We Visit Belfast (Northern Ireland) and Hear of the "Troubles"

The Catholic man we're walking with along Falls Road once served over a dozen years in prison for his activities as a volunteer with the Irish Republican Army.  Apart from a few scars (from bullet wounds) he doesn't look the part--wearing shorts, trainers, and holding a small and energetic dog on a leash.  He's leading a small group of us around some of the key sites of the conflict between Irish Protestants (who've wanted to keep the six northern counties of Ireland part of the United Kingdom, loyal to the British Queen), while most Catholic residents of Northern Ireland seem to want the northern counties to unite with the southern 26 counties (which have been the independent country of Ireland for several generations after a successful struggle to break away from centuries of English rule)--or at least gain greater economic rights and freedom from discrimination.


He talks about the ways in which, when he was growing up, Catholics and Protestants lived in separate areas--some still separated by a very high fence (which we walked along) that reminded Barbara and me of the fence/wall separating long stretches of Palestinian land and nearby areas that Israel now claims which we'd seen in Bethlehem and elsewhere around Christmas in 2009.  He talks about the reasons young men, and some women, felt desparate and drawn to the cause, even though it involved taking up the gun at times (as he did).  We see the wall murals commemorating the ten men who died in prison after committing themselves to a hunger strike until death in 1980 (taking 50-70 days to die), and other murals or markers commemorating men and women (and some children) shot by police or the British army (some as the result of targeted assasinations, others caught in the crossfire during violent confrontations).


He says he believes that the cause for which he fought was just, and would do it all again--that it was worth it.  Yet he would also forbid his own sons, now in their 20's, from doing likewise, as times have changed even though the issues are still not entirely resolved.  (Even while we were there, confrontations involving up to 500 people in another part of Belfast resulted in the wounding of three people.)  It's clear that the struggle cost hundreds and hundreds of lives, and left many with life-long wounds (both physical and emotional), a struggle that was actively waged until quite recently.  It's sobering to spend part of the day with him, and have newspaper headlines brought to life.


And yet this experience, significant as it was, didn't completely define our time in Belfast.  In spite of the history of conflict, colonialism, and loss lying beneath the surface, we found Belfast an impressive city--though with a lot of rain.  We liked much of the architecture, the friendliness of people we met, the wonderful seafood stew we enjoyed in an old pub (a "non-profit" which helps sustain programs for the unemployed), a beautiful botanical garden, and an impressively remodeled national museum of history just next to Queen's University (one of the best in the British Isles).


The museum helped fill in a bit of what little we knew about Irish history and the background of the conflict with Britain.   For you history buffs, by 1609 Enland had established the Plantation of Ulster (in northern Ireland)--using military force, tax policies, seizures of land, and various laws to establish England as a colonial power in northern Ireland.  An alien religion (Church of England/Protestanism) and language were imposed (over Catholic traditions and the Irish/Gaelic language).  By 1714 Catholics held only 14% of all Irish land, and Catholics could not buy land nor hold public office or vote.  In spite of some later reforms in the 1800's, the Easter Rising in 1916 by Irish Catholics signalled the approaching end of English rule in at least southern Ireland.  The events during the rest of the 20th century in northern Ireland ("Ulster"), where industrial wealth had most developed (Belfast shipyards built the Titanic, among other vessels) and Protestant privileges were most obvious and most defended, was the lingering expression of long-held historical grievances and issues.


We sailed from Belfast by ferry over to western Scotland, and then travelled by bus through small hills and green farms to Scotland's capital city: Edinburgh.  But more on that in our next blog.


And, for those you wondering where our photos went--they will return, when we retrieve our little cables to download our photos to our computers next week.


Best wishes.  It's really summer!


Bruce

Ireland and the British Isles....

River in Conemara Ireland

River in Galway Ireland

River in Cong Ireland 

Ireland- the Emerald Isle is living up to its rainy but beautiful reputation. But being here is different and even a bit strange after our time in Estonia.  First, we are more overtly ‘tourists’ and are now ‘dancing’ through countries at a rapid and much more superficial pace.  We arrive, gather maps, locate our bed for the night, prioritize what we want to ‘see’, and rush from place to place with increasingly larger hoards of other tourists who also scurry from ‘famous point to famous point’, heads craned upward, a map in one hand and a camera in the other. It is a role that I wear reluctantly.  While I have also been an outsider in Tallinn, I could sometimes fantasize that I was more a part of the rhythm of the city, able to notice the small daily changes--some thing only possible over time and with repeated visits.   


