Photos from Dublin, Galway and Belfast

Greetings! This post includes some of my photos from Ireland (Dublin and Galway) and Northern Ireland (Belfast), which I wasn't able to post earlier. Barbara has already posted photos on some of those places, so forgive me if there's some repetition here.

In Dublin we stayed with a local young man who took very good care of us--his house is in the neighborhood in the photo to the right, typical of single-story or two-story row houses in the areas where folks of moderate means tend to live.

While we might often think of Ireland as only Irish in its population, in fact during Ireland's boom years (1990's and early 2000's) when it was one of the faster-growing economies in Europe, it attracted a lot of immigrants from eastern Europe as well as from the Middle East and South Asia. The photo to the left indicates how diverse at least pockets of the largest city in Ireland, Dublin, have become (one of our favorite lunch cafes there was Deli O'Delhi, which featured both an excellent vegetarian Indian buffet and friendly owners).

By chance and good luck, we were also able to experience another diversity while we were in Dublin--the annual "Dublin Pride" festival, celebrating the lives and experiences of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people around the city. We took part in a two-hour GLBT history walk, which gathered for departure at the statue of Oscar Wilde (a famous gay author who grew up in a home kitty-corner across the street from this monument) (the photo at right includes the walk organizers around and on top of the monument--Oscar himself is the greenish figure on the upper right). This was a great way to learn more about the past century of GLBT life in Dublin.

Yet a third kind of diversity we encountered was in the small museum of the history and life of Jews in Dublin--a population which has dwindled in recent years, even though figures such as the first prime minister of Israel were from Ireland (who'd have remembered?). Above the museum (upstairs) is one of the now-unused synagogues; you've notice Barbara (her lavender scarf covering her head, which she also has often worn when in churches and mosques as well, perhaps for slightly different reasons in each) taking a photo to remember the place by. Though the Sho'ah (Holocaust) didn't directly reach Ireland, I find myself feeling sad to stand in the midst of what was once a lively Jewish community and synagogue where that life is now less present.

In the photo to the right, you can see the old castle and church in central Dublin which marks its historical political role, now as capital of the state of Ireland since it became independent from Great Britain in 1920. Nearby is a wonderful library and museum with excellent exhibits from Christian, Islam, Buddhist and Hindu faiths (and a bit from Judaism), including some of the very earliest texts from the early Gospels.

And now we turn to Galway....

While Dublin is on the east coast of Ireland (across the waters from England/Wales), Galway is a much smaller city on the west coast. This is the part of Ireland (the Gaelteact) where the old Irish can still more often be heard. It's a city which was built around fishing farming, but which is now also a popular summer destination for tourists like ourselves (though we're reluctant to play that role). It's an area rich in history, but also a place where beautiful mountains and lakes may be seen, studded with sheep farms and small villages.

We stayed in Galway at a hostel (once known as youth hostels, and though we were evidently the oldest people staying there, it's true that not everyone there arrives with a backpack and is under 20). We realized that the best way to see some of the beauty of the country outside Galway (without a car) was to join a tour, one of whose stops was at the ruins of an old abbey in the photo to the right. Some abbeys like this one fell in conflicts between Catholic and Protestant royalty centuries ago, but their remains are still visited--and surprisingly, still a place where some local people still bury their dead.

In the photo to the left, you can see Barbara listening to our tour guide, standing with others from our group (of about 30). In a cool drizzle, her hair gets charmingly fuzzy.

Our longest stop was at Kylemore abbey and castle--once a boarding school for girls run by nuns, and later owned by a man whose beloved wife's early death inspired him to add to its grandeur. It's in a lovely valley, next to a loch (lake) (see the photo below), open for view, and fortunately well away from the tourist center (snacks, gift shop, etc.).

The views from our bus (and on our occasional photo-op stops) were just amazing--steep hillsides (often with local varieties of sheep), intense greens, rivers and waterfalls and lakes, a huge sky with billowing white clouds--and occasionally hairpin turns which a few times our bus almost failed to make. Each part of Ireland is part of the "real Ireland," I suppose, but I have to admit that this was the Ireland I'd dreamt of and hoped to see.

And now on to Belfast, Northern Ireland--the "capital" of the area, though it's part of Great Britain. As I noted in my earlier post, the six counties of Northern Ireland, with its significant Protestant (often Scotch-Irish) population and with much of Ireland's industrial wealth, remained part of Britain when Ireland itself finally achieved its independence.


