Which One of These is Not Like the Other Ones!

Todays article will feature the trip I took with my choir to a retreat at an old Estonian manor house in the country . Or as I like to call it, "You can't take this foreigner anywhere". Last weekend, my choir had its annual trip to Kohila, a small Estonian village about one hour outside of Tallinn. On this retreat, the focus is singing, polishing repretoire, and bonding as a choir. So, being the adventurous and good-natured person that I am, I agreed to go along. It was only for one night, and besides, the entire weekend only cost me about 9 dollars. This payed for three meals, and lodgings for the evening. I opted to pay to use a sleeping bag (we will discuss the problems associated with this decision later). My other choices were a matress, but I had to provide the sheets, or a bed with all linens provided. One night on the floor is manageable. I squared away the payments with the choir secretary before we left.

Because I have learned from past experiences that the choir members will tell me nothing unless I ask, I sent an e-mail to one of the members inquiring to know if we were taking a bus, where we should meet, and what time we were leaving (very trivial things that perhaps I should have already known). She said we were going by car...uh oh. I suddenly felt about twelve years old and about to be picked for dodgeball. You hope and pray that you aren't last, and stuck in the car with people who won't talk to you, or worse, don't know any english!

Saturday morning arrived, and armed with my pillow and backpack, I bravely marched to the departure point. Luckily, we were sent off in a predetermined fashion and I was fortunate to ride with two people I had talked to previously. Upon arrival, we unloaded the cars and went inside the old, but rennovated manor house (which now serves as a music school part of the year).....(I wondered why there were pianos everywhere). As we reached the top of the stairs, a curious thing began to happen. Everyone started taking a pair of shoes out of their bag. Immediatley I remember something a friend told me when I visited her apartment, "if this were a real Estonian home I would have slippers for you to wear while you stayed". Rookie-Foreigner mistake number 1: Remeber to bring a pair of slippers/flip-flops to old rennovated manor houses. Swallowing my embarrassment, I embraced the akwardness of the moment and donned my other pair of socks so that my feet wouldn't get cold...so much for clean ones the next day.

The next 4-5 hours were consumed with practice. We took a break for lunch and exploration of the town/house and then reconveened for 4-5 more hours of practice. Then, about 7pm, one of the workers from the manor entered our practice hall and opened a big door at the far end. Periodically people would go over and retreive sheets and bedding from the woman. I assumed that there was some order to this. First people who ordered matresses would get their things. Those who needed bed linens next, and us recieving sleeping bags at the end. Slowly, I watched people gather their things, one at a time of course, so as not to disturb the rehearsal. Finally, the worker reappeared, locked the door and began to leave. I got up and raced her down to get my sleeping bag, however she didn't speak any English, and apparently the words for "to sleep" and "bag" don't get the right meaning across. Nearby, however, one of the choir members saw our struggle and came to help me.

I explained that I was trying to ask about getting a sleeping bag, when he turned to me and said, "you mean you didn't bring yours?" Rookie-Foreigner Mistake No 2: Paying 30 kroons for the sleeping bag option apparently means that you are paying to sleep at the manor house, but that you will provide your own bag. Well...I think the worker had taken a liking to me during our disfunctional conversation and lead me back to the now locked room at the far end of the hall, opposite the rehearsing choir so that I could get a matress and a blanket. When she reached for a pillow, I semi-akwardly said (in estonia), "I have this". She appreciated me trying her language, smiled and ushered me out of the room.

Not long after this debauchle, rehearsal ended for the evening. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by my social mistakes, my removal from my comfort zone in Tallinn, surrounded by people who I don't really know too well, and exhausted from singing for 10 hours, I shut down. I pulled out my i-pod and for an hour and a half sat on some chairs and just listened to my music. Another person was also listening to her headphones and reading, so I did not look too out of place or anti-social.

At this point, another member asked the two of us (me and the girl with the headphones) if we wanted to come downstairs for the party and sauna later. My spirits had risen considerably, and I was getting bored so I said, "Okay" to the party, but "we'll see" to the sauna (see last entry for description of estonian sauna). I wasn't quite sure that I could take a physical beating in addition to the mental and emotional one I had received that day. Nor did I care to see some of the choir members naked...fortunatley only 3 or 4 people ended up going to sauna. The rest of us just socialized in an old cellar.

Granted, 80 percent of everything spoken was in Estonian, I did my fair share of social contributing to the party. When one lady got up the nerve to ask me the questions everyone was dying to know, the room quited down and all eyes went towards me. "What are you doing here?" "Why/how did you join this choir?" "Where are you from?" "Can you really sing those low notes?" I've been asked these questions about a million times up to this point (except for the one about the notes) so I had no problem answering. I even added a little humor which made the situation lighter. After this, the younger members sitting near me would periodically ask me a question and we would engage in short conversations in english. It was actually quite nice and I had a fairly decent time.

My crowning moments of the evening occured in quick succesion. About two hours into the party, two choir members came to join us and began the tradition of playing party games. Of course this wasn't explained to me, but neither did I expect it to be. After the third person spoke, I finally caught on to the game. It's the one where you say your name, something about yourself and then the person after you has to remember both as well as anything anyone has said before you. I was second to last in the line to go!

Needless to say, by the time the game had come to my turn, everyone became very quite again because they were very curious to see if I could remember anything or had understood what was happening. To the amazment and praise of all, I remembered everyone's name as well as a few details about 1/3 of the poeple. Everyone was very happy and now realized that I actually could understand what was going on most of the time, here and at rehearsal! The next game, I have to admit I couldn't quite figure out.

I understood that people were taking turns, and the last person to speak called on the next person. Someone eventually said, "ok Andrew's turn". I unashemedly professed that all I could gather was that it was important that I said something funny. This was thankfully the right thing to say, however, the point of the game is to say something in more detail about what you said in the first game about your self and the group had to determine if it was the truth or a lie. In the first game, I said (in Estonian) "My name is Andrew Schmidt, and I don't speak Estonian, but I know names". So, in away, my statement sort of fit. But, to play the game, I told a story about the orgin of my name and how it was the third choice of my parents after discovering the first two burdened me with horrible monograms. The story went over well, and we all returned to the party.

After a partially restful sleep on a nearly paper thin matress, the choir awoke, had breakfast, practiced for another 5 hours, and returned to Tallinn. I don't think I have ever walked up four flights of stairs faster than when I finally reached my apartment building. Home sweet home at last. I then realized, that indeed, or at least for now, Tallinn is my home, and I am very happy to be here. I don't think I'll be leaving it too soon.