Estonians don't hate Russians (a post out of the topic of the blog)

There has been something on my mind for a couple of weeks, which I just need to put somewhere to get some peace of mind. For me this output is writing. This is going to be a heavy post about history and the influences what it has to nations' mentalities. This is not my genre of writing and I already apologize in advance for starting.

In school I was very much interested in history, but I lost that thirst when I had a really bad teacher in high school. So I don't have strong knowledge about details, but I can follow the sequence of events and make conclusions and draw parallels etc. Well, to put it simply, I don't consider myself a dummy.

Recently I had a very fiery discussion about history with a young Russian girl in Paris (and please don't take this inadequate piece of writing as a personal attack, if you are reading). There were also a Brazilian boy and a French guy taking part in the discussion. I am not going to publish the dialogues, as I think that this one sentence describes the overall situation quite vividly.

"Well, how do you know that YOUR history books are correct?"

Asked the Russian girl when she had already fallen into a very protective state of participating in the conversation, because she probably felt that everyone else there was attacking her. When all we were really trying to do was to explain. I know it might sound pretty unbelievable, when I claim that I consider the Russians to be one of the most friendliest people I have met and further in the discussion list all the horrible things they have done to us in the past. It's still true. The Russians I have met have been friendly, warm, welcoming, really helpful (I mean the Russians who actually come from Russia, it is a different subject with the Russians who stayed here in Estonia after the occupation)

So that is why I am really sad to see them devotedly protecting the history they know and denying the actual events. Although I must say I also admire it, the patriotism. I guess this is the reason why media in Russia is so censored up to this day? To keep having this nation who will blindly follow the orders of the great leader. In order to protect the homeland. I wish they could be aware of the fact that they don't have any free media in Russia, I wish that they could start doubting in the kind of information they receive. Do Estonians really hate Russians or is this an image created by the ones leading the country and controlled through media channels?

We had an incident with a monument in 2007. It was a memorial monument to all of the soldiers who were killed in the II world war and it was placed in one of Tallinn's midtown squares in the Soviet times, designed by Estonian sculptors. Known as a Bronze Soldier to the public, but had an official name of The monument to the Liberators of Tallinn. To the victorious Soviet Union. Came the Republic of Estonia, but our Russian population got the habit to go to that monument to celebrate Soviet Victory Day on 9th of May holding Soviet and Russian flags. So there was a question - should we tolerate as a small nation, who has just regained the freedom, this praise to the Soviet Union on one of our central squares of the capital? On 2006 there was a man with the Estonian flag among these people, but the flag got torn away from his hand by upset Russians. There came the conflicts which lasted for a year. We decided to remove the monument to a cemetery where it is more appropriate as a commemoration to the people who were killed during the war. So we did it. Peacefully just relocated it. But what said the Russian media? That Estonians are violating the monument by cutting it into pieces. So began the flow of angry Russians, even forming organisations, into Estonia, joining the local Russians and rioting on the streets of Tallinn destroying everything on their way. Burning cars, shoplifting, beating people. And this was just a few years ago. Shortly after that there was a cyber attack as well.

I found an opinion by a Russian politician Vladimir Žirinovski about those events: "Estonians are not relocating a monument of a soldier, they are relocating a symbol of the Soviet Union. Because they didn't accept that they belonged to the Soviet Union for 50 years. They were deported to Siberia, shot, their assets were taken, they were tortured. That is why they don't want a Soviet symbol to be standing in the downtown. We need to understand that in many countries Soviet symbols are forbidden. Do you know why I was arrested in Turkey 40 years ago? They said: you are carrying a Soviet badge. And because of that badge I spent 17 days in prison!" I can imagine, this opinion was supposed to provoke Russians even more saying that we are moving the monument in the wrong reasons, and just out of hatred, knowing the background and ideologies of that person, but it's actually just the way it is... Why shouldn't we want to remove the reminder of the repressions, especially from a central square of the capital? They might see it as a discrimination of not being able to show their loyalty, but would they have a monument at the Red Square in the memory of someone who has taken their freedom and killed their people?

So, as I said - Estonians don't hate Russians. We just want that you could realize that you had men in power, who did a lot of bad things to several nations. Even if you have lived your whole life knowing that your grandfather took a bullet on a battlefield while protecting homeland. Protecting from whom? From a country with a population of one million inhabitants? We just want that you could realize that you didn't come here to protect us from the Germans. In fact, most of the things that happened during the occupation in here are comparable with what Hitler was organizing, if not worse. Couldn't you just admit that, so we could all put this in the past?

