Louis Zezeran
Did the Black Death do more good than harm?
An American think tank named the Center for Strategic & International Studies recently published the results of a poll they conducted, which revealed that half of the ethnic Russians living in Estonia think Stalin did more good than harm. It’s an interesting point, and one that deserves exploration — by someone else.
The question that comes to my mind is how far this logic can be stretched: if the Man of Steel, responsible for the deaths of between 3 and 60 million people through execution, gulag imprisonment, deportations to Siberia, deliberately-imposed famine, and a laundry list of other chapter titles from the Sociopath’s Quick-reference Guidebook did more good than harm, what else can we say the same about?
Can we pick any random historical tragedy and try to claim that its net effect was positive, without actually identifying any positive effect it had and instead ambiguously insisting that it simply changed the course of history for the better? Hey, it’s Monday morning — why not.
The Black Death did more good than harm.
In the middle of the 14th century, a plague broke out across Europe that wiped out between 30 and 60% of the continent’s population and reduced the world’s population by about a quarter. The plague is generally accepted to have traveled to Europe from China via rodents, who carried plague-infected fleas with them as stowaways on merchant ships. Early symptoms of the plague included swollen sores on the inner thighs which oozed puss and spewed blood when dissected. Most of those afflicted died within two to seven days of infection.
But was the black death really all that bad? Every movie I’ve ever seen set in medieval Europe makes it out to be a crowded, filthy, prostitute-ridden hellscape. Reserving a table at a restaurant must have been a chore. Rent prices were probably sky high in the centers of towns, and the transportation choices for a morning commute were limited. And can you imagine the state of public bathrooms? Yuck! Sure, for those experiencing puss-oozing crotch sores and days of agonizing pain and endless vomiting, the black death was pretty miserable. But the net effect of a large-scale population decline in overcrowded urban areas was a more comfortable life for the lucky few who survived — which sounds like a win to me!
What about the effect of the black death on culture? Had the plague never gripped Europe, we wouldn’t be able to enjoy the classic 2010 British horror film, Black Death. Which would be a shame — because Black Death stars Sean Bean, who plays Ulric, a knight obsessed with killing the necromancer responsible for summoning the plague (the movie isn’t entirely historically accurate). One year after appearing in Black Death, Sean Bean graced our television screens as Eddard Stark in Game of Thrones — one of the greatest TV series of all time.
So had the black death not cut the population of Europe in half in the mid-14th century, the world would be without the film Black Death. And if the world was without the film Black Death, Sean Bean may never have been “discovered” and subsequently cast as Eddard Stark, the main character in the first season of Game of Thrones. And without a lead character, the producers of Game of Thrones may have never embarked upon creating what I consider to be the grandest achievement in human history. Obviously that would be a far greater tragedy than the loss of life on a massive scale.
So why not apply this “butterfly effect” argumentation to every tragedy or madman in human history and claim that nothing catastrophic was truly bad — merely transformative. Pol Pot? Chernobyl? Pinochet? Why not claim that these people and disasters did more good than harm in the long run?
Two reasons. The first is that no human being is able to comprehend and evaluate the symphony of infinite events unceasingly taking place in unison. Therefore, it’d be impossible for anyone to say that any one event or person made the world a better place than had they not existed or happened. It’s pretty much the theme from every time travel-based science fiction movie ever made.
And the second reason? It’s because saying Stalin did more good than harm makes you look like an asshole.
Elagu Ilves!
“Did you know that the president of Estonia is from New Jersey?”
My mom’s breathless, excited state was uncharacteristic of her. So was her having any knowledge of Estonia.
“He grew up in Bergen county, an hour up the turnpike!”
She had apparently fallen down the Wikipedia rabbit hole and landed on THI’s page, whereupon she discovered that the current and fourth president of the Republic of Estonia is a Jersey Boy. My mom, being a Jersey Girl, was fascinated: perhaps it made Estonia, where her son is living, seem a little less far away. She immediately picked up the phone and frantically dialed my Skype-In number – paying no mind to the time difference – and woke me up at 3am to deliver this bit of trivia.
I’ve never been to Leonia, New Jersey – the city in which THI grew up – but from looking at it on Google Maps, I can say that it suffers from a significant flaw: it’s quite far from Seaside Heights, the epicenter of summer activity in New Jersey. Seaside Heights can be thought of as the Pärnu of New Jersey – or, arguably, of the entire east coast of the United States. Seaside Heights is where you go in the summertime. Seaside Heights is the Jersey Shore.
