The End-Stonia.

Where am I? Where have I been? Where am I going? These questions keep smacking me in the face when I look up, open my eyes, and shake my head in total disbelief that I am where I am…and where I’ve been is in the past.

I was in Estonia 3 weeks ago. I was crying my not-so-tiny heart out on my friend’s shoulders in Latvia on August 23^rd. I was in Dallas with my mom, my family, and friends not even 2 weeks ago. And here I am, September 15^th, a week and half into living in New York, one week of work under my belt, and gearing up to leave for Washington D.C. for my first work-related trip tomorrow.

Where am I?

At a Starbucks in the Upper West Side.

But really: In some sort of whirlwind. That’s’ for sure. The thing is… I know who I am and what I’m doing more than ever…those two align seamlessly. And yet, the people surrounding me make it all feel like home. So when I look up at the tiny Spanish bodegas on my street corner in Brooklyn, or hear Russian whiz past me as I stroll through Central Park…it just all feels right. Like it was meant to be. Or rather, I made it be.

And I’ve gathered that I am where I am – not because of where I’ve been, but what I’ve done with where I’ve been, what I’ve seen, what I’ve felt.

I refuse to speak of Estonia in the past-tense, I’m not quite ready to let Estonia go back there. I’m holding onto it, trying to keep the memories active and buzzing – the people within arms-length. Or Skype-reach. I can’t, yet, dig deep into the year and all that it has meant to me – I want to sum it up and say “it’s meant everything”, but it filled certain holes, specific places that needed filling. Places that have made me more me. I am more me.

I feel good.

My heart literally tightens at the thought of the beautiful, giving, and fantastically special people in the Baltics. Thinking of them can turn a 45-minute subway ride into 5-minutes. And yes, hearing Russian in public spaces could not give me more joy than a CLIF bar and a vanilla latte. That’s big joy.

Getting messages from my kids saying, “We miss you”, “We love you”, “Our meeting was not the same without you” – Yeah, that kills me. These kids who are across the ocean, touching Russia, a ferry-ride from Finland, these kids think of me? They have to know how much I think of them – holding back my love for them was never an issue.

And these thoughts, these images hit me differently. Most times I’m sad knowing they’re so far away…other times, I’m just so happy and grateful we keep in touch with one another. And that I was able to experience the magical year I wanted so badly – so badly. And I got it. I made it mine, and here I am.

At a Starbucks in the Upper West Side.

One week of work under my belt. Not just any ordinary week of work; meaningful work. Work that intertwines with what I believe in right now, and what I wish to see in the world – with people who care, with people who are on the exact same page as me. That makes me feel good.

I’m on some sort of cloud. Not sure if it’s cloud-nine; but it’s a cloud a little higher than the Brooklyn bridge – I can see Estonia, I can see Brooklyn, I can see Manhattan. Dallas, you’re there too. My co-worker shared a “Jewish saying”, that sometimes your head can be where you are, but your soul might be slowly trailing behind, taking its’ time to catch up with your body. I believe that. It’s happening. Currently. Like, right now.

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My soul is taking its’ time, and I’m not going to push it to go any faster.

Oh, but I have so many good stories of my first week in Brooklyn and Manhattan! I think, what I’ll do, is create another blog by the name of…

www.brookjenyc.wordpress.com

Where I start a fresh chapter/page/blog roll, accounting my stories of living in a place that is unlike any other place I’ve lived in – I’m talking way more culture shock than Kansas AND Estonia combined. This should be good. This should be interesting.

 Thank you SO much for following me on JENSTONIA the past year! Your readership, commentary, and presence has meant so much to me – and it will continue to as I navigate my next journey in Brooklyn and Manhattan.

Love to all,

Jenstonia – forever Jenstonia

The Power of Returning

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered” – Nelson Mandela, my South African homeboy.

I think of this phrase each time I return – to anywhere really. This time I was returning to Israel for the first time, meaning it was my second visit to the Land of Milk and Honey.

Last week, I went to Israel for the JDC JSC [Jewish Service Corps] Midyear seminar; all 25 fellows traveled from their placements (Buenos Aires, Haiti, Rwanda, etc.) and met in Jerusalem for 4-days of reflection, learning, and re-motivating for the last half of our placements – and all those things happened.

