How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Tammsaare

School time is almost here and with it the long delayed and highly controversial Estonian 2007 school reform, whereby all incoming tenth graders in Russian-language high schools will have one course in Estonian language. This year's course is, appropriately, Estonian literature.

If you ask any eestlane with a pulse these days who the Estonian national writer is, they are likely to respond that it is Andrus Kivirähk, the 37-year-old author of the infamous novel Rehepapp where Estonian serfs are portrayed as the greedy masterminds behind naive landowners.

Estonians enjoy the image of themselves as the backstabbing, crafty, downright evil people portrayed in Kivirähk's book, but the truth is that his scheme borrows from characters in the master work of Estonian literature, whom every 16-year-old Maksim and Darja in Ida-Virumaa will come to know intimately this autumn, Tõde ja Õigus by Anton Hansen Tammsaare.

As an Estonian who lives through the 1905 revolution as a young man, the establishment of the Estonian state in near middle age, and managed to check out just two months shy of the June 1940 Soviet takeover (lucky fellow), Tammsaare painted in this national epic a vision of his young country coming into being. It is still an important work, important enough that Tammsaare is still regularly name dropped -- though ironically -- by those in the arts.

However, he is less famous for his sweeping tale of Estonia's birth than for his portrayal of regular country Estonians, the maarahvas, who are the same swindling, double-dealing bastards depicted in Rehepapp. This is how Estonians see themselves. National self-deprecation is part of being an Estonian. It's all there in the literature.

Anyway, as part of the Haridus ja Teadus Ministerium's evil plan to make all Russian-speaking teens in Estonia miserable, other subjects in Estonian language will be added so that by 2011, the 20 percent of Estonian pupils who attend Russian-language schools in Estonia will have 60 percent of their upper education in Estonian, condemning them to a life of alcoholism, mulgipuder consumption, and ironic references to Tammsaare.

It is hoped that other than the difference between the words 'puder' and 'põder', the school reform might teach them a bit more about what exactly it means to be part of this tribe called Estonians.

Setomaa Hämmätüs

For Estonians, the border region of Setumaa is of deep cultural importance. It is viewed as a region of dislocated Finno-Ugric-ness, perhaps on par with the Finnish reverence for Karelia as something more Finnish than Finland proper. Setumaa plays this role in the Estonian mindset, a region populated by Setu -- who speak their own variety of Baltic-Finnish -- that is in someways more Estonian than just plain old Estonian.

Setu are considered people that have kept true to their roots more than the people of Tallinn of Tartu, and it is for this reason that people from these cities, as well as others in Estonia, got into their cars and traveled south to the village of Lüübnitsa this week to celebrate the Setu and to load up on onions.

We were among the many that went to Lüübnitsa. First we traveled south to Räpina, which is a pleasantly Estonian town, dominated by a Selver and a bus station, and then onwards through Võõpsu to the gravel road to Lüübnitsa. For Estonian roads, this one was crowded, and as we got near we could see why. Cars were parked on both sides of the road straight up to the little village which actually overlooks the waters of Lake Pskov, a section of Lake Peipsi.

Sibulla Paradiis

As we discovered during an earlier trip to the Old Believer's villages north of Lüübnitsa -- Kasepää and Kolkja -- this week, the cash crop of the Peipsi region is onions. The Setu festival at Lüübnitsa proved no exception. People walked through the streets with baby strollers brimming with freshly bought onions. The dominance of onions in the marketplace is such that you really can't decide who's got the best, so you just randomly pick a seller and buy from them. In our case in Kasepää, the seller happened to be an attractive young woman. What luck!

The Old Believer's villages on Peipsi and the Setu villages have some things in common. They share the Orthodox religion and all its peculiarities -- babushkas, priests with long, dark beards and robes, and the Slavic habbit of building villages in tight groups of buildings, as opposed to the spread-out 'villages' you will find in Western Estonia of one homeowner per kilometer.

The greatest difference, of course, is the language. In Kasepää they speak Russian as they have been doing since they first arrived in Estonia in the 18th century to escape Orthodox Church reform. They also know Estonian, as my experience with the seller proved. But they speak Russian, with a slight accent, or even perhaps their own dialect. Where the urban Russian-speaker of Narva has a very straightforward "Da" for "yes", the old ladies of Kasepää said theirs with more 'ä', as in 'Dää'.

The Setu language, sometimes considered an off-shoot or sub-group of Estonian, is actually its own tongue. The linguistic similarities are such among Baltic Finnic language groups that even I can watch Finnish TV and understand what they are saying, or hear a Karelian song and know what it's about. Rather than having distinct border lines, the languages flow into one another, from Estonian to Ingrian to Karelian, or from Estonian to South Estonian to Võro to Seto.

Despite these similarities I still needed a translator when I tried to order food at the Setomaa Farm Museum in Värska, a Setomaa town right on the border with Russia, where we visited after we had enough folk music and onions at Lüübnitsa.

The top of the menu was dominated by a strange substance called suulliim, which I roughly translated to "suu" (mouth) and "liim" (glue). "Hmm, mouth-glue," I thought. "Not sure if I want to try that." Then there was oa-liha hämmätüs, which was total gibberish to me. 'Hammastas' in Estonian translates roughly as 'he bit', as in Andres hammastas mind (Andres bit me).

I was later informed that suulliim is 'külm supi' (cold soup) while 'hämmastüs' is 'kaste' (sauce). So much for Estonian helping me out there! They also sold sõir, the famous south Estonian cheese, which, quite telling, is also the Russian word for cheese.

Piiri Probleemid

One interesting factor that comes into play in Setomaa is the nearness of Venemaa, the mighty Russian bear, whose land stretches from Lake Peipsi to the Bering Straights. In fact, part of Setomaa lies on the Russian side of the border. In the years 1920 to 1945, a good chunk of what is known as Setomaa was in Petserimaa, which was later added to the Russian SFSR in 1945.

During the Soviet era this division of land meant relatively little. But since 1991, and the restoration of independence this arbitrary line through the heart of Setomaa marks the boundary between the European Union and the Russian Federation, making it difficult for Setus from Petseri Rajon to travel up to places like Lüübnitsa to sell their onions on special occasions.

During the run-up to the signing of the border treaty with Russia in 2005, then President Arnold Rüütel addressed those concerned about signing over Setomaa to Venemaa forever by saying that Setu from the Russian side of the border could be 'repatriated' to Estonia. However, like a lot of things that came out of Rüütel's mouth, I am not sure if that ever happened.

Nord Stream: The Dumbest Idea Ever

There is a fine article in the International Herald Tribune today that reveals that the boys at Gazprom are trying to think up ways to reroute the underwater pipeline from Russian-occupied Vyborg to Germany so as to piss off as few important European countries as possible, while dicking over some less important ones, like Estonia.

According to the article, there are plans to move the pipeline north of the Danish island of Bornholm because Poland and Denmark have yet to agree on a maritime border and also because "somebody" -- also known as the the two countries overseeing the Nord Stream project -- dumped a sh*tload of ordinance south of Bornholm about 60-odd years ago.

More complicated is the path through the Gulf of Finland, where the magnanimous soomlased have determined that their huge swath of the gulf is too rocky for some stinky Russian-German pipeline, and that they'd rather have it in Estonian waters, even though Estonia and Finland are allegedly brothers, and brothers don't ok gas pipelines in their sibling's backyards do they. Do they?

In all, this project may now cost about 6 billion euros to complete. Or the Germans and Russians could just admit that there are a few countries in between them, and spend a lot less money to pipe their gas through Belarus and Poland. Which would you choose and why? Personally, I might face the fact that building an undersea pipeline through the international waters of several EU countries is just not worth it.

Giustino Läheb Tallinnasse

On August 21 I had to travel from Tartu to Tallinn to pick-up my jet-lagged folks from Tallinna Lennujaam. The last time I had made that journey was in the rain, and I have to say it felt more like Luke Skywalker's life-threatening trip into the Death Star in the first Star Wars film than any pleasant sojourn across the Estonian country side.

Estonian drivers, as previously discussed, are jerks. They pass people just for the sake of passing them, and often do it in groups (!) even in the face of oncoming traffic. So I was hoping that Tuesday would be a rain free day, but when I opened my eyes, Tartu was at the eye of a thunderstorm that lasted all morning.

I waited for the nasty weather to disperse but it never did and I decided to take a different, less life-threatening route to Tallinn, through Jõgeva. I would take the road to Jõgeva north, take the fork towards Tallinn at Järve-Jaani, and connect with route 2 somewhere after that. I knew it would add time to my journey, but I figured that the peace of riding alone through Täbivere was worth the extra 45 minutes.

