The Baltic States

I am now in Lithuania and Latvia is becoming a blur so I better blurt some stuff out before I travel too far into time to get back to where I came from. Kristine, ah, where do I start. I have been going with the motions of my gut. Let me start there. When my gut makes a motion, I listen to it. More often then not it lurches in a passionate whirl and I twirl on behind it. So far, I have ended up in the right places at the right times because of it. I decided to stay with Kristine for a night for no real reason. I had another couchsurfer that was closer to the center of Riga and more of a match to the type of people and personalities that I have been trying to stay with but for some reason I thought it would be nice to break it up between a few people and start at her place for a night or two. The last time I wrote I was sitting in her sky high, run down, cat piss smelling, apartment building. It was one of a fifty or so in an area outside of the city. Unfortunately, the only true descriptive words that ring appropriately in my mind are "Russian Latvian white trash with a little alternative buzzing on top" . She was more then kind but in an aggressive and comparative sort of way. I would talk about my travels and she would some how measure them against hers. The conversations didn't go far because one, I didn't care to compare at all, and two, she finally realized that she couldn't really measure up. I walk away knowing that she will now try traveling on her own, which excites me to be sending woman out into the world with a new sense of strength and will. WE CAN TRAVEL ALONE AND WE CAN DO IT IN WHATEVER FORM WE WISH WITH OUR THUMBS OR OTHERWISE AND YES THERE ARE STORIES AND YES THERE ARE DANGERS BUT WE CAN JUST AS ANY MAN. That soapbox serenade has been waiting to be sung.

As the conversations progressed we did find common grounds. We both feel the same about smoking cigarettes: you are not a smoker until you think to yourself you need a cigarette or until you buy your own. We will never buy our own and we will never need to have one therefore we are not smokers no matter how many we may or may not smoke. There you have it, common grounds. The sleeping arrangement wasn't a problem, I was perfectly fine with sleeping on the floor, I have a sleeping bag and it was fine. The party was a little weird. Being the weekend, her boyfriend, Sergei, who also lived in the apartment, Kristine, and later her roommate, had friends over to drink the regions beverage of choice....vodka. Kristine and I drank a few of these sweet port/coke concoctions and I decided to go to bed because I have no interest in getting drunk and feeling like a can't cope with the situations I put myself in. I was awoken several times by some weird guy who couldn't blurt out anything sensible in neither Russian or English but his message was fairly easy to grasp. I ignored him. I was so ready for morning to come and as it came they continued to decline in mental capacities. They finally went to bed as the sun came up. Unfortunately for me, it didn't stay up long and it started to pour. So, I felt mildly trapped in a room with surround sound of the bumping and howling from the room separated by paper thin walls. As the climax became deafeningly nearer I couldn't stand it any longer and booked it. "I am going out, I don't know if I am coming back...I may stay in the city!" Kristine unpasted her still drunkenly glued eyelid and wished me well.

So why that I thought? Everything happens for a reason, and generally things have been happening to me to impact me in good ways. What could I possibly get out of this situation? Well, amidst our conversations, a small paragraph was devoted to a certain boat hopping opportunity......and that I will reveal to you as time reveals it to me.

As for the rest of my time in Latvia, I met up with Reinis a 19 year-old kid who completely rocked my little Riga world! He was into good music, he had nice friends, and a nice girlfriend. He lived with his mom who was awesome. He was friendly and wanted to spend time with me and was proud to show me around and let me into his life for a few days. He first took me to Andre's Port which is basically a series of abandoned building near the bank of the river that runs through Riga where all of the alternative youth of the city hang out, drink, listen to music, and go wild. Over the hours we collected a unique but worthy crew and toured the streets, stopped to make food, etc. Back at Reinis' house, I shared a king size bed with him and Skakri, my new found friend. I am to Skakri as Maude is to Harold. If that makes any sense at all. We spent the entire night taking turns holding in bursts of laughter at how funny the whole thing seemed to be and excusing each others belly rumbles. It was an international sleepover. The three of us and two Lithuanian travelers we picked up, who also slept at the house only in another room, went to the sea and joined up with another handful of people. We spent the day at the beach, in the forest, and admiring one Latvian girl getting over her head in the bottle of bourbon. So the Lithuanians took her home never again to be seen and Reinis, Skakri, and I formed a new troop which continued late into the night at this guy Andre's house. We sang and danced and then walked back home late in the evening.

