every Sunday at 3:00 at the Püha Vaimu kirik (Holy Spirit Church), coincidentally one of the oldest churches in Tallinn (part of it dates back to the 13th century). We did have a minyan (perhaps a dozen of us), I could understand the Lenten sermon, and five of us knelt at the altar railing to receive communion. I'll likely return, though I also realized that the service was accessible because it was not an Estonian service. So I'm still puzzling through how I might have some deeper encounter with local church traditions than I've been able to find so far. And they are out there: the fact that church attendance or observance is quite low by U.S. measures doesn't mean that the minority of Estonians who still find meaning in their faith (or searches for it) aren't there.

I may have to ask new questions here. I may have arrived, after time spent in recent years in the Middle East and Asia, expecting (without realizing it) that new religious experiences and growth would suggest themselves as they did there. How could I not, in cultures so Muslim or so Buddhist, ask how their searches for meaning were both parallel and different than my own? What am I led to ask, and to learn, in a place like Estonia, which on the surface has traditions similar enough to my own that I am not immediately led to self-examination? How may I widen or open myself to what is available here, rather than qvetching about not finding ashes for Ash Wednesday?

Bruce

Spring rituals and (sadly) natural disasters....

Scale model of Old town Tallinn

 The week has been full of experiencing a huge range of spring religious and cultural holidays, but as I sit and collect my thoughts to write this morning, I am also deeply saddened by news of the huge earthquake and tsunami near Japan.  All morning we have been watching the devastation and my thoughts go to friends and colleagues who live in any of the affected areas.  It is strange to be living in this quite and civil corner of the world while some many other places are suffering such hardship. In addition to this most recent unfolding devastation, we have been following news from the US and the struggles for fairness over fear and the ongoing journey of the peoples of the Middle East as they struggle to claim their voices and power in their own lands.  We get a distant sense of these other corners of the world (often through facebook) but it often feels as if much is happening in other parts of the world, but also far away from here. My prayers and energy goes in some many different directions- to all of those struggles- whether human or natural.

So, on to the blog of the day.  The photo above is from a scale model of old Tallinn in the old town hall, which we visited on a tour organized by the embassy (I continue to be surprised by the friendly warmth of the US embassy staffers.  Several of the US staff grew up in Minnesota, so the conversations are fun and interesting) The town hall, next to Raekoja plats, is the oldest surviving late Gothic town hall in northern Europe and is something that most Tallinners are quite proud of.  It is often used for official state functions and free concerts because it is quite lovely inside- including colorful pillars, beautiful tapestries and ancient carvings meant to inspire fair and respectful judgements in the work done by the town elders.  Not much more to say about the tour, but I wanted to give a bit of context to the photo. 

Townhall Main Room with guide (in costume)

Russian community having fun before Lent

The daylight is increasing in major leaps and much of the ice is melting away (although there continue to be occasional morning of big soft snowflakes)  But spring in this corner of the world is quite miraculous, and there are many different traditions and holidays during this time of year. This week we spent several days experiencing spring and Lenten traditions of several different Estonian communities and ethnic groups. While spring preparatory celebrations are not as wildly colorful and loud as mardi gras in other places of the world, we were able see dancing, singing, music, cross dressing and even drank a bit of special cognac.  For our first pre-Lenten celebration, we took a local bus to the National Song Grounds (a 15 minute ride) to celebrate Maslenitsa with the Estonian Russian community.  We arrived at the snow-covered fair grounds, and joined masses of older, dark-coated Russians walking towards sounds of balalaikas and singing, sights of smokey skies and smells of roasting meats.  After a few minutes we saw a huge stage, backed by bright shining lights. Over the afternoon, this stage was filled with a huge range of singing and dancing groups- of all ages. My favorites were the groups of older women singers, some with faces that looked a bit like soft dried apples with two sparkling eyes peering out.  The singers usually wore colorfully embroidered dresses with elaborate head coverings and as they sang the crowd often joined in in the chorus.  Other groups we younger and more contemporary, dancing  to modernized electronic folk-like tunes, wearing florescent colored costumes and moving in Las Vegas jazz-like unison. In front of the stage, there were also several young women and men who led many small snow-suited  children in improvised dance steps around and thought the crowd.  What was most amazing was seeing the older Russian women tapping their toes and singing along to the songs that were being performed. 


