Laulupidu and E STuudio friends

Such an incredible experience

As I sit alone in my hostel and write on this overcast Canadian morning, I'm blown away by how much I love music. E STuudio, a youth choir from Tartu, Estonia, is rehearsing Tormis outside of my window.

UPDATE: They've now moved into a collection of songs by Eric Whitacre, and I'm melting here.

They're a pretty special group of what seem to be high school age kids with some incredible talent. We first met them at the Laulupidu rehearsal on our first day here in Whistler, and found it difficult to become friends. For the most part, the Estonians here seem to find us as an object of curiosity; a group of non-Estonians who look nothing like Estonians but can sing like Estonians. Our solo concert was well attended, and our director tells us that there was a movement to repeat the concert.

E STuudio, though were a different bunch. At times, the West Coast Estonian days can feel a little closed to us because we're NOT Estonian by birth. The older crowd and the communal Estonians from around the US and Canada have bonded well with us over the years, but there are parts of the LEP celebration which aren't as open to us and it -- at times -- feels as though we are an oddity.

E STuudio with muusika. #unistus15 #lep2015

A photo posted by John Howard (@jowardhoward) on Aug 7, 2015 at 2:22pm PDT

The first few times our choir members tried reaching out to the youth choir, we hit a brick wall. I finally got the chance to talk to their assistant -- a tall, graceful and talented director -- in the few minutes after the opening gala on Thursday evening.

Yesterday, in the events surrounding the Laulupidu performance, our choirs finally made a connection. The performers changed in rooms in the basement of the Whistler Conference Center, and so we Unistus men and the singers from E STuudio were grouped with one another.

It might have been the magic of Laulupidu which pushed us together.

For me, it was an especially emotional time. During rehearsals, our director Lonnie Cline told the group to sing 'Ta Ledab' as though it were either the first time they'd sung it or the very last time. As Laulupidu rolled into the classic favorites -- Ilus Maa and others -- it dawned on me that this might be my last chance to sing with the Estonians. Moving to Grants Pass will be difficult enough, but having to leave my choir and this culture will be heartbreaking. Tears were had, especially when we all raised our little Eesti flags at the end of the final song.

A few minutes later as we went downstairs to change back into our street clothes, I asked one of the EST basses about the Tormis song they had sung that evening. At the end of the song, the group broke apart into little sections, drifted into the audience and created an incredible atmosphere, surrounding the concert-goers with music and girls in bumblebee dresses. The bass and I got to talking about the different Tormis songs we both knew, and discovered we were both scheduled for "pop up singing," which was a collection of Tormis in honor of the composer's 85th birthday.

About an hour passed, and the two groups crammed into one of the hotel restaurants and traded songs for a time, finishing with Valss and Tuljak, which we sang together before the hotel kicked us out to wander the streets again. We're still not the best of friends, but I think the experience of singing together and having one final performance in Vancouver at the Chan Centre on the horizon have helped to bond us with music -- at least a little bit.

Friday was capped with a night around a fire on one of the many beautiful patios here in Whistler. I had already sampled a few excellent local brews, and jokingly asked the waitress if I could have a bendy straw in my next drink. Shortly thereafter, she came back with a bottle of pear cider complete with a bendy straw which she had made by cutting a straw and taping it in place. Then she told me a joke about cats, and for those of you who know me well enough...

We arrived back at our hostel fairly late, but happy having had the best day of the tour so far. Now, Saturday, we have a free day. There is a dance festival this afternoon which we can attend if we so choose, and there might be plans to visit a sauna later in the evening. One final day in beautiful Whistler.

Mountain meadow

Thursday

This post will be a little short, as we haven't got much time before meeting the vans and heading to our final Laulupidu rehearsal.

Yesterday was fantastic.

I woke up with cool mountain air drifting in through my window, shortly followed by the sounds of the Saaremaa mees koor rehearsing a few floors below. We made our way down the mountain to the theatre in town for a quick warm up, and put on a fantastic concert for a rather enthused group of mostly older Estonians.