Which begs the question: what kind of a Jersey Boy was THI? I’d estimate the journey from Leonia to Seaside Heights to be nearly two hours by car; much more on a warm summer day, when the entire state descends upon the city to relax at the beach and play games on the boardwalk. Leonia, however, is essentially a suburb of New York City: it is located a mere 30 minutes by car — across the George Washington bridge and down the Henry Hudson parkway — from Morningside Heights, the home of Columbia University, where THI earned his undergraduate degree. Given his proximity to Manhattan and his educational choices, one wonders if THI didn’t eschew the Jersey Shore for something more “New York” during his years in the US. The Hamptons, perhaps?
But let’s give THI the benefit of the doubt and assume that he didn’t identify with the Manhattan set; he was a guido, loud and proud, and the best two months of his life were those he spent at Seaside Heights in the summer of 1972 before matriculating to Columbia University. He rented a sharehouse there with seven friends and worked as a lifeguard for 20 hours each week.
Shirtless and impeccably sculpted, THI strolled the boardwalk of Seaside Heights every day during that summer in pursuit of good times. His name being difficult to pronounce, his friends simply called him T. And given his inherent leadership qualities, his group of friends congregated under the moniker of T’s Boys, which they had printed on the t-shirts they wore to nightclubs and bars. For T, the days of the summer of 1972 consisted of sun and sand; the nights, of cocktails and easy conversation. T never drank to excess, never let a confrontation escalate to the point of violence, and was quick to lend a helping hand to a friend in need. A preeminent wingman and a never-ending source of quick jokes and lighthearted quips, T naturally became the center of gravity of any social situation in which he found himself.
One night, toward the end of the summer, as the nightclub he and T’s Boys had occupied for the previous span of hours that passed like minutes was closing, T invited the girl he had flirted with all summer to watch the sun rise. Carrying their shoes – his were a thick-soled platform set, the latest fashion – they trekked through the sand to the most isolated stretch of beach they could find. And as the sun rose and painted the water with fantastic hues of pink and goldenrod, T ran a hand over the thick sideburns that decorated the side of his face, down to the shag carpet coating the entirety of his upper lip, and finally rested it on his chest – exposed unapologetically to the world down to the fourth button of the wide-lapel, polka-dotted disco shirt he bought after seeing Fleetwood Mac in concert. He felt his neck; something was missing.
“Someday,” he announced matter-of-factly, ostensibly to his muse but more likely to no one in particular, “I’m going to be the president of a country called Estonia.”
Arno kuulab!
Arno Vaarikas on olnud keskkooli nõustaja viimased viis aastat ning nüüd toob oma teadmised ka romantikuteni andes romantilist nõu. Kas teil on suhtes probleemid? Arno kuulab!
Tere Arno!
Minu mees töötab aastast kuus kuud Norras. Ma armastan teda, aga ma olen nii üksildane kui tema ära on. Mida ma teen? Aita mind, Arno!
-Üksildane Tartus
—
Tere Üksildane Tartus!
Sinu olukord imeb. Mul on sõber Tartus, Jasper, kes on väga diskreetne. Võib-olla sa võiksid temaga hook-up’ida kui sinu mees on Norras? Ma ei tea. See on väga raske küsimus.
Arno
—
Tere Arno! Mul on vaja nõu!
Mul on tugevad tunded naise vastu, kes töötab minu kontoris. Ma tahan teda kohtingule kutsuda, aga meie kontoris on keelatud kahel töötajal suhe olla. Tõesti ma mõtlen, et see naine on kaunis ja tark ja naljakas ja…parim naine maailmas! Aga töö on minul hea ja ma saan sittakanti raha. Mida ma teen, Arno?
-Vastuolus
Tere Vastuolus!
Defineeri sittakanti (igakuine, bruto)? Kas sinu firma uusi töötajaid otsib? Mul on viis aastat kogemust keskkooli nõustajana ja ma trükin 37 sõna minutis. Kas sa saaksid anda minu CV oma bossile?
Oh, ja ma ei tea, mida teha sinu olukorras. See kõlab keeruliselt.
Arno
—
Arno! Tere!
Mul on kõige halvim lugu!
Minu abikaasa lahkus koos õega! Nüüd ma olen üksi, kahe lapsega, ilma rahata ja mul on suur hunnik võlgasid! Mida ma teha saan? Ma olen ikka veel ametlikult abielus! Kindlasti peab minu abikaasa oma arved maksma, onju? Kas õigussüsteem aitab mind?
-Lootusetu Tallinnas
—
Tere, Lootusetu Tallinnas.
See on tõesti väga kurb lugu. Ma lugesin seda neli korda ja sinu valu ja viha on südantlõhestav. Ma tunnen kaasa sinu lastele, kes on suurimad ohvrid sellel traagilisel lo-
Kurat! Ma loksutasin just oma kohvi maha! Need on uued püksid ja nüüd on need rikutud! Miks CoffeeIn topsid on nii õhukesed? Tore, ma lähen pärast tööd kinno ja mul ei ole aega riideid vahetada. Perfektne. Mul on nüüd terve päev halb tuju.