As I reluctantly merge into this stream of human tourist-fish, I find myself craving (and missing) moments of deeper connection that provide clues about what it means to be a resident of whichever place I happen to be.  For example, on a bus tour of inland Ireland, I am delighted by the constant banter of our Irish tour-guide/bus driver, and also with the on-going interactions he has with the only two Irish women in our tour group.  It is so different from the interactions I have been experiencing in Tallinn, where people speak as needed and often (it seems) from a deeper place. In Ireland words are like the air and their primary function seems to be to entertain or to transform what is into what should be.  (or in the case of these two women, to inspire shame at anything that is less than brilliant)

Lake near Kylemore Castle

So far, Ireland feels almost normal, although I am still surprised at being able to actually understand what is being said. (Although I miss the negotiating for a common language to communicate.) This means, I can now eaves drop at will (unless Gaelic is being spoken- which is rare).

This is definitely a different place from Estonia: On the streets, people are shorter, with black or red hair, with lots of freckles against lily white skin.  People are also much much spunkier and talk loudly and alot more.  Around us, there is also a broader range of human colors and ethnicities (this means that we get to choose between the many yummy foods that comes with this diversity.) It feels more familiar and even the trees and plants remind me of  plants at home (or in Oregon).

Lake near Kylemore Castle

My only constant reminder that I am in a foreign country is that the cars and people are on the wrong side of the road !!!! At street intersections, we now swivel our heads back and forth, over and over again, to be sure we have accounted for all possible cars and bikes.  Of course we also do this to figure out what street we are on--apparently in the British Isles, the purpose of a street name is to let you know information about the particular and exact spot of town e.g. Red House Road, Smith’s Field Lane, or George’s Quay (pronounced key). This lets you know that once there was a red house on this block, or someone named Smith owned the land here or that George had a shipping company at this part of the docks.  In fact these all might be different sections of the same street, but the names would change each block. 

Lake in Conemara Ireland

Another surprising difference is that people will stop to offer help, even if we have only paused to look at our map. I have begun to develop a personal scale to measure how locals help foreigners in their country. In this scale, 0 is when people are basically non-responsive/hostile and 10 is being psychic and helping before you know you need the help. On this scale, I would rate the Irish at about a 7.  In comparison Estonians would be about a 3 - 4 (e.g.they will gladly help but you have to ask first) Russians are a 10.5 (e.g. they know what you want better than you do-if there is a difference in opinion..they you are wrong and they are right) and Egyptians are an 11 (e.g. they ask if you need help even if you are not holding a map and actually know where you are going, and they will personally escort you to where they KNOW you actually need to go.  This is usually one of their relative’s perfume/antiques/t-shirt/postcard shops).  

Dublin Canal

OK, enough of my inner musings.  Now for a few details of what we have been doing.  First (after leaving Estonia), we had a brief stay with friends in Amsterdam, leaving most of our luggage awaiting us when we return for a longer visit in a few weeks. Then we flew to Dublin for a semi-grand excursion of the British Isles, excluding Great Britain itself.

Jewish Museum-Dublin (Did you know there were Jews in Ireland?

Dublin-two Wilde guys

In Dublin we stayed in a cute flat, with two guys and two cats, where we were well fed and treated royally.  Most of the days we were there (only 3) we spent walking.  Our excursion included typical tourist sights, like Trinity College (William and Kate were no longer is residence….), which was particularly remarkable for the huge ancient trees in the center yards of the campus (more about trees later). We went to evening vespers (evensong) at Christ Church Cathedral (Church of Ireland), walked to the edge of town to visit the Jewish Museum (I had no idea there were even Jews in Ireland…there were and are, but it is a small community--though it turns out the first prime minister of Israel was from Ireland!).  Listened to some ‘trad’ music in a local pub ("traditional" with hand-drums, fiddles, flutes) while Bruce tried a Guinness (made in Dublin)--a funky pub in our neighborhood, so not a tourist show).  And we visited a few additional museums (history and art), which were all free (thank you National Trust !!). The best part was a Historic LGBTQ walking tour, as part of Dublin’s Gay Pride celebration week, which started at the Oscar Wilde statue (of course!!).  It was ‘grand’ (Irish term for almost anything good) to get a sense of the historic and current experience of LGBTQ people in Dublin and Ireland and hear stories of challenge and success from some of the leaders of the LGBTQ community.

