Episode 39: In The Stone

"Do you believe my friend in what you claim? People of the world all doubt the same. Bringing questions of their own. Yeah, truth is written in the stone."

— Maurice White, 1979

On a cold, dreary night in March of 2009, hours before Sarah made that fateful bounce to Bulgaria, the two of us met in the wondrous old town of Alexandria, Virginia for what was originally thought to be our last goodbye. In just a few months' time — with a handful of European adventures and a cruise to Mexico in between — we bonded briskly over our adoration for world wayfaring and fell head over heels in love. 

However, if you don't mind me quoting Grand Funk Railroad, it was a bad time to be in love. Real bad. The mere thought of uprooting to the Sunflower Capitol of the World, a destination Sarah was dead set on starting a new life, never crossed my mind. Though I had a few delightful visits to Bulgaria, I was happy and content, so I thought, with my life in The States and had no intention on leaving. Thus, with high hopes of someday meeting up again, Sarah and I separated in the saddest way imaginable.

The story, as you may already know, has a happy ending. To cut a long story short, I ended up moving to Bulgaria where we've been living happily ever after. But in result of that near final goodbye, the melancholy memory is never far behind — especially when coming across an old town. In fact, it was recently conjured up during part 3 of The Big Baltic Tour. After exploring one of the world's most enchanting old towns, which was equipped with a palace of wonder and a brother from another mother, Sarah and I got powerlessly possessed by the ghosts of Bonnie and Clyde. Read on to see how it all unfolded, in this final fantastic Baltic bon voyage . . . 

"And it stoned me to my soul.
Stoned me just like Jelly Roll.
And it stoned me."

— Van Morrison, 1970

AFTER ANOTHER SHORT SCENIC LUX Express ride with an aching neck resting on Sarah's shoulder, we arrived in Estonia, the third and final country explored on The Big Baltic Tour. With two successful trips to the Lovely Lithuania and Vivacious Latvia, I was confident our last Baltic stop would live up to the rest. But before revealing the results, let's make sure everyone's still on board.

After posting parts 1 and 2 of The Big Baltic Tour, there ain't a smidgen of doubt that my American Blog-O-Daria readers can locate Estonia on the map. But just in case you were that student snoozing in back of the class — sit back and chill, while I serve up the final Baltic state summary . . .

Home of the Skype developers and singer Kerli Koiv, The Republic Of Estonia is tinier than Vermont and New Hampshire put together and less than half the size of Bulgaria by area, making it the smallest Baltic state. With a 1.3 million population count, it's one of the least populous countries within the European Union, right alongside Latvia. 

Located about 1,000 miles north of the Sunflower Capital, Estonia is bordered by the Gulf of Finland to the North, the Baltic Sea to the west, Latvia to the south, and Russia and Lake Peipus to the east. It has a seasonal temperature difference, with humid summers and severely cold winters that influences its typical international cuisine.

With a long history of occupation — starting with the German Empire, then Nazi Germany, and ending with the Soviets — it wasn't until 1991, after the Singing Revolution, a landmark demonstration for independence consisting of 2 million people stretching through each Baltic state also known as the Baltic Way, that Estonia official declared independence.

Having said that, with more than 75% claiming to be irreligious and a constitution that guarantees separation of church and state and additional rights to privacy of belief and religion, Estonia (which includes a 25% Russian population) is currently ranked first on the list of the least religious countries in the world — with Sweden and Denmark not far behind. Can I get an amen? In addition, Estonia, who's landscape resembled Latvia more so than Lithuania, is ranked high on the Human Development Index and holds the highest growth rate of the three Baltic states.

Furthermore, various types of sports play an important role in Estonia. And, not surprisingly, like Lithuania and Latvia, there's big love for hoops abound. But unlike Lithuanians and Latvians — who are culturally related — Estonians are of Finnish decent, and their official language is of Finno-Ugric origin and reasonably tied to Finnish and strangely distant to Hungarian. However, like its Baltic neighbors, Estonians are equally warm, friendly, fair and (ahem) by far, home of some of the most eye-catching beauties that the world has to offer. Believe me.

How does it feel?

How does if feel

to be on your own

with no direction home?

Like a complete unknown?

Like a rolling stone?"

— Bob Dylan, 1965

A WISE PERSON ONCE said, 'save the best for last.' And though each Baltic state was individually enchanting, the Rolling Estonia, which I so apply nicknamed her, proved that age old expression to be true. You see, upon arriving at the glorious gates of the Old Town of Tallinn, the capital and largest city in Estonia, my heart was instantly warmed. Its charismatic cobble stoned roads, filled with castle-like structures and cathedrals topped with stunning steeples, were fit for a classic fairy-tale.