Tearing ourselves away from the performances, we also visited many small booths selling forest honey, smoked moose and wild boar sausage (yup, more pig) and the ever present Russian candy (e.g. not chocolate). We tried the traditional food for this festival- a thin pancakes topped with jam and sour cream, deftly made on a flat pan and with a wooden spatula.  It was good and hot and quite rich, in keeping with the purpose of pre-Lenten celebrations. Overseeing  the festivities, on a pile of snow, stood 'Maslenitsa' a straw-stuff figure wearing a skirt, blouse and head scarf. Traditionally she will be burnt at the end of the day, going out in a final blaze of light. 

Making Maslinitsa pancakes

Dancing 

Singers and dancers...in the snow

The next day, we took another bus, in the opposite direction to the outskirts of town and the Estonian Open Air museum which was celebrating Estonian pre-Lenten traditions. (The bus was actually a free shuttle bus to the largest shopping mall in Estonia (Roca al Mare) from which we walked down the road about 20 minutes to the museum.  The walk was lovely, as we soon were away from buildings, street sounds and were in the woods listening to birds and the wind in the trees. Arriving at the museum, we visited different farm houses, barns, school houses and even two windmills that have been collected from various locations throughout Estonia. In many of these old wooden buildings were special experiential exhibits with spring time rituals. We practiced making linen thread from flax plants, knitting and learned about traditional herbal remedies. Supposedly, this is the day when, in the Estonia tradition women are celebrated women, so there were also special demonstrations of interest to women- not all of the traditional I suspect. However, my favorite was one older farm house where all women- and only  women- were offered a small glass of cherry cognac, to put 'blush in our cheeks". Which, given the cold temperature and heat of the fire- it did (or at least according to Bruce it did)

Farmhouse with traditional fences

Traditonal farmhouse and windmill

The last ethnic group was Tallinn University Arts faculty, as our department sponsored a 'sledge and sauna' excursion into the countryside.  It was Shrove Tuesday as well as International Women's Day, but those festivals were less important that a day to get out into the country, relax and play together.  We took a bus through suburbs of Tallinn, and then into the flat tree-edged countryside.  After about an hour, we arrived at a small town with a small hill (called a mountain by our hosts) Jumping out we put on warm clothing and grabbing 'sledges' and a few sets of cross country skis and climbed to the top of the 'mountain' (about a 5 minute walk).  In the distance a lone train chugged by and local residents traveled between their homes and the local stores using 'finnish sleds' which are long doubled ski contraptions with a seat to sit on or place your groceries. We then proceeded to slide down it- in all directions. It was fun and a bit scary to launch down the slope (of course getting snow of my glasses, so I had no idea where the trees were, didnt help). We all got covered in snow and then got hot and sweaty trudging back up to the top of the hill. Of course there was also a bottle of brandy being passed around- to keep off the cold.   According to tradition, the person whose sledge goes the furthest, will be the person who will grow the tallest flax plants (and so will have the easiest time making linen thread and cloth the next fall).  By my reckoning, Bruce's ride was the longest, and traveled past trees, bushes and almost down to the road. Yeah Bruce !!!

Bruce in triumph

After sledging, we walked to the sauna, which was in a large soviet-style building with several sauna's, fireplace and a large eating room.  We were told that the building was originally a soviet 'workers' vacation get-away.  For some of the faculty, being there reminded them of the soviet history in Estonia and the found it hard to remember. One of the women even mentioned that after Estonian liberation they had all assumed Women's day  was a soviet holiday -so they didnt like celebrating it to reflect their newly reclaimed freedom. For them, the had only recently treturned to its celebration. After the sauna, we ate the traditional meal for this day- hernesupid (pea soup), potatoes, saurkraut and roast pork with dark bread, coffee and tea and for dessert- a sweet bread topped with whipped cream ( and sometimes jam).  It was a wonderful day and a good opportunity to get to know other faculty in a more relaxed atmosphere. Plus the country is beautiful. It was interesting to me that the religious aspects of preparation for Lent were never mentioned by any of the people we talked to.  I am not sure if the absence of religious awareness is due to the abolition of religion during soviet times or the modern Estonian eagerness to join the modern western world. Or both.


To end this post with maximal diversity I want to also mention that Purim is next week and the synagogue is having a Chinese Purim celebration, which we might attend. and finally I noticed several mannequins in headscarves at the local shopping mall- could this be Estonian hijabs?? anyway it was quite the multicultural week.

 Country outside of Tallinn

Beaver-cut trees

Estonain Hijab???? 

