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.

The Island of Saaremaa

I bought three kilos of fruit from this lady without speaking a lick of English.

 Having reached Arabella Hotel in Kuressaare, I'm finally beginning to grasp the fact that I'm half a world away from the city I call home.

Our third-floor view is out a massive set of windows, the center of which opens to allow the breeze to drift through and the sounds of gulls to penetrate the otherwise comforting silence.

Getting here, though, has been quite the journey. When I last left off, I hadn't quite made it to my final destination. I sat on the floor of the ferry terminal in Helsinki, waiting for the boat to take me across the Baltic sea where Tallinn sat waiting expectantly.

The final few minutes in the Helsinki harbor were enchanting. One end was dominated by the massive form of a visiting cruse ship, while the rest was dotted with the stunning Helsinki and Uspenski cathedrals and an assortment of stately brick buildings. We passed a square rigger on the way out of the harbor, and another handful of sailing ships as we snaked our way through the maze of inhabited islands that block the way to the Baltic sea.

Buildings in Tallinn

Once we reached the open water, my exhaustion quickly overcame my want to remain on deck, and I slept until just before Tallinn came into view. The first images felt like a dream. I'd seen pictures of Tallinn, with it's elegant cathedral towers and picturesque skyline, but to catch a glimpse in person was nearly unsettling.

We disembarked, stepping out on to a strange terminal that looked more like Aztec ruins than something you'd find in Europe, and a few a short wait, I heard my name yelled from behind me.
A young Estonian man hung his head out of a black SUV, every corner of which was covered with Laulupidu decorations. He drew the eyes of the remaining passengers, and hopped out to help me get my bags stuffed into his back seat.

Throughout the drive through Tallinn to our hostel, it was difficult to make conversation. And not because the young man didn't speak good English, it's just that the city was too beautiful to form good sentences and work around the accent. A few minutes later, and we had arrived at Teko hostel, our home for the evening.

I had just enough time for a shower -- a bless'ed shower -- before Unistus got together for a short rehearsal and a few minutes more before the group headed for the pub around the corner. We made the little resuraunt our American home away from home for the next few hours, proudly displaying our colors as the national soccer team battled Germany.

And halfway through the first 45 minutes, we received a pleasant surprise. An Estonian man, tall and decked in a scarf stepped through the door and greeted a small group of singers gathered near the door. A few seconds later, Lonnie noticed the man and stood, shouting "HIRVO!" and hurrying to hug Hirvo Surva, the director of Laulupidu and an Estonian celebrity.

He sat with us and watched the rest of the game, and after the Americans wrapped up a 1-0 loss to the German side, listened to Nick, Joe, Richie and I sing one of the songs we had prepared. I was more nervous than normal. It was a big deal -- Hirvo is an important musical mind, but it went well and we got a picture together before everyone dispersed and headed for the hostel.

The thing is, it was equally as dark when we left the pub (around 9 p.m.) as it was when we decided to hit the hay around 11:30. It's not quite the land of the midnight sun, but it never really gets past dusk.

The view from inside a cellar on Muhu.

My sleep mask helped, but the added light and wacked sleep schedule made for an early wake up call. At around 6:30, the vendors at the little market outside our window began setting up their varied fruit stands and I could no longer resist. Nick, Josh and I wandered out to the market, coming home with three kilos of strawberries, raspberries and cherries for just over 11 euros. It was my first chance to really test my extremely limited Estonian, but I was able to do just enough to get the fruit I wanted and exchange money, thanking the lady as we left.


Fruit and porridge made for an excellent breakfast, after which Unistus sang for the manager of the hostel and boarded the bus for Saaremaa.




We stopped twice along the way not counting the ferry from the mainland to the Island of Muhu. Once we reached the island, we left the main road to visit a fascinating Estonian history museum that documented Estonian life in the first years of their culture. A few minutes later, we took a slight detour to see a giant crater, which was either evidence of alien activity or the result of a meteor, and continued on our way to Kuressare.

Now we have a few free minutes before walking down the road to the concert hall in town, where we will sing in our first Estonian concert this evening at 7 p.m. This concert, along with several others, have been advertized on national television and radio... so no pressure. If what I've been told is true, news of a good performance will spread like wildfire, ensuring a hearty crowd for the remainder of our tour.

Finlandia and the Atlantic Crossing

The Helsinki Cathledral, taken from Senator Square in Helsinki, Finland.

I've always seen myself as a fairly experienced traveler, more or less. I've been to a fair amount of places and my beloved red duffel bag has seen plenty of hard service.