9th of September - Mari Liis Barcelona

I don't know where to start. Oh, well. When I reached Barcelona a few nights ago, Juan came to pick me from the train stop. It was so good to see someone from lisbontimes. We walked to his place, which is like in the heart of the old town, on the sixth floor without elevator, and he has a lovely terrace. I got my own room with big bed, cause his flatmate was in Germany, wuhu! I unpacked my stuff and changed clothes and we went out for a drink and catching up chat. Spaniards are squarepeople. In Lisbon people gathered on the streets of Bairro Alto, here people gather on squares.

I am in the middle of the second day of hardcore sightseeing. Yesterday I was exploring the old town - oh, how I love these narrow streets between high buildings and numerous little shops and cafes. And the churches and cathedrals, castles and markets and parks! I spent around 4 hours wandering around, then came back to the apartment to rest for a bit and went off in the other direction. Coming back again I was dead tired and took a little nap. In the evening we had pizza with Juan and watched "Adjustment bureau". I couldn't sleep well because of some vicious little insects who kept biting me.

Today I am discovering Montjuic, again a LOT walking up and down. At the moment I am taking my first little break (after 3 and a half hours). I am running through, but hey - what's the rush? I have a week here before flying to Paris. It is a bit sad alone - it would be nice to share emotions with someone. But the hours pass by in silence. Before, when I was still in the castle, there was a funny situation. I was sitting on a wall and a chinese (or japanese or korean - they all look the same to me) asked if he can take a picture of me. I thought, what the hell, ok. And the other one took it as well. Weird.

Damn, I was taking my break before in a totally wrong place. While walking ahead some guy started to follow me and when he was able to catch up with me, he made this "sex" sign with fingers and awful noises. RETARD! I wanted to shout "fuck off!" but I didn't because he might get the wrong idea. I just rushed away to more crowded places, hearing how he was still making those noises. I was so disgusted, that I almost burst into tears. I kept going thinking how gross are men and regretting even more that I am traveling alone (on my own). Now I am sitting in front of the National Art Museum and listening to a street musicians mellow tunes. It's soothing and the world seems a lovely place again.

I booked my next flight yesterday. I'm not going to say yet what's the destination, but I have to hitchhike a bit because it doesn't depart from Paris. I guess I have to buy long pants and closed shoes from somewhere for hitching.

9. september - Mari Liis Barcelona

Ei teagi, millest alustada. Kui üleeile õhtul Barcelonasse jõudsin, tuli Juan mulle rongipeatusesse vastu. Jube hea oli kedagi Lissaboni aegadest uuesti näha. Siis jalutasime tema juurde. Juan elab täpselt vanalinna südames, kuuendal korrusel (ilma liftita) ja tal on armas terrass. Sain täitsa oma toa suure voodiga, kuna ta korterikaaslane on Saksamaal. Jei! Kui olin oma asjad kotist välja tõmmanud ja riideid vahetanud, läksime välja, et väikese dringi kõrvale juttu puhuda. Hispaanlased, vähemalt siin Barcelonas, on väljakuinimesed. Lissabonis koguneti Bairro Alto tänavatele, Barcelonas kogunetakse väljakutele.

Hetkel on käsil teine päev intensiivset turisti mängimist Barcelonas. Eile avastasin vanalinna - oh, kuidas ma armastan neid kitsaid tänavaid kõrgete majade vahel ja tuhandeid väikeseid poekesi ja kohvikuid! Ja need kirikud ja katedraalid, paleed ja turuhooned ja väljakud ja pargid! Jalutasin umbes 4 tundi vanalinnas ringi, siis tulin korterisse jalga puhkama ja paari tunni pärast läksin uuesti teises suunas. Siis tulin rampväsinuna tagasi ja tegin väikese uinaku. Õhtul sõime Juaniga pitsat ja vaatasime "Adjustment bureau"-d. Öösel eriti magada ei saanud, mingid eriti vihased väikesed putukad kiusasid.

Täna avastan Montjuici, jälle väga palju üles-alla käimist. Hetkel teen esimest hingetõmbepausi (pärast 3 ja poolt tundi). Muudkui annan jalgadele valu ja nüüd avastasin, et - kus mul kiiret? Mul on siin ju veel nädal aega, enne kui Pariisi lendan. Natuke nukker on omapäi - oleks tore kellegagi muljetada neid imelisi kohti külastades. Aga tunnid mööduvad vaikides. Enne, kindluse juures, kui korraks istusin, küsis üks pilusilm-noormees, et kas võib minust pilti teha. Mõtlesin, et oh veider, aga olgu peale. Ja siis teine tegi ka pilti.

