I have to admit I’ve been avoiding this subject for quite some time now. But not anymore. It’s possibly an end of an era. Age of writing in English, showing some respect towards foreigners perhaps?… And those constant Estonian people who invented "Estonglish", thinking that some expressions sound absolutely better in English. Like saying I love you, for example.
The other day I started thinking about the things I so truly miss. A friend of mine who spontaneously moved from Belgium to Tallinn once said that the main reason behind the change lied in the fact that you can find unexampled peace in Estonia. And it’s true. You can’t see anything like that in here. Yesterday a bartender told me that Belgium’s only hope for nature is in Ardennes. And I’ve been to Ardennes… Belgium, you can do better than that!
Besides the fact that I haven’t seen the sea for one too many months (excuse me, it is a huge deal for an Estonian!), I haven’t had any opportunity to enjoy the long craved “South-Europe's” (it is south to me) sun in a proper way where I can literally rip off my clothes avoiding the tan of an alcoholic (it’s an expression in Estonia when drunk guys fall asleep with their shirts on and later wake up, imaginary sleeves and collar made by tan on them, forever!!!). Right now the only way getting my body summer glow ready is to go into a bar, grab a beer and chill on a terrace. Apparently it works just as much.
Yes. Hemingway was probably right when he claimed that in every port in the world, at least two Estonians can be found. And it's not about the fact that we love working in ports. More like unconditional love towards the sea...
Moving on from the tears of a patriot and her melancholy talk about mother earth, I really missed my Ann. It’s a feeling you realize you have had when she’s finally here and you’re laughing your asses off in Starbucks like classical white chicks, giving zero f*cks when people turn heads to see who the hell is disturbing their peace in such a cruel manner. Yes, she came, we laughed, drank some alcohol, probably smoke some illegal stuff, ate some weird cakes and went back home. Long story short - we can finally count our youth as a success!
I promised to write a book about my lost of cannabis virginity but I’m not that sure anymore. It’s like an old photo album, except this time you’re going through some extremely embarrassing yet ridiculously funny moments instead of decent family photos. Do I want to share those “photos"? Don’t think so.
I have to admit it felt bizarre walking around Amsterdam and seeing coffee shops on every possible corner. And they don't even sell coffee. We stood in front of one and just stared, trying to collect the courage to go inside and buy some … taboo. And if like all that shock isn’t enough... It's like the 80's topshop commercial where an unidentified older bald gentleman says: "This isn't it! If you call right now, you get the other pan for free!" Yes, they mix it up with some lovely ladies on the windows, who by the way weren’t that unlovely at all. Some of them were even pretty. It felt like I was in a zoo. Thousands of people wandering, looking while girls smiled back at them. Maybe it’s just me and my absolutely conservative thinking but I really tried to avoid that dirty eye contact. Comparison of looking someone while she’s peeing. I don’t want to look people while they’re peeing!!!
The long craved fun hides itself not only in the coffee shops or on the red light district but also in several fast food cafes and bars. It’s like Amsterdam is trying to rebel against all kinds of manners and that Instagram alike “life-style", avoiding the line between the bad and the good… and I have to admit, he’s great at it (to me, it’s a he!) Who the hell even knows what is right for us and what is not?
They say what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Well… I haven’t had the luxury to visit the city but meanwhile I can easily exchange our little Holland experience with Las Vegas and who knows… Maybe we even tattooed tiny cannabis leaves on our backs?
Today I ended up going to Starbucks. Again. Not the first time. Guy behind the counter had already pulled out my "usual" coffee frappuccino's cup, eager to write my name on it, when I suddenly said it is time to mix things up and order something else for a change. I asked him to suggest me something new. We did some tastings like I was in a fancy wine shop and when I finally made my choice, he told me that I look especially in a good mood today. Apparently he has always seen me as an angry foreigner. I started laughing over it and told him that I'm always in a good mood. He wrote down my name on the cup, without any mistakes, by heart and told that since this drink is free for me, we're going to make it venti.
I don't really know what's the deal here. Should I be pitiful since they see me as an angry person? Probably not. Because I'm not one. More like... The good mood fact isn't such a lie after all. I did buy my "back-home-tickets" today and in a couple of weeks I'll be in the Wonderland, zipping wine with my sweethearts and telling them about the "adventures" I had. Maybe my inner glow showed off after all and I really want to go back?
Yet... I don't want to leave this behind. What's the story here?
The knowledge that a month from now I will not see the Starbucks guy ever again, made me finally open my mouth and show off some Belgium way of communicating with strangers. Turns out I do learn while living.
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