The final song, Bridge Over Troubled Waters, is a stunner. Always has been. It drew a pretty touching response from our audience, which was followed by a stop at the nearby Olympic rings from the 2010 games for a photo.

Afterwards, we stopped back at the hostels to grab our things, and set out for a free afternoon. I switched groups a handful of times, but managed to enjoy the best IPA I've ever had, some solid mac & cheese and a ice cream at a corner shop by the small artificial river that flows through the village.

We made a few final purchases, and two friends and I decided to forego a taxi ride back up the mountain in favor of walking. We explored part of the upper village and discovered an adorable pond at the base of the town-bound river before heading across a covered bridge and making for our hillside homes.

The trek up the mountain was breathtaking -- in more ways than one. It was steep, basically a straight shot alongside one of the chair lifts. Behind us, as the village grew more distant, the incredible sunset became more visible.

The sun began to slide behind the hills across the valley, shooting lines through the mountain air. Wildflowers dotted the meadow. It was beautiful, and I'll definitely be making the climb again.

The evening was finished off with time spent among friends, dancing our worries away before skipping back to our own rooms before lights out.

Today, which I think is Friday -- I've lost track already -- includes one more rehearsal for Laulupidu, and then the celebration itself at 1 p.m. Tonight, we'll have a little more free time to enjoy the company of our fellow magic-makers. Terviseks!

Room Five

A quick disclaimer before we get started: internet access has been spotty, and we've been on the run. Pardon the Eesti-vomit.

The view from our hotel in Vancouver

Monday

There isn't much to say about our drive north from Portland to Vancouver except to set up what was to happen much later in the day. As we were getting ready to cross the border, shutting off our phones and reaching into the vault for Canadian jokes, it became clear that we all seemed to have the idea in our heads that Canadians were nice people who liked free beer, jelly doughnuts and said 'eh?' after every other word.

The crossing was uneventful, and a little more than an hour afterward we eventually found our lodging at the beautiful University of British Columbia, which sits northwest of Vancouver itself. Our dorms had stunning views of the city, the mountains and the sea which proved to make each moment by the window a breathtaking experience.

The group went out for dinner at an Irish pub – seemingly a tradition when it comes to Eesti tours – and returned to the dorms hoping to get rest and prepare for a long week of music. A friend and I decided we hadn't had enough of the city, and went back in search of other things to do. Eventually, we found ourselves back in the same pub seated at the bar next to a handful of Canadian gentlemen who had heard us singing in the pub a few hours before.

We got to talking – them in their perfect Canadian accents, eh? – and got the chance to tell them about who we were and why we celebrated the Estonian culture. We gave them an invitation to our Tuesday concert, but I didn't think much of it.

The small sanctuary in St. Anslem's

Tuesday

The second day of our tour began with an early breakfast, and an excursion to Stanley Park. It's about as tourist-y as Vancouver BC gets, packed with buses of Asian visitors, bicycles and vacationing east-coasters. The aquarium was too expensive for us cheap choir kids, so we wandered down to a collection of totem poles near the edge of the park.

A short distance away was a small lighthouse which you could walk underneath, and a plaza offering solid views of the bay. A handful of choir members collected in the archway under the lighthouse and sang 'Set me as a seal,' a sacred piece whose message is that love is stronger than death. It wasn't a perfect rendition, but there was a little magic in it. A few tourists gathered and watched curiously, snapping a few photos while we sang and looking on with interest.

Later in the evening, we changed into our concert gear and set out for the rather tiny St. Anslem's Church just a few minutes from the UBC campus. It's an a-frame with no more than 20 rows of pews, and while we warmed up the staff of the church busied themselves preparing refreshments for a post-concert reception. Meanwhile, we couldn't get our act together. We were out of tune and frustrated, eventually shifting our formation in a desperate attempt to pull things into place before our small crowd arrived.