It took me 20 minutes just to get out of Tartu and onto the road leading to Jõgeva, but once I got on it, I couldn't believe my luck. Somewhere south of Jõgeva the rain disappeared, and there wasn't a car to be seen plying the smooth roads of Jõgevamaa. I was so overjoyed at my luck I boasted to my wife on the phone about the good luck I was having. I guess I spoke too soon.

As I made my way north, I began to hit patches of gravel roads that hadn't been paved yet. Slowly these roads became longer in stretches. And I began to doubt the intelligence of my decision to go via Jõgeva instead of Põltsamaa and Paide. Another issue that reared its head was that I was traveling through an extremely unpopulated part of Estonia, with limited signs, lots of forests, and several intersecting counties. One moment I was in Jõgevamaa, then Lääne-Virumaa, then Järvamaa, then back into Lääne-Virumaa.

At one point the road to Tallinn was blocked. There was literally a big sign that said Tallinn with a red 'X' through it. Instead they put me on the road to Rakvere. So I kept heading north, thinking that at least I could get to the Tallinn-Narva road if I got lost and take that into Tallinn. Then I wound up back on a road that allegedly was heading to Tallinn. At all times these roads were empty. I envisioned myself in my own film. Rather than Jan Uuspõld Läheb Tartusse, it was Giustino Läheb Tallinnasse.

That's why when I began to feel the urge to spring one, I began to ponder, Could I just park my car in the middle of the road and pee right there? Was that allowed? I ask this question because I know that public urination is regulated in some countries. For example, one time in Helsinki, I got off at a random bus stop, just to spray some random bush and wander around lost for an hour or so. I was later informed that there are strict laws against peeing on bushes in Finland, and that the Finnish Secret Police could have caught me and -- needless to say -- I could have been subject to unspeakable acts of torture at the hands of guys named Pekka and Jaako.

After several kilometers of debate, I decided that I was willing to risk a run-in with KAPO just to take a leak on the side of the road. I pulled into a place called Ambla Vald, in the northern reaches of Järvamaa, parked near a bus stop, and relieved myself. This was a very interesting place to do it, because Epp's father's family is originally from Ambla Vald. For centuries, people looking like Epp had wandered these roads, perhaps taking a minute to pee in private not to far from where I was unloading my bladder. It was a true historical moment, as if all the streams of our family's Eesti past had been combined into one.

As I headed north I began to wonder if there actually was an end to this huge expanse of fields called Estonia. There were small villages, but they all looked the same. Plus I hadn't seen a sign for Tallinn in quite sometime. I was afraid that I might turn off the road and be in Narva, or even worse, Latvia. Finally a sign said Aegviidu. That looked sort of close to Tallinn on the map. But I wanted to get straight across, from Aegviidu to Kehra to Jüri and then north to the airport. The map said it was possible, but I would have to go through small Harju villages like Peningi and Vaskjala.

The windy roads did not prevent me from speeding like a devil as I could taste the sweet asphalt of the Tallinn-Tartu road in my mouth. First Lükati, then Peningi, then Kalesi, then Aruküla, then Pajupea, Vaskjala, and finally, Jüri. Finally the large box-shaped stores of the Tallinn metropolitan area began to appear. I have to say that I was surprised that Harjumaa was as empty as most Estonian counties. I zoomed along north to the airport, boldly passing every automobile in my way.

When I got to the airport, my folks were there. Two of our relatives had come up to keep them company while I had been pissing in Ambla Vald. And as the sun shimmered on Ülemiste Järv, nobody seemed like they really believed my 'bullshit' story that there had been bad thunderstorms in Tartu, and that's why I had to take the Tartu-Jõgeva-Aegviidu-Peningi-Tallinn road.

Chillin' with Nashi

I usually don't embed YouTube videos on this blog, but for this translation of an interview with Nashi-in-Estonia Kommisar Mark Sirõk from Thursday's Eesti Ekpress, I thought After the Fire's 1983 hit, "Der Kommisar" wholly appropriate.

Sirõk is between a rock and a hard place in life. He loves Russia, but he lives in Estonia, where mostly Estonians live. He wants to lead a consequence-free youth movement, as it is in Russia, but he finds himself in Estonia, where if you help incite a riot, you can actually go to jail.

Mark found himself in this situation after the nonsense in April, where young Russian fantasies of confronting 'fascists in Estonia' -- also known as Russian-speaking policemen and women -- came true for two nights before the authorities turned off the tap and prohibited sales of alcohol, which strongly reduced the bravery level of these grandsons of the Red Army.

When he's not out shacking up with Nashi cuties, Sirõk enjoys wearing Hawaiian t-shirts, listening to Tchaikovsky, and fighting the good fight against fascism, which is obviously rearing its evil head all over the world right now. Politically, he leans towards Keskerakond,I have decided to just translate some key sections of Mark's interview, and I recommend having the YouTube playing while you read for the full effect.

Do you acknowledge the Estonian state and constitutional polity?

Yes, naturally. I support all of what is written in the constitution. But I don't like the rewriting of history. History is what it was, not what is written by Mart Laar. Right now is this moment when Estonia forgets its own old heroes and searches for new ones, but I think it will come to remember both.

Does the 24th of February mean anything to you?

Yes, this is Estonian Independence Day.

Have you celebrated it?

I have gone to watch a parade. I really like it when something is happening in the city. In addition to Estonian holidays, we also celebrate Russian holidays.

What kind of republic is Estonia?

Generally speaking, this is really a democratic state, but after the April events ... At school the director said to me, do you want to shut up or get expelled from school? Then this came to my mind, that what kind of country is this, what kind of democracy, what kind of freedom of speech?

Did you vote in elections in Spring?

No, my birthday was a bit later.

But will you go next time?

I don't know exactly, but I hope so.

What party do you support?

It's hard to say at the moment, but when I think about it, then I would support Keskerakond.

Why?

Their politics are more or less normal. They aren't from the right and aren't from the left. They defend the interests of both Estonian and Russian speakers.

***

Are the Soviet Union and European Union similar?

Also in the Soviet Union they had freedom of movement, like they have in the European Union.

Sirõk's Nashi companion Roman Jelfimov answered the question this way --

Every union means that a part of independence is lost. Are we agreed? Some decisions are now made in Brussels, not in Tallinn. Of course, they both have their own pluses. Let's discuss this more after 10 years.

Is Nashi an anti-Estonian movement?

Not at all. We are anti-fascist, not anti-Estonian.

Mida?, NB!, ja Korp!

Mida?

In case you haven't noticed, I don't look like an Estonian. That's because most of my blood comes from here and here, and also a bit here and here. But today, standing in the supermarket at Eedeni Keskus in Tartu I was approached by an older lady who saw me joyfully kissing my daughter's cheek while my wife went to hunt down some taignas(dough).

"Oi, kui kena," she said. "Mis tema nimi on?"

"Tema nimi on Anna," I replied.

"Mida?" She said looking at me with curiosity.

"Anna," I said.

"Mida?" she replied.

"Anna, nagu Anna Haava," I tried again. Anna Haava was a famous luuletaja (poet) for whom several streets are named in Estonia.

The old women looked puzzled, perhaps not remembering who Anna Haava was, but finally digesting that the kid's name wasn't Kadri.

"Ah," she said. "Väga armas."

NB!

On August 16 and 17 the foreign ministers of Eesti, Läti, Leedu, Soome, Norra, Rootsi, Island, and Taani will meet . The five 'Nordic' [rich, cradle-to-grave welfare giving] countries and the three 'Baltic' [less rich, ok, poor, your on your own, don't ask me for free dental] Baltic states, will be meeting in Turku, Finland as the Nordic-Baltic 8.

The last time they met was last August in Norway. Fortunately for all eight FMs, the menu this year will likely include fish and potatoes, as it did last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. Topics of concern will likely include energy issues, including the grotesque plan of Germany and Russia to build a giant gas pipeline right next to Estonia, Finland, and Sweden's most awesome coast lines.

Ed Lucas has of late been recommending that Georgia join NATO ASAP to prevent its descent into the pre-2003 Kremlin hell hole where everybody is Russia's stooge. May I suggest that the boldly dressed FMs of the Nordic countries do something reasonable -- think about making one or all of the Baltic countries part of the Nordic Council. This would address the reality of Estonia's inclusion in the nordic space, and allow the right-thinking trio of Fredrik Reinfeldt, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, and Matti Vanhanen, to do away for once and for all with the idea that social democracy is the nordic countries and nothing but.

Korp!