Ma puhkasin ennist jalga täiesti vales kohas. Kui sealt lahkusin, jälitas mind läbi pargi mingi mees. Kiirendasin sammu ja ta jõudis minuga kohakuti pargi ääres. Näitas näppudega "seks" ja häälitses veidralt. VÄRD! Ma tahtsin "Fuck off!" karjuda, aga ei teinud seda, sest ta oleks võinud valesti aru saada. Tormasin minema, kuuldes kuidas ta seal edasi häälitseb. Olin nii tülgastunud sellest, et pidin peaaegu nutma puhkema. Kõndisin edasi, mõeldes kui labased on mehed ja kahetsedes veel rohkem, et üksi reisin. Nüüd istun Rahvuskunsti muuseumi juures ja kuulan tänavamuusiku imelisi viise. Rahustav on. Tülgastus on peaaegu lahtunud ja maailm jälle ilus paik.

Broneerisin eile järgmise lennu. Veel ei ütle, kuhu, aga vahepeal pean hääletama, sest see pole Pariisist. Pean vist natuke ostlema millalgi, et hääletamiseks pikad püksid soetada ja kinnised papud.

7th of September - Run, free child, run!

When I finally got myself together yesterday and decided to leave the house, Papa explained to me in clear catalan how to get to the train station. So lovely of him. So I went and on the train, the ticket-guy didn’t even notice me, so I got a free ride. Oh, Girona is so lovely! Not too big, not too small. I took a walk on the town wall and enjoyed it so much. I also went and kissed that certain ass of that lioness to be sure to return one day. The jewish district was impressive, too. Why not move to Girona? It is conveniently a ryanair flight distance from Estonia.

In the evening while cooking I found out why Ruso is using couchsurfing. Yeah, as a dating site. That is why he told me he doesn’t host just one-nighters. I said, sorry dude, this is weird for me and he was civilized enough to accept my „no“. The evening was ok, but now that he is at work again I just HAVE to escape. But Papa is out here again. How will I go now with my big backpack when he knows that I should stay some more days?

Papa came to chat again. He spent eternity to explain that if I need anything I should just come and ask him. Then another eternity he used to make sure that I have eaten and that I know where the eggs are. The third eternity he stressed that a week in Barcelona is way too much, three days is quite enough and I should stay with them for more, that he likes it when I’m there. I think he was worried that his 30 year old son hasn’t got a family yet.

Why do you torture me? Don’t you see how uncomfortable I feel when you try to speak with me? I almost burst into tears in the toilet because of one of his another tries to chat with me. The time went by, the trains kept leaving for Barcelona, but the Papa was still there, didn’t even go outside anymore. Just to bring me a watermelon and other goodies. How can I just pick up my bag now and leave? Ok then, I will wait for Ruso and explain to him why I need to go.

It was already seven o’clock and we were still sitting in awkward silence with Paps. Then something in me made me pick up my bag and say „Yo… para Barcelona ahora“ He was quite surprised, but gave me a ride to the station. Damn. I left Ruso a little note why I felt it to be necessary for me to leave. The train ticket was 7.90 and I am sooo short on money. At least I am at Juan’s now and don’t need to worry about sleeping at some stranger’s place for a while. Maybe by one week I have regained my faith in couchsurfing.

7. september - Põgene, vaba laps

Kui ma eile viimaks julguse kokku võtsin ja otsustasin lahkuda, seletas Papa mulle puhtas katalani keeles, kuidas rongijaama minna. Väga armas temast. Ma siis läksin, rongi peal piletikontrolör ei märganudki mind ja sõitsin tasuta Gironasse. Ah, Girona on nii armas! Just paraja suurusega, mitte liiga väike, mitte liiga suur. Jalutasin linnamüüril ja lihtsalt nautisin. Käisin musitasin seda lõvi tagumikku ka, et kunagi siia armsasse kohta tagasi tulla. Juudi kvartal oli ka väga muljetavaldav. Miks mitte siia kolida? Eesti oleks ka vaid umbes 3-tunnise ryanair lennu kaugusel.

Õhtul, kui Rusoga koos süüa tegime, selgus mis põhjusel ta Couchsurfingut kasutab. Mnjah, kohtamisportaalina. Ah sellepärast ta nõudiski, et jääksin rohkem kui üheks ööks. Ütlesin, et sorri duud, minu jaoks on see asi veider ja palusin lõpetada. Õnneks ta oli tsiviliseeritud tüüp ja nõustus, ülejäänud õhtu möödus rahulikult. Praegu on ta tööl ja ma lihtsalt pean põgenema enne kui ta tagasi tuleb. Aga Papa on taas hoovi peal. Kuidas ma niimoodi lähen oma suure kotiga, kui tema arvates peaksin ma veel mõneks päevaks jääma?

