(no subject)

All night, people came and went from the Hostel. People arrived on the hour every hour up to two, and then began leaving hourly starting at five. By the time I woke up at eight I was the only one there.

I had breakfast at the Hostel and then set out with my belongings. My Helsinki Card promised me free entrance to the tower at the Stadium, so I stopped there to go up the tower, eleven floors (72m) up above Helsinki. As you might expect, there's a pretty good view, and it's very cold. The guy there was friendly and I bought a little Helsinki olympics pin for fifteen marks.

At this point I had intended to visit the `City Winter Garden' which is right by the stadium, but I forgot. I took the tram directly to the center.

I stashed my stuff in a locker at Central Station again and then went to the nearby Postal Museum to send some postcards. This postal museum is really incredible. They have all these video monitors with videos about postage and money and such. To me it just showed what a wealthy country Finland must be, to have such an expensive-looking postal museum open to the public, for free, every day. There's even a postal library there and a huge collection of postage stamps.

Of course this is the kind of place to which I easily fall victim, looking at all the nifty postage stamps (not the old ones so much as the current ones, that I could buy and use). Not only that, but there was only one day until all Mark-denominated stamps would cease to be sold. I bought some postcards, wrote and sent them, using nifty Finnish `World Orienteering' stamps. I also bought some really nice `Finnish Exploring' or something stamps, with pictures of maps and ships and such... which would of course later be stolen, but that's beside the point I guess. The Finns at the postal museum gave me an ærogram as my `surprise gift' for presenting the Helsinki Card, and I was quite pleased.

After this the sun came out. The effect of the sun coming out is really quite extraordinary. The landscape suddenly becomes bright and brilliant and beautiful and magical. The Russian cathedral seemed to glow radiantly in the snow-reflected light.

I got on the ferry bound for Suomenlinna (Sveaborg in Swedish), an incredible island fortress built off the coast of Helsinki in 1748 by the Swedes, for the purpose of defending Sweden from Russia. Since then it's served as a Russian fortress, was attacked by the British, and eventually became a Finnish fortress, until 1973 when it came under civil administration. The little guide that came with the Helsinki Card promised me all kinds of sights to see on this island (for free with the card, too). So I got on the ferry.

While I was on the ferry, waiting for departure, I wrote the ærogram to Eric. An ærogram is a cheap way to send international airmail. It's a piece of strong paper that can be folded into thirds, glued together into a sort of envelope, and mailed. On the outside it said, ``Postage Paid To All Lands'' (Porto betalt till alla länder). I thought there was some ring of freedom in that phrase.

This was a small ferry, with room for maybe one or two cars at the stern. Once we were underway I went up on top to take in the scenery, the extraordinary landscape about us. The sun was shining brightly, and the little ferry cruised through the sea ice towards Sveaborg.

Everything on the island was closed.

I met a friendly Canadian couple and we walked around the island together, together discovering that everything on the island was indeed closed. Despite all the museums and cafes and such being closed on the island, there was plenty to see: huge castle walls with tunnels inside, a submarine from the second world war, etc.

The Canadians were in Helsinki visiting friends. These weren't the stereotypical Canadians abroad, with maple leaves on their backpacks, and I only discovered their Canadian-ness by inquiry, so the following is not about them in particular, but about Canadians in general.

begin of generalisations about canadians

The perception of Americans abroad is an interesting and much studied (or at least discussed) phenomenon, but the perception of Canadians abroad is at least as interesting. Canadians abroad are, at least in stereotype, very concerned that their Canadianess be well known lest they be mistaken for much-despised Americans. This usually takes the form of conspicuously placed Canadian flags and Maple leaves, for example on their backpacks. Canadian pride is a very strange thing, at least from an American perspective, and it shows up in peculiar ways. The most conspicuous manifestation of this is perhaps the emergence of ``Canada kicks ass!'' paraphernalia within Canada. No American could wear a T-shirt with a similar phrase without suffering consequences. It's as if by simply being American, the ``America kicks ass!'' attitude is implied. (And in Sweden, I've been told, no one would wear a Swedish flag, allegedly for fear of being perceived as some kind of racial supremacist.) But somehow many Canadians find the need to write the phrase explicitly, and somehow, as some kind of European-esque North American underdog, they get away with it too.

Another manifestation of Canadian pride is that they'll never let you forget that Canada is, too, part of North America. I've even heard objections that the adjective `American' ought to apply to all those who come from the American continents, not just those from the U.S. I suspect that this Pan-American advocacy might actually get somewhere were it not for the fact that no better word to describe someone of United States citizenship has yet been discovered (but I've seen it written ``USian''!).