Finally, I am currently writing my last piece of August before I head off into a sunset of vacation time. It's a freelance story for The City Paper about Tartu korpi life and the extent that it influences Estonian political and business culture.

While the Korp! life is certainly interesting -- imagine rules for drinking beer! -- I am having a hard time getting to the bottom over whether or not it pays to be in EÜS if you want to be Minister of Agriculture one day or not. The Korpid have been telling me that they are apolitical, but I didn't see a lot of Keskerakond symbols around election day here in March.

It would be very helpful if you contacted me or told me in the comments section what you know about the influence these ancient institutions have on the wheels of Estonian life. Is it all it's cracked up to be? Is the feuding (EÜS vs. Sakala) for real or just for giggles? Do the female corporations matter? If you join EÜS will you get to get wasted with Tõnis Luukas in the basement? And what's up with those hats? Let me know what you know. Then we can go and tell the world.

Lauristin

So I have decided to chart a new course with this blog and present the viewpoints of others in the Estonian media, translating segments of their work into English for the benefit of readers who do not know Estonian, as well as for the benefit of mina, a person who needs as much linguistic exercise as possible.

The first piece I would like to make available is an Aug 11 op-ed by Tartu professor Marju Lauristin, which generated 732 comments at last count, dwarfing the amount of commentary spawned by funnyboy writer Andrus Kivirahk's piece on suveteater, and encouraging the kind of 'kurat' and 'tibla' talk that accompanies any article containing a quote from the dark lord, Vladimir Putin.

A Family Affair

Before we get to the actual arvamus (opinion), it is important to know who exactly Lauristin is. Lauristin is the daughter of Johannes Lauristin and Olga Lauristin, two Estonian communists that served in the Eesti NSV government. In fact it was Johannes -- a statue of whom you can find in the basement of the Museum of Occupations in Tallinn -- who went to Moscow in 1940 to request admission to the USSR on behalf of the Republic of Estonia. Olga held various positions in the Eesti NSV government in the late 1940s and early 1950s.

The popular interpretation of Estonian communist participation in the overthrow of the Estonian republic is often boiled down to the idea that they were but simple idealists who were cynically used by the Stalinist state. This interpretation makes sense when one considers that the June communists of 1940 were poets and intellectuals, rather than the Soviet mafia that dominated Stalin's USSR.

Indeed, there is a Huey Newton meets Mao odor to the relationship between the Estonian left and the USSR. It is important to remember too, in these days of right-wing government, that many prominent Estonian politicians in the pre-war era were left wing. For example, August Rei, who set up the exile government in Oslo, was a staunch social democrat.

Anyway, it was because of Lauristin's background, rather than in spite of it, that she -- an academic -- was able to speak with extra gravitas about rejecting the Soviet Union and putting Estonia on the path to restoring independence. Imagine Laidoner's son speaking out against Estonian independence or Ronald Reagan's son speaking in favor of stem-cell research. Here was living proof that Estonian communism was dead.

Lauristin helped found the Popular Front in Estonia -- which organized the Baltic Way in 1989 -- and served as minister of social affairs in the early 90s. Since then she has returned to the world of academia, publishing influential books like 1997's Return to the Western World. These days she remains a 'thought leader' -- someone who is still obviously capable of stirring the public discussion about important issues.

It is also because of this background that one commenter replied to the following piece by saying, "Well, you are your parents' child."

Arvamus

Lauristin's arvamus from Aug. 11, is entitled "Estonians' Intolerance Feeds the Russian Propaganda Machine." It is a heavy-duty work to translate which sent me to my dictionary only to find out the word in question translates as 'coherence.'

Her main point is that despite Estonian language acquisition, Estonia's Russian community is isolated in Estonia by a lack of government initiative and a majority that is suspicious of its entrance into politics.

"During the years that integration monitoring has been done it has been shown that citizenship and Estonian language utilization by foreigners helps grow a positive attitude about Estonia inside, but this has not been brought together among at the same time tolerance and openmindedness," she writes.

"For Estonian-speakers and those that are not originally from Estonia that have gotten Estonian Republic citizenship, the Estonian community's views have been encumbered by distrust to the deepest root of Russian-speaking residents' participation in Estonian economy and politics," she adds.

She goes on to say that this mistrust, along with the failure to address problems in the Russian-speaking community have furthered this division among Estonia's residents.

"There is no need to wonder that growth of knowledge of Estonian language is for Russian-speaking resident a big letdown and their motivation grows weaker to apply for citizenship," she writes. "Although the necessity to draw more attention to community stability and social coherence has been spoken about for years, integration's social side has not first of all been able to mitigate risks like drug addiction, HIV, and level of unemployment."

In a very long section, that I am hesitant to translate, she goes onto to describe how the Bronze Soldier controversy widened this division, where ethnic Russians feel more distant from ethnic Estonians and ethnic Estonians believe that they must take a more hard line stance (kõva käe) in reaction to the youth shouting 'Rossija, Rossija'

Lauristin's solution is that Estonia must make a strong effort to counter Russian propaganda in Estonia. She calls Estonia's current response of not responding to the onslaught of negative information about Estonia manufactured by the Russian Foreign Ministry "submissive and cynical."

"Estonia should not downgrade the Estonian answer to this propaganda capmaign and high-pressure effect, when one significant aim is to influence Russian compatriots in Estonia," she writes. "Estonia needs a professional propaganda response strategy. The Estonian central media can certainly be widened so that it supports the needs of most Estonians and non-Estonians."

Lauristin writes that "the opinion, that we should not answer what the Russian media does to Estonian Russian consciousness (and at the same time also what Russian media tells to Western journalists), is submissive and cynical."

She argues that in "the Russian-speaking auditorium (especially for the young) they are offered in their mother language the possibility for discussion that is emotionally charged and interesting via audio visual messages that create Estonia (and Estonian short-term and long-term history) and other images while it brings Russian propaganda. In this place it must not be allowed to forget that in the Russian auditorium there are not only Russians. The audio visual output also influences nationalities."

In conclusion, Lauristin says that it "must be argued that the biggest thing is that the non-Estonians that live in Estonia do not believe Russian politicians nor wait for Russia to solve their own problems. The Estonian government needs to make all possible, that that our Russian-speaking compatriots are not receptive to Russia's propaganda war."

Let's Change the Topic, Shall We?

As a denizen of the Interweb, I have spent more time than I would like to admit battling Russian nationalists, Kommisars of the Net if you will, who are ready to spring into action at the drop of the name 'Estonia', or to deflect all criticism of Russia by pointing to Estonia in order to fight over Baltic citizenship policies, rather whether or not next year's presidential election in Russia will be free and fair (it won't).

After talking to these gentlemen and ladies at length, I thought I would provide you all with a tutorial on how to flip their arguments on their head, and move the discussion into territory so foreign to them, they will find themselves actually agreeing with you because they have no idea what you are talking about.

I have decided to divide the lessons I have learned into three handy points that may help anyone who cares about the future of this country engage publicly and confidently parry any thrusts from Stalinist apologists in the electronic public space.


Talking Point A: 1918 is the Year One

Estonians have tried so many times to get Russian nationalists to 'see their perspective' on World War II. This only encourages them to commence with a smear campaign linking Estonia to Nazism. In fact, this is a major effort of the Russian Foreign Ministry as part of its effort to weaken Estonia's attempt to undue the Soviet criminalization of resistance to Bolshevist power. They call it rewriting history. We all know that if Estonia really rewrote its history, the 'revision' would be much less depressing.

The answer is not to attempt to fight back, but rather to draw all arguments back to the Treaty of Tartu, and Estonia's declaration of independence in 1918.All arguments -- about citizenship, about legal continuity, about Russia's policies towards Estonia should continuously reference 1918.

Why is this helpful? For one, Russian nationalists are World War II buffs, but I have found that they know very little about the founding of the communist state in 1917-1920. They know the Great Patriotic War like the back of their hand, but they are sketchy on the power struggles of the teens and 20s. This was a time when Lenin sent Adolph Joffe to sign Bolshevist Russia's first foreign treaty with Estonia. It was a time when Leon Trotsky was managing red forces.

All of these characters -- Trotsky, Lenin, Joffe -- were communist intellectuals. The nuances of Soviet politics at that time are totally lost on the black and white version of the Great Patriotic War dished out every year by Putin. The idea of these political characters passionately debating the future of Russia is anathema to the Russian Federation of today. I mean when was the last time Putin name-dropped Leon Trotsky?