Two silent Latvians, one Polish truck driver, and a girl named Kata later.......Lithuania. I have been here for a few days now and am enjoying my time with Justina/Bacila. Tonight, she will take me to the theatre.

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.

And the Estonian Army was on her side.

I am not in the middle of no where. I am in the middle of Estonia. The past few days have been crazy good. I have decided that it is nice going to countries that no one really knows much about because there are no expectations in what you have to see etc. My first afternoon in Tallinn was great. I wandered the streets of the city center with three young Finnish guys (who were on there way to Germany to buy a car because it is so much cheaper) and had a great little picnic in this park. After they took off to catch their flight I met up with Angelo, a guy that I met over couchsurfing, for a drink. For those of you who are somewhat literate in the running of couchsurfing it is somewhat common that the person that you are hoping to stay with isn't available to host you but wouldn't mind meeting up for coffee or whatever. I have debated over and over "what is the point"? but now I have the answer. The point is you meet the most bad ass Italian that just so happens to be incredibly plugged into the music scene in Italy and is in charge of putting on week long festivals etc. That is why you agree to meet up for a drink.

Martin turned out to be a dream boat with icing on top. I have found that the "connecting" part of the whole couchsurfing deal can sometime be the hardest part, especially when you are like me and don't have a mobile like every other human being on the planet. What do they look like? Where is the easiest place to meet? What happens if plans slightly go awry? Well, with Martin it was as though we were destined to meet. For some reason, within the hotel, I feel like even if I didn't have a noticeable bag with me we would have spotted each other with the same broad smiles that we did when we saw each other. It was automatic chemistry as we glided down the street towards Martin's flat attempting to walk as fast as he was talking. Crazy bastard. The nerves he had. He talked as though his very breath could be stolen from him at any moment and although an avid smoker I dare say he barely had a successful inhalation without chasing the smoke away with some new found idea to blurt out. It was love at first sight. It is also official: I consistently meet the pregnant women and the gays of the world. If only I could bring them all together under one roof.....camaraderie for future mothers and lovers for all the lovely boys I have come across.

I couldn't speak more highly of Martin, in fact, I wish it was possible to make a mini-martin-travel-companion. You know, the kind that I can stick in my pocket and take out in those most desperate times? Martin's flat was previously shared with Francesco, yet another Italian, and although I didn't have the pleasure of meeting him, I did have the pleasure of reading the kitchen walls and all that the ladies who "met" him had to say about there experiences. I am under the impression that he was a full fledged Exhibit A Italian. I can't really describe the feeling that I had while in that flat but it seemed familiar. It had a very old world, dingy feel, with writings on the walls, and although basically empty it echoed of parties and wild nights. The light affected the air in a static sort of way. Always somewhat lit but basically shadowed no matter what time of day. As you walked barefoot through the halls and rooms the cities sounds came in through the open windows and I felt as though I should have been in a white t-shirt and underwear with some sort of beverage in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I will miss it there and who knows, maybe I will be back someday when the assistant needs an assistant.

Last night Martin took me on a date to the movies. Basically, we saw the worst movie ever and the best possible choice for both of our brains and hearts......Prom Night? So terrible, but so perfect? We met Alo or "the lady of the house. He was straight out of the bird cage minus the clogs but with an umbrella in hand. Love love love love.

Martin and I said our goodbyes and I hit the road this afternoon. It didn't take me but five minutes before I got picked up and I am pleased to say that if I ever find myself in any sort of trouble I can call Captain Viktor Lillepruun of the Estonian Army to bail me out. Not only did he buy me lunch at this really great little roadside attraction but I watched them catch the fish that I ate! So crazy. After two or so hours of driving I am now in Tartu waiting to meet up with one of Martin's friends from way back when. She will put me up for a night or so and then....Latvia?

Finnish friends conversing naked in a sauna

So, I know it has been a long time but sometimes things are better left unwritten. I have just left Finland and am being blown away, literally, in Estonia. More on that later...

