A Saturday in Tallinn, Estonia, and a New Look at the Former Soviet Republic

From the land of the "Singing Revolution" there are unexpected, enduring, and endearing surprises.  This musician was lost in his music as he played in the streets of Tallinn, Estonia - even as a tour of motorcycle enthusiasts passed by he seemed not to notice - the revving of the engines almost completely drowning out his music - he continued on.  A slow, melodic, captivating piece - with his eyes closed and seemingly unaffected by the noise and commotion around him.

Just like the boy, I became lost - lost in the charm of Tallinn.  We came here because Dennis had seen Rick Steves talk about it on PBS and so we ventured out to see it for the day. It is a charming medieval town about two hours from Helsinki by ferry. 

The Old Town of Tallinn has an upper town and a lower town - the upper town home to the historical administrative center and the lower town home of the merchants and craft guilds, housing for the residents and public buildings. 

Lower "Old Town"

Along the main street was an antique store and I had to wonder what might be inside.  Years ago I visited Buenos Aires and when I stopped at a flea market I found a Sputnik-era pin - I've been collecting those small pins for the last few years. I wondered what I might find in this shop.

Photograph by Dennis.  :)

What we found was fascinating!

The shopkeeper behind the counter seemed skeptical of our visit.  I couldn't help but reflect on how in our youth both this man and I were on opposite sides during the Cold War, and now here we stood in his antique shop with Soviet memorabilia.  I wanted to connect with him and cross those boundaries, if possible. He was actually quite gruff at first and he watched us closely as we looked around his shop.  I found a pile of pins on his countertop and I asked if I could look through them.  He said, or motioned, "Yes." I carefully moved the pins one at a time.  He watched.  I moved a few more.  He continued to watch.  Dennis walked over and we looked at some together.



I asked the man if he had any Sputnik-era pins and that seemed to please him.  From behind the counter he brought out a book and opened the felt pages to the pins I requested.  I asked if I could turn the page and he motioned, "Yes."  He was relaxing. I said, "My name is 'Janet'" and he pointed to himself and said, "Vladimir."  I asked him how much the pins cost and he said, "Two euros each."  I picked out two and asked if I could buy them.  He nodded, "Yes" and I offered him 5 euros instead.  He looked at me and seemed to say, "That is not fair.  It is 4 euros."    We both grinned; the
"ice" broke.

On the adjacent counter I found a Russian cosmonaut alarm clock - it was unbelievable!  

I picked it up and put it down.  I picked it up and put it down.  I walked around the shop and thought, "If I buy this clock, how am I going to get it home?"  Silly me. We stayed in the shop for perhaps an hour?  I lost track of time.

In the end,  I bought the alarm clock, the pins and a small silver tricycle.  I  asked to take Vladimir's picture and he agreed, then he came around the counter.  He put his big strong arm around me and pulled me close. Before I left I reached to shake his hand, and he took my hand and kissed it. A gentle and heart-felt gesture.

Two touching moments in one day and we hadn't even had lunch!

Vladimir Zahhartšuk 

Dennis and I climbed a church steeple and from there could see the city walls and the part of Old Town on the hill.  We decided to climb the hill and as we walked up to the stone walk we both remarked at the curiosity of the hole in the wall - and what might be inside. (Dennis quipped, "May I see your shop?"  Oh, it's just a hole in the wall.")

It turns out that the hole in the wall was the storage area for the local street artists. On either side of the portal hung artists' paintings and drawings.

I found one artist's work quite interesting; it was fresh, unique, and I put it in contrast to the work I had seen in Paris - because in Paris we had seen many contemporary artist's work but they didn't capture my imagination. Dennis and I looked closer. 

"Three Mandolins" by Ashot Jegikjan.

This painting caught my attention.  Knowing some history of Tallinn and how it used to be part of the Soviet Republic, I wondered if part of the artists' "fresh look" came from knowing the contrast being living under "occupation" and that of "independence."  The artist, Ashot Jegikjan, moved from Armenia to Estonia 27 years ago and at that time, Estonia was still under Soviet occupation (1944-1991); Estonia gained its independence from the Soviet Union in 1991.  I asked him about how his life was different before and after being part of the Soviet Republic and he said, "This is my life.  It is not better and not worse.  It is my life.  It is same. It is what is inside me that counts."

I thought about buying this painting because I liked it and as most pieces of street art, the prices are very reasonable, but then I thought again....

We walked on. Further along we saw marks on a wall that looked much like the bullet holes I had seen on the walls in Berlin.  I don't have confirmation that these are bullet holes but they looked oddly familiar.

More street art.

A view from one of the town's lookout points.

A close-up of the men on the rooftop

Art piece in front of a musical theater.

Menu at lunch

From this alleyway echoed the soothing sounds of folk music being played on violin.  If you look down the alley on the right side, there stands the musician.

Here she is.  

We returned to see the artist on the stone street later in the day;  I couldn't get free of "The Three Mandolins."  The artist was busy painting and even though he saw us coming up the street, he didn't interrupt our conversation.  He continued to paint.

He was painting a piece called, "Dreamer" and when we approached he stood to talk with us.  Somehow, in the lovely context of the sunny day and our conversation about art, he began to sing, "Good Day, Sunshine" by Paul McCartney. I joined in, then Dennis joined in, then Ashot started to harmonize and add musical percussion to the song. It melted my heart and I've been humming the song ever since!  (Ask Dennis - it's ridiculous!)