Before I go any further, you must know it’s absolutely abhorrent to believe it’s been 6 (or “midyear”) months since I’ve been in Estonia. Yeah, abhorrent, I said that. My next choice would have been heinous. I don’t even know what 6 months is supposed to feel like when jumping in and adapting to an entirely new country, new city, new working environment, new languages, new friends, etc. I will say, however, feeling-wise it seems as though I’ve been here for 6 years, work-wise, I’ve only just begun. Oh, 6 months, why don’t you come attached with a specific feeling?

Estonia still looks like this though —> 

Back to Israel: My first visit was with Birthright in 2010. I’m just gonna throw it out there: I had such high expectations (I now laugh at how high they were). Expectations to connect with the people, the land, my Judaism, and every last fiber of my being. Unrealistic much? Maybe this was the effect of 20+ years of “Israel Days” at camp, “Israel Weeks” at university, meeting sexy IDF soldiers, or repping the Israeli flag because that’s what everyone else did. I left Israel disconnected and disappointed, wondering why, if this country was the birthplace of Judaism and my people, did I not feel a part of it?

My return last week was my opportunity to feel something; expectations lowered, no over-thinking, no over-hoping or wishing that I get hit with a spark of spirit that subconsciously has me reciting Torah in perfect Hebrew as I walk through the Old City. I mean, who has that kind of vision anyway? (Answer: 20 year-old Jen)

Thurs, 28 Feb: I flew into Israel a few days before the seminar so I could run the Jerusalem Marathon (or 10k) with my friend and fellow JSC-er who lives in Jerusalem. I cab to meet my friend at the JDC-Israel office and we walk up the JLM hills to pick up our race packets at the Convention Center. (Pause)

Thought #1: I fly in by myself and meet my friend and fellow JSC fellow outside of the JDC-Israel Office.

Thought #2: In 2010, I had no idea what JDC was, and had it not been for JDC, I would have never met friend, which means I would have never run the Jerusalem Marathon or met friend outside of the JDC-Israel office. Man oh man, so much has changed since 2010.

Thought #3 and summation: I like the direction my life is going!

(Unpause)

We get our race packets in a sea of neon-colored booths: Saucony, Nike, Gatorade power gel, water bottles, nordic walking poles, t-shirts, t-shirts, and more t-shirts. Oh yeah, and the booths were in Hebrew.

Thought #1: Omg, I love tennis shoes.

Thought #2: Israel, you’re looking mighty good this trip.

We head back to a home-cooked and carb-filled dinner to prepare for the race in the morning.

The next scene you can find me fighting back tears as I run through the Old City with thousands of other runners, donkeys and goats on the mountain to my left, the sun beaming down us north-polers in desperate need of a tan, locals holding signs saying,“keep smiling, you’re almost done!”, and friend by my side up and down every bloody hill.

We finish the race together and gorge on hummus, pita, and pickles with other JSC-ers who ran and JSC-ers who came to cheer us on.

Hmmmm, I sigh, with my forming shin splints and broken hips, “I’m in Israel”.

I said this over and over again the rest of the week. I’m in Israel. And this time, I felt it.

That evening brought Shabbat dinner with other JSC-ers, bottles of wine open, and loud, tri-lingual conversations of our lives all over the world. “Yes, we’re the only white people in the village in Rwanda” or “Yes, I’ve never seen a non-white person in Estonia”. These exchanges were beautiful. 4 others speak Russian in the room, and I understand it … that would have never happened in 2010.

Sunday, 3 March: At last the seminar begins. The last time we were in the same room together was in August for orientation, and here we are, midyear, in Jerusalem. The symbolism off the charts.

We all sit in a large circle and smirk at one another, happy to be in the same room and in company of those who may be experiencing similar things and have a general shared sense of understanding the world in which we live.

4 days of introspection, reflection, reevaluating expectations, and setting new goals for ourselves. Each of us experiencing such vastly different things, but still able to connect and support one another. I often introspect introspection, and I can tell you the conversations that were taking place those 4 days in Jerusalem were nothing shy of brilliant. For some reason I choose to not analyze, the level of openness and comfort in vulnerability were things I had never seen in a group dynamic. Let’s be real, the process of moving to a new country and getting comfortable with new working environments definitely has some challenges.