Once settled inside our hostel located inside the great wall of Katariina Kaik, which was hosted by two lovely Lituanians named Agla and Saravania, I'd met two hipster hostel mates from Italy named Miranda and Sylvia. While chowing down on yummy spaghetti purchased from the local Rimi supermarket, the three us got well acquainted over our love for music and comic books. These chicks were pretty cool, but it was another dorm mate named Helle from Denmark that made the biggest impression on me — and Sarah, too.

Ever meet somebody you just feel an instant kindred connection with? Well, for starters, next to having one of the most welcoming smiles and bubbliest personalities I'd ever encountered, Helle seemed genuine as a cowboy's belt buckle right off the bat. As an avid world traveler with a serious devotion for cycling — who had, in fact, just ridden a bike from Lithuania to Estonia — Helle had a great deal in common with me and Sarah. She was also fascinated by our lives in Bulgaria, one of the few countries in Europe she had yet to venture. This prompted an eager email exchange with a pinky promise to sojourn Sofia. Because Sarah and I have been eagerly awaiting to explore Denmark, we graciously pinky swore, as well. Having said that, stay tuned to see if promises are kept.

Unfortunately, Helle was leaving for Copenhagen the next day. So, after parting ways, Sarah and I started our exploration through Tallinn. St. Catherine's Passage, the artillery towers of Kiek in de Kok (meaning Peep in the Kitchen), and Rotermanni Kvartal were amongst some of the major landmarks ventured. In addition, we admittedly barely made the exhausting climb to the top of St. Olaf's Church, the world's one time tallest building. Having been rebuilt and changing denominations several times, the now Baptist church stands at a whopping 406 feet, making it the tallest structure in Estonia and gives way to a spectacular view of Tallinn!

Olaf's enormous climb built up some hefty appetites. So after making our way back to the bottom, Sarah and I hopped a quick tram ride (where I witnessed a military-style random ticket search) to the outskirts of Tallinn and dined at the yummy hipster-style F-Hoone, a highly recommended restaurant when perusing Tallinn.

"I welcome you to Crackerbox Palace.

We've been expecting you.

You bring such joy in Crackerbox Palace.

No matter where you roam, know our love is true."

— George Harrison, 1976

IT'S HIGH TIME I INTRODUCED A NEW TERM to the Blog-O-Daria series. Mainly because the next destination located on the Big Baltic Tour doesn't technically qualify as a castle hunt, but rather a palace pursuit. However, hardcore Blog-O-Daria readers needn't worry; I won't be changing the iconic moniker to The Brave and Fearless Palace Hunters anytime soon. For one, I'm not really a big fan of palaces, as they come off too pristine and pretty in person. At best, castles tend to have a grittier, edgy quality that suits my taste. Besides, I never saw a classic 1970s vampire flick set in a palace! So, there you go.

Nevertheless, people change and I'm certainly no stranger to that. So, after a fairly easy castle hunt... er... uh, I mean, palace pursuit to Kadriorg Palace (translated to Catherine's Valley), its classic architecture changed my feelings regarding palaces and surprisingly turned out to be my number one landmark of the Rolling Estonia and a top five destination on the Big Baltic Tour. 

Built for Catherine I of Russia by Peter the Great, the flamboyantly painted Kadriorg Palace and its gorgeous grounds included a flower garden and houses the Kadriorg Art Museum, which gloriously displays foreign art from the 16th to the 20th centuries.

Speaking of Peter, located in the back yard of the Kadriorg sits the original cottage of the former leader of the Russian Empire. Though photography wasn't permitted inside the well preserved, cozy Dutch-style home, which was guarded like the White House on a terrorist alert — probably due its rare paintings and artifacts — Sarah and I thoroughly enjoyed the tour. Hungry afterwards, this time we hit up a magnificent medieval themed restaurant and savored a yummy fantasy chow down.

"If you laugh real hard 
you win the game — hands down.
Before old Alexander t'was 
just the same — as now."

— Paul Katner, 1972

"WILL THE REAL ALEX PLEASE STAND UP?" This was the curious question I'd asked after learning that Alexander Nevski Cathedral of Sofia has quite a few identically named brothers erected throughout other European cities such as Warsaw, Belgrade, Moscow, Paris and Tallinn, the subject of this episode. However, after residing in the Sunflower Capital for over three years now, you can bet your last slice of bonitza that the Alex of Sofia will always be the one and only Alex for me. 