1918 also works because it stresses, above all, Estonian independence. There are no Estonians in Finnish uniforms, or Estonians in German uniforms -- just Estonians in Estonian uniforms. It also underscores Estonia's connections to Finland and Britain. The fact that Estonians fought Germans too, decreases the 'anti-Russian' tone of the debate. It's all about Estonian independence in 1918. There's no way they can argue with that because, quite honestly, it's too boring for them. Finally, the constant referencing of 1918 also makes Estonia look unique. When is the last time a foreign minister got up and babbled on about the war, no, not that war, the one before that war? Who can get worked up over 1918 in 2007? No one.

Talking Point B: Go on the Offensive on Minority Issues.

No matter what the discussion is about it will always touch on the fact that some Estonian residents don't have citizenship. Here it is important to know your facts, above all, that only 8.5 percent lack citizenship and decreasing. But I find the best to shut up this criticism is to agree.

Yes, it is unfortunate that there are stateless people in Estonia. Yes, Estonia is working hard to decrease the number of stateless people in Estonia. Yes, you would be very happy if there were more ethnic Russians involved in the political process. Yes, you would be ecstatic if tomorrow all the stateless people in Estonia magically naturalized

They'll reference the Amnesty Report. Point out that no report has criticized Estonia's unilingual state policy. None. Say that Amnesty has a right to make a report, and that Estonia is a democracy where such reports will be discussed and, if warranted, their decisions will be implemented.

The rightwing Estonian approach is to attack Amnesty or Rene Van der Linden or whomever. This doesn't work. The best approach is to reassert that Estonia is a democracy and that it welcomes international reports like those of Amnesty International. And Estonia very well can choose not to do anything Amnesty says. It's just the polite, PR way, of dealing with criticism.

Talking Point C: Estonia as part of the Nordic Space

As with discussions about 1918, Russian nationalists don't know jack about Nordic politics. They perhaps have no clue who Carl Bildt or Tarja Halonen or Anders Fogh Rasmussen are. As far as they know, Estonia is just some random, little Eastern European country where they hate Russians and love fascism.

One rhetorical trick I like to use is to constantly draw Estonia into the Nordic space and Russia's relations with those countries. Constantly link Estonia to Sweden and Finland. As discussed in an earlier post, Estonia really does have strong links to these countries. I mean -- other than one portly Aruban -- Swedes have been the only foreigners to represent Estonia in Eurovision -- twice.

Oh whatever, convincing you all doesn't matter. What matters is that the constant linkage to the Nordic economy -- which conveys a sense of stability from Tierra del Fuego to the Bering Straights -- changes the dynamic of the discussion. Estonia is no longer small and vulnerable and backwards. It's a player of one of the most elite economies in the world. And it's no longer a question over one country they know little about, it's a question about a lot of countries they know little about.

The more Russian nationalists are forced to think of Estonia as an extension of Sweden and Finland, the less apparent their route of attack will be. Because Estonia is 'near abroad' (meaning they can do with it whatever they damn well please) and Finland is just 'abroad' (meaning they know little of it). Constantly drawing Estonia into a paradigm where it is part of the 'abroad' and no longer the 'near abroad' will confuse your opponent. Talk about "we here in the nordic countries" and they won't have anything to say.

The point is to get them to shut up. By talking about 1918, stunning them by appearing to agree on the minority issues debate, and talking about Finland all the time, you just might achieve this very desirable result.

Remont

In my life I come into regular contact with three Estonian guys in their 50s -- Andres, Tiit, and Toomas. Andres is my father-in-law or my äi, and Tiit and Toomas are my wife's uncles. Andres and Toomas are in the construction business. Tiit is a composer and musician. Andres dwells in Karksi, Toomas lives in Viljandi, and Tiit is a Tallinlane.

They have some things in common. Each was married at age 21. Each sports facial hair. Of the three, Tiit is the tallest, while it's a toss up over who is sturdier -- Andres or Toomas. They don't look like triplets, but you can tell they are brothers. And one salient factor that no doubt is the bread and butter of their brotherly relationship is that they all are involved in some serious renovation or remont projects in their homes.

It would be interesting to ask them when the remont will be finished. Because, in all honestly, I don't think that their work will ever be done. This is because the point of remont is not to finish it, but to keep doing it. This is Estonia, and in Estonia, remont is one of the national pastimes, along with drinking õlut and explaining Estonian history from the 13th century to unsuspecting listeners.

Euroremont

Part of that long history includes an Estonian epoch that ran from the early 1990s to the early 2000s when the Swedish-owned banks ended it by blessing Estonia with generous lending schemes. This period was known as a time of mass Euroremont, when households were cheaply outfitted to look as if they had been renovated, but actually were every bit as fall-apart as before, this time only with a 'new' linoleum floor designed to look like genuine mahogany.

The 'point' of Euroremont was to make your apartment look like any old apartment in Europe. The problem was that many Estonian apartments were in rambling early 20th century wooden homes or crumbling Soviet-era tenement blocks. Solution? Linoleum disguised to look like wood. Styrofoam paneling designed to look like saw-cut moldings.

While searching for apartments to buy in 2003, the wife and I met many an apartment that looked gorgeous from a distance, but when you touched the paneled wooden ceiling, it gave way to reveal that it was actually styrofoam. That wooden floor was actually just a piece of linoleum cut to fit the room. Often, it wasn't even glued down.

Tõeline Remont

Beginning somewhere around 2003-2004 a huge wave of genuine remont hit Estonia. Living in Kalamaja, an older section of Tallinn, I could watch as each week a new crew of motivated eestlased would descend upon a ruined old wooden home, perhaps partially burned, with the requisite commune of an extended family of cats living beside it, and within weeks the structure had been salvaged, repainted and was ready for Finnish-manufactured appliances.

This switch to genuine remont came at a time when, encouraged by Estonia's forthcoming European Union accession, Scandinavian banks felt extra frisky and basically loaned money to anyone with a pulse residing in the territory of Eesti. You're a drunk with no hope that wants to buy a shiny new apartment? Here, have a bag of money. Construction firms bought old wrecks, made them shiny and new, and sold them to people that -- thanks to the happy-go-spendy banks -- could 'afford' to buy them.

This period sort of coincided with a lot of good feelings in Estonia. Estonia was in the EU, which made it European. Estonia was in NATO, which made it safe. And Estonians -- usually young and urban -- were moving into genuinely refurbished apartments -- the physical proof that communism was crap and capitalism is, as Austin Powers would put it, 'smashing.'

One lucky building to be washed over by this typhoon of tõeline remont is the Tartu train station, which up until a few years ago looked so condemned that if a person sneezed inside it, the whole rotting shitbox might easily come down. Today, as you can see in the above photo, it's all coming together, your tax dollars at work.

A side issue that sometimes comes up is that Estonian neighbors who co-own homes cannot decide on what color to paint their house. Sometimes it happens that one extra motivated neighbor decides to paint his 'half' of the house, while another, less motivated neighbor, decides to leave his at it is, resulting in houses that are painted yellow on the bottom, and blue on top.

A National Preoccupation

As mentioned earlier, Estonians are pleased as punch to have so much renovation work to do. Even though Estonians never attend church ever, except to perhaps snap a photo of a dead relative, Estonia's Lutheran churches are still hard at work beaming workaholic impulses to Estonians in a three county radius.

In Tallinn, it is Olaviste Kirik that receives the workaholic impulse from Taara -- through its renowned steeple -- and then retransmits it to Estonians all over Harjumaa, urging them subconsciously to get back to work. In Tartu, no one can resist the call of the Jaani Kirik, making them pick up another task as soon as the previous one is finished.

Each morning as Estonian men sleep off the previous night's booze intake, the magic of Lutheran Estonia comes alive, striking them with the urge to cut wood and turn over the earth in the backyard for a new potato patch. Don't believe me? I drank kurati palju beer with our friend Kaja's father one night two years ago, followed by endless consumption of Saku gin long drinks.

The next morning the first thing I heard was Kaja's Issi's saw. The dude was cutting wood at 8 am in the morning! He couldn't resist it you see. He was in range of the Ilumäe Kirik and had been awakened to do remont.

Ehitus Service

The new temples of worship for the remont-obsessed, workaholic Estonians are not Lutheran churches though. Instead they have names like Ehitus Service or Decora or K-Rautakeskus. In Tartu all three of these Home Depot-like stores are within five minutes of one another, and all three are consistently servicing their eager customers, especially on the weekend, which is prime time for remont projects.

Inside you'll meet fellow remont addicts, many of their partners pregnant, as they mull over which shade of green they want to paint the floor of the esik in their new apartment. Even in Estonia, loading up the shopping cart for future remont projects is an international affair. See the Ukrainian guy trying to explain himself to the Estonian clerk. See the Polish guys loading up their van with wood. See the dumb American guy trying to ask whether or not the paint he is about to buy is oil based.