I am a firm believer that being okay with feeling vulnerable leads to growth in directions we may not reach if we remain guarded and protected. Pride and control seem to be constants in that wall we love building. The vulnerability I witnessed in those 4 days led to empathy (not sympathy) and you could actually see that feeling of ‘alone’, in which many felt, slowly drifted away. The absence of alone brought new ideas and a support network to cheer-on those ideas. Just like that. 4 days.

Sidenote: If you’re interested in learning more about the power of vulnerability, I really recommend this TedTalk:

 

The fact that I was experiencing and witnessing these things in Jerusalem could not have been more meaningful to me. Powerful sessions in conference rooms during the day led to powerful conversations at dinner and bars at night. No matter how deeply we yearned to pound shots and get hammered together, we were too into learning about each other’s lives around the world to let any amount of alcohol drunken the conversations.

The end of my trip got me thinking about my connection to Israel. Everything I’ve learned or seen in the past have just been symbols of the state; the Hebrew language, IDF shirts, Israel flags, falafel, hummus, etc. For me, it takes positive, low-key experiences like running through Jerusalem, understanding how the city is spaced out, knowing where the local supermarket is, and drinking beers with friends who live here to feel connected. The second question is, why does it have to be more than that? Having these experiences fuels me with a desire to return and see my friends again, run the marathon in less time (get 4,000^th place instead of 6,000^th), or befriend those donkeys and goats I saw on the mountain. Getting a taste of real life in Israel and walking the streets with friends will get me back. Undoubtedly.

I haven’t said this to them yet, but I am so grateful to my friends and fellow JSC-ers for showing me the Jerusalem they know and love. Little did they know, but they were strengthening the connection to Israel that I’ve yearned for since I was little. There’s no question I will come back to further explore — I am finally connected. I wonder how Mandela’s quote will come into play the second time I return?

And then I went to Athens and Istanbul to get my tourist on! 1 day in each city meant walking 12 hours a day and LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT. Some photo’s below!

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Tomorrow I am off to “L’chaim”, or Estonia’s annual “Spring Camp”! I haven’t been to camp in 4 years, so yawl know how excited this girl is! J

To returning,

Jenstonia – campcounselorforever

The Spirit of a Small Community

Sometimes I am taken by my current location

When the sky isn’t grey or white or “Baltic winter”, the sun’s rays do more than just bring Vitamin D and one less shiver

They shine upon buildings, on street signs, on knitted scarves protecting delicate faces

They nudge my feet to catch my head

They tell my heart to sew deeper

 They remind me

I am in the FSU, I am in Europe

I see preserved Soviet Stars and “õ ä ö ü” (oohhaooauuuu)

“Hah”, I giggle very acceptingly, I’ll never speak Estonian

 I feel trams swiftly moving beneath my over-socked feet

And cars gliding through brown slush on what’s left of the street

  

I pass cafes on every corner, some European-ly intricate, some Soviet-ly not

Free WiFi stamped on each window, 4 Euro for this cappuccino

“Aitah” I say as I walk out the door

But “aitah” they won’t say when they look at the floor

The mush from the street

Leaves the tile not so neat

But I learned long ago that verses nature…

Man can’t compete

 

I put my hands back in leather

Assured my cappuccino helps bear the weather

 

I look up, astonished, furry hood obscuring the view

Re-reminding myself, HEY, you live here too!

 

Then I get to go to a vibrant corner in the center of town, where passionate people work hard, and community is found.

The spirit immeasurable, the fight noteworthy

All for the purpose of keeping our small tribe enduring

 

Shared responsibility, Jewish Peoplehood, revival

All the things I yearned to feel

After many stories of survival

 

The spirit of a small community

Pure and true

Gives the feeling of togetherness

Me and You

 

Maybe just maybe

This shekel goes here, and that one there

Euro makes few, but they don’t just make do

They make history

They make future

“From Survival to Revival”

 

The spirit of a small community

Tallinn, Estonia

I wanted to try something a little different, and I’m almost positive rhyming is fun for everyone. Woops, that’s my last one I promise. This is my poetic attempt at casually taking you through everything I see, hear, and feel. I left smells out for no specific reason. So quit sniffing. The bigger part of this is “the spirit of the small, Jewish community”; it’s quite difficult for me to use words to portray the beautiful energy that exists here, but the main thing I wanted to leave you with is that with so little, they make so much. And they fight so hard to ensure the future generations are able to receive some things we may overlook or deem as “normal” in our upbringing. I am constantly surprised by the spirit and might of the leaders and involved members of the community, and I owe them so much for continuously re-lighting my Jewish fire and peeking my curiosity to explore further.