Estonia and Egypt: Singing for Their Lives, 1991 and 2011

Estonia and Egypt are two very different cultures, right? Different histories, peoples, climates, religions--pretty much everything about them might seem as unlike as one could imagine! Yet we've found during these early weeks in Estonia that we have so often been reminded of the four months we spent in the Middle East in late 2009, particularly the six weeks we spent in Cairo (with sixteen St. Olaf students during the college's "Term in the Middle East").

Some of the reason Cairo's been on our minds even here in Estonia has, of course, been the widespread coverage of the grass-roots movement for democracy by ordinary Egyptians in recent weeks. We have the BBC World Service, Deutsche Welle (the German news station), and Euronews on our apartment's television, and especially until Mubarak resigned (see the photo above right of that evening as we saw it here), and our eyes were glued to the events as they unfolded. We were moved by the courage and spirit of the movement, and wondered how the Egyptians we'd gotten to know (many for a second time, as we were there in 2000 as well) might be faring. Our deep hope is that the transition to real democracy will be fulfilled, and that much brighter futures for Egypt's young people will become a reality (see the photo above left of two couples chatting along the Nile River, right near where recent events unfolded).

But what might all this have to do with Estonia? Estonia, too, though twenty years ago, also experienced a grass-roots movement to win independence from the Soviet Union and to restore democratic rule and personal freedom (independence was won in 1991). There are of course important differences between the movements in Egypt and Estonia: Estonians were resisting rule by a large, strong (if beginning to crumble) foreign state which had incorporated Estonia (and much of eastern Europe) after World War II, while the movement in Egypt has overthrown an autocratic ruler in power for a generation. But in each we see the courageous mobilization of ordinary people who did not have the hindsight to know that they would prevail rather than be imprisoned, exiled, or killed. They could not know they would succeed, that their risks would be worth it.

One particular difference between the movements has to be mentioned. While both have been movements based on organizing thousands of people using non-violent means (rather than armed rebellion), the movement here in Estonia was based on an unlikely cultural tradition (unlikely to those like us without it!): singing and song festivals. For centuries Estonians have gathered to sing together (the first "modern" festival is dated to 1869, when Estonian nationalism was developing during earlier Russian rule). These song festivals, held about every five years, were an important way through which Estonian identity, tradition, and language have developed and been expressed.

During the 1980's, song festivals could bring together a third of the total population, with massed choirs of over 20,000 (!). Over half a million people gathered for the 1990 festival, and flew the Estonian flag for the first time since World War II. When Estonians sang songs together like this, it was an important part of what inspired people to take the risks ordinary people usually avoid. The black and white photo below is from the Tallinn History Museum, from the time of the independence movement; the color photo on the right shows the 2009 song festival, drawing hundreds of thousands of Estonians. (Your local library may carry the excellent documentary "The Singing Revolution," if you want to learn more about this.)

We heard a local girls' choir, Tütarlastekoor Ellerhein, give a wonderful concert just before the annual celebration of Independence Day (February 24th) here--the day when freedom from Russia was first won in 1918. It began with a singing of the Estonian national anthem, which the audience rose to join. Perhaps it was all the time I'd spent watching the struggles in Cairo's Tahrir Square, or perhaps it was the heartfelt singing of Estonia's song and the spirit with which those present sang it (parents and others who'd lived through the independence movement), but for the first time in my memory I felt tears running down my cheeks while singing the anthem of another country.

A p.s.: some might note another possible, if very indirect, connection between Estonia and Egypt. OK, not Egypt, but Chechnya, a predominantly Muslim part of the Soviet Union still today. In 1991, when Soviet troops were ordered into Tallinn to take over important buildings, the Soviet commander was a Chechen (Dzhokhar Dudayev) who later became the leader of the independence movement there after the Soviet Union collapsed (what's now a military/guerilla movement). He refused to fire on Estonian crowds, and said he would turn the guns eastward instead. He was killed by the Russian military in 1995.

