nagu kaks tilka vett

Estonian author Friedebert Tuglas, author of "Meri" (1908) and Väike Illimar (1937) and ...










Sen. Al Franken (D-Minn.), author of Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them (2003) and The Truth (With Jokes) (2005)








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By the way, we are selling or renting out an apartment in the homey Tartu neighborhood of Karlova. You can find information on this housing opportunity here.

hammer of the gods

They took an Estonian Cross of Liberty from 1919 and stuck it on a pedestal in Tallinn. The monument was officially opened June 22 to coincide with Võidupüha -- "Victory Day" -- which commemorates the victory of Estonian troops over the German freikorps at Võnnu (Cesis, Latvia) 90 years ago.

I like that they built a monument to the veterans of the Estonian War of Independence. I enjoy how Estonian nationalism is focused on 1918 rather than 1945. The First World War lacks the Biblical narrative of postwar Allied history. The narrative of the Great War, the assassination that led to thousands of more deaths, the collapse of empires, the shifts in alliance, the chaotic emergence of new states, seems more representative of the nature of human conflict. Estonia at that time produced heroes, heroes who actually won and made a state from a territory that was only several years prior two Baltic provinces that had been traded by neighboring empires for hundreds of years.

So the victory deserves commemoration. But how? The erection of the võidusammas -- victory monument -- was your typical Estonian production, filled with backbiting and intrigue, allegations of misused resources, aesthetical battles pro and con, and worries over whether it was just too "anachronistic" and "aggressive," in the words of one German-born Tallinn academic, for a modern city center.

I went there Sunday morning. There was no one around. Like most commentators, I was pleased that it was not completely revolting, but -- a Cross of Liberty on a pedestal? That's the best you could do? In Suure-Jaani they have a statue of Lembitu of Lehola on his back, sword in the air, fighting to the death for his freedom. I always liked Suure-Jaani Lembitu. He was fearless man holding a weapon. But the new monument? It looks like a weapon itself.

I could imagine some science fiction film where the buildings of Tallinn come alive. The Stalini maja -- an imposing multistory Stalin-era building across from Stockmann kept intact for historical purposes -- begins to breath fire. From its perch on Liivalaia and Tartu maantee, Stalini maja uproots itself and starts moving towards the Riigikogu on Toompea. It's slicing the air with its hammer and sickle star. It could be the end of the Estonian republic.

The Riigikogu is defenseless -- the Russian Orthodox Church won't allow him to hook up with his stalwart ally Vana Toomas on Tallinn's Townhall Square. But, suddenly, the Riigikogu reaches around the Orthodox priest and grabs a hold of the võidusammas, a ready-made battle axe, a hammer of the gods. A couple swift blows from the võidusammas brings the Stalini maja to its knees. Its remains are jackhammered and used to make new parking places. The Riigikogu dusts off its battle axe and returns it to its place, where little girls in national costumes bring it flowers.

It would make a great film but, in reality, the monument looks kind of out of place. Tallinn's vibe is a Hansa one. It's the air of thrifty merchants of various backgrounds making a living backdropped by picture perfect cobblestone lanes. It was the hometown of Jakob de la Gardie, a statesman of French extraction turned nobleman of a German-speaking city in the imperial Swedish center of its Estland province. There's a shopping center named after his family now, across from the McDonalds near the Viru gate. That's Tallinn right there. That's what the city is about. Is it also a home for this hammer of the gods? Apparently so, but I am not yet convinced.

hingame üheskoos

Who can describe music? The sound of thousands of people singing? It's an impossible task, but why not reach for other musical metaphors to guide the way?

When I was in Tallinn this past weekend, the music of one group kept coming to mind. It wasn't any of the hundreds of choirs that made up the singing organism of the Laulupidu, where balloons drifted by bearing the soulful words: Hingame üheskoos! -- "Let's all breathe in concert." It wasn't the sweet rock'n'roll of Rein Rannap, one of my favorite Estonian songsmiths whose works were on display at the festival, sung by rows and rows of ecstatic teenagers. It was Led Zeppelin.