“But the people on the street, out on buses or on feet, we all got the same blood flow” – Amos Lee

when two worlds collide.

It’s so hard not to smile when I walk into work.

Every day, I walk past the ONE Synagogue in Estonia, along the path that leads directly to the bright orange doors – the ones that guide me to the people who work tirelessly to keep the Estonian Jewish community vibrant.

Along the path I can see some of those people through their office windows; a wave hello from the outside keeps me smiling as I walk through the doors to the inside.

I step in, look to my left (where I can always find a cluster of people), and Russian greetings fall naturally from my lips.

• “Privyet, kak deela?” (Hello, how are you?)
• “Privyet, Jen, harisho, kak deela?” (Hello, Jen, good, how are you?)
• “Atleechna, spasiba” (Great, thank you!)

And today I entered the building the exact same way – except this time I had been gone for a week. I was happily, yet urgently led to The Maker of All Beautiful Scarves in the community. The Maker, who I shall name BumbleBee, is in her young senior years, and buzzes with such zest around the community. Let us not forget the Swarovski crystal on her French manicured nails.

She pulls out a long, luscious, Tiffany blue/green scarf from her bag.

She forces me to take off my coat and current scarf. She wraps the one she knitted around my neck.

I’m pushed to look at myself in the mirror as another colleague follows me and translates the following to me in Hebrew, “Is it okay? Do you like it?” – Yes to all of the above.

“She cuts, you wash, you wear.”

Okay, she cuts, I wash, I wear.

Hugs, spasiba’s, and smiles follow me up to my desk.

I sit here, in front of you, happy to be back in Estonia and deeply inspired from the past week.

So, Jen, tell us, where have you been?

With 90 Jewish teens from Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania in Pedase, Estonia – about 60km from Tallinn. This is also why I have a cold today.  Sniff.

4 days at “Kadima” – a teen seminar devoted to leadership training and team building infused with inspirational Jewish learning. Pedase is a camp-style hotel; wooden bunk beds, shared bathrooms, shared sauna’s, shared laps (people sitting on top of other people), and oh yeah, shared germs.

And SO in my element. Camp counselor Jen came out to play those 4 days; being fun, light, positive and bubbly with teens. Pushing them to put their phones away and take advantage of the learning experience, giving them they eye when being too loud or too goofy. But most importantly, the part that fills my soul with purpose and reminds me of my favorite memories: having meaningful one-on-one conversations with younger generations. Talks of relationships, family life, social life, best friends, enemies, teachers at school; what is G-d? What is Judaism and why should I explore it? What do you believe in? Do you believe in anything? Etc.

Don’t imagine the conversations going completely fluidly; they were broken, absolutely. Words translated by others, and frustration had by the teens when they couldn’t find the word in English. And in my head? Well, in my head, I saw my pieces of my world connect with other pieces; creating clearer images of my life’s puzzle. I realize that sounds absolutely obscure and “out there”; but I felt purposeful. Blessed.

I wrote on the bus, “I feel: Purposeful. Blessed. To be a member of the involved Jewish world. To care about our tribe and its’ future – I feel like a tiny piece of the puzzle who’s just finding connecting pieces ALL.OVER.THE.WORLD.”

And then I wrote a reminder as I walked away from the weekend, “and don’t forget: you, yourself, need be inspired to inspire others.”

A collision of two worlds:

A 5-hour bus ride south took me to Riga, Latvia. The largest city of the Baltic’s. My first trip to connect me to the larger Baltic picture.

Monday, November 12, 2012:

“Sitting at breakfast in the Albert Einstein Hotel in Riga, Latvia. Beatles playing in the background, the view of Riga’s cobble-stones streets and colorful architecture beyond the window. Just saw a dog carrying his/her own leash. Whisper words of wisdom, let it be. E=mc^2”

A little taste of my Catcher in the Rye/stream-of-consciousness journal styling’s.

That evening I was surprised by the JDC Entwine Steering Committee. Without hesitation, I threw my arms around the JDC Staff I knew. Staff, by the way, who interviewed me for this very position. A very surreal, full-circle feeling – a collision of two worlds, if you will.