Midaiganes. Arno.
—
Tsau Arno!
Ma olen olnud suhtes oma naisega kaks aastat, aga tema tahab Londonisse kolida. Ma ei tea Londonis mitte kedagi ja minu inglise keel ei ole väga hea. Ma lihtsalt ei taha Londonisse kolida, aga ma ei taha ka lahku minna. Kas ma peaksin temal jääda paluma?
-Hirmul tuleviku ees
Tere Hirmul tuleviku ees
Kui kuum sinu naine on? Väga kuum või…? Kui tema on väga kuum siis arvatavasti sa peaksid koos temaga kolima. Aga kui tema ei ole nii kuum, tulge minuga Hollywoodi sellel nädalalõpul. Seal on palju kuumi ja lihtsaid tibusid. Ja joogid ei ole väga kallid…nagu 2€ tequila shot’i eest. Hea hind. Mõnikord ma varastan shotte välismaalastelt kui nad ei näe. Ma saan teile õpetada, kuidas seda teha. Väga ökonoomne, mis on oluline, sest minu palk keskkoolist on jama. Kas sinu firm uusi töötajaid otsib?
PS – Sa mõtled, et sinu elu imeb? Üks tsikk just kirjutas mulle ja ütles, et tema mees lahkus koos mehe enda õega!
Pärnu Shore, Season finale: We’ll always have the shore
Pärnu Shore:
- Meet the cast of Pärnu Shore
- Pärnu Shore, Episode One: A rullnokk’s work is never done
- Pärnu Shore, Episode Two: All’s fair in love and shore
- Pärnu Shore, Episode Three: Between a rullnokk and a hard place
- Pärnu Shore, Season Finale: We’ll always have the shore
Priit and Jaanika are working the early-morning shift at Rullnokk’s; they both came straight to work from a heavy night of drinking at Shüüters. Priit describes the drama of the night before to Jaanika: Priit broke things off with Heleen because Kevin told him that she and Jaanika are dating. Shocked by the ridiculous rumor, Jaanika assures Kevin that she has never been romantically involved with another woman outside of Club Hollywood in Tallinn and that even if she was attracted to Heleen, she wouldn’t make a move on her knowing how strongly Heleen feels about Priit. Priit, confused but inexplicably not embarrassed or ashamed of his behavior, tells Jaanika that he intends to make amends with Heleen that night. Jaanika in turn explains that, because Pärnu Shore filming ends the next day, she plans to confess her feelings to Kevin that night as well, despite Priit’s advice against doing so.
Back at the house, Heleen and Riina awake to the sounds of Martin
and Kevin brawling in the kitchen. The girls separate the two and ask what happened: Martin explains that he and Kevin had arrived home from Shüüters minutes earlier, and Kevin was trying to take the last beer in the refrigerator. Impressed by Kevin’s insatiable thirst for alcohol – even at 13:00 on a Saturday, following nearly 15 hours of non-stop drinking – Riina diffuses the situation by offering Martin the beer she keeps hidden in her underwear drawer. Martin’s face turns red and he confesses to drinking that beer the day before. Disgusted, Riina grabs the beer from Kevin’s hands and returns to her room.
Heleen asks Kevin if he’ll join her on the balcony for a few minutes. The two go to the balcony, and Heleen tells him about the drama from the night before with Priit. She confesses her history with Priit to Kevin and asks for advice: Kevin suggests that she go for a walk to clear her head. Preferably in the direction of a store. Preferably a store that sells beer. And preferably she would return with a six-pack of A. Le Coq premium. Kevin then falls asleep.
Priit and Jaanika return home from work and take naps: the roommates are planning a massive night out to celebrate the end of Pärnu Shore. Kevin has offered to concoct a new drink recipe to mark the occasion – he calls it the Olukord, and it is a mixture of rum, raspberries, tequila, ice, and the special Estonian ingredient, sea-buckthorn berries. Jaanika tells Kevin that she has something very important to speak with him about before everyone gets so drunk that their emotions stop working. Kevin tells her that they’ll talk when he returns from buying Olukord materials at the store.
While getting ready, Heleen asks Riina for advice on confronting Priit: the previous night changed her impression of him, she claims, and she wants to clear the air but also to let him know that she’s no longer interested in him romantically. Riina suggests that she write him a note to avoid an awkward, one-on-one confrontation. Heleen agrees and the two draft what they consider to be a firm yet empathetic rejection letter:
Tere,
Ma ei ole enam sinust huvitatud. Vabandust.
…Sa tead kes ma olen.