Tree in Connemara Ireland

More trees Cong, Ireland

From there we took a bus to Galway, passing through rolling sheep covered-hills in every shade of green you could imagine.  Galway is a small tourist-oriented town (at least in summer), but it is on the west coast of Ireland, and we were hoping to get a better sense of Celtic culture (as in Ireland in general, road and other signs are usually in both English and Irish/Gaelic), especially since it was the summer solstice.  Because it was somewhat rainy, we opted for a bus tour that circled out into the countryside, past lakes, fjords and hills to some local abbeys and an 18^th century castle and walled garden named Kylemore Abbey.  

 I will leave it to Bruce to hopefully fill in more details, but what struck me most strongly at that last stop was the presence of ancient towering trees, with twining branches that extended out into the world everywhere we went. When I was younger I studied Celtic culture and myths a bit, and I learned about their sacred roles and meanings in Celtic culture. Having seen them in person, I now understand why this would be. The trees in this part of the world are amazing, breath-taking, grand, glorious and a host of other terms that only the Irish could link into one sentence.  Each tree is unique, with broad trunks and jutting branches that filled the space and pierced the sky. Worthy of respect, praise and honor.

Galway Coast homes

Peat ready for heating 

Window in Kylemore Abbey

Kylemore Castle

Kylemore Abbey

So from there we travel to Belfast, to learn more about the history of this corner of the world. To be continued……

Walled Garden in Kylemore Castle

The company he keeps...
Bruce between a statue of
Oscar Wilde and Edvard Wilde (from Estonia)
in Galway..the world is a small place!!!!!

Ending thoughts from a distance as the journey continues…..

Bruce by the Baltic Sea

I am writing from our cozy little room in Dublin, Ireland. We have just returned from a local LGBTQ Walking History Tour as part of Dublin Gay Pride Week.  I want to add my own experiences and thoughts to what Bruce has already written about the ending our time in Estonia.  As he described, our last week was filled with the sad process of saying good-by to people we had gotten to know, care about and respect.  The final picnic with some of my students left me feeling appreciated and the things they valued or said about our interactions touched me.  I deeply respect these young people and I have great hopes for what they will contribute to the future of creative arts therapy and dance/ movement therapy in Estonia. 

Bog plants

In a different way, the final faculty picnic was great fun.  It was a perfect ‘bookend’ to our snow sledging experience in the winter. We ‘bog’ hiked, taking side trails that led to beautiful black-watered ponds, filled with small white lotus flowers, tasted a native moss which is made into a herbal remedy tea good for colds and fevers and slogged through thick peat. We slapped mosquitoes and sprayed each other with various forms of bug repellant…. wondering what people did in the old days, before DEET.  We ended the day by collecting hundreds of small pinecones, which we arranged into a group-inspired design on the sandy earth.

Faculty picnic

The next day, after one last coffee and porridge at Mamo (our favorite local café), we got a ride to the airport and then we were gone.  I felt a bit like Cinderella the day after the ball and I am still processing all the many ways this time in Estonian has effected my sense of who I am, my work and what I want to do in the future.

Sea Grass

Although I will be thinking about my experiences for a long time, I have some preliminary impressions and thoughts about my time in Estonia:

I feel privileged to have been able to get to know these people who remind me of some sort of high mountain lake…calm and still on the surface but deep and intense below the surface.

I will miss being surrounded by tall, thin-legged, delicate-boned people, women, with long straight white-blond hair, men with shaved heads and stylish glasses.  I will also miss the sounds of their language, which sounds, to me, a bit like bamboo wind-chimes- high short sounding melodies in the wind.