Rachel, who is a former JDC JSC Fellow and who now works for JDC-New York, was my first connection to this current chapter of my life. Rachel interviewed me via Skype in April; I remember it vividly. Sitting in my apartment in Lawrence, Kansas, rocking my business professional attire, just 2 months shy of graduating. The moment that literally led me to this overwhelmingly connected hug with her in Riga, Latvia. Where my current Baltic life exists, with my Baltic colleagues and friends, rocking my more trendy-euro-hipster attire, just shy of 2 months since landing in Estonia. All in one room together.

Hello surrealism.

And I spent the next day with the JDC Entwine Steering Committee on their tour of Jewish Riga. Incredibly educational and necessary for me to better understand past and current Jewish life – clarity was gained, and feelings were undoubtedly felt. We walked through Jewish ghetto’s, where Jews were forced to live during ww2; we saw cemeteries, memorials, Jewish museums, and artifacts that left us with emotions too hard to put into words.

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Anger, sadness, confusion, optimism, belief, and even greater motivation for the future.

“what the eyes can’t see, the heart can’t feel”

I was told this 3 months ago as I prepared for my new life in the Baltic’s. It resonated in my heart exponentially as I drifted from images too difficult to grasp.

But now I saw.

And I feel more than ever.

And I understand so much more.

 And I’m grateful I get 10 more months to put that better understanding, that motivation for the future, into my work here. I don’t just walk away and sit in Dallas, Texas with the memory of a destroyed Jewish community in my head – I get to help in their revival, their renewal.

“You’re one of us now”,said the President of the Jewish Community of Riga. I am. Without question. I am so a part of this community it baffles me at times. When people ask me how I am, how I’m doing, I point to the people and say, “Just look at them. Look how funny, how beautiful they are. That’s how I’m doing”

Thanksgiving is in a week so hurry up and send me recipes! If you’d like to send me a turkey, that’s totally okay too.

Lats of Love,

Jenstonia – Feelin’ so Baltic. 

 

p where u shower – it’s juss different.

Has anyone ever told you, “don’t shower where you pee?”

If you said “yes”, then I want to meet the person who told you that because I’m pretty sure I made it up. (I just called you a liar in a very passive way)

But on the realz: if anyone has ever told you that, they couldn’t be more wrong.

I know from personal experience. I literally shower where I pee; like almost on top of my toilet.

the toilet is in there.

No seriously. I do. And there’s good news.

The good news is I’m constantly cleaning my toilet.

The other day I was squeezing and hitting the conditioner bottle against my palm and the conditioner slipped out into the toilet bowl. Plop. Consider yourself conditioned, T.Bowl.

The bad news is…well, there is no bad news. It’s juss different!

You would think my brain would have created the muscle memory to put down the toilet seat before I showered, but everything about my toilet/shower situation is far from natural. Men would love living here because I would most likely yell at them for putting the toilet seat down – for fear of losing cleaning opportunity. “How many times do I have to tell you, keep the toilet seat up…damnit”!

Like music to your ears, yeah? Speaking of, MUSIC BREAK:

This is my song of the month. You can hear me screaming it if you’re at least in continental Europe.

Do you want me to keep up the potty talk? Cause I can. Or you can just message me privately and we can keep this topic going. Totally cool with it.

Let’s move on.

I’ve been in a relationship with CNN this week (it’s official, yayyy). And if my calendar is correct, I think it’s going to last another week.

On a non-political, completely serious note: I would just like to wish all those struggling under Sandy’s aftermath a smooth and speedy recovery. My heart goes out to all of those affected by the storm, and I promise we won’t forget about you as America enters election week. Hoping you receive more media coverage than this fluffy campaign.

Withering Weather:

It was +7 today! Yes, exclamation point included. That converts to about 37 degrees Fahrenheit. What I’ve come to realize is that as the temperature drops, the more mind I lose; an indirect relationship, is it? I get excited, genuinely excited, when I see anything above -1 degrees Celsius.