Helen puts the note in a place where she knows Priit will read it — the beer shelf in the refrigerator – and continues getting ready for the night. Meanwhile, Kevin comes back to the house and begins making the Olukord. He opens the refrigerator door and finds Heleen’s note for Priit, but he assumes Jaanika wrote it for him. Finding it odd that a woman he has never expressed any interest in just rejected him, he places the note in a drawer and continues making drinks.
At around 22:00, the roommates gather in the kitchen to drink Olukord and discuss their plan for the evening. Jaanika begins to say something sentimental about their time in the Pärnu Shore house but, taking stock of her roommates and their ability to process abstract notions such as “love” or “friendship”, changes course and tells a joke about nudist midgets. The roommates laugh and finalize their plans: they’ll get wasted, go to Shüüters, get more wasted, and try to hook up with people. As they finish their drinks, Martin opens the silverware to fetch a straw and finds Heleen’s note for Priit. He assumes the note was placed there for him to read by Riina, whom he saw naked days earlier. Confused as to why a woman that he has never expressed interest in would reject him, he places the note in a cupboard and rallies the roommates to leave for Shüüters.
At Shüüters, Jaanika approaches Kevin and asks to talk with him in private. Thinking
she wants to explain the note, Kevin stops her in mid-sentence, telling her that he knows how she feels about him and that he feels the same about her. Jaanika assumes that Priit told Kevin about her feelings for him and is relieved to not have to suffer through in-person, human-to-human communication. Instead, she breathes a sigh of relief and returns to the dance floor, convinced that this roundabout exchange means she and Kevin are now dating. Meanwhile, Priit approaches Heleen with the intent of revealing his feelings for her. Heleen sees Priit walking towards her: believing that he read her note and is upset about it, Heleen stops him before he can say anything and tells him that she knows how he feels about her, and that the feelings are mutual. Satisfied, Priit returns to the bar with the understanding that he and Heleen are now dating.
After multiple shots of Viru Valge, Martin decides to confront Riina about her rejection letter. Riina sees Martin approaching her from a distance; when he finally reaches her, she stops him before he can say anything and informs him that they’re leaving the club. The two go home and retreat to the mitte-magamise magamistuba. Martin never bothers to bring up the letter.
At nearly 3am in Shüüters, having drunk enough cider to put most humans into a coma, Heleen experiences a moment of introspective reflection. She considers the summer at the Pärnu Shore house: she contemplates her status as a rullnokk and the trajectory her life is on. She tries to define what success means to her. Being a good mom? Making a lot of money? Doing intellectually challenging work? She looks out upon the dance floor – occupied by zombie-like creatures who are only awake by virtue of energy drinks and the desire to drunkenly grope members of the opposite sex – and questions whether the rullnokk lifestyle can ever truly deliver happiness to her. And then, in mid-thought, she vomits. Security escorts her out of Shüüters and she walks to the beach, where she passes out. The other roommates have all moved out by the time she makes it home the next day. The only thing left in the house is her rejection note to Priit, which is sitting on the kitchen counter; she assumes Jaanika meant for her to read it. Confused as to why a woman that she’s never expressed interest in has just rejected her, she packs her things and leaves the house.
What would a London-style riot in Tallinn look like?
A routine Munitsipaalpolitsei stop at the Tõnimägi tram stop ignites latent urban tension when police fine Priit Puunägu, a well-known rullnokk, for jänest sõitsmise eest. Priit attempts to flee the tram but is tackled by an officer and forced to accept a ticket. The other tram riders begin shouting at the police for harassing Priit.
September 8th, 17:15
A group of Priit’s friends and family begin a non-violent protest outside of the Munitsipaalpolitsei headquarters near Old Town. They claim that rullnokks have been specifically and systematically targeted by the Tallinn police for years. An ETV camera crew arrives at the protest and interviews Martin Linnuaja, Priit Puunägu’s best friend:
“Do you realize that someone driving a 20-year-old BMW at 180kph is five times more likely to be pulled over by the police than someone in any other car, driving at a much slower speed? Do you realize that a 22-year-old man with a shaved head is eight times more likely to be arrested for committing a crime than someone who hasn’t committed a crime? Did you know that last year, over 200 young men who list their profession as ehitaja were denied loans? Rullnokks have been pushed to the fringes of Estonian society for too long, and we’re not going to take it anymore!”
ETV captures footage of Martin turning to the crowd and screaming, “Tallinn: Mis sul viga on?” The mob responds with a deafening cheer; the ETV crew packs up its gear and leaves, fearing that the restive throng of rullnokks may become unruly.
September 8th, 22:38
Having begun to assemble at around 20:00, a massive group of rullnokks in Vabadjuse Väljak erupts into chant, repeating Martin Linnuaja’s words over and over again: Tallinn, mis sul viga on? Hungry, a small subset of the mob moves to a nearby hamburger stand and loots it. One of the looters screams, “Tasuta purks igale mehele!”