I will miss their subtle humor and kindness and courageous willingness to take personal risks.

 I will also miss the way they connect and are transported as they sing or dance together.

I loved their fiercely independent spirit-even though I was sometime frustrated by how this autonomy seemed to make it difficult for people to ally with each other for larger human rights issues.

Bog Lake with lotus plants

Estonians are a people are deeply grounded in their own heritage but also unsure of how they can leap into the 21^st century. Throughout my time in Tallinn, people continually wondered why I, or anyone would want to come to Estonia, asking what I liked about them and their country. 

On the other hand, Estonians understand the power of the arts and creativity in a way that we do not yet in America, since song and dance is a part of how they became free.  As a nation, they have many issues that remain to be addressed - for me as an outsider, I often felt that in the Estonian celebration of nationhood, the rights of members of more marginalized groups are at risk. But I also have faith that as a people, they will find their own Estonian way to address these issues. 


Our blog will continue, as well as my own thoughts about the meaning of this experience to me. And it has been a gift to be here.

Pinecone design

We Say Farewell to Estonia

It's time to leave, after five months. When Barbara arrived in mid-January (and I a few weeks later), the snows were falling, the ice on sidewalks deep, the days very short, the maze of streets confusing, the language impossible. Now, near mid-summer, twilight stretches far into the evening, and the pastel walls of the Old Town have a warm glow. We know the short-cuts as we walk, feel affection (and some familiarity) with a language we still can't speak.

And we've come to know a number of welcoming people, who've been more open and friendly than we at first had expected they might be. Reticent with strangers, avoiding eye contact on the street, local people have proven to be warm once they have some sense of who you are. (Once, on the tram, a little girl who was sitting far ahead of where I was standing turned and looked directly at me, and gave me a huge smile--a most unusual thing--and I imagined her saying words only I could hear: "don't worry if the grown-ups don't say hi...a lot of them are still afraid to come out and play." Fortunately, many we've gotten to know have in fact reached out to us, generously, often even playfully. And that's been the best thing of all--even more than the long, warmer days.

But this has also meant that this has been a time not only of packing up, eating at our favorite cafes one more time, and wandering through the curving streets of the old medieval area again, but also bidding farewell to people whom we do not know when we may see again. This has been sad but also gratifying, such as when one of Barbara's classes organized a farewell picnic for her (I was included too) next to the old city walls. Each brought a treat to share, and a poem or story or drawing, and we sat for several hours on the lawn, played some traditional children's circle games, and had a long group hug (whatever happened to those shy, reserved, Estonians we were told (warned?) about)?! And it was also a treat for me, to hear them talk about some of the things they value about Barbara and what they learned from her.

Earlier this week Barbara's department had an end of the year picnic as well, partly to bid farewell to the three Fulbright Scholars teaching in the Department of Applied Creativity (as I've noted before, this is the actual name). A little bus took us out to a lovely park on Estonia's northwest coast, with the Baltic Sea on one side of us and forests filled with small lakes and bogs on the other, through which one of Barbara's colleagues (in the photo below) led us on a hike.

This, too, was a moment for last conversations and farewells.

If someone were to ask me what our time has been about, I think one key part has been the opportunity Barbara has had to teach about the things she most cares about, and to find affirmation for that from her students and colleagues. Another has been the chance for both of us to experience "The Post-Soviet Baltics, Part II"--we had spent time in 1997 in Lithuania, a few years after independence, and now have been in Estonia half a generation later; we've had the chance to see how much has changed, yet how complex the legacy of several generations of Soviet occupation has been (while walking home from Old Town after the department picnic, we found that an old train boxcar had been set up in Freedom Square, commemorating the 70th anniversary of the beginning of the political deportations to Siberia, from which tens of thousands of Estonians never returned). And a third is the ways in which some Estonians are working on issues of social justice and human rights, even in a time of economic challenges and continuing debates over what Estonia will become in this next generation--people working for equality between women and men, and inclusion and respect for sexual and ethnic minorities.

I don't know how to capture our experience in a final paragraph from Estonia. It's been challenging, enjoyable, confusing, interesting, enlightening, expanding, educational, affirming, frustrating, sometimes lonely, sometimes full of whimsey--and often a beautiful place.