But when the concert began, we entered room five. You'd have had to sung with Lonnie Cline about four years ago to entirely understand, but we used to talk about how one room was notes and rhythms, one was balance, blend and pitch, another was phrasing and dynamics and so fourth. The final room was room five, and that was where magic happened. Somewhere between our horrible warm ups and the concert, we entered room five. It was a special experience, and talking with our concert goers afterward was touching.

The opening Gala at the Whistler Conference Center

Wednesday

This day was a tough one. I woke up late, and didn't have time for any breakfast other than a granola bar before hopping in a friend's car and heading out for Whistler. It's about a two hour drive, one filled with absolutely stunning views of the British Columbia countryside – but that word doesn't begin to describe what we saw.

The highway winds its way up into the mountains, passing sheer cliffs of granite and bright blue rivers and lakes before eventually dropping into Whistler itself. The village, which hosted the 2010 Winter Olympics, is equally opulent. The conference center sits near the main highway, with a collection of unbelievably nice hotels surrounding a central collection of shops and overpriced restaurants.

We dropped our things at the “Home” hostel and went down for the Laulupidu rehearsal. There we met many of the faces and voices we have come to know over the years. The Portland Estonians were loving as always, and it was touching to talk with a few Estonians from Toronto and to see those from Seattle and San Francisco as well.

The rehearsal was normal, at least to us, and afterward we walked to the conference center to prepare for the opening gala. The building is special. There's a huge fireplace at the front, and massive wooden beams stretching down the building's length.

Later in the evening, after a few Eesti-English speeches, a group of local native dancers performed for us. They sang their native songs, and talked about how their culture came together to celebrate with music and dance – just as they Estonians do. They ended their set by getting the audience of over 500 to stand and dance like animals, which was an entertaining sight.

In the second half of the Gala, we stepped on stage in front of a line of Estonian flags while a duet of a violin and piano played on a raised stage. We sang two songs, one by Veljo Tormis and the other a national favorite: Ta lendab mesipu poole. One of the last times I can remember our choir singing the song to an Estonian audience was our first concert on Saaremaa last summer, and it was magical. This rendition brought a similar response, and I will always remember a little old man who bounced when he clapped as we walked off stage.

Wednesday was capped with a strange attempt at finding breakfast food for the next morning, fare only available at a late-night convenience store. We arrived back at our hostel, which has signs posted reminding patrons to close ground-level doors behind them so wildlife (bears) won't come in and explore.

Veljo Tormis and missed bacon

I'm still without a working computer, so phone posts will continue.

It'll be hard to recap the last few days in a timely fashion, as so so many things have happened since I last wrote. We have settled in to our apartment here in the heart of Tallinn, and are about to set off with our homestays to visit their country home. We'll likely return a little later this evening in time to watch the US football match at 11 p.m. local time here in Tallinn.

Yesterday had some incredible hilights. We had our first concert in Tallinn, singing alongside Hirvo Surva's eesti rahvusringhäälingu, and I was shaking. They are just 70-80 voices, and I can't begin to imagine what laulupidu will be like. Fellow choir members have told me that you cannot hear yourself sing, and you just float with the roar of 32,000 voices.

The best moment of the day came after the concert was finished. An elderly man in a grey suit sat near the front of the audience, taking in the concert from beginning to end. The man was Veljo Tormis, the composer of several of our pieces, and an Estonian musical hero. A few minutes after the concert had finished, I made my way back into the main sanctuary and there he stood, surrounded by a group of choir members.

As he made to leave the church, I got my chance, posing for a photo, and getting a couple of precious seconds with the beloved composer. I looked him in the eye and thanked him for his ilus laulud -- beautiful music -- and shook his hand.

It was a chilling experience to finally meet the man who was my introduction to Estonian music and culture. The person on whose camera the photo was taken will not be back in the United States until midway through August, but once I get the photo in my hands, it will be a precious thing to me for many years.