Yet the ability of Northern Ireland's Protestant power structure to remain part of Britain (and Britain's desire to keep it) did not address the desires of Catholics in the North who had long felt discriminated against in jobs and politics, many of whom continued to seek independence during the 20th century, and some to seek it through militant, violent means. Our time in Belfast included several opportunities to learn about the conflict, often called "the Troubles," mostly from the Catholic side. We were part of a small walking tour with a man who'd been a volunteer with the more militant wing of the movement for independence, and spent 15 years of his life in prison for it. He's in the photo above, with one of the high "fences" built between Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods (in some areas the gates in the fences are still locked at night, though people may pass through during the day).

He also took us along Falls Road, in one of the main Catholic neighborhoods which has resisted Protestant rule (and what some at least used to consider occupation by the British army). In the photo to the left you can see an area in which a number of murals have been painted, some in commemoration of local Catholics (some combatants, both men and women, but also a number of bystanders, including children) who lost their lives over the years, including ten who fasted to their death in 1980 while in prison. The mural below gives a sense for the Catholic position: their resistance, including violent resistance, is a response to oppression, foreign control which itself has been ultimately enforced by police and army violence as well.

Below is a photo of one of the memorials, listing

those who've died by name.

We also walked through a Catholic cemetery (in the photo to the right) (note the traditional Celtic crosses on some of the graves), where our guide the deaths of some buried there at what Catholics believe were British assassination teams. While a political agreement to settle the Troubles was signed several years ago, many Catholics still desire an accounting for the deaths no one has yet been held responsible.

Part of the concern for many Catholics historically is that British and Protestant control over Ireland in general and Northern Ireland even now to a degree was essentially colonial: most of the land in Ireland was taken for British settlers, the Irish language and history were repressed, Catholics weren't hired for better jobs. Part of the current effort by some Catholics has been one of Irish cultural nationalism rather than (or in addition to) political movements; we saw a school where Irish kids can learn the Irish language (starting at the age of 3), and an Irish cultural center.

In the photo to the right, we see St. Patrick's Cathedral, located in the area where we had our tour. I was in the church alone (I went back another day to see the area again), and it seemed like a peaceful place. I had a lot of questions remaining after our tour was over, one of which was whether something like South Africa's "Truth and Reconciliation" commissions would be possible or helpful in Northern Ireland--and what the role of the respective faiths might be in that, as the conflict has so often been framed as a religious one between Protestants and Catholics (yet without that being its primary cause). I'm not sure what role the Catholic Church has played in the conflict, or even how deeply many Catholics remain active in their church even if Catholic by faith (especially given the fallout from the child-abuse scandals in Ireland in particular). I'm left hoping for the best for the people of the area, who've suffered much over the years, yet humble in my understanding of what may happen in the future. Bruce

Welcome to Edinburgh and haste ye back.....

View from Arthur's Seat- Bruce in corner right

From Belfast (Northern Ireland) we took a large, posh white ferry and a few hours later, were bussing our way through small coastal towns in Scotland!! I immediately fall in love with the countryside- craggy rocks poking out from a mossy thick carpet, small white and black houses next to a roiling sea.  The towns we pass through are small with a market, post office and bus stop; and all ask us to ‘haste ye back’ as the bus roars its exit.  In the distance are a few church steeples, fortresses and the required black-legged white-bodied sheep (with florescent patches of color to show which ram they have been mated). Occasionally our water view includes immense triangle shaped rocks, left by the glaciers of the last ice age.  These places suggest (probably incorrectly) a more simple quieter life, filled with conversations over the fence with neighbors and civilized cups of tea and pub pints for an afternoon pause.  (Thank you BBC and Agatha Christie for these romantic images).  The road hugged to shore, until - in a few hours, we entered Edinburgh. 

View of Edinburgh from museum bridge

Sunning in the old part of the city

Bagpipers in parade in honor of the armed forces

For those of you who have never been to Edinburgh, it is an amazingly beautiful city.  It is situated on jagged volcanically formed landscape. The town itself is majestic- filled with three and four story stone buildings that are substantial without being ponderous (as they are in London). In the center of the city, atop a tall volcanic ‘plug’ sits the castle, flags flying and turrets hovering over the rest of the town.  The streets in the center of the city, twist, turn and plunge down and up, interspersed with occasional areas of green. There are small alleyways that appear suddenly and disappear just as quickly, or become a small market square before vanishing completely. Churches have tall lacey spires covered in knobs and curlicues and their front doors are massive crowned with elaborate stone carving. This is the city where J. K Rowling sat drinking tea and ale as she wrote Harry Potter.  (H.P fans, can actually sit and have a pint in the pub where she apparently spent months hanging out in the H.P. birthing process.)  Being here is it easy to see that Edinburgh itself suggests many of the story details. And then, added to the magical mysterious quality, the tourist areas are filled with  kilted bagpipers (always men) who seem to enjoy guessing what country you are from as you walk by, and then playing a bagpipe medley of tunes from that country (we got ‘Oh Susannah’ and ‘Dixie’). It is a beautiful and easy to explore city…which of course we did.