And sometimes, just sometimes, we've found ourselves like the children at a clown and pantomime show--who turn to look at each other, smiles wide, as if to ask, amazed: "wow! did you see that? did you see it?"

So we bid farewell to Estonia. But our blog, for those of you who are still traveling with us, won't end here. We'll be in western Europe for several more weeks, and hope to write something of what we find in Ireland, Scotland and elsewhere.

But for now, we bid you "Paikest" (sunshine)

Bruce

Baltic Pride

June brings long, warm, green days--and pride. Lesbians, gay men, bisexual and transgender folks gather to celebrate their lives, their families, their organizations and movements, in a public way. People who a generation ago were invisible even to their sisters and brothers are now much more often "out." At least, this is the case in much of western Europe and the U.S.

In eastern Europe (as well of course as some other parts of the world), LGBT people are often much more hidden, less visible, more closeted, with stories that have yet to be told. Here in Tallin, this year's host for "Baltic Pride" (the celebration which rotates among the capitals of the three Baltic nations--Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania), it's entirely appropriate that a large exhibition of LGBT art, photos, films, and installations is titled "Untold Stories"--and that it has sought to provide a venue in which stories from Estonia--and from Hungary, Russia, Latvia, but also Finland and Sweden--can be told in a variety of creative ways.

Even Indonesia is represented in the exhibit, by a 75-minute documentary on "transwomen" known there as "warias" (people who started life apparently as boys, but have taken on a female identity and appearance as much as possible). I'd had conversations with some of the exhibition organizers, and was honored to be asked to introduce the film with a short talk about transgender traditions in several cultures to put this film in a larger context (transgender issues are still far below the radar here), followed by a discussion with the two Estonian filmmakers (one a young anthropologist, the other an artist). (I was also asked to write an article for the local arts magazine, SIRP, about the exhibition, to provide an introduction to the issues it raised for visitors who might find them unfamiliar, which I can e-mail to anyone interested!)

Barbara and I have been involved in several other events for Baltic Pride. One was the public reading of a poem which begins "I want a dyke [lesbian] for president" and continues on to call for politicians who've been poor, or ill, or lost someone to AIDS--leaders who can understand the real feelings and needs of ordinary folks." The words themselves are challenging, but in some ways the most meaningful part of the reading (we read the poem, in Estonian, Russian, and English, over and over for an hour) was that we spoke from the steps on Freedom Square where the memorials to the struggles for Estonian freedom are to be found (note the words in the background, recalling the 1918-1920 war with Russian to win independence), in effect linking LGBT and other human rights issues with the political freedom that Estonians are at this point still much more willing to acknowledge as crucial.

We also attended the "Diversity Enriches" conference during Baltic Pride, which this year focussed on same-sex equality issues, in particular whether some form of domestic partnership law should be adopted (there are currently no legal protections for those not legally married as husband and wife). (See photo below, with glowing PowerPoint slide in the corner, of one of the sessions.) Keynote speakers from nearby countries which have adopted same-sex marriage (Sweden, Belgium) spoke about that experience, including the way in which "gay marriage," at first very controversial as an issue, was fairly quickly accepted once adopted and people saw that their worst fears about the consequences were simply not realized. Yet initial passage involved support from key popular political leaders as well as strong LGBT movements, neither of which yet exist in Estonia.

Why might that be? There seem to be a number of possible reasons, at least that I've heard in conversation with gay and lesbian Estonians and human rights workers. Eastern Europe was largely cut off from the development of the gay and lesbian movements in the U.S. and western Europe until independence (early 90's), missing direct contact with the movements for their first 20+ years, and experiencing no real "Stonewall" moments of their own. Equality for women (and the crucial energy from the early women's movement in the West) was largely co-opted by planned economies' need for women workers in the East. We're told that people here feel ambivalently about "human rights"--perhaps a legacy of Soviet ideology (in spite of Estonians' strong belief in their own political independence and freedoms), perhaps because it's been pushed by a European Union about which Estonians may find to be another outside influence with its own plans for a small country like their own (in spite of their attraction to things Western).