These particular Canadians, when we were discussing adoption of the Euro currency, went so far as to suggest a single currency for North America. I was caught mentally off guard by this suggestion, because I'd never really thought about it before. She thought that many Canadians would support it. Is there a really a need? Are they including Mexico in this proposal? My own private response was that Americans would neither care, nor even notice, if Canada adopted the U.S. -- the American -- dollar as its currency.

end of generalisations about canadians

Anyway, these Canadians were very friendly and I liked them a lot. On the ferry back to Helsinki I let them use my telephone to call their friend, and they invited me out to dinner. Alas, I had to catch my ship to Estonia. I was really tempted to delay my departure to Estonia until the following morning. It was a good opportunity to make some new friends and meet some real Helsinki residents, (and besides that, dinner in a restaurant sounded really good. Without traveling companions, I'd been avoiding restaurants, as getting a table for one is a little strange and a little boring.) but the thought of having to spend another night in Helsinki made it seem like too much trouble.

Just before leaving the island we discovered that there was actually one establishment open, a small art museum and cafe. The theme of the exhibition was Memory. There were two works that really caught my interest. The first was some kind of giant manifestation of what we called a ``brainstorm'' in elementary school: a diagram of related concepts linked together by thought association. It was huge and written in swedish and implemented via embroidery of canvas. (warrants further study...) The second exhibit that caught my interest was very simple in concept but potentially very powerful in meaning. It simply consisted of a dish full of ``memories,'' little slips of paper as if from fortune cookies in which `memories' had been written (for example, one memory was ``I remember the time my grandfather slapped me because I refused to eat meat.''); and a supply of blank paper slips invited the visitor to contribute a `memory' to the collection. What is culture if not a massive assembly of collective memories?

The Canadians and I took off on the ferry and crossed the harbor again and set out for the art museum Ateneum whose collection chronicles the work of Finnish painters and sculptors. It's really a wonderful museum, with amazing works and good interpretive materials, but alas I had to bid adieu to the nice Canadians and run away to the docks...

Helsinki to Tallinn (Finland to Estonia)

I left the art museum, collected my stuff at the train station, bought a brie baguette, and hurried off to the number fifteen bus to the docks. After paying ten marks to the bus driver I had only a fraction of a mark remaining, and I was pleased to have used up my Finnish cash at the exact moment of leaving the country. At the terminal I bought a ticket for Tallinn (aboard Tallink's Fantaasia), marched through passport control, where my departure from the European Union was duly noted, and five minutes later I was under way on a ship bound for Estonia.

I'd neglected to save a ten mark coin to get a locker on the ship, so I just stashed my stuff in a hallway like everyone else. I sat down in the hallway and read This Week in Tallinn (which, incidentally, is published every two months). Tallinn sounded like a pretty interesting place, with lots to do. Then I spent most of the time on the boat reading On The Road. Here's what I read in This Week In Tallinn of Estonia's history:

In the 16th centtury the ancient Estonians established their central trading point at the Gulf of Finland. For its protection a limestone castle was built close to the sea. Today the place is known as Toompea. In 1219 Northern Estonia was conquered by the Danes led by king Waldemar II, who later established a stone castle at Toompea. A multinational town grew around it.

During the Danish period (1219-1346) a network of streets formed in the ara inside the town wall, the guild house, churches and convents, warehouses, and defence buildings. The building of the Old Town with its principal stone buildings was completed at the time when the Livonian Order acted as the soverign (1347-1561). During the Swedish period (1561-1710) Tallin lost its success in trade due to long lasting wars. In the course of the Great Northern War in 1710, Tallinn capitulated to the Russian army.

An imporant evolution in the town's development was brought along by the loss of the stronghold status (1857) and the creation of a railway connection to St. Petersburg. Rapid industrial development began, resulting in the swift growth of the town.

On February 24, 1918 in Tallinn, the Estonian Salvation Committee declared the independent democratic republic of Estonia. The new government was at once required to organise a defense against the attacking Russian bolshevist troops -- the Estonian War of Independence began. It ended in 1920. Tallinn became the capital of the independent Republic of Estonia.

In June 1940, Soviet troops occupied Estonia, abolishing its independence and establishing the Soviet order. From 1944-1991 Estonia belonged to the Soviet Union. On August 20, 1991, the Supreme Soviet of Estonia declared the re-establishment of independence of Estonia on the basis of legal succession. In 1994 the last troops of Russian army were withdrawn from Estonia. The Second World War had come to its end for Estonia.

That last line really struck me. The Second World War had come to its end for Estonia in 1994. Of course I knew from school that the Baltic States had been the first Soviet republics to break free, and I remember cutting out the photographs from Time magazine in sixth grade. To say that World War II, which to my generation hangs in the air like a T-rex in a museum of natural history, only ended in as recently as 1994, well, it's a powerful statement. This was my first glimpse of Estonia's tenacity, its drive and determination to be a modern and, above all, independent, nation. In Estonia, I was to discover, they refer to those forty-seven years, the Soviet Times, as a period of illegal occupation.

