The City of Good Thoughts
I am liking it, dare I say loving it here in Tartu. Even with all of the awkward boney elbows and knooby-knees conversations that come with meeting new people, I can already tell that this place is special. That it is true magic, not simply illusions, though there are plenty of bright lights here to distract for easy slide-of-the-hand. It is hard to describe Tartu without anecdotes or having a bit of fun with stereotypes.
There is a day in Tartu, well a whole week actually, “Student week” where the mayor of Tartu hands over official control of the city to the students of the University. I feel as if this is already the status quo. This is some kind of island of lost boys, but instead of young abducted Brits, it’s the new Gen Y/X/Z of Europe and of course the token Americans. For what town would be complete without the town fools?
I have a feeling that every University town is kind of like this only the “multiculturalism” that is so prevalent here adds just a little more of an interesting edge. This and also the fact that the token character trait of the host country here is silence, this allows their country and the people whose blood runs and blends with the rivers to become the muted background, all white and gray against the brilliant tragicomedy that is the “coming of age tale” of hundreds of Anglo-mera-peans. I guess I would fondly call us the cowboys of a not so wild wild West.
I think of the shock of the pioneers seeing that the “natives” had houses and diversified agriculture. I think they were rather annoyed, felt as if a piece of adventure was taken, that it had been tamed already, but they make did with their own tales of hunting if not for buffalo, then the hunters of the buffalo. Insert “The Most Dangerous Game” reference here.
Wow. Re-reading this I make it sound more like Lord of the Flies then the young Eden that it really is. I truly feel as if these first few days of drinking and odd conversations (anything from small talk to getting into religious discussions right away). I haven’t even had my first class yet and I have already learned so much. I have learned the truth and the sometimes lie of the stereotype of the “silent Finn”. There is one boy, Thomas, in particular who stares intently at nothing in particular with is blue eyes and slicked back blonde quaff. Sometimes he lets his Nordic canine teeth show. The kind of teeth designed for tearing into reindeer, Rudolph be damned (damn delicious so I hear).
There is another Finn, Mikhail the soon to be dentist (yes another odd allusion, maybe Tartu is actually the Island of Misfit Finns). Mikhail tells me all about the strange religious sects in Finland. I tell him about the Amish and there issue with zippers.
So far I am the token American in the group that I go out with. There are a few American boys (the ones who I guess would be considered “nerdy” and one who is too hip to quit) who I had just fantastic conversations with. It just came so easy (which is more than I can say about most other things about me). The other Americans avoid my gaze. I am just too pretentious for them or I don’t know who they think I am. I am not the well-traveled, well read Euro-phile/ Eurofreak, that some people seem to think that I am. Though I think that every American is secretly or not so secretly embarrassed to be seen by their country men while abroad, especially here in Estonia (where the beer and the wine flows like wine).
I have been saying this phrase a lot lately and I think that I will say it again here “we will just have to wait and see”.
There is a day in Tartu, well a whole week actually, “Student week” where the mayor of Tartu hands over official control of the city to the students of the University. I feel as if this is already the status quo. This is some kind of island of lost boys, but instead of young abducted Brits, it’s the new Gen Y/X/Z of Europe and of course the token Americans. For what town would be complete without the town fools?
I have a feeling that every University town is kind of like this only the “multiculturalism” that is so prevalent here adds just a little more of an interesting edge. This and also the fact that the token character trait of the host country here is silence, this allows their country and the people whose blood runs and blends with the rivers to become the muted background, all white and gray against the brilliant tragicomedy that is the “coming of age tale” of hundreds of Anglo-mera-peans. I guess I would fondly call us the cowboys of a not so wild wild West.
I think of the shock of the pioneers seeing that the “natives” had houses and diversified agriculture. I think they were rather annoyed, felt as if a piece of adventure was taken, that it had been tamed already, but they make did with their own tales of hunting if not for buffalo, then the hunters of the buffalo. Insert “The Most Dangerous Game” reference here.
Wow. Re-reading this I make it sound more like Lord of the Flies then the young Eden that it really is. I truly feel as if these first few days of drinking and odd conversations (anything from small talk to getting into religious discussions right away). I haven’t even had my first class yet and I have already learned so much. I have learned the truth and the sometimes lie of the stereotype of the “silent Finn”. There is one boy, Thomas, in particular who stares intently at nothing in particular with is blue eyes and slicked back blonde quaff. Sometimes he lets his Nordic canine teeth show. The kind of teeth designed for tearing into reindeer, Rudolph be damned (damn delicious so I hear).
There is another Finn, Mikhail the soon to be dentist (yes another odd allusion, maybe Tartu is actually the Island of Misfit Finns). Mikhail tells me all about the strange religious sects in Finland. I tell him about the Amish and there issue with zippers.
So far I am the token American in the group that I go out with. There are a few American boys (the ones who I guess would be considered “nerdy” and one who is too hip to quit) who I had just fantastic conversations with. It just came so easy (which is more than I can say about most other things about me). The other Americans avoid my gaze. I am just too pretentious for them or I don’t know who they think I am. I am not the well-traveled, well read Euro-phile/ Eurofreak, that some people seem to think that I am. Though I think that every American is secretly or not so secretly embarrassed to be seen by their country men while abroad, especially here in Estonia (where the beer and the wine flows like wine).
I have been saying this phrase a lot lately and I think that I will say it again here “we will just have to wait and see”.