Once we had gathered are things, most of the choir and the Estonian choir wandered downstairs for a reception. After a few minutes of talking, eating and drinking precious water, our quartet was asked to sing for the group. We sing a favorite of hours, 'Go the distance' from the Disney movie Hercules, and it was received with a reception that I will never forget. The song ends with one singer holding a long post, and once we had finished the song on a high chord, Hirvo raised one fist in the air and shouted with a voice that was easily heard above the rest of the audience.

Our choir finished off the evening with a collection of American folk songs, and we all said our goodbyes. Before we left, a fellow choir member came over to us and told us that we were originally supposed to be in her house. The homestay, thinking that she would be getting four guys staying at her house for 2 weeks, purchased several pounds of bacon only to end up with a vegetarian choir singer. 

We then split up, but manny members of the American choir met up at a pub down the street, where a liter of beer was jus five euros. Today has been a day of rest, as many of the choir members have slept until around noon. I was up earlier this morning, and finally got the jacuzzi to work. Yes, we have a Jacuzzi. I have also been able to do some laundry, and our homestay plans to pick us up later this afternoon and we will head to the country.

Until I am able to find a working computer, photos will all have to be from my phone. Also, USA, USA, USA!!

Jaani kirik and a broken laptop

My laptop fell from the luggage rack on the bus last night, so from this point forward, everything is likely to be composed on my phone. It's not terminal, just the screen won't turn on.

It's upsetting because there are so many things to say and so many stories to tell, but posting is slow and difficiult -- as is spelling -- without my laptop. I'll search for an alternative now that we're with our homestays.

Nick and I are with a young couple in the heart of Tallinn. The husband is a pilot with Estonian air and the wife works in tourism. They'll be busy most of today, so Nick and I will explore once I drag myself out of bed. 8:45 is by far the latest I've slept since we've been here, and hopefully the added rest will help me beat this oncoming sore throat.

The photo, if it works, is of the back of Jaani kirik, the 14th century cathedral we sang in last night in Tartu.

The City of Kuressaare

This nice young lady helped us with the bows and arrows inside Kuressaare castle.

It's been an entertaining experience to watch the culture clash between our group of boisterous Americans and the local Estonians. There are a few from our choir who constantly remind the rest that we're too loud, and that we needn't shout at the breakfast table in order to be heard.

Wooden wares at the market

It also seems that we're extremely friendly and ever eager to talk to people we don't know. Maybe it's a Portland thing, but until today, it was rare that one of the locals would approach one of us and strike up a conversation.

Unless they were selling something, that is. This morning, after last night's concert, we hopped on the bus to briefly tour the immediate area. We drove down the street, past the church and headed south. The beauty of the old buildings continued through the main town square, eventually opening into a tree-filled park.

On the other side of the park was what we had come to see: Kuressaare castle, it's tiled roof rising above the city proper and casting a distinctly romantic shadow on the scene around it. We circled the ancient structure and made for the southermost part of the city, where the land sticks out into the Baltic sea.

We stopped there for a few minutes, pausing to skip rocks on the rough beach, and boarded the bus once again. We were dropped off back at the hotel and lit out for the city to explore, shop and eat.

This is the entrance to the market, facing the street.

Our first stop was the small market about a half mile from our hotel, which sits just off the center of Kuressaare. The market bent around a building and filled the alleyway behind it with a handful of stands selling handmade wooden products, handmade clothes and handmade jewelry. This wasn't your typical cheap American flea market, it was real.

I was fascinated with some of the woven and knitted sweaters, and one of the vendors caught on to my interest. At first she tried to show me a t-shirt with a map of Saaremaa on the front for 14 euros, but the run-of-the mill wasn't what caught my eye.

I'd describe it, but it's a gift for one of my readers and it would spoil the surprise, but I will say that I haggled the price down 10 euros using only the words 'tere,' 'vaga ilus' and 'aitah.' The lady thought it was for my 'boyfriend,' though, but I suppose I'll need to work on my Estonian.