The day I reached Helsinki I met up with this guy Jukka whom I had arranged to stay with through couchsurfing. To turn a very long story of events into a short one.....he was not the best representation of the Finnish population so I was happy to sneak out of his small studio apartment early in the morning while he was still sleeping and move onto my next host.

Elina was one of the most incredible women I have met so far and on that note one of the first women that I have had the pleasure of spending time with. I hadn't realized until I sat down with her in her cozy apartment drinking tea at the table going through the introductions how good it felt to just sit with another woman and talk about the world. There is something that happens that just doesn't exist when you are constantly in situations with men. There is a new dimension of freedom and release. For that, I extend a huge thank to Elina. You have given me a sense of warmth that I will take with me for the rest of my journey.

Most of my time was spent walking the streets of Helsinki admiring the architecture (while sometimes listening to Architecture in Helsinki) and enjoying the sun with the rest of those who resided within the city near the sea. I walked daily through the market picking the best looking apple and banana I could find to help me through the day. I spent hours listening to the local talent that came to the Espa to play, gawked at ladies flashing their bums in the Samba Parade, and partook in cheering on the most Finnish Football Tournament around.....not really. A gang of Elina's friends annually get together and play a game of football. Whichever team makes it to ten wins. Whenever you make a goal, you drink a beer. We came to speculate right around the time when the score was 9 to 9. So, you can imagine what a state the players were in. Pure entertainment.

I am proud to say that after the football tournament I stripped all of my fears away and got naked with all of my newly found Finnish friends to join them in the sauna, one of Finland's well known traditions. I am not so proud to say that it is very hard for me to converse with people when most of them previously saw me with no clothes on. Aw well, I never thought that modesty was in my nature but deep down it must be.

With all of the barbeque's, events, boating, etc. I have not had the chance to write.....today I am enjoying the company of three Fins in Estonia and tonight I will be meeting up with Angelo, another Italian (I dont know why they keep showing up in my life, I haven't even made it to Italy yet!), for a drink and Martin, my Estonian host.....who knows what will happen?

All is well in the world.

Fist in the air from all the way in Finland

Helsinki is good but it is better knowing that Obama just accepted the democratic nomination.

Waking Italian Blood

So there is that person that you see from a distance. You know the one. Everything they do, even though you may not be able to hear what they are saying, makes you think to yourself, "Oh dear God, I am so glad Iam not that person". They move and interact with people in an awkward way, they are more likely than not wearing some article of clothing that you nor anyone else you know would be caught dead in, and at times like these, waiting in line times, getting onto a 15 hour long ferry ride times, somwhere deep down in the smallest rift of your brain with only the teeniest bit of an echo you say "I really hope I am not sharing a cabin with that person".

Tisk tisk, my friend. You are done for. I don't care what kind of kharma you have, you said those unspeakable, unforgivable words and life is going to make a lesson out of it. Eva was her name and she was the last person I wanted to converse with in a small room, under water, in the middle of a body of water just big enough that I didn't want to swim to either side. I think upper-middle-aged is an appropriate title for Eva. Did I mention she was Canadian? Which made it so much worse because up until then I had really liked the idea of liking all Canadians. The point is it was a big flipping boat that I was on from Stockholm to Helsinki and everywhere I turned she was there with her little big camera wanting me to take her picture while she tossed her head back and flipped her heal to the sky. She also told me all about her provisions and her packing strategies and her.......you get the picture. Not only did I get the life lesson that should only be learned once (never speak too loudly or clearly about what you dont want no matter how small the rift in your brain is) I got it twice when the next woman walked in. She was a big, burly, Finnish woman who had the most rank odor and indescribable gypsy hippsy smock on.