Spring is coming....the ice is melting, melting, melting

The hints of spring are emerging throughout town. The 3 inch sheets of gravel encrusted ice that has been covering most of the stone-paved sidewalks are melting, helped by workers who seem to spend their days chipping away at the softening layers of ice. Don't get me wrong, there is still alot of snow on the ground...and this means that on warm days, the streets become slick and fluid like a bumpy ice rinks with small hills and valleys.  However, the days are definitely getting longer.  I wake each morning and notice that I dont have to turn on the corner lamp to see where I am going. The sun, when it DOES appears, blazes through my office window at an earlier and earlier time.  And students are going slightly winter-batty. In several of my classes the primary movement group themes have been about sunlight, energy and warmth.. We reach for the sun, grabbing for its energy and we fall on the floor to let it fill our bodies.  In Vabaduse Valjak (Freedom Square) the Ice Sculptures are GONE....replaced by a large geodesic dome filled with real live flowers, trees and a person lounging in summer wear and sandals. Sometimes, late at night, when I return home from classes or rehearsals, I see people, wearing heavy coats, fur-lined hats and gloves standing and staring at the lone person in this 'dream place'.  (I think it is an art instillation being videotaped - 'some sort of conceptual-person doing summer things" although I have not yet seen it on the news.) At other times, the central square is filled with mist or lightly falling snow, and couples in dark fur coats and hats meander arm in arm, after a meal at one of the many 'fancy' restaurants that surround the huge empty cobbled area. We will be going on a guided tour of the old town hall tomorrow, arranged through the embassy (with other embassy folks) and I am interested in learning more about the building and its stories. 

We continue to watch world events as they unfold, even thought they seem far away from this corner of the world. We worry about friends in the Middle East and also are inspired by the many ways that freedom is emerging and energizing citizens of those countries (and are a bit surprised to see palms trees, dry sand and green ferny tree fronds in the background of the news.)  Here the primary focus is on the upcoming election.  Now that we have our identity cards, we have heard that we can vote if we want, but  but since I have no idea what the issues are or what the candidates are saying, I probably wont avail myself of that particular temporary residency privilege.  Watching the election ads, it is interesting to see how normal - almost dowdy and plain- the candidates look and how issue oriented they seem to be. 

Ice and Furs

Candy seller at the market

Street in Kalamaja

Explorations continue, filled with adventures and meeting with interesting people. Sunday it was sunny and we walked to an area called Kalamaja, an older 'artsy' area north of the old town.  We descended a subterranean passageway, under a main street to emerge at the somewhat seedy Balti Jaan/train station.  Directly behind the station, was an old flea market filled with Russian speakers and booths where you could probably buy anything for a price.  We wandered down snowy, icy pathways, trying to ignore the cries of 'hello', 'gutten tag', and 'bonjour' as vendors tried to figure out what language we spoke and what country we were from (it felt a bit like being in Cairo). We bought honey from an older Russian 'babushka' and poked into indoor stalls selling shoes, clothing, coats, war medals, fruits, vegetables, dried fish, sausage, coffee and bins of tiny Russian candies and sweets (my best guess is that Russian sweets are NOT chocolate, Estonian sweets ARE chocolate).  We didnt see guns for sale, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out they were being sold there, in some dark corner. Most of the people at the market appeared older and it was a mix of women dressed in elegant fur coats and poor students looking for bargains. 


Beyond the market, is the older more 'bohemian' area of town. It is close to the harbor and has recently been growing as an inexpensive area for artists to live and work.  We carefully and slid and inched our way down streets of brightly painted wooden houses, decorated with delicate wooden carvings on the eaves and windows.  

More houses

We made our way to a very popular and crowded restaurant called 'Boheem'.  I entered and forlornly looked around the several small rooms of the cafe for a free table. The cafe was filled with a changing stream of  young professionals and couples with small babies was a welcome change from the somewhat touristy Vannalin/Old Town. I noticed a young man motioning for me to join him and my first thought was 'I am way too old for him to be trying to pick me up...what gives???' So I held up two fingers, to let him know I was 'taken'. He smiled and moved over to make room for both Bruce and I.  We joined him and had a delightful conversation about his views on the world, his work, gender rules for how men should behave and dance (same as in the US in many ways...he said he wished he could dance with abandon like Orthodox Jewish men did !!!!) his relationships and how life has changed for him as an Estonian. As we talked, the  cafe emptied out, the sun got lower, until we finally decided it was time to leave.  By the way the food was delicious and beautiful as well. Caesar salad and fruit-filled pancakes with crushed strawberries and delicious thick coffee. 

Today we also got bus tickets for Vilnius...and we are going at the end of March. (yes, I will be on the bus, returning to Tallinn on my actual birthday the big six oh!!..). As I search the web for places to stay, I am overwhelmed by familiar street names as well as memories of streets, statues, churches and sights that were so familiar to us 14 years ago.  I am curious how Vilnius has changed in the years since we were there. More later. I will end with a photo of a dance movement therapy department meeting, so these are some of my colleagues. 

DMT department meeting...(I am taking the photo)