Some Estonians fear that their small population and low birth rate will be threatened by gay and lesbian families--not yet really realizing that gays and lesbians can HAVE families, and that providing them legal status would encourage them to likely have more children. Some Estonians still have traditional religious or cultural judgments or stereotypes about gays and lesbians (though the church itself is relatively weak here). And the very fact that LGBT folks are so often living "invisible" lives (or sometimes move to the West) means that such stereotypes aren't contradicted by friends or co-workers who turn out to be LGBT.

This also means that a public celebration of LGBT life is especially important in a place like Estonia. Some, as the banner proclaimed, are "out" for those who yet cannot be (though in fact there was no "march" or "Pride Parade" as in traditional Western venues--Russian police recently violently broke up the Moscow parade once again--and though such police repression, or even citizen violence, would be unusual here, local folks were still reluctant to actually parade.

But, still, we did gather, the organizers (photo below) were cheered, we heard some good music (the opening song was "Over the Rainbow"), and there were encouraging words from both Britain's and America's ambassadors to Estonia (the embassy here was been quite supportive).

And so the 100-150 of us who gathered for Pride did celebrate, with rainbow flags waving, with the flags of the three Baltic nations flying, with a few couples cuddling (the most edgy of what seemed to be pretty tame and un-outrageous behavior even by Minnesota standards), surrounded by a presence of security guards and armed policemen, we encouraged each other, and were invited to Riga for next year's Pride. All the while knowing that there's still a long way to go.

All for now...Bruce

Head Aega (good-by)-Beginning to end.....

It is almost the summer solstice and there is barely any darkness at night. It is wonderful and disorienting at the same time. At 7 in the evening, the sun blazes high above the horizon. By 11 the sky is a deep purple-blue. It gets slightly darker, but then by 2 am it is light again. As I type this it is almost 11 pm and the sky is still light- you could easily read a book without any additional help. We are getting used to waking up with this brightness and then turning over to go back to sleep but it is sometimes hard to do.  Plus, an unfortunate downside of these  ‘white nights’ is that many foreigners take the opportunity to drink and party non-stop.  Sometime our outside door bell buzzes (very obnoxiously) at 3 am.  The huge number of drinking camera-toting foreigners also makes walking through the old town (Vanalinn) a crowded ordeal, although it is relatively easy to find other less crowded areas outside the main tourist area.

Much has been happening and we are filling our last few weeks/days here by going thought our ‘things we want to make sure we do before we leave’ list.

First, my department organized the first ever Creativity and Healing conference in Estonia and it was a huge privilege to participate. Plus it was loads of fun to be part of a gathering with art, dance, movement, and music presentations by students and professionals from health care, education and the arts. It was also a wonderful time to present my work and have time to get to know other European colleagues better. Not to mention a great after-party. (Estonians do a great job of celebrating when the work is done….we even got to try some Ukrainian champagne.)

snacks for the conference-lavender of course

A few days later, we were on our way to Parnu, a sweet and incredibly beautiful town on the Baltic Sea coast, for a few days. We also took a short day trip to Kihnu, an island off the coast of Estonia that is considered a world heritage site because of its continued practice of an older, more traditional life style.  Our last big Estonian excursion was preceded and overlapped with a conference on Equal Rights focusing on LGBTQ equality in Estonia. (One thing we have noticed here is that communication is sparse and often at the last minute. We found out about this conference 3 days before it started, so it was too late to change our plans to go to Parnu.)  The conference was part of Baltic Pride celebrations and the opening talks were so interesting that I actually ran to the bus station to change our bus tickets to a later time,  so we could stay longer that day.  But more of that later…

First the Parnu roadtrip:

Church in Parnu

We had actually been to Parnu a few times already but only as a brief pause in the bus station to other parts of the Baltics. This time, we descended, grabbed our packs and walked off….into the old town. (wowie zowie…life can be so exciting at times) Parnu is a beautifully restored old coastal town, filled with ornate wood buildings, sleek 2-3 story Scandinavian and art deco apartments and houses interspersed with a few soviet decaying concrete block monstrosities. There were also lots of parks, statues, public art and fountains.  Although we arrived in the late afternoon,  it was so light we had plenty of time to wander and explore.   

no title needed???