One often overlooked part of the Ehitus Service experience is the fabulous music they play there. If I only had a kroon for every time I heard Robbie Williams sing 'She's Madonna', I'd take all of you blog readers out there to Hesburger!

Can Comedy Cure the WWII Blues?

By all accounts, the manner in which the Teutonic Order took possession of Estonia in the 13th Century was not laughter inducing. Yet, Estonians, looking back at their past centuries later, managed to reduce the bloody conquest to a comedy called Malev.

Over the past few days I have read a lot about the recent gathering of Estonian SS veterans near Sinimäe in Ida Virumaa. It has been picked up by the Russian-controlled media as part of its ongoing war against Estonia's rightwing government. I have nothing against old veterans of any army gathering. They are old and lived through hell, they should be allowed to assemble and pay homage to their fallen comrades who were cut down in their prime for foolish purposes.

Yet it is true that the role that the Estonian state -- as represented by a letter from Defense Minister Jaak Aaviksoo who was conspicuously absent -- played in these ceremonies is controversial. An official letter calling the SS veterans heroes on par with those who brought Estonia its independence in 1918? Hmm. That's an interesting way of looking at it.

Yet, as always, things are more complicated here. The Estonian state that operated underground during the German occupation did not support enlisting in the German Army until it became clear that Germany was going to lose the war in mid-1944. Then Prime Minister Jüri Uluots, acting on behalf of President Konstantin Päts who had been deported in 1940, called on Estonian men not to resist being drafted into the 20th Waffen SS in order to keep the Reds out so the republic could be restored.

How do we know Uluots was not a Nazi? Because the first thing he did when the Germans began retreating was appoint a new Estonian government. And so, because the Estonian state told its people not to resist that draft it now owes them, even in their elderhood, something for their sacrifices -- like official letters and a military band.

The problem with this situation is that idiotic World War II propaganda is still being used by Russian nationalists and Estonian nationalists to sew feelings of hatred for one another. Official commemorations -- such as at the Bronze Soldier or at Sinimäe -- are used by some to fan the flames of discontent, and to link that struggle -- which now seems preposterous in its ideals -- a Bolshevist Superstate? an 'Aryan' Europe? Come on! -- to the present where it honestly serves no purpose.

Sometimes I wish people would look beyond the mind numbing propaganda of the 1940s and realize how stupid the whole thing was. I mean the Germans and Russians spent thousands upon thousand of lives over what exactly?

Think about all those German and Russian tombstones in Ida Viru county. Why of all places did they die in Estonia? There's no downhill skiing here. No vast reserves of oil to export. The harbors are nice, but the Russians have learned to live with Ust-Luga. Anyway you add it up, you have slightly more than one million people, some farm land, some lakes, and a lot of berry and mushroom yielding forests. The idea of a "world war" occuring in this remote part of Europe is, I am sorry, a joke.

The memories of the horrors of that conflict are still raw and the veterans deserve their respect. But mark my words, at some moment in the future, Estonian filmmakers might manage to squeeze a Malev-like comedy out of the sad tale of the Estonian Waffen SS.

Formerly Swedish

The other day I was dispatched to the Tartu Konsum to purchase sugar for making jams. We have several apple trees in our back yard that are bearing fruit -- too much fruit -- and it was decided to turn nature's bounty into something more palatable and that can be put in long-term storage or gifted to friends.

My assignment at the Konsum was to find moosisuhkur -- literally 'jam sugar' -- but none of the paper bags of sweet white stuff said that. One however glared out from the top saying something that I recognized instantly -- syltsocker. In Estonia 'sült' is jellied meat. But, being a geenius, I put everything together and, after some inspection on the top of the bag (see photo), discovered that this was indeed the moosisuhkur I was after. This particular product was manufactured for sale in Sweden and its two sentries on the Gulf of Finland -- Suomi and Eesti.

Kom Loss På Svenska

Unknown perhaps to many Scandinavians, for whom the 'near abroad' of Tallinn brings to mind uncouth pickpockets ready to pounce at any sign of S E K, Estonia has something of an underlying Swedish influence. It's hard to put ones finger on it, but in most places it is there, a Scandinavian bedrock upon which other things -- German manorhouses, Soviet tenement blocks -- were built.

The way it hits you is not through viewing the churches on Toompea, but rather, by shopping for things like moosisuhkur. It's by looking at the back of a coin and seeing three familiar lions, lions that oddly resemble the coat of arms of Denmark. It's by seeing the ubiquitous signs for firms like Ragn Sells or Falck -- things that are so part of the Estonian landscape you would never notice them until you are told they are owned -- like everything else -- by some guy in Sweden or Denmark.

History tells us that the Swedes and Danes were most active in Estonia from the Viking era until the defeat of Sweden in the Great Northern War in 1721. Their activity though, is often boiled down to land possession. Denmark kept Ösel, while Sweden got Dagö. The language of commerce was German, the language of the Teutonic Knights and their land-owning descendants. When the Russians took over, they made a deal with the Baltic German upper class that meant that the German identity of Estonia would remain intact, although loyalty would now be to the east, rather than to the west.

But strangely, the German influence in Estonia is largely historical. There are German-styled buildings, German household loan words for things, German-influenced Lutheran churches, and German names on headstones to long dead Estonians named Johannes. But the Baltic German minority left Estonia during the prelude to World War II. So their influence feels more like the one you get while digging out moldy items in your parents attic, rather than the 'here, today, tomorrow, next week' feeling you get when you realize that something you are holding binds you to something more essential to the foundation of your society.

Aiboland

One hint of where the Scandinavian influence in Estonia first took root can be found on the west coast, where a few hundred Swedish-speaking descendants of the Estlandsvenskar that first inhabited Estonia's many islands -- called Aiboland -- in the 13th century live on (see photo of famous rannarootslane Maria Murman (1911-2004), right).

In 1934, Swedes were the third most populous minority in Estonia after Germans and Russians, but their numbers dropped rapidly in 1944 when young Estonian Swedes packed into boats to flee the 'Soviet liberation of Estonia'.

Recently though efforts have been made from both sides to reinvigorate what has historically been an important minority for both Estonians and Swedes. For Swedes, the importance of Estlandsvensk is linguistic -- it is a unique dialect of a comparatively small language. It is also a historical curiosity -- Estlandsvenskar are seen as being more 'pure' in their Swedishness than modern Swedes, they are considered a time capsule of Swedishness, if you will -- something to be studied and preserved.

For the Swedish part, Den Andra Stranden is an excellent website that compiles interviews, essays, and various forms of media to preserve Estlandsvensk culture

For Estonians, Swedish influence is important as it serves as a vital link to the northern European community which Estonia uses as a way to measure its own development and among which it sees itself as playing a larger role in the future. Despite the mass emigration of Swedes in 1944, the Swedish linguistic influence also lives on in Noarootsi commune's high school, which is the only high school in Estonia to offer language immersion in Swedish.

Musical Connections

One interesting factoid is that there is a significant musical dialogue between Sweden and Estonia going back to the 1970s when Jaan Manitski -- now a former foreign minister of Estonia -- managed the Swedish pop group ABBA.

In recent years, two Swedes, Sahlene (pictured) (2002) and Sandra Oxenryd (2006) have represented Estonia in the Eurovision Song Contest. For whatever reason, Estonians have been ok with Swedes representing them, even if they don't speak Estonian.

Finally, who could forget Swedish 80s rock band Charizma, who in 1990 penned the classic song, "Join Hands" with the following deep lyrics, "the time has come to build a bridge of friendship Estonia and Sweden. Join hands, join hands together. We're friends forever." Charizma also tried to represent Estonia in the Eurovision song contest in 2004, but they lost. :(

Tänapäeva

One of the sticking points in the Estonian-Swedish relationship however has been Swedish acquiescence to Soviet demands during the occupation period, such as returning Estonian soldiers to Soviet-occupied Estonia and recognizing Soviet power in Estonia.

Swedish acquiescence to Soviet demands did not occur only towards Estonia, though. Sweden similarly made concessions to the Soviets and Nazis alike when it came to closer allies like Finland or Norway. Nevertheless, some Estonians have a gut reaction to not trust Sweden as a reliable partner in the international arena, especially when dealing with Russia.

