Pauluse Kalmistu (Tartu, Estonia) 

The Reismann Family Headstone, Pauluse Kalmistu (Tartu, Estonia) 

Eesti Kalmistud

Translation=Estonian cemeteries

Today while hundreds of Lutherans throughout Estonia sat quietly in their fur coats listening to the Sunday sermon, I was wandering through Pauluse Kalmistu. Wandering is not entirely correct. Rather, my father and I were systematically searching for the gravesite of my great-grandparents, the Reismanns. I will admit to you, my friends, that we had visited the selfsame cemetery two weeks before and had no luck finding the Reismann headstone.

After consulting with our local relatives, we set off again this morning with renewed hope. The sun shone brilliantly today, bouncing off of the foot of snow that has collected throughout the long winter in the cemetery. We each made our way down our prescribed lanes, leaving boot-sized footprints in our wake. I thought if Sherlock Holmes were on our tail, he would not have to work too hard.

Again, we paced up and down the aisles between the headstones. Ilves, Puusepp, and Ola were to be found, but where was Reismann? A middle-aged Estonian woman who earns her daily bread selling floral arrangements to cemetery visitors noticed that we were lost (and maybe she recognized “those crazy Americans” from two weeks back) and tried to help, but my great-grandparents had passed away in the late 1930s and she was not quite that familiar with the cemetery.

I kept thinking, “Please let us find it,” to whomever was listening. And finally I heard dad triumphantly yell my name from a couple rows away. I ran with high knees through the deep snow. We had finally found the Reismann headstone. We had certainly each walked by it a handful of times, but we simply had not seen it. We were both looking for what we thought was a blacker and shinier headstone, but time and moss had worn its way into the groves of the stone, rendering it almost illegible from any significant distance.

In Estonia it is common for relatives to visit the family gravesites once a week, (but maybe less in the winter months.) This tradition affords the cemetery a “lived in” feeling. More than forty percent of Estonia is covered in forest and trees have a major place in old Estonian traditions and myths. (Tamm (translated as Oak) is the most common last name in Estonia today.) So it seems obvious that the final resting place for Estonians is situated in nicely wooded areas. When American cemeteries shun trees for their interference and natural unpredictability, Estonians welcome, nay require, them. Estonian cemeteries appear to be much more at home in their respective cities and communities, more a part of the continuous landscape than those in America.

According to Estonian tradition, I have a lot of visits to make up for.

Saint Patrick's Day

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Unfortunately, the day does not carry that much weight in Estonia, but I am doing my part. I had the opportunity to teach two classes this morning and I had the kids read aloud about St. Patrick and Ireland. They didn't appear that excited, but then again, they are fifteen and being excited about a teacher's lesson would be cause for concern.

I found a great segment on npr.org if you are looking to hear some fantastic Irish music (and true Irish accents) on this most festive of days.

Lúnasa on NPR

The Estonian Flag (Tartu University History Museum; Tartu, Estonia)

Eesti Emakeelepäev

Since 1995 Estonia has celebrated the 14th of March as Emakeelepäev (Mother Tongue Day.) People still have to go to work and school, but it is one of only 15 flag days each year. From sunrise to sunset, the Estonian flag waves from homes, shops, movie theaters, university buildings and especially government offices.

I really admire the Estonian system of flag days. The system embodies a deep respect for the flag and the freedom that it represents. For more than 45 years the Soviets forbade Estonians to raise their flag. It wasn't until 1988 that the Estonian tricolor of blue, black and white reappeared here in Tartu. It was carried in a procession during the first annual Estonian Heritage Days, a conference that added fervor to the awakening that was occuring throughout Estonia. And again, less than a year later the Estonian flag was hoisted on the tower of Pikk Hermann (in Tallinn's old town) on Ferbuary 24 in celebration of Estonian Independence Day (even though Estonia was still a part of the Soviet Union.)

A London Cabbie's Reading List

Again, a huge fan of NPR and Will Grozier (now.) Here is a link to a bit well worth your five minutes.

A London Cabbie's Reading List

Frank Delaney

This is why I love NPR. Below is a link to an interview with Frank Delaney about his new book, "Ireland: A Novel."

"Ireland: A Novel"

For the perfect flaneur, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow. To be away from home, yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the center of the world, yet to remain hidden from the world--such are a few of the slightest pleasures of those independent, passionate, impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define.

Charles Baudelaire

Rīga, Latvija

It's cold in Riga!

It’s interesting to be a tourist at a time when no one in their right mind would be touristing tourist destinations. In Riga the average temperature is 23 degrees Fahrenheit and snow falls once a day, at least. As we wondered the streets, we mostly heard German and Russian spoken amongst the other few tourists (I suppose the Russians are used to this weather, maybe it's even an improvement.) Aside from the weather, it was nice to be a tourist for a couple days (as opposed to an American living in Estonia and struggling to be as Estonian as possible.)

On our first day I was on my own for lunch and picked a café called “I Love You” out of the guidebook. Quasi-lame title, I’ll admit, but it was great! I had a fantastic salad and homemade (and home-seasoned) Latvian french-fries. I spent that afternoon wondering around Vecrīga (Old Riga.) The old town is quite nicely contained and maintained, filled with restored buildings, shops, cafes and numerous massive Lutheran churches. We were able to go to the top of the tower of Pēterbaznīca (St. Peter’s) and were greeted with a sweeping view of Riga and the Daugava (the river that runs through Riga.)

The next day we visited a couple museums. The Latvian Occupation Museum is especially affecting and well worth visiting. However, the best part of our second day was walking through the Art Nouveau area of Riga. Located only ten minutes by foot from Old Riga is Alberta Street, an amazing street full of Art Nouveau buildings. The colors and ingenuity of the decorations are truly spectacular. It’s fun to imagine actually living in one of these buildings (and consequently dealing with tourists like me photographing your front windows all day long.) I highly recommend a visit.

Art Nouveau District (Riga, Latvia) 

View from atop St. Peter's Church (Riga, Latvia) 

Lapsed Eestis

Of all the things that make me smile on a daily basis, I think the little Estonian children are among my favorites. I am constantly struck by children and how they can stare at you without inhibition because they have not yet learned to be inhibited. I wonder when that happens? Imagine if all adults magically lost their inhibition and we all rode the subway together.

Estonia has been experiencing a baby boom since independence was restored in 1991 and it’s quite apparent as you wander the streets. Invariably, a mother is passing me with her young child well-bundled in a carriage. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I see a mother pulling her child in a sled. The first time I saw this, I thought “well that’s odd.” But having thought about it, I think “how clever.” With the sidewalks serving better as ice rinks, why not keep your child’s center of gravity parallel with the ice in a red plastic sled? And I imagine the child isn’t complaining. Sometimes they are made to hold onto the days groceries and they clutch them with fervor as their mothers ramp them over a curb.

I have been thinking about how best to describe the children in their snowsuits. It’s as though they are placed inside this spacesuit-type riggings and they have resigned to the fact that they can’t control their movements, so they don’t. Their arms stick out perpendicular to their bodies and they direct their energy to just observing the passersby. Or maybe they’re just so cold, they can’t be bothered to scream or cry. Whatever the case may be, I find them utterly charming.

An Estonian father pulling his Estonian child in a sled! (Tartu, Estonia)