Beach at Parnu...notice the far off people...wading

After leaving our things at our ‘homey’ B and B (our landlady did a good job as a substitute mom), we passed small churches topped by tall, complicated turquoise towers and kids careening around on dirt bikes and skateboards. We wandered into the ‘fancy neighborhood’ and walked down a luxuriant street filled with large opulent houses. This led to a grass covered sand dune, behind which was a topless ‘women’s beach’ filled with mothers, grandmothers and small children enjoying the long evening light lying in the sand. (Bruce remained behind the sand dune for this part of our walk) The beach itself was calm and, in fact, the coast is so gradual and shallow you actually have to wade out a long distance to be able to swim, or even find water that goes higher than mid-calf.  

Bikes and kids at the ferry

The next morning we woke up early for the 2.5-hour ferry to Kihnu, the island that is supposed to be the most traditional place in Estonia (well, not counting the Seto people in the southeast.) Our landlord drove us to the ferry landing (because-according to ‘mom’ his wife- it is apparently impossible for non-Parnuvians to find it on their own).  At the ferry, we joined several groups of older school kids with bikes who were having an overnight camping trip to Kihnu and were joining us on the small ferry.  With a short toot, we headed out toward to blue horizon..… putting past several small islands until we arrived at a small, tree covered expanse of land. We landed and as the kids biked off in one direction, we started walking in the other.  We walked past small farms behind earth mounded root cellars and small kitchen gardens, fruit trees and lots of colorful flowers growing out of stone walls.  

Woods on Kihnu...smell the pine needles ?

We walked past stands of thin tall red-barked pine trees with the sun dappling the branches.  Then, fields of green surrounded by yellow buttercups and purple lilac bushes. It was amazingly idyllic and made more perfect by the absence of any sounds beyond birds, waves and the wind in the trees.

We stopped at one of local Russian Churches (which the caretaker re-opened for us.) and also stopped in the local museum,  which had a photo exhibit of the older women inhabitants of the island.   The women of Kihnu are known for always wearing skirts of traditional hand-woven fabric (striped and brightly colored), being strong and often riding on old-style motorcycles with side-cars. The exhibit was powerful and beautiful.

Photo exhibit of Kihnu women

Farm house on Kihnu

Farm field on Kihnu

After walking around and through the island a bit (it is very small), we took an even smaller ferry to a nearby town on the mainland – Munalaid. (The ferries only go back and forth a few times each day, so we opted to got to a different town and bus back to Parnu, rather than leave one hour after we had arrived on the first ferry).  

Cemetery on Kihnu...

This ferry was even smaller, and we passed smaller island islands each with it’s own farm. There was a local bus that connected with the ferry’s arrival and soon we were back in Parnu, having a wonderful Chinese dinner and then walking d down to the beach to put our feet in the water as we listen to ‘Country Roads’ being sung in Russian at a beach bar.   The next day we explored Parnu a bit more, got together with the department secretary from school and hopped a bus back to Tallinn.

Remember the Baltic Pride events we had to abandon to go to Parnu? Well, they continued without us.  Baltic Pride is a somewhat miraculous event, considering that being ‘out’ was life-threateningly dangerous in most of the post-soviet countries until only a few years ago. As a result,  Baltic Pride rotates between the three capital cities (Riga, Vilnius and Tallinn) every three years.  This year Baltic Pride included an art exhibit of some powerfully moving documentary films, an outdoor event/semi-parade and the conference, which was intended to open a conversation about increased rights for LGBTQ folks in Estonia. To quote another American who was there, in the Baltics- LGBTQ issues are at an earlier stage than in the US (about 20 years earlier). So showing up and being visible was an huge act of courage for most of the folks who attended. (Not to say we have it all solved in the US, but they have a lot further to go in the Baltics.) 

Reading- "I want a president..."  on Vabaduse Valjak
(notice cute guy upper left corner)

The primary reason we returned after only a few days in Parnu is that we wanted to join a public reading/performance of a ‘I want a dyke for president…’ by Zoe Leonard (1992), on Vabduse Valjak..  We joined will a range of people from many different countries and  we read the piece in English, Estonian and Russian for an hour….after which, tired and hoarse-voiced, we toddled home to bed.