Despite this, Sweden has remained one of the most important partners for Estonia in Europe, with its huge investment in the country guiding its business class into supporting inclusion in the European Union. The government of Prime Minister Carl Bildt proved especially receptive to the restoration of Estonian independence in the early 1990s, and now that Sweden's most prominent blogger is back in government, you can be sure to see more of his face around Kadriorg, sharing coffee with Estonia's Swedish-born president. Bildt and Ilves have both been among the most prominent of including Estonia in a space that Ilves called, partially in gest, 'the former Swedish empire'.

Eesti Nimed

One interesting part of becoming a parent is deciding on a name for your child. There are countless books written on the subject and many hurt feelings to endure as you are told that the jumble of consonants and vowels so dear to your heart are pure rubbish.

With our daughter Anna, we chose a name that was in both our families, but had symbolic importance for Epp because it was her great-grandmother's name. However, we did hear from some that 'Anna' could be too Slavic in touch, and might set off 'Russian alarms' among ethnic Estonians who have a highly efficient way of telling tribes apart. This is funny, because Anna is perhaps one of the most timeless names in the other nordic countries.

Bigotry aside, I understand why some Estonians might be pained by Russian names. I mean there is a prominent Russian politician whose last name is written in the Roman alphabet as Yastrzhembsky. And don't get me started on Tartu-born actor and theater director Andres Dvin-jan-i-nov. If there ever was a candidate for a renewed names campaign it is he. But, back to the point, the greater irony is that we were being told that a name born by an Estonian woman born more than 100 years ago was 'un-Estonian.'

How Estonian is it?

That got me thinking about what exactly is an Estonian name. The obvious answers are 'Kalev' and 'Linda' -- the main characters from Kalevipoeg. But we received a family tree from an Estonian cousin in England that traced my wife's family back to the early 18th century, and there were no Kalevs nor Lindas nor Vambolas nor Lembits in that tree. Instead, there were a lot of Estonianized versions of Germanic names, among the most common were Mihkel, Martin, Mart, Tõnu, and Tiidrik for boys, and names like Els, Ann, and Marri for girls.

When people first encounter vowel-laden Estonian personal names, they find them odd. Imagine two brothers, one named Aap and the other Priit! The reality is that this is how Estonians of yore interpreted named like 'Abel' which became Aapeli and then just Aap, or Friedrich, which somehow morphed into 'Priit'. The Estonians were not alone in this regard. In Finland, they heard 'Fredrik' and turned it into 'Veeti'. One can imagine how an Estonian villager heard the name 'Dietrich' and couldn't pronounce it but managed to mangle it into 'Tiit'.

That brings us to the debate over foreign loans. Estonia, like other countries, has been borrowing names for centuries, but some Estonian purists will still point out that Toivo and Aino are Finnish names, as if Estonia was somehow not Finnic itself. Estonians also like to shorten all names by taking the first syllable and adding an 's'. If you name is Peeter, you become 'Pets'. If your name is Pirgit, you become 'Pirks', and if you are like my brother-in-law Toivo, you are known to the world as 'Toits'.

For those of you interested in learning more about the history of Estonian personal names, you an read this excellent Estonica page here.

Generations

Occasionally it seems that names come and go with generations. For example, there are plenty of aging great grandmothers in Estonia named Salme, Laine, and Aino, but among the newborns of Tartu or Tallinn or Toila, there is hardly one of these to be found. My sister-in-law considered naming her daughter -- who received the Hungarian-flavored name of Ilona on her birthday -- Aino, after her grandmother, but the idea was dropped. Who would want to give a old person's name to a sweet cherubic child?

But again, age plays a role. We were told by an older acquaintance that 'Anna' reminded her of her mother-in-law, who also was of Epp's great-grandmother's generation, and therefore she did not have a fondness for the name. Even worse was when we named Marta. Our friend Signe told us that Marta was an old woman's name and said it aloud with a look of pure disgust. "Pff. Marta. Pff."

Yet the reality is that most of these aging Martas and Annas are now long deceased, their nasty turns as school teachers and mothers-in-law only remembered by gray-haired grannies and people like Signe. It seems that once the dust has settled on your grave, it's ok to resuscitate your name for future generations. So expect a flurry of Johanneses and Ainos in about 10 years! I am already running into Martas on the playground here.

One funny story is of our Flemmish friend and his Swedish-Estonian wife who named their children Aime and Raivo. It seems that the 'traditional' Estonian names of the 1940s that have been cast aside by current child-bearing generations in Estonia have been preserved in the Estonian diaspora. When I think of Raivo, I think of Onu Raivo. It is quite cool to know there is a little Raivo out there somewhere, perhaps slightly irritating his older sister Aime.

Farm Names

Finally, one addendum to the saga of Estonian names is the family name. Many Estonian families had German names before the 1930s. Epp's maiden name was Saluveer, but her great-grandfather was Johannes Schwarzberg. What is interesting is that before the adoption of German names in the 19th century, some Estonians had talu nimed -- farm names. So Mats Lenk might have been Uustalu Mats before his name was Germanized. I am told that older generations still use these farm names to refer to one another.

In the 1930s, approximately 210,000 Estonians chose new names for themselves. They settled on cute animals, like Orav (squirrel) and Jänes (bunny), or sturdy trees like Tamm (oak) or Mänd (pine). I have read stories that these days some Estonian Russians also choose new names to help them succeed in the marketplace, or maybe because having a last name like Yastrzhembsky really is too burdensome in a country where people have names like Mart Laar.

I wonder what would happen if there was a new names campaign. Would Estonians still name themselves after trees and animals or would they opt for something for modern? Jaanus Skype? Elo Selver? Tarmo Säästumarket? Piret Wifi? Kristjan Mobiil? What would you choose if you could start all over again? The whole idea of a names campaign is interesting, but sometimes I think it would be cool if everyone could go back to using their farm names.

Vaata Kes Tuli!

So I am going to be out of commision for the next few days. Why? Because my family just grew from three members to four. Our daughter Anna was born last night here in Tartu on Toomemägi. What can I say? My wife Epp is very brave and she did a splendid job of handling this gigantic challenge of bringing another human being into the world.

Child is very cute and rosy and is crying sometimes because she was pushed out of her warm, moist little fetal swamp into the cold light of the real world. Most notably, this set of events occurred 33 years ago before to the day in Viljandi when Epp's mother, Aime, gave birth to her. That is right, our new daughter was born on her mother's birthday. This should make for very fun summer birthday parties in happy years to come.

Pullerits Draws Ire of International Gay Press

It's that time of year again, homoparaad time, when Estonian homosexuals, plus colorfully flamboyant supporters from across the globe, join together to 'do' Tallinn in the name of pride.

The first homoparaad went off without a hitch, but last years romp through the medieval capital made Tallinn look like Riga as boneheads assaulted paraders with sticks and stones. It was messy and left an unsavory taste in everyone's mouth, including Estonian journalism godfather Priit Pullerits who recently questioned the need for such a parade:

The purpose of the parade is to display eccentric behavior so it’s understandable that gay activists don’t want to gather in a forest or at a lake, where they can come together without annoying others. This is about the vociferous proclamation of sexual content in public. But one’s sexual preferences are a personal issue that doesn’t need to be rubbed in your fellow citizens’ faces. The organisers claim the parade is necessary to remind people of the existence of their homosexual fellow human beings, however I don’t believe there’s a single person in Estonia who doubts the existence of homosexual tendencies.

Pullerits' op-ed piece drew a response from Queerty, a New York-based snarky online news source that took issue with both Estonia and Pullerits' more than famous vuntsid. "Because people already know gays exist, they should become invisible? What year are we living in? We understand Estonia isn’t the most up-to-date country on the planet (see Pullerits’ picture), but this shit’s ridiculous," commented Queerty.

Pullerits' style is indeed timeless. I happened to pick up the debut issue of Favoriit from 1993 or so last summer and Pullerits was rocking the vuntsid all the way back then. In fact, I think I am safe in saying that Pullerits does not look like he has aged one day since that photo was taken in 1993. It is quite striking.

But, even though I am terrified of the international gay press, I will say that Priit has a point. It could be a tad disconcerting to see transvestites walking down your street. And it could also cause a 'what year are we living in' moment. Transvestites -- the most noticeable participants in any gay parade -- were edgy back in 1975 -- the year The Rocky Horror Picture Show came out. Elton John in the duck costume? That was 30 years ago.

The bottomline is that transvestite is played out. It's as new wave as capezio shoes. It's as done as disco and it is not really coming back. It lives on in Amsterdam and New York the same way hair metal lives on in Los Angeles and parts of Pennsylvania. And why don't transvestites meet at lakes rather than on public streets for their gatherings? What do gays have against lakes? Point to Pullerits.

