(no subject)

We woke up late, and Piret made me some porridge for breakfast, which, although simple, was quite delicious. I learned a few things about my hosts.

Piret worked as a film maker, usually as a producer. She explained that their company once made four films a year, back in the 'Soviet-times' when money for culture was plentiful. Then after Estonia gained its independence, times became very difficult, and they were lucky when they made one film in a year. Gradually, things got better. Collaboration with film groups in other countries, and eventually with Western money, allowed them to begin making films again (such as Darkness in Tallinn, and Good Hands), instead of just documentaries and commercials.

Rob announced that his ambition had once been to be an 'ambulance chaser' of a lawyer, and had attended various law schools in this pursuit; in three years he attended four schools, including one correspondence school, and six months at UC Berkeley's very own Boalt Hall. ``Tort law,'' He'd say, ``is my forte.'' Piret emphasized that Rob had even won a very important case (representing himself) in Tallinn, one that in the end changed the law and brought rights to subtenants in Estonia.

nimeta

There was something colonial about the whole thing. Every question I had, Rob would exclaim, ``Oh, Bob knows all about that. He runs the such-and-such.'' And then he'd call Bob and we'd get the information immediately. Somehow I'd landed directly in the middle of the expatriate community where everyone seemed to know each other. Estonia, it seemed to me, was divided into three classes: the Estonians, the Russians, and the foreign businessmen who had come to work in Tallinn as expatriates. Now that Estonia has re-gained its independence from the `soviet occupation,' the Russians, who now compose something like 25% of the population, have become a sort of underclass undesired by the Estonians.

The Nimeta Baar (``The Bar With No Name'') where we spent New Years Eve, is owned (at least in part) by a Allen, a British friend of Rob's who we'd also met on the boat; and he gave all of us tickets to the new years evening, saving us the otherwise astronomical (by estonian standards) 200 crown cover. Allen laughed and said to Rob, ``You've found a kid from Berkeley and I think it's made your day!''

new year

Just before midnight we ran out of the Nimeta into snow filled streets, joining the confluence of people all flowing joyfully to the central square. An hour beforehand, the square had been completely empty; as midnight approached, everyone ran out of the clubs and bars and wherever they were hanging out to join the celebration in the central square. A band performed on the central stage, but its presence provided only background noise.

The stroke of midnight reinvigorated the jubilation, with calls of `happy new year' in English and Estonian, and fireworks everywhere. Indeed, the bottle rockets and flares and other amateur fireworks were everywhere in the square. Eric let out a whoop and we joined the celebration.

It was a throng of people celebrating, of all ages, but mostly, I think, about high-school aged kids. Everyone was mixing, hugging strangers with greetings of ``Happy New Year!'', and offering a drink from a bottle. It was really intoxicating, all the excitement, and the fireworks, everyone dancing and hugging and smiling and yelling new year's greetings. And the drinks, of course.

A bunch of people joined hands and began dancing around the Christmas tree in the center of the square. Others began climbing the tree.

One group of four Estonian girls was particularly astonished that I'd elected to come from California to Estonia, particularly for New Years: ``Whatever are you doing in Estonia?'' and ``Wow, California.'' They offered me a drink and by habit I said `thank you' in Swedish ``Tack så mycket!'' and was astonished when the four girls turned to me and simultaneously exclaimed, ``Du kan Svenska??''

A little later I met a group of about five guys and a few girls. I don't really remember how exactly we met but doubtlessly it was just by virtue of me being an English-speaker and the ensuing conversation about where I was from and what I was doing -- the same conversation I'd had a zillion times in the preceding days, weeks, and months. We took a bunch of group pictures, one girl asked me to send her the picture via email. ``Friends?'' each of the guys said, and we shook hands. Then we went off `shopping' because they'd run out of vodka.

It turned out later that we weren't really friends.

Lunch

EEK 100