As I completed my purchase of "Three Mandolins," Ashot told us that his goal is to have 3-4 pieces of his work exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in New York City.  He exclaimed, "I love MOMA!"  After visiting Jegikjan's artwork on his web page, you decide.

We laughed and we hugged good-bye.  A touching day on many levels.  I definitely recommend a visit to Tallinn, and while you're there, be sure to connect with the locals.  You will not be disappointed.

Kevo Climate Research Station, Ivalo Lukio and Utsjoki Koulu

We observed three herds of reindeer on the drive from Ivalo airport to Kevo Climate Research Station. This herd was making its way across a lake whose surface looked perilously close to caving in under the weight of these small hoofed animals.  The reindeer made it, but not until after we unintentionally spooked them (with my orange coat) as we walked toward them to get a picture.

The drive from the Ivalo aiport to the Kevo Climate Science Research Station took about two hours and the drive took us past great expansive spaces of tundra.  We are above the Arctic Circle by about 435 kilometers.  The purpose of this trip is to visit two schools and learn a bit about climate research from the scientists in Kevo.

It felt strangely fabulous to wear my Parisian raincoat and "climate change research boots" in Lapland. They are the perfect combination!

Here is Dennis Grice basking in the fun of the new environment.

Kim Miller, Fulbright awardee and climate scientist, is our host at the research station.  She has been here since August and studies the gases that microscopic organisms emit in the tundra under different conditions.  She's hoping to compare her experimental results to what she collected in the Alaskan tundra during three previous summers.

The Kevo Research Station is part of the University of Turku, Finland, and houses many scientists in the spring, summer and fall.  Most of the scientists will start arriving in a few weeks when the snow is melted. Here are some of the housing and apartment units at the station.  We are staying with Kim in the apartment on the left.

Kim's research includes collecting vials of gases from the tundra - here you see them stored in our refrigerator before she travels with them to Rovaniemi for analysis.

Around the research station is a "carpet" of low-lying plants and berry bushes.  We're a little early to see these plants in bloom but they will be full of flowers (and then berries) in about one month.

Across this lake is the rest of the research station.  In the summer you can take a boat to get back and forth and in the winter you can take a snowmobile.  

We took a 5 km dirt road that enters from the opposite direction.

The seasonal "road" for snowmobiles.

This picture was taken early in the morning, or should I say, after the "white night."

Here is the sky at 11:00 at night.

You don't need bottled water in Lapland.

On site is a teepee, and in the center is a fire pit.

Above the fire pit hang reindeer skins you can use to sit on or as blankets for warmth.

Owl boxes for repair or reassignment.

We visited Ivalon Lukio (secondary school in Ivalo) which educates about 110 students and the students and staff were enthusiastically warm and welcoming. The students seem very content and the teachers say the children get a good education because the environment is small and the teachers know how each child learns. 

The building on the left houses students (aged 15-18) who travel long distances to get to school each day; they are allowed to live here during the week but they must go home on weekends unless they are given special permission.  There is no adult supervision in this housing and the students are responsible for their own cooking, etc.  

Here are some specifics for the school site from their web page:

This is a homework tally sheet from chemistry class.  Only about 10% of the students' grades are based upon homework - and that 10% is added only if all homework is completed.  Above you see the tally marks for how much homework the students completed.

Across Finland I have been repeatedly told that students are generally not assigned more than 3-6 problems per night per class for homework.

Out back the students were doing an art project with a visiting street artist from Sweden.

The visiting instructors had their baby sleeping in the stroller near the trees.  In Finland (and Iceland and Sweden, I guess) it is very typical for babies to nap in their strollers outside in the cold for 30 minutes or an hour.

Thank you to Ulla Hynonen, Ulla Keskitalo, Jaakko Joentakanen, Helena Lampinen, Maarit Lepistö, and Rodney Francett for a lovely, warm, and inspiring day.

At the Utsjoki Koulu (school in Utsjoki) there are only about 70 students for ages 7-18.  It's a quiet school and about half of the students are of Sámi heritage. In Finland, the children have the right to be taught in their mother tongue so in this school there are also Sámi language classes.  Many people in Finland are trying to show honor and respect to the indigenous people of Finland by including more Sámi culture in the educational objectives of schools.  This is a difficult time for moving forward for the Finns and the Sámi, however, and the process of deciding how to do this, and how much to do this, is a defining time for Finland and how they want to move forward as a nation.   Change isn't easy, and we were told that even though between Finns and Sámi's there are good relations, the politics of the situation are much more difficult.

Kiitos, Annikki Lauerma, Markko Siitonen, and Helmi Länsman for being such lovely hosts, to Helmi for her interview, to Annikki for her translating skills, and to Markko for sharing his science teaching expertise.  I appreciate you.

Artwork in the "Sámi" school.

Reindeer products in the local hardware store.

Melting ice along one of the many frozen lakes in Lapland.

A Dennis quote:  "Um, these aren't human tracks."

These tracks are deeper than they look in the picture - each hoof was actually longer than my hand and past my wrist.  Eek!  That's one big moose!

After the school visits we drove up and over this bridge into Norway.  The Teno River was filled with ice chunks flowing toward the Barents Sea.   This view is looking toward the northeast.

Looking toward the southwest, and the source of the ice and water.