On the other hand, if said gays and their de rigeur transvestite accompaniment are so lacking in edginess, if they are so *yawn* boring, then why should we care if they have a parade once a year to feel good about themselves? Other people get to parade right? (Well, not in Estonia), but you get the picture. The Estonian government recently moved a statue just so Red Army veterans could have a more peaceful place to pay respect to the dead. And you are telling me they shouldn't permit a gay parade?

See, supporting the gay parade doesn't mean you like guys like Ru Paul parading down the street, it just means that you don't mind guys like Ru Paul parading down the street. That, in a nutshell, is tolerance. And that is why I am very much in favor of this year's homoparaad going off without a hitch and making the Estonian organizers feel very much superior to their Latvian counterparts. Because if Estonians can feel better than Latvia and gays can feel good about themselves, then everyone wins, even Pullerits.

A War Over Capital, Not Capitals

People have been turning the furniture upside down in their apartments trying to figure out the deterioration in relations between Moscow and London. We all know the story, Alexander Litvinenko, ex-KGB, became British citizen in the company of the fraudulent and much loathed Boris Berezovsky, then was poisoned last year by a rare radioactive element in a London restaurant, and the radioactive substance left traces everywhere one Andrei Lugovoi (in the pinstripe on the left), also former KGB, went on his trip back to Moscow.

Like any media phenomenon this one is getting increasingly difficult to follow and it must be taken in proper context. Some believe that that context is unwarranted NATO expansion, which aroused the iracity of 'the bear'. Others think the breakdown in East-West relations has something to do with a missile shield in Poland and the Czech Republic, put there ostensibly to give NATO partners the same protection as other (American) members of the alliance.

I think that one sliver of truth in this mosaic is contained in the following Bloomberg article:

The U.K., which is the largest foreign investor in Russia, could find that British companies are barred from major new energy projects, said Lukyanov. BP Plc's Russian joint venture is the third-largest oil producer in Russia and last month had to surrender control of the giant Kovykta gas field to state gas monopoly OAO Gazprom.

So the UK has some pretty strong tentacles that reach deep into the heart of the Russian market. And a nationalist leader, like Vladimir Putin, perhaps wishes to shake the tree, get that capital to flea, and to establish state-owned control -- through Gazprom or its subsidiaries -- over market areas where British firms are currently established.

This reminds me of some of the cockier comments that Ansip made this spring. One -- made to journalists during the Pronksöö, was that he did not fear sanctions because Estonia's major trading partners are Sweden and Finland. The other -- made at the Reform Party meeting -- was that the less Russian capital in Estonia, the better for Estonian security. While sounding bitterly provincial, he was also probably right.

Some Russian analysts, discussing the future of Russia's relationship with its favorite Baltic state, Latvia, basically supported this economic view of influence.

I think that Russia will not be of first importance to Latvia’s foreign policy, in spite of the fact that Latvia depends on Russia economically ... However, if Russia builds up its relations with Latvia preventing the neighbor from making unfavorable moves to it, Russia can influence that country. If Russia continues reacting to such steps too slowly, as it does now, its position will remain as weak as it was when the “Bronze Soldier” monument was removed in Estonia.

There you have it. Capital equals influence. In another Russian analytical piece that came out this weak, similar ideas were expressed in dealing with Georgia. In his piece, Aleksey Pilko argues that Russia should abandon the separatist movements in South Ossetia and Abkhazia in order to build a Russian-friendly elite in Georgia that will "mean greater Russian influence in the wider Caucasus, which can only lead to enhanced security on Russia’s southern border."

Given that these ideas are being churned out by Russian strategists, perhaps it is time to argue less about extradition law in the Lugovoi affair, and move onto what is really being reconsidered in Russia over who owns what. Stalin's Russia tried to make the USSR free of 'troublesome' minorities. Putin's Russia it appears is trying to make the Russian Federation free of 'troublesome' capital.

Stateless Persons Down to 8.5 Percent

Those of you who actually reside in Estonia may not think about it on a daily basis, but for those outside of Estonia 'the citizenship issue' is often on the tip of their tongues when talking about Estonia.

The Estonian Foreign Ministry recently updated its page to reflect that as of July 2, 115,274 people still have undetermined citizenship in Estonia. That is 8.5 percent of the population. In 1992, 32 percent of the Estonian population had undetermined citizenship.

Like a good open liberal New Yorker, when I first heard of Estonia's citizenship laws five years ago I said, 'well why don't they just given them citizenship then?' It has been since then that I have begun to understand the painful reality is that there was no 'silver bullet' for statelessness in Estonia in 1992 and there still isn't one today.

The reality is that the Republic of Estonia existed de jure from 1944 to 1991. It did. That's why guys like Toomas Hendrik Ilves received Estonian citizenship in the early 1990s. Because their status of citizens never ceased, even if they were born in Stockholm or Berlin or London.

Couple that with the arrival of hundreds of thousands of people from the USSR to occupied Estonia in the 40s through 80s, and you have a problem. Those people had Soviet citizenship. On December 25, 1991, their country ceased to exist. At that point they became stateless.

How was Estonia supposed to handle these several hundred thousand stateless people when it already had citizens. How do most people become citizens? Through naturalization. Some of these stateless persons had been in Estonia since the 1940s. Others had been in Estonia since the 1980s. Who was to judge which ones had to naturalize. And could living in a country for two years without any knowledge of the local language or culture really guarantee one citizenship? If so, why would someone that immigrated in 1994 not have those same rights?

Ay, it's a conundrum with no easy answer, other than naturalization. Over the past 15 years the policy has been molded and reshapen and tweaked and, lo and behold, as of today 145,470 people have naturalized. That's not great but you can't say that it's bad and you also can't say that the policy doesn't work because it appears that it does.

Those Hot-Blooded Estonian Women

No matter what topic of conversation you enter into it, chances are, if you are a foreign guy, you will be sucked into the vortex of discussing Estonian womanhood at length. Most young gentlemen under 25 revel at the chance to chatter on about their sojourns to and fro nightclub with Triinu and Piret and Kaili.

But when you actually marry one of this northern specie the questioning grows more tiring. "Yes," you want to say, "I know they are attractive." 'Yes," you carry on, "they are very stylish", "Ok," you concur, "they might be the most beautiful women in the world." It gets to the embarassing point that you realize that some people still consider women to be some kind of property, and your Estonian gal to be ... a trophy wife.

Taken in the context of paging through Kroonika magazine, one could see where this idea comes from. Kroonika is a catalog of platinum blonde Barbies, usually straddling some kind of masculine-related item, if not an actual man, and waxing on about what kind of attributes they look for in their guy. A jaunt across Tallinn will leave you feeling equally stimulated as you spy young ladies wearing cowboy boots and hoop-earrings -- a sure sign that they are ovulating and desperately want you to help make up for the lack of suitable males in the Estonian population tonight.

So to indulge all of you in what you want to talk about anyway, I thought I'd address a few of those too frequently asked questions about Estonian ladies.

Why Do Foreign Men Marry Estonian Women?

Beyond these superficial glimpses at the opposite sex, there is the real phenomenon of foreign boys shacking up with Estonian girls. Some people wonder why. I'll tell you why. Because the traveling-guy-meets-exotic-foreign-female-and-settles-down-to-sire-a-multitude-of genetically-diverse-children parable is the oldest tale in the book. Ever since Fletcher Christian spied some random Polynesian teenager, mariners like ourselves have been doing it.

But why we stop in Estonia? Why not proceed through Latvia and then conquer all of Belarus? Free Wifi. No, actually, Estonian women are not alone in this regard. Across Europe Americans and Brits and others routinely partner with whomever they can. When I was living in Denmark I met two gents at a bar who were Americans that had left to evade the draft in the 1960s. They had runaway to Malmö of all places to marry Swedes and eat lingonberry jam for the rest of their lives. So I guess that is my first response: Estonia is not unique. This happens everywhere.

That being said, Estonians are amenable to marriage. They have a liberal, "eh, what the heck" approach to it and see it as a manifestation of romantic love, as opposed to the US where it has been viewed over the past 20 years or so as a phase in life that occurs sometime after a big promotion at work. In the Soviet ice age, Estonians got married young so that they could move out of their parents' homes. These days many still marry young because, "eh, what the heck" coupled sometimes by a loud "oops" and a surge in hormones.

In this context of ladies that aren't afraid to get married and wandering guys that are looking for a place to put down their roots, it shouldn't be surprising that so many foreign guys wash up on Estonian soil. A final factor is that Estonia is 54 percent female and 46 percent male, and of that 46 percent, a good chunk are either drunks or Eurovision fans, leaving the market wide-open for synergistic coupling.

