holy day

Sunday mornin’

craving sunlight and cofee

early morning

245 through Clermont

We shook hands with the mighty

and hugged those we adored

and let the mean fellas

feed their own egos

while we go out

and try to feed the world

Conference time…

Tomorrow I leave for the American Folklore Society meeting in Louisville, where I will spend the rest of the week in panels, workshops and presenting my own project, “Identity and Memory in International Student Space Decoration: An Estonian Case Study.” I went to the conference last year in Quebec, where I felt intensely empowered by meeting professors and other graduate students.

This is my second conference this year; my first was the Association for the Advancement of Baltic Studies (AABS), where I presented a literature paper. I have sort of realized that, in spite of not really thinking of myself as a Balticist (I’d prefer to be a Northern world specialist, since I like the Far North on my own continent), I owe a lot of my work to the region. My first conference sort of situated me as having a serious interest in travel literature, while this one is fueled by an interest in both urban folklore and material culture. Both of them are narrative-based, using different mediums to tell their stories. So perhaps if anything drives me, it is the narrative of experience, the words of the people who are able to find some strength in their identity. I want to devote my life to documenting this experience and how it transforms people.

Tell me who you are, and I’ll tell you that you’re worthy of being heard.

Apples for an üliõpilane

I have been reading Pille’s Nami-Nami blog (http://nami-nami.blogspot.com) and am itching to try her toffee-baked apples recipe sometime. However, since I am a poor college student, I decided to improvise yet again and learn to make my own baked apples…

Apples For an Üliõpilane

2 crisp green apples

1 small spoon of butter

1 small pour of honey (my honey was bought near Canterbury, New Hampshire, near the old Shaker community)

 

1) Cut the apples in half and cut out the cores. If you have a corer, it makes it easier.

2) Mix the butter and honey together in a coffee mug and melt for 12-15 seconds in the microwave.

3) Smear a little spoonful of your melted mix onto each apple and microwave the plate of them for 2 minutes, 35 seconds. They come out nice, soft and not overly sweet.

Sõbrale Venemaal (To a friend in Russia)

Though we both find ourselves apart

by the things that bring us life

I talk to you today

and it is like we are so close, 

like we just saw each other

and you had me over for tea.

a good breakfast

 

One of the things we all did while living in Tartu was take a cottage weekend through the Erasmus network. We stayed at the Sokka turismitalu, where we all had a terrific smoke sauna (which I made the mistake of going into, being sick at the time), a good hearty night of drinking, and a good snowfall. But one of the best parts of it was in the photo above, a simple breakfast of porridge, fruit sauce, cheese and bread.

While at Whole Foods Market in Nashville during fall break, I happened to come across lingonberry sauce, something that really isn’t found in Bowling Green. Originally, I thought it was a jam that would go well on bread, only to discover it was more of a sauce. But in making breakfast yesterday, I came up with my own adaptation of the Sokka breakfast porridge:

1 packet instant oats (I have brown sugar, mainly because someone gave some to me)

2 tbsp lingonberry sauce.

 

It’s the simplest dish to make- only takes maybe 90 seconds- but I am amazed by how good it is. It’s a much nicer morning starter than cereal, and is a mix of hearty and tart. With the coming autumn chills, which have finally come to Kentucky (it’s around 10-12 C, a cool day here, most definitely), I have replaced my traditional Nordic-esque breakfast with this basic starter. It’s also best served with Lavazza coffee, one cream, one sugar (or honey).

Walking

Skype today, translated from Estonian:

niko.hartmann: Americans have to train so much harder and longer to be healthy like an Estonian

niko.hartmann: walking is such a part of Estonian life

jaune007: yeah, it is something that we do everyday

niko.hartmann: it’s a reason i lost 19 pounds while abroad

jaune007

 

It didn’t really go beyond this, but I sat on the thoughts of walking for a while afterwards. A lot of my memories in my life are of me taking steps from one place to another. When I was in Helsinki, I got lost trying to find Stockmann. For a while, I wondered, “Where am I?” But then after about a few minutes of mental cursing and puzzledness, I embraced the ability to be in everyday surroundings, where drunk foreigners don’t ruin the local colour with a lack of understanding of local customs.

 

 I have had many times like this, where I throw on my little red backpack, put my headphones on, and just walk to visualise everything in between. I walked the streets of the cities and counties I roamed, looking to see what was there. I had no intended destination, only an urge to walk and take things in. Big museums, churches and parks were only points of geographic reference.

I think life is like this. I think people prefer to focus on the big pictures; the Notre Dames, the Renoirs, the graves of Elvis, and Hard Rock Cafes tend to capture our energy in a very sense-encapsulating way. But do we ever really stop to look at the intermediaries, the human energy that holds everything in place like hair gel? Do we embrace the in-between, the idea that the journey in life is not just to go straight to the Mona Lisa and move on? Maybe that works for some people. But it sure leaves a lot of things out that have just as much beauty.

It’s definitely time, more so than ever, to embrace the petit histoire and see the people who make up the energy that keeps the buildings powered with light.

A poem for an October morning

Leaves fall but the sun still rises

Showing photographs of days to come

Looking straight at you from a distance

Making you glad you woke up

to bear witness.

The power of a tree

When I finished my last exam in Tartu (my beyond difficult Baltic Political History exam, which is for another day), I celebrated by literally getting on a bus two hours after my final. I was determined to make it to the west coast of Estonia with a three-day trip to Haapsalu and Hiiumaa. I had a small room that I had rented on Väike-Lossi Tänav (Little Castle Street) that was fortunately placed near the beach. When I had said my goodbyes to my friend Jaune that night, I walked around on the beach, probably for a good couple of hours. I was shocked by the fact that it was 10 at night and still light out, so I took the opportunity to take some photographs of the coast. This photo here is the best example of these.

the one that captured it all...

I don’t even know what sort of tree this is, but I would love to find out. That tree stands in my memory more than any other one, even the tall evergreens I saw near Võru. The tree stood alone that night. It was a sign of tall, great things, a symbol of nature’s presence in our lives. When I look at the photo, I can understand why many Estonians have turned to pre-Christian earth religions; nature is simply a force more powerful that humanity. Humans may capture the environment for our own use, but the environment can indeed take a psychological control over us as well. That night, it captured my soul and kept a little bit for itself, ensuring there there is, at least, a small part of me left in the Baltics.