Coffee in the morning.

Filtering. For whose sake? Your mothers' of course. I know that it is a normal feeling that we all go through; this feeling of needing to protect our parents and loved ones from the less illuminated faces of our own realities but I don't often let it wear me down. Not only is my mother an adult but she is the adult that has actively participated in who I am today. I think it also appropriate to say that the term mother extends to grandmothers and brothers and those people in our lives that bring it upon themselves to worry about us. But, back to my mother. I very seldom feel that there are things that she shouldn't know about the activities that I partake in. I find that many, and my friend Patrick is the perfect example in my mind right now, really believe that their parents would love them less if they knew more. I mean it is one thing if you are a addicted to drugs and you are not ready to reveal how truly swallowed you have become in the lifestyle you have shaped for yourself, but it is another if you hop trains and that is how your heart pumps and your mind goes wild. Yes, it is dangerous, and yes there are risks, but at the end of the day. She will love you.

I have decided that filtering my journey is unnecessary. Of course there are the intimate details and emotions that I could never even try to put into words but I am talking about the doings and the seeings.

What am I getting at? My mom and I spoke for the first time in a few weeks and she asked if I have been hitch hiking. I am not going to lie for her sake and now that it is out on the table I can write more about my days......

Tartu has been good to me and so has Margit. We met in the center near a fountain of two kissing students under and umbrella. I would have taken a proper picture but for some reason the image affected me in a way that I wanted to keep it for myself. We walked towards home up the hills away from the center and through green wooden doors that led into her apartment. It was once occupied by her grandparents who have since passed away and while it's old age is apparent she has been living there for a few years and slowly but surely giving it life once again. Sure, the new mentalities of a modern kitchen have not yet been applied but the bones of the apartment are strong and sturdy. The ceilings are high with lots of room for imagination, the floors are spacious with a collection of furniture eliminating the possibility of any wallflowers. The old tiled wood burning furnace towers over you in the corner and despite the fact that it is shedding it's ceramics right in front of your eyes it still manages to provide warmth in the winter. A collection of old granny cups and saucers and a wide array of crafty temptations are always within reach. Margit, a woman of humble grace and standing beauty looked as though she were made to add warmth to the dwelling just as the wood stove was. She is to the home as I am to the wind but in our own private moments we shared secrets of our world and whispered of the longings for the others familiarity in their own ways.

Two women side by side, hips swaying unabashedly, one retracing the black lines on a map known her entire life and the other happy to be adding fresh trails to her journey. We spent most of our times walking and telling tales, on one occasion we went to all of Margit's favorite bars, and we even got some quality movie watching time in. FYI Single White Female.....worst movie for a girl looking for a roommate to watch.

I left Tartu and Margit early today with a big hug and a quite internal yelp Am I really in Estonia right now? I often times find myself laughing out loud. I am traveling the world and sometimes that fact is too grand not to tickle my insides.

My first ride today was a short one but well worth it. Old Aldo dropped me off and two minutes later two Latvian guys who had been working in Tartu were headed right to Riga. Simon and Simon treated me as an invisible object only in sight by the rear view mirror once we found that there was not common language spoken between the collective 8 languages we knew. That was until Simon asked me where I was from and I replied. Simon looked to Simon and the only words that I could pick out were George Bush. That conversation didn't last long which didn't bother me one bit.....I have heard it many times before. I was conveniently dropped off at an intersection directly across from the apartment in Riga that I am now staying at. Kristine, my new found friend in Latvia, and I are hitting it off so far and I am excited to see what the night brings.