September 9th, 2:02
A group of rullnokks milling outside of Club Hollywood storms the entrance to the club and loots the bar. Terrified, a stag party from Liverpool flees the club; one of the stag partiers informs the British embassy of the incident, and, in turn, the embassy arranges evacuation of all British citizens in Estonia. A RyanAir jet is chartered, and 300 men are given one-way tickets to London Luton, leaving the next day.
Tallinn’s police chief issues an order to all units on patrol: Estonia’s tourism industry must not be compromised. Disperse every crowd of rullnokks using any means necessary.
September 9th, 16:22
Tallinn’s rullnokks begin to wake up. Martin Linnuaja organizes a second night of rioting and hamburger looting through the social networking website Rate.ee. He sends a message to a small group of rullnokks, instructing them to pass the message on to every rullnokk they know: the mob will meet in Vabaduse Väljak again at 20:00 and move on to loot every hamburger stand in town.
September 9th, 18:12
Taavi Merekiisu, the head of the Tallinn police department’s cyber crimes unit, intercepts the message on Rate.ee using sophisticated data forensics reverse-cryptology techniques (it was accidentally sent to him). Taavi informs Tallinn’s police chief of the plan, who suggests shutting down Rate.ee to prevent the mob from organizing further. Taavi disapproves of the police chief’s strategy, thinking it may further provoke the rabid rullnokks: he suggests that the police assemble an undercover unit to infiltrate the mob and arrest its leader. The police chief agrees and instructs Taavi, who is also the head of the Tallinn police department’s undercover unit, to bring together a team and attend the rally.
September 9th, 19:48
Taavi and his undercover team start driving to Vabaduse Väljak in a rented white van. To fit in with the rullnokks, they have all shaved their heads and are wearing tight jeans adorned with strategic holes. At 20:08, Martin Linnuaja addresses the mob: he tells them that they’ll begin the night by looting the nearby hamburger stand again. Although the manager of the nearby hamburger stand was well aware that his shop would be looted, he concluded that the number of hamburgers he would sell to rullnokks in the hour leading up to the looting would more than pay for what would be looted.
Taavi’s team identifies Martin Linnuaja as the leader of the mob but decides against arresting him during the riot for fear of upsetting the mob. Instead, having skipped dinner to attend the rally, the undercover unit follows the mob to the hamburger stand and enjoys a free burger each before going home.
September 10th, 8:12
A crack team of police sharpshooters, led by Taavi Merekiisu, who is also head of the Tallinn police department’s special weapons and tactics team, surrounds Martin Linnuaja’s apartment complex in Kristiine. They break the door down with a battering ram and, prepared to meet resistance from a heavily armed, militarized organized crime cell, are relieved to find only Martin Linnuaja – drunk, naked, and covered in hamburger wrappers – passed out on his couch.
The police spend 20 minutes trying to wake Martin up, allow him to shower to alleviate his hangover, wait for him to drink an entire pot of coffee, and then whisk him away to the police station to be booked and questioned. Once at the police station, they wait for half an hour until the first officer arrives at 9:00 and unlocks the door.
September 10th, 16:08
With the ringleader of the civil unrest in police custody, the rioting has completely stopped and journalists and pundits dissect the series of events. Two talkshow pundits pose the question, What caused these riots?, to their viewers, who call into the show and posit their hypotheses: prolonged police brutality against rullnokks, government spending cuts that disproportionately affected rullnokks, a two-tiered, polarized Estonian society consisting of only rullnokks and those with high school diplomas, the inherent laziness of rullnokks, chronic and widespread unemployment within the rullnokk community, and a number of other theories are submitted.
One of the pundits suggests asking Martin Linnuaja himself what the root cause of the riots was, so they call the Tallinn police station. Taavi Merekiisu, who also acts as the Tallinn police department’s switchboard operator, answers the phone and then hands it to Martin. The pundit asks Martin why he incited the riots that led to the looting of a hamburger stand. Martin responds that he was hungry.
No shirt, no shoes, no problem
I’ve noticed something this summer that I didn’t last summer: in Estonia, it’s socially acceptable to walk around sans shirt in the summertime (I’ll assume that it’s socially acceptable in winter, too, but that no one does it because they’d die). I’ve seen it countless times since the sun remembered that Estonia exists sometime in May and decided to reacquaint itself with us: guys, usually beer-in-hand, walking around shirtless in the Old Town and near Viru Keskus. Sometimes they have a shirt tucked into the back of their pants, but many times they have no shirt with them at all – a bold move in the summer, when the weather is more unreliable than a Greek bus schedule.