A few minutes later, gift in hand, another woman tapped me on the shoulder. In broken English, she told me that our concert the previous evening was beautiful, and that she planned on bringing her husband to our next concert. She also was saddened that we hadn't gotten more publicity, because the beauty of our music was worth it, according to her. It was a touching reminder of how much the people appreciate the things we do. It came out as part of our conversation that she was Finnish, but still understood the depth and value of the music we had performed last night.

After the market, we made for the castle, which I'd been excited about for the last several months. It was exactly as magical as I had expected. To enter, you cross a bridge and walk through a 20-foot wall into the main courtyard. The castle itself stands directly across from the entrance. Some members of the group payed the five euros to wander the castle, but a smaller group of us went around the corner and happened upon a selection of bows and arrows, and spent six euros for 15 minutes of fun with the backdrop of the 14th century castle. 

Once we'd had our fill, the group gathered on the bridge to watch the birds fish from the moat before walking back to the main square for a late lunch. I shared a delightful pizza and salad with the best fetta I'd ever tasted.

We are now back at the hotel for an hour or so of rest before our konsert in the castle this evening. I'm as excited for this performance as any we've had so far. This castle was built in the 1380s, making it around 630 years old. I'll have more photos up on my Facebook page, in case this blog continues to have problems with uploading pictures.

Laurentiuse kirik: Breaking the Ice

Outside Laurentiuse kirik

At our final concert before Unistus left the United States and headed for Europe, our director Lonnie Cline leaned in for a quiet word with the choir.

"I can't wait," he said, pausing to control his emotions, "to see the looks on your faces when you get it."

Last night, Unistus kicked off our Estonian concert tour at Kuressaare's Laurentiuse kirik (St. Lawrence Church) on the island of Saaremaa. 

And I got it.

It's been a theme on facebook among the many choir members who are visiting Estonia for the first time and I don't want to seem like I'm simply following a trend, but it's impossible to set aside the reverberant feeling from last night's performance.

The first half was a mixture of sacred and world folk music, and as expected, the loudest applause was for the Estonian piece "Arkamise aeg" that we led off with. In the second half, koik muusika lauldi eesti keeles -- all the music was sung in Estonian, and it had an immediate impact. The audience deeply appreciated the things we had done in the first half of the konsert, but this was different. This was love, this was passion, this was an out poring of everything that moved their nation.

We worked our way through the Estonian set, with each song recieving a louder applause than the last before finally reaching a personal favorite, Ta lendab mesipuu poole.

Here's the translation:

He flies from blossom to blossom
and flies towards the beehive.
And a thundercloud rises to the sky,
he flies towards the beehive.

And thousands fall on the road,
more thousands reach home
and take away the worry and care,
and they fly towards the beehive.

Soul, oh soul, at difficult times -
how you long for fatherland.
Whether you're at home, whether on foreign land,
how you long for fatherland.

And may the wind of death blow against you,
and may the bullet of death fly against you.
You forget death and care,
and hurry towards the fatherland.

Inside Laurentiuse kirik

The story behind this song is a good one. Many Estonians fled the country during the world wars, setting up home around the world. When Estonia was finally freed in the early 1990s, this song became a call for Estonians to return home.

And so it makes perfect sense that a song with words this powerful would pack a punch, and it did. We finished the song and the people were on their feet with tears in their eyes. They continued to cheer and cheer, and as is the custom when an audience applauds endlessly, we prepared to sing the song again.

It was after the second repetition that it became clear. The people stood once again, and the tears became contagious. The rest of the set -- Tuljak and Peace I Leave With You -- went by in a blur, and after a few shaky moments in the back room, we returned to the sanctuary to thank the people for coming to our konsert.

The first lady I talked to was a head shorter than I and spoke only enough English to tell me tearfully that it was "beautiful music" and grasped my hands, looking to the lady to her left for some semblance of a way to express her thanks. I was move enough that I could only manage to tell her aitäh before being shuffled down the line of waiting patrons. 

I spoke with another choir member a few minutes later, both of us struggling to grasp the enormity of what had just happened. If every konsert were to be this powerful, as I expect them to be, we'll be running on tears, love and caffeine for the remainder of the trip.