Why not? They were the teachers of Norse Mythology 101 to junior high school students everywhere. And there was something deeply northern and slightly mythic about the whole event. The hordes of the blonde and blue-eyed. The noise as the crowd egged on the giant flames of the Laulupidu torch. The cool and soothing winds of the north coast, putting thousands of austere blue, black, and white flags to move. And then, the opening of the mouths, the flow of sound, the breathing in concert. I am not of this land, I sensed, but I understand what these people are saying.

One recurring thought I have when in the company of Estonians is that they are still pagans. They have modern technology and speak the language of liberalism, but when you are out in the countryside with them, seated next to a bonfire, it's not hard to imagine how their insurgent armies slayed Cistercian monks during the St. George's Uprising of 1343. Such thoughts resurface, even as I watch floats pass by bearing the young choir singers of Saaremaa -- they whose forefathers renounced Christianity in 1261 and slayed all Germans on the island.

Pop music and pop history aside, Laulipidu is an exercise in identity building. Our friends and acquaintances may make up one voice in one local singing group, but at Laulupidu, all of the chains of singers are connected. The people breathe as one. They have been doing this since 1869. Young people take the bus from, say, Sillamäe to Tallinn as local singers. They leave the Laulupidu as one of the Estonian masses.

The folk costumes that people wear at the Laulipidu though are exemplary of Estonia's ardent individualism. Sometimes it seems every local parish has its own folk costume. The men of Mulgimaa -- a band of south Estonia stretching through Pärnu, Viljandi, and Valga counties -- wear the Mulgi kuub, a long, black robe symbolic of affluence and ambition. The ladies of Setomaa -- a border region in Võru and Põlva counties, wear on their chests kilos of silver jewelry. Once upon a time, it served as their doury. Now it is purely for fun.

For our family, choosing rahvariided -- national clothes -- is a conundrum. Epp is from Mulgimaa, but her mother's family is from the West Coast and her father's family from near Rakvere. As mentioned previously, we have now shacked up with the Setos, but Epp's mother used to wear a folk costume from Muhu island, "because its the most stylish," she explained. I told her that if I have got to dress up, then I am going with the Mulgi kuub. No emasculating knickers for this writer. And the president wears one too. "Folk costumes don't have anything to do with where you are from," a friend told me during the rongkäik. "You wear what you like best."

You may think that Laulupidu is an event that can only be experienced at Lauluväljak. This is not true. In some ways, the TV coverage is better. At home or in a cafe, you can get a much clearer picture of what is going on. The crowds are invigorating, but Laulupidu can really break you as you contort your body to best use your minuscule amount of personal space. I got a taste for what the event was like for the armchair singers in the cafe at the Tallinn bus station. The waiting passengers sat mesmerized by ERR's coverage. Most sang along as the festival rolled on past the festival's scheduled set list.

elagu epu mees

Rongkäik. If I was translating it into English, it would literally mean "train way," but really it's a parade, and yesterday the parade to Tallinn's Lauluväljak (Song Festival Grounds) where Estonia's famous Laulupidu (Song Festival), held every five years, was set to take place.

Th parade started at 2 pm. We heard the drums beating, and soon it seemed all of Estonia was marching past in folk costume, city by city, parish by parish. There were even singers from Kiev, Ukraine; Stavanger, Norway; and Vancouver, Canada. Other places too. Hungarians, New Zealanders, Latvians. It took a very long time for the big Estonian counties to filter through during the rongkäik. I wasn't even aware that so many people lived in Ida Virumaa, "where the sun starts to rise over Estonia," as they declared proudly.

To show ones appreciation for a certain parish or singing group, you have to yell out Elagu ____, or "Long Live ___." For example, when Tallinn gümnaasium 34 passes by, you must salute them by crying out Elagu Tallinna Gümnaasium Kolmkümmend Neli! I waited patiently for my pet towns and parishes to pass by just so I could salute them with a little Elagu Sürgavere Kool! or Elagu Karksi Lauljad!