How's Your Girl?

It's hard to stereotype any person. What one can do is relate their experiences and hope they jive with those of others. My Estonian naine likes to start her mornings with the sound of her mobile phone saying, "on aeg arkata, kell on seitse!". Then the water is put to boil, then the coffee, the sweet nectar of Estonian life, is first brewed. We have been drinking Löfbergs Lila these days. My naine says it tastes as good as melted ice cream.

The most cherished of breakfasts is some kind of porridge, perhaps tatrahelbed. The Estonian woman's culinary universe is flavored by porridges and jams and keefir and Kalevi komm. These foods are fine. The ones I find worrisome are maksapasteet, varieties of dried fish, and jellied meats. Whenever some person is carrying on about the Estonian beauties, I don't think he is thinking of one with a lump of sült hanging from the corner of her mouth.

Estonian women know how to live life au natural. Mine dreams of days spent in forests picking mushrooms and berries and maybe a swim in a pristine countryside lake, preceeded by sauna. Tonight we ate seenakaste with potatoes and kurgid. It was so good. I washed it down with an A. Le Coq Pilsner and chased that with a plum tart. Then, as I lay on the doorstep of a fine slumber, my naine appeared with a cup of freshly brewed coffee to nurse me back to health and put me back to work.

They Who Wear The Pants

In Estonian society, women allegedly run things. This appears to be true, although our president and prime minister are not women. But in day to day life, it is the females that are organizing and the men who are obliging. With the advent of both mobilephone and Internet, my Estonian woman can order her day into a multitude of meetings that flow seamlessly into one another, complete with time calculated to get from one meeting place to another.

As a male, duties are assigned to you because the organizer has a special way she wants things done and its best not to take it upon yourself to, say, fold the laundry because that laundry might be dirty or intended for other usage. The real trainwreck occurs when several duties are assigned simultaneously (wash up dishes, take out garbage) and as you are finishing washing your last plate, you are asked, "How come you forgot to take out the garbage?" Don't even bother trying to explain yourself.

Estonian men are supposed to be like MacGyver. Like Lennart Meri, they should be ready to spring into action at any time with screwdriver in hand, fixing leaky pipes and roofs along the way with tree bark and some manure. As a foreign guy, your lack of handiness might make you into something resembling a male model. You just sit around and read the newspaper, relying on 'real Estonian men' to figure out what is wrong with your car.

Worry not. If you have two arms and two legs, the chances are good that your Estonian woman will find something useful for you to do. And, as they say in construction, showing up is 90 percent of the job.

Maarahvas

If you really want to know your Estonian naine, it is a good idea to get a sense of where she is coming from. Most likely it's from a small corner of of Eestimaa that ends in a suffix like '-vere' [Eg: Adavere] or '-tsi' [Eg. Muratsi]. In this place you will meet her mother and perhaps even her grandmother or great aunts. Don't be surprised if Mrs. Claus, the spouse of Jõuluvana. comes to mind upon meeting vanaema.

Vanaema knows all sorts of tricks. She knows when is the best time to plant cucumbers and how to make bread and how to make a whole litter of kittens disappear with a bucket, a burlap sack, and a rock. The current generation of vanaemad in Estonia have lived through thick and thin. Soviets, Nazis, Soviets, Uno Loop, Collapse of the Ruble -- they have seen it all. Yet when they talk, they probably prefer to gossip about village life. Is somebody pregnant? Did somebody buy a new car? How much did it cost? Vanaema knows.

Sometimes it is hard to believe that the girls in VanillaNinja will one day become those old ladies you see walking the streets of any small village in Estonia, but genetics are a safe bet. So take a good look at your Eesti vanaema. Because chances are, if you stay together, this person closely resembles the one you will be sleeping with in 50 years.

Her Other Boyfriend

If you are married to or are in partnership with an Estonian female, the chances are that you may develop arvuti-envy. As she scrolls through blog.tr.ee or the online version of Eesti Ekpress, you might feel pangs of jealousy as she makes expressions of surprise, or even laughs, while you passively await her attention. She'll assure you that she is just paying her taxes, but in reality she is engrossed in a debate over child rearing in Perekool.

As talented and handsome as you are, there are some ways in which you will always be outdone by the Internet. The only way to handle this is to get even. And maybe even get your own blog.

Noh, mis te mõtlete sõbrad? Kas eesti naised ongi kõige ilusam naised maailmas?

The English-Speaking Minority

With all the endless talk of minorities and minority rights in Estonia, smaller, less vocal minorities usually get lost in the shuffle. The Swedish minority, most of whom fled in 1944, is just now beginning to reassert itself in its section of Estonia, once called Aiboland. Beyond the Russians and Ukrainians of Tallinn and Narva, there are also Inkeri Finns spread like voi from Toila to Treimani. In fact, in a few counties, Finns are among the dominant minorities, especially during summertime.

Some say that Russians that arrived in the 1960s are a national minority because, hey, 2001: A Space Odyssey, came out a long time ago. But following that logic, history is in the eye of the propagandist, and an argument could just as soon be made that the 1990s were a long time ago -- so long ago that Estonia wasn't even in the European Union or NATO. We are talking ancient history here. We are talking about when Michael Jackson was still somewhat popular.

On that note, I present to you us: the English-speaking minority. Though unrecognized by the state, and wholly unworthy of an Amnesty International report, we do exist. We have our own culture, a culture of speaking English and hanging out in bars like Wilde's Pub in Tartu or Hell Hunt in Tallinn. We have contributed immensely to Estonian culture, hell, one of us helped you with the Eurovision Song Contest in 2001, without which you would have never received an invite to join the European Union. We write interesting stories about you for people to read in The Baltic Times or the City Paper. And what do we ask for in return? To shack up with your women. Just kidding, we ask for nothing in return.

In the spirit of English-speakers of the past, like Robin the Hood or Kevin Costner, we do right by Estonia just because ... we like it here. We heep shame upon the bloated, former Soviet windbags of the Russian Federation, even while giving pause to look incredulous that we owe any more loyalty to Washington or Sydney than we would to the merry men and merry women of Toompea. And English isn't even an official language yet. Instead, we make due with official government webpages that are in our language, and bank ATMs that gladly hand out cash without a question.

Estonia does give its minorities the right to form a cultural autonomy. Though rigid, vengeful legislation prohibits recently arrived minorities, like the English-speakers, to form such a collective, or even to have public education in our own language, we have alternative routes to preserving our language and customs.

The larger, more vocal Russian-speaking minority has its own Russian Cultural Center in Tallinn. I have often wondered what an English Language Cultural Center would look like? Would we sit around reading Shakespeare to appreciate better the art of our mother tongue?
Would we invite English-speaking music acts, like Aerosmith or James Brown, may he rest in peace, to perform in Tallinn? That gets to the root of the question: What is English-language culture. In relation to Estonia, we don't do nearly enough.

What English speaker raises a pints to the brave Brits that helped Estonia win its freedom from the human-gobbling bear of Bolshevist Russia? Who among us Americans gathers to drink to Sumner Welles, the kickass New York-born Under Secretary of State that articulated the non-recognition of the occupation in 1940? When Brits gather in Tallinn, its to watch the football game, fight, vomit, hit on local girls, and fight some more. When Americans gather it's to watch the football game, eat, vomit, hit on some local girls, and eat some more. We should be ashamed of ourselves.

Though we are overlooked and occasionally disparagingly called 'Yankee' or 'Limey' or just plain kurat, there are high-ranking Estonians that know how to cater to our needs and make us feel wanted here in Estonia. One such person is President Toomas Hendrik Ilves. Though born in Sweden, and a mulk through and through, Ilves is fluent in the English language, and, it gets better, his third foreign language is Spanish! Ai Caramba. Ilves is well respected and liked among English-speakers though privately they are worried by his ultra-continental bowtie.

Although we tend to think of English-speakers as just Americans or Brits, the truth is that many nationalities make up the English-speaking population. There are Australians (see photo at left) and Canadians, and perhaps even New Zealanders. Many third nationalities, like Spaniards, Swiss, and Swedes have also been swallowed up by this English-speaking mass of Homo Anglicus. They work in a variety of fields like IT, teaching, and bar tending, each one carving out his own niche as an English-speaker in Estonian society.

So to all of you who ponder about Estonian minority issues, or minority issues in Europe or even the world, remember us English-speakers holding down the fort in Saaremaa and Pärnu and Tartu and Tallinn. We may be able to get by in eesti keeles, but ask us how we really feel, and we just might have to answer you in the King's English.