Papa käis jälle jutustamas. Terve igaviku seletas, et kui ma midagi vajan, siis ma ainult tulgu ja küsigu. Siis teise igaviku, et kas ma ikka söönud olen ja et munad on endiselt samas kohas akna taga. Ja kolmanda igaviku seletas ta, et nädal aega Barcelonas on liiga palju, kolmest piisab. Et jäägu ma ikka siia, talle väga meeldib, kui siin olen. Arvan, et ta on mures, et tema 30-aastane poeg ikka veel abielus pole.

Miks sa mind piinad? Kuidas sa ei näe, kuivõrd imelikult ma end tunnen, kui sa minuga jutustada üritad? Pidin WC-s peaaegu nutma puhkema Papa järjekordse vestlustunni tõttu. Aeg muudkui läks, rongid Barcelonasse muudkui läksid, aga Papa ei läinud enam isegi õue. Ainult korraks, et mulle arbuusi ja muid aiasaaduseid tuua. Kuidas ma nüüd lihtsalt koti selga võtan ja hastalavista ütlen? Olen vangis. Olgu, ma siis ootan Ruso ära ja seletan talle, miks nimelt ma pean täna lahkuma.

Kell sai seitse ja vahtisime Papaga endiselt tõtt. Miski mu sees lihtsalt sundis mind haarama oma ammu pakitud koti järele ja lausuma „Yo…. para Barcelona ahora“ Üllatunud Papa viskas mind muidugi rongijaama. Damn. Jätsin Rusole väikese kirjakese, et tundsin end ebamugavalt ja pidin lahkuma. Rongipilet maksis 7.90 ja rahaga on niii kitsas. Aga vähemalt olen nüüd Juani juures ja ei pea mõnda aega võõraste inimeste juures magama. Nädala ajaga ehk taastub minu usk couchsurfingusse.

6th of September - The Paps

It’s morning. New place. Some owl is cokooing in the chimney so I can’t sleep. I am somewhere in the middle of nowhere, here are sheep and chicken and who knows what other animals. The guy himself went to work in the morning while I was pretending to be still asleep. Now I have taken a shower and I’m thinking of hitching to Girona or something like that, but someone came by to take care of the animals so now I’m afraid to go outside. Yeah, I’m that kind of a coward. Maybe this person will come inside at one point? But maybe he will just leave?

Now it has happened. „Papa“ came inside.

„Hola! No ablo espanhol!“ I said quickly and pretended to be busy with my backpack, but somehow it still happened that I had to chat with him. It might have lasted for 5 minutes, it probably did, but it felt like forever. It was so awkward! I felt so ashamed that I could not answer to anything he said. Finally he gave in when we had introduced our names, spoke a little about Estonia and about my travel and whether I had breakfast. He pointed out where I can find some eggs. Then he went. Now I am waiting 15 minutes to be sure he is really gone.

About an hour later. He is probably not leaving after all. I guess I have to pass him anyways. But I can’t go when he is doing something right in front of the door and it is impossible to avoid conversation! It is a farm, there’s always something to do!

6. september - Papa

Hommik. Võõras koht. Mingi kull uhuub korstnas, ei saa magada. Olen kuskil pärapõrgus, siin on lambad ja kanad ja kes teab, mis loomad veel. Tüüp ise läks hommikul tööle, teesklesin, et magan. Nüüd käisin pesemas ja mõtlesin, et hääletan Gironasse või midagi sellist, aga keegi tuli loomadega tegelema ja nüüd ma ei julge hoovi peale minna. Vot selline argpüks olengi. Võib-olla see inimene tuleb mingi hetk sisse? Aga ehk ta läheb varsti lihtsalt minema?

No ja see juhtuski. „Papa“ tuli tuppa.

„Hola! No ablo espanhol!“ ruttasin ütlema, aga kuidagi juhtus ikka nii, et olin sunnitud temaga juttu ajama. See võis olla 5 minutit, ilmselt oligi, aga tundus nagu igavik. Hirmus häbi oli, et ei osanud millelegi midagi vastata. Lõpuks andis ta alla, kui olime tutvunud, rääkinud natuke Eestist ja sellest, kui kauaks ma Hispaaniasse jään ja sellest, kas olen hommikust söönud. Papa näitas mulle, kust kanamune saan. Siis ta läks. Nüüd ma ootan igaks juhuks veel 15 minutit, et kindel olla, et ta ikka tõesti läinud on.

Tund aega hiljem. Aga ta vist ei lähegi. Pean vist lihtsalt ise minema. Ma ei saa ju minna, kui ta askeldab täpselt ukse taga? Ja see on farm, siin ei saa iial tööd otsa!