Small side alley in Edinburgh

We started in the older core of city- with all of the other tourists. We visited the National Museum to get a sense of Scottish history, and I learned that many thousands of years ago, the area of Scotland and the area that is now England, Wales and Cornwall were actually two separate continents. This means that England was actually connected to what is now France. (Suggesting that the historic War of Roses might have been an ancient subliminal desire to become reunited once again.)  The double continent factoid seemed to make the Scots I mentioned it to, very happy.  This is because the Scots, apparently see themselves as very different from Brits, and some even resent having lost power early on in their history;, which led to subsequent colonization of Scotland by the nascent British empire.  We learned about Scottish words and phrases (some of which sounded suspiciously like names and terms in H.P.) as well as the tribal character of the people who live in the northern most part of the island.  I like the practical, directness of people here, not too flowery in their speech, but what they say is real and means a lot.

Entrance to St Giles 

Mosque in Edinburgh

The next few days we wandered further afield, walking all over the city and its outer edges as well. We visited the central mosque and had lunch at the mosque restaurant, which had yummy Pakistani food. 


We ate curry and naan bread   surrounded by families with lots of small 

Tree in Royal Botanical Gardens

WIld Flower in Royal Botanical Greenhouse

WIld Animal in Royal Botanical Greenhouse

curly-haired children. Next we went inside St. Giles Cathedral and were able to listen to the choir practicing for a concert scheduled for later that evening and finally the National Art Gallery (which was filled with immense paintings and many, many, many portraits.) On another day, we walked to the Royal Botanical Gardens exploring its vast green and varied grounds and got lost in the maze of its extensive glass house filled with exotic plants from the topics, the desert and the wilds of the American west!!!!! (more about this in a bit). For me the high point (of many wonderful experiences) was our climb to the top of the tall volcanic hill that is called Arthur’s Seat (possibly referring to THE King Arthur - but no one is sure about this) on the only sunny day of our time in Edinburgh.  After an hour of steep ascent, we were rewarded with an amazing and vast view of the city, the hills beyond as well as the huge harbor that made Edinburgh such an important shipping and industrial city.

View of Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat

For any foodie readers out there, the benefit of traveling in countries that have histories of colonization (e.g. the British Isles, France, and Holland all qualify), is that our food choices so far have been amazing. I have always wondered if one of the reasons there was so much colonization by the Brits is that traditional food on these northern islands is not very interesting, so they had to conquer other people to improve their choice of meals and food flavors.  That said, we have been eating well. Great breads, sharp crumbly cheeses, fish in soups, smoked and with chips, curries, S Asian and Asian flavors, not to mention local ale and chocolate. In Edinburgh we DID NOT try haggis, although we could have eaten haggis filled samosas if we had wanted. (We didn’t!).


Spending time in both the British Isles and France, I have also become curious about the idea of public and private parks as well as the aesthetics behind the form and content of those parks.  In Edinburgh, the center of the city is filled with lush green parks, filled with huge ancient-looking trees and flowers. But they are all locked and entrance is allowed only to the residents of the neighborhood who apparently have keys that open the tall gates. At the same time, there is also the Royal Botanical Gardens, which is amazing and completely free (except for the covered green house filled with plants from tropical, desert and non-local environments).  The Royal Botanical Garden is filled with towering trees, ancient twisting branches and plants from all over the world. (Another benefit of imperialism….you can take home all the plant life you want !!!!) There also are several Andy Goldsworthy sculptures as well.  But aesthetically, the overall impression of the gardens is one of carefully planned and manicured natural wilderness - a place where you can get lost internally and externally and feel small in relationship to the nature that surrounds you.

More views of Edinburgh from Arthur's Seat

Holyrood Castle from Arthur's Seat

On the other hand, public parks in France, or at least in Paris, are quite different.  Parks in Paris are sculptured and visibly ‘tamed’.  Trees and bushes are closely trimmed to look like something other than a tree or bush.  Geometric forms abound, framing gravel walkways and sculpture filled fountains. Trees are planted in giant grids, giving structure to larger areas of space.  Plants and flowers seem to be used for color rather than for their unusual blossoms or leaves. To me, the parks create a backdrop for the people in it, I could almost imagine carriages and people promenading down the straight-line avenues that are painted in so many impressionist paintings.  For me, parks in Paris are primarily intended as background for watching people and being seen while the parks in Great Britain seem to be places for people to become lost in wilderness or at least sense themselves as a small part of nature rather than the dominant species.  I would love to hear from anyone else out there who has thoughts on this or (better yet) can add to my brief impression.

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