Anything above 0 and you don’t have to wear gloves or an extra set of ears when jogging around town. And if you follow the sun and avoid tall buildings, you may even be able to lose your knee-high wool socks for above-ankle wool socks. The joy.

see: awkward, sunlight and no ear muffs

Ice: you actually can jog on. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Do people think you’re absolutely ludicrous? Sure, but if you stay on main roads, you might even find slush that looks like a coca cola slushy. Just watch out for pipes that excrete water…chances are the water is not a shiny puddle, but a layer of slippery ice. Weeeeeeeeee

Dimming Daylight:

We fell back an hour last week. It gets dark around 4:30pm. Next month it will be 3:30pm. With darkness comes yawning, wiping the sleep out of your eyes, and thoughts of warm dinner, couches, and CNN. I’m not someone who’s typically affected by minor environmental changes, but you actually cannot control the fact that your body thinks it’s almost bed time in the middle of the day. This will undeniably take some time and doubling up on cappuccino.

Chospitality (Hospitality):

As old as the oldest Jew, Abraham. I had a great conversation with the teens about what it means to be Jewishly hospitable, or hospitably Jewish. Hence why I say “chospitality”; or really “hachnasat orchim”. It’s a mitzvah, you know?

When a guest comes, you give them water to wash their feet and attend to their animals. You smile and seem “happy” throughout the meal, no matter what’s pressing you. The laws go on and on, and there’s no doubt that we can translate the ancient ones to modern times.

The last one got me thinking. “Smile and seem happy”; turning off your brain and being fully present. Can you?

In 2010, while beginning my trip to Israel, the tour guide provided us with this quote, “you are where your thoughts are.” Ironically, this stopped my thinking. She was right. How could I possibly drink this trip dry if my thoughts were at home with mom, on a bike ride with dad, or sitting in next semester’s classes?

I see turning your brain off as an art, a skill. It’s a muscle that has to be trained – and I fully believe it’s vital to a healthy human life. We are filled with so much stimulation and added stress every day, and the ability to shut it down will not only bring mental health, but physical and emotional health.

I solemnly swear, when you come into my house, my attention is on you. When you come into my Facebook messenger, my attention is on you. Skype, viber, phone call, it’s on you or else I’m not answering and I’ll tell you otherwise. Chospitality in 2012.

Day trippa, yeah:

I traveled 185.4 km to Tartu, Estonia on Thursday. A few of us from Tallinn went to join the Jewish Community of Tartu to formally “open” their calendar year. Remember how I told you it gets dark by 4:30? Unfortunately I wasn’t able to see the city by daylight, but the academic buildings, alcoholic drinking parks, and abundance of “kohvik baars” (coffee bars) were enough to fill my university culture void.

Tartu has a wild history. It’s Estonia’s second largest city and an intellectual hub to a “T”.Tartu University is one of the leading scientific schools in “semiotics”, the study of signs and sign processes. If you like metaphors and analogies, this is your dream field of study.

There used to be a synagogue. It was actually home to the majority of Estonia’s Jews until WW2. See synagogue below:

Tartu also gave me a dose of common Estonian eats: TONGUE. I took a photo of it, but I could not find the tongue to eat it – and I like trying crazy food! Though after having a mostly meat-free, paleo diet for the past month and a half, my mind couldn’t fathom the idea of putting tongue on my tongue…and digesting it. Gulp. 😛

More Tartu info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tartu

Other cool (or freezing) things:

The Rabbi calls me Thursday morning. “Jen, boker tov (good morning), mah shlomech (how are you)? You’ve been in Estonia over a month now yes? You must come to Shabbat dinner tomorrow night. See you then, bye!”

So I went to my first Shabbat dinner at the Rabbi’s house. Talk about CHospitality! Jameson on the table, and 15 others around it. 10 of which were beautiful kids who looked almost identical (brothers and sisters of course). The 2 beside me were… AMERICAN. They moved to Finland 2 weeks ago and were in town visiting Tallinn for the weekend. It was a great night of shared culture; we talked about languages in 3 different languages, traveling, living internationally, and much more.

The best part: each time I heard Russian I found comfort. I actually asked the kids to speak in Russian instead of Hebrew, a language I’m much more familiar with. “Bevakashsa, medaber b’Russki” (Hebrew: Please, speak in Russian).

And today I went on a great jog through Old Town to the very top of the Old Town mountain. I made a pit stop to the oldest apteek (apothecary) in Estonia, est. 1400’s. See below:

I ended my jog catching the sunrise just next to the salmon pink Estonian Parliament building. Then, of course, indulging in the infamous CHEESE (JUUSTU) WRAP:

Now back to watching the same election highlights loop on CNN. ROCK CHALK!

Cheese please,

Jenstonia – shower where you pee.