But to be fair — as I always strive to do on the Blog-O-Daria series — since most of the imitation Nevski's were named in honor of the Russian saint, who rose to legendary status after military defeats over German and Swedish invaders, I'll admit that perhaps the real one probably resides in either one of the six or seven cities throughout the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Nevertheless, imitation or not, Alexander Nevski Cathedral of Tallinn is a treat for the eyes to see. Built when the Rolling Estonia was a part of the Russian Empire, the typical Russian Revival style cathedral is not nearly as monumental as Alex of Sofia. However, since being meticulously renovated after Estonia gained its independence in '91, Alex of Tallinn is vibrantly colorful and vastly cleaner than Sofia's famous iconic treasure.

"So, I might as well put some action in my life.

Breaking the law, breaking the law. . .

Breaking the law, breaking the law . . ."

 — Rob Halford, 1980

EVER SINCE ARRIVING IN THE SUNFLOWER Capital, I made a pact with myself to never be caught on the wrong side of the law — no matter what the circumstance. Though I have a tremendous fear of being sent to any prison cell regardless of the country or condition, an East European jailhouse sends even bigger chills down my spine. Sorry to stereotype, but I've always pictured one looking a bit like that terrifying Turkish lockup in the classic 1978 prison flick Midnight Express.

However, after searching high and low, then finally locating the Pirita Convent — a magnificent monastery for both monks and nuns dedicated to St. Brigitta — and then discovering it was closed, getting arrested and sent to a Baltic cooler was the last thing on my mind and surely not on Sarah's, the one who nearly initiated the criminal act.

First off, the closed convent wasn't really the issue at hand. Whether open or shut, most major landmarks can usually be seen from a fair distance on the ground — thus giving way to a splendid view for picture-taking. Not the case with Pirita. Unless you were on the inside of the large concrete walls that were topped off with bars and big bushy shrubs — the convent's view was annoyingly obstructed from the outside. 

Nonetheless, before I could cry out my utter disappointment over the matter, Sarah had vanished from view! Calling out her name a few times to no avail, I searched the outer perimeter of the convent, with high hopes of finding my curious girl from the north country.

When finally locating her, let's just say she was perhaps more disappointed about the convent closing than I. To my complete and utter shock, Sarah "Bonnie Parker" Perrine, had miraculously climbed to the top of one of them towering concrete walls that annoyingly covered the convent. Perched on top like a cat peering through a bird's cage, Sarah desperately sought for a way inside. As she tried to squeeze through the tightly structured bars, I called out her name, "Sarah!"

Now, this is where the story, or rather, crime gets interesting. Instead of admonishing my girl from the north country for her juvenile delinquent behavior, like Clyde Barrow, I egged her on with sheer delight. 

"Try twisting your body as you turn sideways, honey!" I deviously coached.

"I'm trying my best, but they're just too darn tight!" Sarah cried.

"Wait! I'll climb up and give it a try!"

Now, before casting judgement, one must truly understand that this type of foolish behavior was quite the contrary on both parts. The consequences for trespassing on private government property had never crossed our diluted minds. It was as if the spirits of Bonnie and Clyde had permanently taken over our mental capacities.

As I climbed up, Sarah whispered loudly, "Stop, Owen! The guards are coming!" By the time I helped Sarah down from the wall, another guard, who must have been posted on the outside, crept up from behind and stood there clutching his weapon. He didn't utter a single word. He really didn't have to. The angry snarl on his face just about said it all. So, before the guards could think of way to arrest us for attempted trespassing or, perhaps, scaling a government wall, Bonnie and Clyde briskly left the scene with their tales far between their legs.

"Going down the stoney end.
I never wanted to go down the stoney end.
Mama, let me start all over."

— Laura Nyro, 1966

DESPITE THE CLOSED CONVENT THAT SET off our fleeting foray on the wrong side of the law, Sarah and I left the Rolling Estonia feeling quite fantastic and fulfilled. Similar to that sad goodbye in Old Town Alexandria, there's always a little melancholy feeling that comes along with departing any great country traveled. To remedy that, Sarah and I always make a pact of someday revisiting.

On that note, this episode concludes the Baltic side of a dream birthday gift from my girl from the north country. Coming up in the next episode of the Blog-O-Daria series, there is, however, a little something, something extra, which is closely related to the Rolling Estonia — about an hour or so barge ride, that is. 

My lips are sealed. Wouldn't dare spoil a good surprise. 

Be seeing you.

O