This “shirts-off” behavior leads to another phenomenon that looks wholly out of place in Estonia: the Baltic sunburn. In a tropical climate, a person can become sunburned in a matter of hours; in Estonia, it takes days of nearly non-stop exposure to the sun. That means a sunburn isn’t the product of a trip to the beach — it’s the product of spending every waking minute of daylight in the sun without a shirt on. Going grocery shopping without a shirt on. Filling up one’s gas tank without a shirt on. Walking the dog without a shirt on. It takes real, concerted effort.
These artificial artifacts of a Nordic climate are the result of some Estonians having hypnotized themselves into thinking that Estonia has a real summer. The opposite happens in warmer climates; in Texas, where I’m from, I’ve seen people climb out of their SUVs (inside which the AC is set to full-blast) wearing The North Face parkas in weather evocative of an urbanized swamp. I think people instinctively believe that whichever season is abbreviated in their geography is more chic than that which they have in abundance. In Estonia, summer is associated with wealthy socialites idling lazily at a resort in South Beach, Miami. In Texas, winter is associated with those same wealthy socialites carving through fresh powder at a chichi resort in the Alps.
The truth is, summer in Estonia, mild as it may be, is better than the alternative. Estonia simply isn’t a “shirts-off” kind of place – and for that, I am grateful. When Estonians conjure up images of a summer paradise – of 40-degree heat and white, sandy beaches – they don’t consider the other side of real life in such a place. Ever sweated through your underwear? Ever gotten sunburned between your toes? Ever had to wrangle with an afro as a white man? These are the real life issues that people who live in hot places have to deal with. It’s not all beaches and margaritas.
And the same can be said for people living near the equator who romanticize snow. I speak from experience: growing up, I dreamt of snow days and white Christmases, having only seen snow in random, pathetic one-hour bursts which shut the city down and on TV. I never considered the downsides of living in a winter wonderland: of having to cover myself in 10 kilos of clothing just to walk to the grocery store. Of walking alongside a wall of snow covered in an ever-increasing layer of dog urine and feces on my way to work every day. Of having to de-frost my beard after fetching the mail. One imagines that snowy winters are all snowmen and cups of cocoa when he lives in a climate where heat warnings are issued on Christmas day.

Texas is so humid that if people don't run their air conditioning constantly, their houses grow mold. Seriously.
But pretty soon, the summer illusion will come to an end, and the shirtless über-optimists will begin to layer up. It’s August, and within the next two months, summer will give way to Finter (Fall-Winter; there’s pretty much no Fall in Estonia) and we’ll all be back in our jackets and snow boots. More than likely, I’ll be the first person complaining about how cold it is.
Pärnu Shore, Episode Three: Between a rullnokk and a hard place
Pärnu Shore:
- Meet the cast of Pärnu Shore
- Pärnu Shore, Episode One: A rullnokk’s work is never done
- Pärnu Shore, Episode Two: All’s fair in love and shore
- Pärnu Shore, Episode Three: Between a rullnokk and a hard place
- Pärnu Shore, Season Finale: We’ll always have the shore
Riina and Heleen, desperately bored in the last hour of their shift at Rullnokk’s, devise a competition to keep themselves entertained: whoever can ignore a customer at the ordering window for the longest wins. Riina is up first and wins the contest handily by ignoring a customer for 50 minutes — the remainder of their shift. The two leave and begin walking home.
Back at the house, Kevin and Jaanika sunbathe on the porch while Priit and Martin rest up before a big night out. Kevin asks Jaanika who she thinks is the most attractive roommate; Jaanika, not wanting to reveal to Kevin that she has feelings for him, refuses to answer. Kevin immediately responds by volunteering who he thinks is the most attractive: Heleen. Jaanika tries to not appear upset, but Kevin senses that she is bothered by what he said and concludes that Jaanika has a secret crush on Heleen.
Riina and Heleen arrive home and join Kevin and Jaanika on the porch. The roommates had agreed the night before to go to Shüüters, and Jaanika suggests that they all get ready now so they can drink before leaving. Kevin offers to make a batch of his signature drink: Ropsifest, a mixture of vodka, tequila, whiskey, energy drink, cranberry juice, orange juice, vanilla ice cream, and ice. The girls leave to begin getting ready and Kevin leaves for the store to get his supplies.
Martin awakes to find Riina and Heleen getting changed in the room. He pretends to remain asleep and watches the girls try on outfits and remembers after a few minutes that he has a beer stashed in his bedside table. He quietly retrieves the beer, but the pssssst sound the can makes as he opens it reveals to the girls that he’s awake. Riina and Heleen cover themselves and begin screaming for Martin to leave; he takes another beer from his nightstand and goes to the porch to drink.