Actually, I let others cheer them on. I was too busy trying to keep an eye on my wandering Pippi Longstocking-esque daughter who makes friends and gets into adventures wherever she goes. When Pippi grows up a bit more, she'll happily cheer every choir that passes her during the rongkäik. But I was a little shy. I am used to that "I'm paying more attention to you because you have a funny accent" look I get from cashiers in Estonian shops. I was afraid that if I belted out "Elagu Meremäe Vald" the wrong way, I might get 25,000 of those stares. So I kept my mouth shut.

Then a funny thing happened. I was keeping one eye on Pippi and one eye on the crowds of lovely flaxen-haired Estonian ladies when one of them saw me and shouted out for all to hear Elagu Epu Mees! -- "Long Live Epp's Husband!" The women in the choir, which was part of the long contingent of Tallinn singers, immediately cheered this husband of Epp's. Epu mees? It took a moment to register. Noh, mina olen ju Epu mees. I spun around and waved to my admirers. They flashed smiles of warmth in my direction. The sun gleamed in Tallinn harbor. I felt flattered. It's been awhile since I was cheered. I'm not a nobody with a funny accent anymore, I beamed. I'm Epp's husband.

Hurrah!

summer reading

I was impressed. My Lithuanian host in Kaunas spoke not only English but Russian as well. He had to be the same age as me, or even younger. How did he do it?

"What, speak Russian?"

"As far as I know there aren't too many Russian speakers in Lithuania. How did you learn?"

He gave me an odd look, as if I asked him how he learned to swim or tie his shoes.

"We learned in in school and," he paused, "it's a very useful language. You should learn it."

"No way," I told him. "Learning Estonian is a full time job."

He gave me that same strange look again, as if I had escaped from the Kaunas insane asylum. His look said, He speaks Estonian but not Russian? How could that be possible? He probably doesn't know how hard it is even to learn Estonian, and I mean really learn it, learn it so that you can read any newspaper article or book off the shelf. It takes time, patience, and a good dictionary.

It also takes stamina, stamina that is not fit to be wasted on learning Russian or any other "useful" language. If I opened the Russian door or Arabic door or Chinese door, they would become more languages I had tinkered with but never really learned. That's not what I intend with Estonian. I intend to be as functional as possible. That's why my summer reading is Pikk Jutt, sitt Jutt ("Long story, shit story") a newish Estonian-language title by Vello Vikerkaar.

Who is Vello Vikerkaar? He's a foreign Estonian, a väliseestlane, and like a lot of väliseestlased, he brims with witty insights and a hint of arrogance. Until they became presidents and ABBA managers, most väliseestlased could be seen as having drawn one of life's medium-sized straws. They weren't farmers running from the Khmer Rouge, but life was no swanky suite in Vegas either. They were citizens of a country that existed on some Western maps and in corners of the universe of international law. They couldn't restore the family farm because the family farm had been collectivized.

So Vikerkaar can be forgiven the dry way with which he digests life's absurdities. In a way, it's what's made him famous. Aside from cross country skiing and šašlõkk consumption, dissecting other Estonians is a national passtime. Another is wondering how Estonians are perceived by outsiders. Put the two together in one weekly column, and you get the success of Vello Vikerkaar.

The dictionary and I are two chapters in already. I've already picked up nifty words like jändama (to make a fuss) and kütkestav (glamorous). I've followed Vello as he and his Estonian-born wife Liina take in Liina's Aunt Virve, a woman with a very inconvenient, wire-gnawing pet bunny. I've been there with Vello as he traces the origins of the famous Ernest Hemingway quote, "in every port in the world, at least one Estonian can be found."