Regardless of the time spend abroad in the past, however, I found myself wildly apprehensive prior to takeoff in Seattle. Heck, the nerves hit about halfway between my mom's house and the Seattle airport, sending my mind into a frenzy.

"I'm sure I've forgotten something important," I thought to myself. "I won't be able to get my boarding passes, the plane will leave without me and I'll be stuck just a few hundred miles from home."

The feeling of dread grew the closer the three of us -- my mom, girlfriend Alexis and I -- got to my departure, and by the time we reached the terminal, I was in a daze. I grabbed my things, said a quick goodbye to both parties and headed for the kiosk with my passport in hand, hoping things would work out.

And from that point forward, smooth sailing. Or flying, as it were. The flight from Seattle (6 a.m. isn't usually a time I'd find myself awake) went off without a hitch, and about a hour after I arrived in Chicago, I met up with five other friends with whom I would make the long flight to Europe.


The second flight, though considerably longer, was also calm and enjoyable. By chance, I happened to get a seat in the cluster of friends, and was surrounded by fellow members of Unistus for the eight hour flight over Canada, Greenland, the arctic circle and -- though it seemed an age since we'd left the friendly confines of the United States -- Finland.

That's where things began to get interesting. Real interesting. The airport just outside of Helsinki has American Airlines as one of its' main carriers, so the terminal is full of both English and Finnish instructions. The oddest thing I discovered, after waiting around to pick up my checked duffel back, was the bathrooms. In what seems an effort to make the restroom feel more green and earth-friendly, the Fins had decked the walls with pictures of trees and grass, which might have been perfectly normal except for the sounds of chirping birds and a light breeze they had echoing through the facilities.

With the post-flight freshen-up out of the way, I moved to find sustenance. The kind lady at the Starbucks, which didn't have raspberry syrup but did offer a delightful array of cheesecakes,  gave me a basic time table and cost estimate for how long it might take me to reach the ferry terminal in downtown Helsinki: about 15 minutes, and five euros.

The problem was, I misunderstood about where to catch  that darned bus. The 615, which travels from the airport to the train station in Helsinki city center, was nearly impossible to find. At first glance (I might have been wrong) I didn't see a stop at the terminal, so I walked in the general direction I thought the bus stop might be in.

Half an hour later, after walking close to a mile with around 50 pounds of luggage and garments, confidence and a sense of adventure began to shift toward despair. My shoulders hurt, I had no idea how much further the bus stop was, and none of the English speaking people seemed to have a better understanding than I did.

I eventually stopped in a little shop just off the main road and asked, and was told in broken English to "go over the road, bus to Helsinki train, it there." I headed for the overpass a few hundred yards away, stopping to talk briefly with a Portugese man about the world cup and eventually walked up a little access pathway to see what was on top of the overpass.

There it was, across six lanes of traffic: my stop, and the bus pulling out of it. I waited for a break, and ran, skipping through the rocky median with a little luck, but missing the bus. Still, I was in the right place. I think.

A few moments later, a young Finnish man by the name of Joakim wandered up to the platform and confirmed that I was, indeed, in the correct spot. When the next bus came by, he even stepped out to wave it down for me.

Except the bus driver ignored him and kept driving, bringing a streak of Finnish and English curses from Joakim. 15 minutes later, we were both ready and finally jumped on the bus bound for the center of Finland's capitol.

For  the first few minutes, it looked like any other European suburb. The signs looked funny, but at least they drove on the correct side of the road. As time passed, the buildings grew older. The streets grew narrower, and by the time the driver finally stopped Railway Square in the heart of the city, I was fairly awestruck. On one side of the square stood the Finnish National Theatre, with a monstrous museum as it's counterpart across the way.

I walked to the east in search of my ferry terminal, and happened upon the gorgeous Helsinki Cathedral and Senate Square, full to the brim with visiting tourists. I stopped to rest my shoulders and took a handful of shameless Euro-selfies before heading to the south, where I found the terminal. 

I currently have built myself a nest in the corner, which is the only place I can plug in my adapter to power my laptop and charge my nearly useless phone. Helsinki has free WiFi (get with it, Portland), allowing me to upload a few early e-souvenirs while I wait for the ferry to board just before 2 p.m. local time. I'll be on the ferry for around 90 minutes before arrival in my final destination and a place that's been exciting my imagination for the last five years.

Look out, Estonia.

Just for fun, here's a video of Joakim, who helped me to find the correct Helsinki-bound bus and gave me his card after we both hopped off in Railway Square.