The sound of Heleen and Riina screaming wakes Priit up, and, noticing that it’s past noon, he heads to the kitchen to make a drink. He considers asking the other roommates if they’d like drinks but decides against it: he wants to make sure he gets enough liquor to himself. As he scours the refrigerator looking for Saku, Kevin returns home with bags full of alcohol and mixers. Kevin begins making his Ropsifest drink and tells Priit that Jaanika and Heleen are dating. Realizing that he might be caught in the middle of a love triangle, Priit tells Kevin about his history with Heleen and confesses that he doesn’t have any feelings for her. Kevin is shocked by the news and advises Priit to avoid revealing their discussion to anyone. The two agree and cheers their Ropsifest drinks to a good night out.
The girls come to the kitchen to begin drinking Ropsifest, and after an hour the entire group is drunk. Priit suggests that they leave; still angry at Martin, Kevin doesn’t remind anyone that he’s on the porch and the roommates leave without him. The roommates arrive at Shüüters and are given a table in the VIP section by the manager, who is excited about having his club featured on Pärnu Shore. He gives the roommates two bottles of Viru Valge and tells them to have a good night.
The group moves to the dance floor after an hour of drinking, but Priit and Heleen remain in the booth. Priit asks Heleen how long she and Jaanika have been seeing each other, and why she never brought their relationship up to him. Heleen, obviously confused, asks Priit where he heard such a ridiculous thing; Priit, sensing his opportunity to cut things off with Heleen, responds that it’s not important and tells Heleen that he’s offended and doesn’t want to see her anymore. Heleen runs out of the club, and Priit buys Kevin a drink for helping him out of his predicament.
Discover majestic Mustvee at the Vigastatud Luik Bed & Breakfast!
Experience a true Estonian summer at the Vigastatud Luik Bed & Breakfast, one of Mustvee’s most luxurious seaside resorts. The Vigastatud Luik is a historical treasure: it was built more than 200 years ago as a cattle shed on what was then the nobleman Dieter von Grünningen’s estate. Five years after being constructed, during a peasant revolt, Dieter von Grünningen hid in a straw pile located in what is now the kitchen for more than 30 hours before being dragged into what is now one of the guestrooms and brutally beheaded by an angry mob.
The Vigastatud Luik overlooks Lake Peipsi, where our guests can spend their days relaxing to the rhythmic beat of lapping waves. The Vigastatud Luik brings traditional resort relaxation therapy outdoors with an array of mud-related activities offered on our own private mud beach: mud baths, mud-castle building, and mud volleyball are just a few diversions a guest might engage in during his stay at the Vigastatud Luik.
And if our guests need a break from the sun, they can make the ten minute trek into town to explore the sights of historic Mustvee, the jewel of Eastern Estonia. It has been said that life in Mustvee moves at a different pace from the rest of the world, but we think life in Mustvee moves in a completely different direction. Experience true rural Estonia by visiting the store – where wearing a shirt isn’t just optional, it’s frowned upon! – or the park. And for the seasoned adventurer, for whom visiting a store and a park isn’t enough excitement for one day, the store can be visited a second time.
After a full day of mud-beach games and exploring Mustvee, guests can return to the Vigastatud Luik for a good night’s sleep in one of our three themed guestrooms. The first is the Amazon Jungle Suite, so named because the roof leaks. The second is the Paris Suite, which hasn’t been cleaned in years. And the third is the Reykjavik Suite, located next to the chimney. All suites come equipped with a space big enough for sleeping. Sleeping materials — such as blankets, pillows, and a mattress — can be rented from the Vigastatud Luik staff.
And what would a Bed & Breakfast be without breakfast? The Vigastatud Luik offers its guests the opportunity to experience life as it was lived 100 years ago in our authentic period kitchen: no running water or electric appliances, and no food from a supermarket. Guests are invited to harvest eggs or butcher an animal before arriving at the Vigastatud Luik and cook the food
they bring with them the old-fashioned way.
Unfortunately, reservations to the Vigastatud Luik cannot be made by phone or email as we don’t have a phone or computer. To book a room, simply show up and hope we’re not full (note: the Paris Suite has never been occupied).
Comedy Estonia introduces daily deals
Daily deal websites like Groupon have been sprouting up across Europe over the past six months to offer major discounts on products and services. But most daily deal sites offer promotions that span a broad spectrum – many of which don’t appeal to your average expat, who isn’t as interested in a 50% discount on a Brazilian wax as he is in cheap booze. So Comedy Estonia has partnered with its favorite local businesses to launch a daily deal service of its own, targeted specifically at the expat and creep community. Here are your daily deals for Monday, July 18th.