An added bonus is that Vello, who was reared in Canada, writes in English, which is later translated into sturdy, riigikeel Estonian. There are few funky south Estonianisms (they have a habit of slippin a dialect word in here and there) or metaphors about farm animals in the book. From my perspective, it's a good place to start for an Estonian language student who yearns to break free of tiresome self-help books.

jaanipäevast

There are five things every Estonian needs to celebrate Jaanipäev, the all day and night, midsummer's eve extravaganza that makes Christmas look tame.

1. Liha (meats) -- preferably plastic buckets of chicken or pork šašlõkk -- what we in the US might refer to as shish kebab. Chicken breasts, sausages, and basically all other socially acceptable animal by-products are welcome, but no Jaani celebration is really complete without some serious šašlõkk grilling. Šašlõkk comes in various marinades, ranging from vinegar to plum to blueberry to yoghurt, and tastes best after being roasted over an open spit. Because the sun rises at 4 am and begins setting at 10.30 pm on Jaanipäev, a celebrant has several opportunities during the day to consume šašlõkk.

2. Õlu (beer) -- I know there are a lot of people who look down on beer drinkers as lower-class alcohol-consuming heathen and would prefer to toast the longest day of the year with vodka or maybe even a nice chianti. On Jaanipäev, though, you've really got to drink beer, and I say this as someone whose magic cure for the wintertime blues is limoncello. But what brand of beer? If you are in northern Estonia, they'll try and push a Saku on you, while the southern Estonians will force you to drink A. Le Coq. I even know some crazy muthas who go for Alexander or even the boozer's choice, Saaremaa X (10 percent alcohol), which is also manufactured by A. Le Coq. Ultimately, beer brand is not the most important question. If your lawn is littered with empties the next morning, half of which you don't recall imbibing, then you've done your service to the Estonian state.

3. Makk (radio) -- No Jaanipäev celebration is complete without a boombox blaring the Estonian jams and their modern dance facelifts. For a small country, Estonians have produced a large corpus of music, ranging from country-influenced thumpers to covers of AM Gold hits, like "Sugar, Sugar" by the Archies, which you've never really grooved to, until you've grooved to it in eesti keel. My personal favorite yesterday was an old accordian-driven tune by Kihnu Virve called Imeline jaaniöö -- "wonderful Jaani night." What's great about stations like Raadio Elmer, is that they won't just play, say, Roosiaia Kuningana by Anne Veski, but they'll also play a new, sped-up 21st century dancefloor version of the 1980 hit to match the rest of the drink-to-you-drop party programming that just keeps going and going and going. Why I bet, they're half way through a disco-upgrade of Uno Loop's classic, Mis värvi on armastus? right now.

4. Tuli (fire) -- A Jaanituli is the most essential ingredient of a Jaanipäev celebration. An old pagan tradition, the bonfire is actually a great way to dispose of old crap. Estonians gladly seize this opportunity to torch old boats, remont leftovers, archives of SL Õhtuleht newspapers, and whatever else will burn. The spark is put to the wood precisely at sunset. From your nook in the Estonian countryside, you can look up to the sky and see the smoke drifting from neighboring jaanituled. If you are feeling festive enough, or have had enough Saaremaa X, you might feel moved to suddenly leap over the towering flames of the Jaanituli for good luck. Those Estonians who accidentally fall in feel no pain, as there is no pain on Jaanipäev.

5. Sõbrad (friends) -- Estonians are infamous for being rude jerks most of the year, but on Jaanipäev, no matter who you are, you are welcome in the village. People call out to old friends from car windows, guests show up out of the blue with Gin Long Drinks, and roving gangs of strange children invite themselves over to eat your food and play with your kids' toys. Here's your neighbor Ants helping himself to a beer, there's your black sheep cousin Marju, savoring your tasty šašlõkk, and nevermind the old schoolmaster Teodor, who is playing one-handed badminton by himself in the corner (as he has a beer in the other hand at all times). Jaanipäev is the only day out of the year when you can count all 1.34 million inhabitants of Eestimaa as your friends.

eesti nokia surm

The representatives of Estonia's main investors, Sweden and Finland, are not the type of people who attract a lot of attention.