Luckily for me, the big boat also coordinated multiple run ins with my new Italian friends, Andrea (the boy kind) and Federico. (p.s. if you say there names in an Italian accent they become as cute as they were in real life). The three of us turned a nightmare party boat (which consisted of really old people getting drunk to cheesy country rock swingish music and really young people pretending to be old) into a damn good time. We ate, we drank, we danced, we laughed, we talked in Spanish and English and Italian with a little bit of Swedish on top, and I am pleased to say I now have friends in Italy. According to Andrea, there are two types of Italians. Exhibit A: The cream of the crop. He is cute and he knows it and he puts a little smile with white teeth in between words with little woopdydoo sounds. He gives the girls the looks no matter how legal they may or may not be (as long as their parents are not within sight) and he says nice things about nice things that makes them out to be incredible.
Exhibit B: He makes friends with Exhibit A and spends most of his time painting graffiti onto unmarked territories. His smile is equally as inviting but hidden behind thick locks of Italian hair and at the end of the day he would prefer to pretend he is twice as shy as he really is so that he can laugh, dance, drink, and have a good time without feeling like he has to get the girl at the end of the night.

So, I kissed a boy is that so terrible? Everyone is doing it and how often am I going to have the chance to kiss an Italian with whom I have been speaking Spanish with after leaving Sweden on a Finnish boat. I think after some careful thought we can all say never.

p.s. For those of you who know me, I dont need to say which exhibit I am more interested in. I should also mention, after all of that, Iam not so interested in Italians.

motion [moh-shuh n]

1.the action or process of moving or of changing place or position; movement.
2.power of movement, as of a living body.
3.the manner of moving the body in walking; gait.
4.a bodily movement or change of posture; gesture.
5.a proposal formally made to a deliberative assembly: to make a motion to adjourn.
6.Law. an application made to a court or judge for an order, ruling, or the like.
7.a suggestion or proposal.
8.an inward prompting or impulse; inclination: He will go only of his own motion.
9.Music. melodic progression, as the change of a voice part from one pitch to another.
10.Machinery.
a.a piece of mechanism with a particular action or function.
b.the action of such a mechanism. –verb (used with object)
11.to direct by a significant motion or gesture, as with the hand: to motion a person to a seat. –verb (used without object)
12.to make a meaningful motion, as with the hand; gesture; signal: to motion to someone to come. —Idioms
13.go through the motions, to do something halfheartedly, routinely, or as a formality or façade.
14.in motion, in active operation; moving: The train was already in motion when he tried to board it.

I am not quite sure what it is. I just can't place it. Sometimes I think about it more often then not but I am pretty sure it is the ocean. The motion of the ocean stirs something within me that I am not used to. I once had a friend who skipped a breath at the sight of a moth. They said that a moth flying towards the light, with its wings too fragile to withstand it, but its heart too lustful to resist it, was how they felt about the world. I never quite understood how someone could become so moved by a moth but then I recognize the stillness in me and the breath that is taken when I look out to the sea. There is an unrest that only the undertoes can realate to. Smooth as slate the water can be but it will never deny the slightest ripple to burrow within its calm. I have felt a feeling of content here in Dalarö that I havent felt for a long time but one look at where stillness meets motion and I cant deny the urge to move on. Today, Anna, Felicia, and myself spent time on an island only a ferry ride away, absorbing all the sun was willing to give and being reminded of it by the redness in our cheeks. There is nothing like a day with the girls. I think Patrick Swayze and Wesley Snipes spoke of it best. Sure they were drag queens, but even they could rustle the feathers of any woman at the mention of a day with the girls. We ate and laughed equally enough that at the end of the day I am not sure why my stomach hurts more. Felicia ran and I ran with her and we giggled in our own languages but still were able to understand that it was all about the fun and nothing at all about the talk. We blew dandelion kites into our faces and smelled lilacs and examined bugs and bunnies. The girls will be missed and I cant help but hope that one day, say when Felicia is 20 or so, she comes and visits wherever I may be in the world on her own great adventure.

Last night the paddlers reconviended in Nacka for a meal to die for. The pastries I baked were good but not nearly as good as the company. They also disapeared quickly while the conversations lasted for hours. Due to recently developed car troubles we went by boat...........skipping from land mass to land mass by stretches of water is the most incredible means of transportation I have come across and I am sad to leave it behind. The next boat I catch will be to Finland and the journey is in motion once again.

Here's to the girls, to the sweet Swedish boys, to the not too sweet not so Swedish boy, and to the sea.