Towards the end of the boat ride I got a little restless and decided to walk around a little bit. I ran into a group of people speaking English, and that was sufficient a novelty for me to join in. They were congregated around a thoroughly drunk Finn and considered themselves trapped in conversation, although no conversation was really taking place. I contributed the suggestion that a Finn in such a state was of no consequence and that they/we could freely move on without offending said Finn, and we subsequently did exactly that, moving into the nearby bar for some pre-arrival beer.

After this I collected my belongings from the hallway and quickly ran into this group again. I was invited down to their cabin while we waited for the masses to disembark, and I followed along. There were Eric and Pilar, two relatively recent liberal-arts college grads who had until recently worked for Northwest airlines and were enjoying the remainder of their free-flight benefits, which would expire with the year; and Rob, a 47-year-old American resident of Estonia, working in Finland in the `Media business,' and who came to Estonia eight years previous in some `long story' international transaction involving the sale of some cars. (Pilar and Eric had just met Rob on the boat trip.) This was to be the Cast of Characters.

As a group we disembarked some time later only to discover that a queue still remained through passport control. We made our way through and onto Estonian soil. We each obtained some Estonian cash at the ATM. My plan had been to call up one of the several youth hostels whose phone numbers I had written down while in Finland to find a place to stay for the night. Rob, Eric, and Pilar arranged a taxi to Eric and Pilar's hotel, which happened to be right by Rob's apartment, and allegedly near the city center, so I elected to join them.

Driving to Hotel Dorrell the taxi meter ran up to about 60 estonian crowns (three and a half dollars). Upon arrival the taxi driver pushed a button which I imagine must have been labeled `American' whereupon the figure doubled. ``We've been had,'' announced Rob, as he paid. (Rick Steves writes, ``Cabs are cheap and handy. Even being ripped off by a taxi is affordable in Tallinn.'')

Eric and Pilar checked into their hotel, and I began dialing the youth hostel, or rather, figuring out what combination of +'s and 0's and such I had to dial in order to connect to a local number. Eric and Pilar reappeared, and Rob offered that I could stay at his apartment in a spare bedroom. I saw no reason to refuse the offer, so I didn't.

We walked around the corner to a Russian bar. It was called `Russian Bar,' and appeared to be authentic. As soon as we walked in, my worries about Estonia being 'just another Finland' and Tallinn being just a suburb of Helsinki were obliterated. Behind the bar were shelves of obscure liquors and Soviet champaigns unknown to the Western world, with, I am told, good reason; in front of the bar various delicious-looking pastries of unknown composition were offered. I was in a state of amazement and wonder, for I knew conclusively that I had successfully left Western Europe. This was to be a strange and wondrous place.

Eric bought a round of Czech beer for the group, and paid with a 500 crown note (worth slightly less than thirty dollars) recently dispensed by a bank machine at the Terminal. The woman at the bar, looking slightly annoyed, began the change-making process, and when this was completed -- I kid you not -- the register was empty and Eric was left looking bewildered and with a fist full of at least 2'' of cash, more than he could stuff back into his wallet. I was astonished. We had, without a doubt, left Helsinki.

Soon we were joined by Rob's wife Piret, and a lively discussion ensued, somehow beginning at Berlin in 1991 and ending with the eleventh of September in America and 'nothing being funny anymore'. We relocated to Rob and Piret's apartment.

Port wine was offered, and graciously accepted. The conversation was exciting, but I knew that I would never be able to remember it all. There was just too much, too fast, and I couldn't keep up. I ran for my notebook and began scribbling everything down feeling like Cameron Crowe or something. I don't know whether I've ever written less legibly. Reading my notes the conversation doesn't seem so deep, but there were some good moments. About racism, Piret commented, ``You try so hard, you really try hard, you Americans... but you still have it.'' (Do we really try that hard?) Rob for some reason began to spell his last name for me in the phonetic alphabet: Hotel, Uniform, Delta... It took five tries, and Pilar, who was not drinking, on the alleged account of having been born with only one kidney, proffered that the resulting word was `inebriated,' and she was right.

Breakfast at Youth Hostel	FIM 25
Olympic tower pin	FIM 15
Postage stamps	FIM 28.80 (mcard)
Baguette	EUR 4.90 (mcard)
Boat ticket to Tallinn	FIM 100
ATM Withdrawl	(EEK 1000)	SEK 652.43

during the night...

I woke up in the middle of the night in some state of crazy paranoia. What was I doing in this apartment? Rob was asleep on the couch and for some reason I was filled with worry. Who were these people? Had I made some terrible mistake? I checked on my possessions and they were all still there with me. Telephone. Camera. Wallet. Passport. I went to the bathroom, had a drink of water, realized that everything was just fine, and went to sleep again.