These glazed-over northern neighbors are usually polite at all times, even when they vehemently disagree with something. Recently, though, the ambassadors of Estonia's Nordic investment class have begun to speak up. What is their central message? It's time to build a modern Estonia.

The dream of Estonia's Nokia, a wonder product that would lift all boats, is dead and gone say the northerners. Instead, Estonia should invest on building the infrastructure and investment environment to attract small- and medium-sized enterprises(SMEs) from its most reliable partners, Sverige and Suomi.

Two channels of information from this interest group come via the Swedish Chamber of Commerce in Estonia and the Foreign Investor's Council in Estonia.

Depending on the year, Swedish foreign direct investments usually make up around a half of all FDIs in this country. SCCE puts out a quarterly magazine called In Focus. In the latest In Focus, SCCE Chairman Anders Hedman pops the question, "Is it right to criticize Estonia?"

"I think it is very painful indeed for many Swedish-Estonians when their friends in Sweden read about the bad Estonian economy and the possible devaluation of the Estonian currency," writes Hedman. "It was for sure funnier three years ago, when you heard people with similar background describing the Estonian success story," he writes. "Even funnier today was the statement by Ansip that Estonia was soon going to be the richest country in Europe!"

That was Estonia in 2007, but what to do in 2009? Point A: Be receptive to criticism. "What are the usual reactions to criticism here on the street? I have always met two reactions here. First is; Go home if you do not like it here! Second one; You must be working for KGB!" Point B: Take responsibility. "If someone is in charge, which I think it is difficult to say that [Prime Minister Andrus Ansip] is not, the PM has to take his responsibility and the consequences of his mismanagement." Finally, Hedman makes Point C: It's time to build. "This time not based on luxury consumption and real estate bubble based on borrowed Swedish money, but on high productivity, competitive salaries, qualitative production, investments in infrastructure and exports!"

Meantime in a June 10 letter to Ansip, FICE Chairman Martin Breuer, of the Holland Business Club in Estonia, declares Estonia's elusive Nokia dream moribund. "We suggest that we no longer hunt for the iconic Estonian Nokia, it’s a rare species that once in a while happens to evolve," Breuer writes. "A large and thriving SME community is in our opinion the ‘industrial’ base that a relative small and open country as Estonia suits best."

How to accomplish this? Better air connections with less landing and service fees and more state investment in Estonian Air as a "strategic national carrier." Increase the talent pool by making it easier for talented multinationals to live and work in Estonia. Improve support for foreign investors by providing them with more English-language support. (Note: In Focus, despite being the language of the Swedish Chamber, is not published in their national language). Invest more in vocational education. Relax state and educational language requirements to encourage multinational talent to relocate to Estonia.

Hmm. I understand why multinationals, who hop from job to job around the world, would prefer to benefit from Estonia's tax system and IT infrastructure while not letting too much of its Estonianness interfere with their lives. But what I don't get, from the Swedish perspective, is why they have no national pride. Estonian Swedes or "Swedish-Estonians" once were and, now obviously are again a national minority. Why are they demanding services in English, when they could be clammoring for them på svenska?

Second, I am not sure I understand how exactly this new ideal Estonia would work. Nordic and multinational companies relocate to Estonia to take advantage of its hypothetically gifted workforce and business-friendly infrastructure while typically paying most of their taxes in their home countries, therefore depriving the state of money that could be used to fund investments in the airport, vocational education -- all the areas where the same investors claim attention is needed? Como?

Unless these SMEs actually incorporate in Estonia as their home country and pay the bulk of their taxes to the Estonian state, I see a lot of benefit for them, but less for the country. But maybe that is the model they are after: More "Swedish-Estonian" managers plus better qualified work force = one of the five richest countries in Europe and Eesti Nokia all in one? That just might work. But I am not an expert on these things. Your opinions are very much invited.