Side-notes: While I’d like to post often, and with significance, it’s not hard for something meaningful to happen everyday that allows my perception of this place to unravel. I’m trying my best not to formulate any concrete opinions any time soon. Please know that when and if I say “they” or comment about a particular “people”, it is a total generalization. And I don’t really like generalizations. My apologies if anything comes off as offensive.
If you know me, you know that a tree or cool cloud in the sky could make me happy for a week. If you know me, you know that it doesn’t take much to leave me in awe – my mouth dropped during my entire run though Kadriorg Park (see below) this morning, and it wasn’t because I was short of breath. If you know me, you know I don’t do well with options and I often feel guilty for receiving things – whether it’s free or $1.50.
I had my first meeting with my supervisor on Sunday; we talked about the community – its’ history, economics, politics and how past movements, specifically Russification, have effected everyday Estonian Jewish and secular life. I could go into detail, but basically I’d just be giving you a history lesson and telling you how much I enjoy learning about outside regimes and their effects on society.
What hit me the most was a story he told about his father as a kid in Bulgaria: He told me that when his dad used to go to synagogue, they would write down his name when he entered the building. His name was given to his school, and they often pulled him out and asked, “Why did you go to synagogue? Why do you feel you need this? You’re a good student, and we like you at this school, so please do us a favor and don’t go.”
Names of Estonian Jews lost in WW2 ‘Judenfrei’
Tears welled up in my eyes. Can you imagine? Being pulled out of school and being questioned about why you attended synagogue over the weekend. Can you imagine? He further explained “the lost generation”, a generation of Jews who lived under Soviet oppression, where religion became “a bad thing”, leaving Jews completely disconnected to their religion. The lost generation sits between an older generation who remembers Jewish traditions and a younger generation who goes to Jewish Day School and is active in the community. The older making sure the younger is involved, carrying forth their memories of Judaism. The middle, “lost” generation, don’t have these memories at all.
My stomach in knots, feeling something I’ve felt often, but not this intense. Beyond the desire to go back in time and change the past, I knew this feeling.
This is where Jewish Guilt (JG) comes in, and it never ceases to make an appearance in my life. As a kid growing up in Plano, Texas, I knew Plano wasn’t “normal”. Something like, “little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky, and they all look just the same…” to quote the Weeds theme song. And these boxes are starter mansions, and this ticky tacky is made from gold. Plano is one of the wealthiest and safest suburbs in America; it’s safe to assume my JG was born here, and in a sick way, I always yearned for struggle. I knew life wasn’t supposed to be as easy as it was in Plano. I went to school safely, shul safely, and never had any problems being Jewish for the most part.
My memories are not only good, but they EXIST.
Just a short 20-years ago under Soviet rule, life was much worse here. I think almost anyone (generalization) will attest to that. While you’ll be able to see some physical effects of the Soviet expansion in architecture, the mental and emotional effects are a bit more subtle, but I can feel them. “Anything is better than before”, I keep hearing from locals. Their refreshing modesty tells me they’re thankful for their independence – they have their Estonia back.
Soviet stars on upper corners (look closely)
While I knew life could be worse in Plano as a kid, kids in Estonia had no idea life could be better. I think, for the most part, this is why I connect here. I’m in a space where people aren’t constantly yearning for more, for bigger, for better. They seem (a novel opinion) to be content, stable, and strong. And very grateful.
My time at work:
- Friday was my first visit to the JCC, and it started with the president shaking my hand and saying, “I like you” in Russian. Totally mutual, of course. I’d say it was a great first start.
- Sunday was spent meeting some of the “madrichim”, or youth leaders, of the Jewish Community. First impression: very cool, funky, hip young adults. They seemed happy to be there (not forced in any way), and I felt they had a strong connection and responsibility to their Jewish community.
- Today was my first “real day”, and while some things got lost in Russian translation from 2 to 5pm, I know it started with high-fives from the youth leaders and left with new phone numbers and new FB friends.The people that make up this community make my heart sing. And if I’m not mistaken, I am to do what makes my heart sing – and boy, is it singing 🙂
I know I’m very much so in a “novel” phase, but I have walked throughout this city for hours upon hours, and I can’t stop throwing my hands up in air and saying, “OMG! Are you kidding me?” Do I really live in this extraordinary city? Did I really receive this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to live outside the states for a year? In Eastern Europe? And these people, oh these people. They are special. I can’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful with a dash of JG.
On a lighter note: I got a soccer ball; 
I can feel the tram running beneath me in my apartment and I love it; I start Russian lessons this weekend!
Spasiba (Russian), aitah (Estonian), thank you (English) for reading!
Much love,
Jenstonia – grateful, in awe, and a bit guilty
:: jenstonia :: 