I overlooked a great tidbit of information about Estonian politicians when writing my previous post about Estonia.
Estonian politicians played crazy.
Where does the time go? I’ve been cruising down Eastern Europe these past six weeks in a trip that was both dreamt of for many years, and spontaneously executed. It even has a title: From the Balkans to Baltics and Back. And as I crossed the Bosphorus and landed on the Anatolian shore of Istanbul, this dream trip came to an end.
So I borrowed this post’s title from one of my favourite Bob Dylan songs, and one of the best Quebecois idioms. Not that it really applies much to what will follow. I wasn’t cursing when I arrived in Tallinn, though it was pouring rain and I got drenched the moment I got off the pier. I didn’t get stoned either in Estonia, nor did I find Tallinn to be backwards like, you know, something from the Stone Age. (Ok,that was forcing it).
Like I said, it was raining pretty hard when I got off the ferry from Helsinki. It was wet, cold and grey. I was thrilled! This is what I thought my first visit to the Baltic’s should be like. A miserable chill to the atmosphere, suffering. Suffering, but not in vain. This is what freedom earned through perseverance, non-violence, and endured captivity must look like.