With only a few days left in Estonia, our days are filled with packing, figuring out what we will mail home and trying to find ways to say good-by. I am typing this on our own personal ‘celebrate the white nights’ observation. Meaning we watched a British mystery show on TV until after midnight…just to see if it ever got dark.......IT DIDN’T!!! and cars kept zooming down the road outside until significantly after we went to bed.  So, with slightly bleary eyes- I will now post this.  

Late Spring Festivities Abound!

It's late spring in Estonia, usually sunny and warm and very green--and the many festivals found indoors during the cold winter months are now to be found outdoors, often in the neighborhoods. One such was Kalamaja Days, an area of older traditional wooden houses (and two of our favorite cafes), one of the most grass-roots of local festivals. It's a combination of various music and dance groups, homemade food, activities for kids, garage sales to raise money for the children's museum, and other such things. A vaguely Middle Eastern/Spanish dance group was one of the more popular to watch, as we munched home-made goodies.

But, as usual, we also couldn't overlook the opportunity for a one-day road trip (by bus), to the old (1200's) and charming town of Vijande--complete with the ruins of a huge old castle and church complex, and a variety of local art museums, including "The Museum of Naive Art" (what seems to be "folk" art), as seen in the painting (below right) of an Estonian wedding taking place in the forest (rather than in a church--weddings didn't move into churches until the Middle Ages, though we often believe they have always been a religious ceremony).

Spring here is often a time of strong breezes, occasional storms, and dramatic clouds and light, as seen in the photo below taken from our bus window on the way back towards Tallinn.

Here in Tallinn we've been enjoying Old Tallinn days. This included a climb up the many steps inside St. Olav Church's tower--for a couple of generations during the Middle Ages, the tallest human-made building in the world (!). From the top, we had some impressive views of the Vanalinn (Old Town), including the many church towers stretched across the area below. See the photo below right for an example (the multi-domed Alexander Nevsky Cathedral is the church in the middle).

Among the scores of free events during the festival, we particularly liked the Hungarian "circus" group (more a pantomime/puppet group with music). Their work was based on wit and creativity and whimsey, and delighted both the grown-ups and the small children (who plunked themselves all over the edge of the low stage to make sure they didn't miss anything).

But, while Barbara was busy much of the weekend at an end-of-the-year conference her department has holding, I wandered about to the different "cultural" events, including a series of different folk-dance groups (as seen in the photo to the left). Some were from nearby countries, but most were from different regions of Estonia, each with their particular style of traditional dress and dance steps.

I also enjoyed the various singing groups, including the Seto women (accompanied by men on the accordian) from southeast Estonia. An unexpected treat was an informal "food booth" set up by a large Uzbeki family (from Uzbekistan, one of the former Soviet central Asian republics) who were cooking up some traditional pilaf dishes with meats and veggies, with homemade flat bread!

In a small hillside park, one local arts group (there seem to be a myriad of small local arts and music groups in Tallin) had created paper maiche figures (larger than life) of some of their favorite 20th century Estonian heroes, one of whom is the first president of Estonia in "re-independence" (post-Soviet) times, Lennart Meri, seen in the photo below (the guy with the orange face). In the description of the piece, the artist sees him as someone who could "fly" (the figure is horizontal, with arms outstretched like wings), who embodied people's hopes at a very hopeful yet potentially perilous time (I think of Egypt as I write this).


I thought of a tapestry piece Barbara and I had seen a couple of days before (photo below), a scene from the national Estonian epic-myth, "The Kalevipoeg" (son of Kalev) (similar in purpose to Finland's "Kalevela" to the north). In many ways, of course, Meri and the epic heroes are very different--yet in embodying the possibility of a national identity and purpose, there are some similarities that might resonate with Estonians even today.

Some of that spirit may be seen in the photo below of the Estonian flag flying from the top of Toompea tower, on the hill where the national legislature meets.

And, to finish up this entry, I include a photo of Barbara at the celebratory dinner concluding her department's conference. This is one of the last official gatherings in connection with her work here at Tallinn University, and so was a special time for her. But she will write about our concluding days in a later post.

All for now! Bruce