Discount at Expatz Bar: Buy two shots, get a free STD test
50 discounts left out of 2000 offered
Shots at Expatz, the popular foreigner-oriented bar on Suur Kaarja, are expensive enough without having to shell out another €20 for an exhaustive STD exam the next day. This discount entitles the buyer to one free
STD test at the Expatz Medical Center (located in the third stall of the men’s bathroom at Expatz) with the purchase of two shots. The discount is valid until the next time the bearer goes to Expatz, after which the results would be irrelevant anyway.
Discount at Linnahall: 80% off the bottle of Lauaviin at the top of the steps
1 discount left out of 1 offered
There’s a bottle of Lauaviin sitting on the top of the steps of the Linnahall. It looks unopened. The bottle would retail for €6, but the guy wearing six coats and Kleenex boxes for shoes will sell it to you for €2. No refunds.
Discount at Le’Chez Restaurant: You can rifle through the dumpster and eat anything you find for €10
0 discounts left out of 200 offered
Want to eat at Le’Chez, arguably Tallinn’s most exquisite restaurant, but can’t afford anything on the menu? For €10, Le’Chez will allow you to dive into the dumpster behind the restaurant and eat to your stomach’s content. Each night, Le’Chez throws away its patrons’ uneaten portions as well as food that was burned, undercooked, and dropped on the floor. For the discount price of just €10, the only difference between you and a real customer at Le’Chez will be your absence of dignity.
Discount at Dinner in the Air: 10% off dinner if you sit in the seat with no safety harness
10 discounts left out of 150 offered
Dinner in the Air offers diners the opportunity to eat on a platform held 75 meters above the ground by a suspension crane. The experience is perfectly safe, as all of the seats come equipped with a safety harness that has been thoroughly tested. All of the seats except the one that broke two weeks ago, that is. This discount entitles its bearer to eat at Dinner in the Sky for only 90% of the normal price if they sit in that specific seat.
Discount at Tallinn Bussijaam: 20% off Tallinn – Tartu bus ride at 6am on a Saturday
0 discounts left out of 100 offered
Live in Tartu? Want to enjoy a night out in Tallinn without paying for a hotel? Here’s your opportunity: with this 20% discount on a Tallinn – Tartu bus ride at 6am on any Saturday morning in August, you can enjoy Tallinn’s nightlife on a Friday night and be back in Tartu for breakfast on Saturday. You might also make a few friends on the way, if you can speak “drunk” and enjoy the smell of Taco Express and cheap shots.
How to hitchhike to Australia
Most people think that hitchhiking to Australia from Estonia is impossible. “It’s an island on the other side of the world,” they say. “Also, hitchhiking to Australia would take weeks. Spending €1000 on a plane ticket is more practical.”
Nonsense. First of all, every destination on Earth can be reached by hitchhiking. And once commercial space flight becomes viable, hitchhiking will infiltrate the cosmos. No distance is too vast to be hitchhiked. A true traveler’s thumb knows no boundary.
Second, only a moron would ever exchange their money for a plane ticket. To anyone who says it’s easier, faster, and more sensible to pay for travel than it is to hitchhike, I say: open your eyes and look out your window. Do you see cars? Are they moving? Why would you buy a plane ticket if you could simply hop into one of those cars with a complete stranger and ride with them for as long as they’re driving in the general direction you need to move in? It would be foolish.
Given that summer is the time for travel, I decided to dispel the greatest myth plaguing Estonian college students: that Australia can’t be hitchhiked to. So two weeks ago, I packed a bag, stood on the side of the Tallinn to Tartu highway, and stuck my thumb up. This is my story.
Getting to Riga
Any seasoned hitchhiker knows that women get picked up way more often than men. So to save myself some time, I wore a skirt, a wig, and tall, stripper-style high heels while hitchhiking. I reasoned that, while most drivers wouldn’t find me attractive, they’d probably all assume I was desperate and offer me a ride. It worked. Out of 15 people standing on the side of the road near the airport, I was picked up first. The rest were men – wearing men’s clothes. They must have felt really silly as they watched me hold my skirt to climb into an Audi.
Getting to Riga was the first big leg of my journey to Australia. I chose Riga as my first stop because it’s such an awful dump that I wouldn’t want to stick around for any longer than absolutely necessary. The driver I caught a ride with from Tallinn was named Timo. He was heading all the way to Riga and would be staying there for quite a while, judging by how fast he drove by the Estonian highway speed cameras. He pretty quickly picked up on the fact that I’m a man, but he didn’t judge me for wearing women’s clothing, speaking with a terrible, fake Estonian woman’s accent, or reading Marie Claire. Nice guy.
Getting to Kiev
I had Timo drop me off on the side of the highway leading into Riga and wrote “Ukraine” on one of the many pieces of cardboard littering the area. I expected to have to wait a while, but I was picked up in less than 30 minutes by a trucker. He said he was going all the way to Kiev, so I hopped aboard his big rig. The driver’s name was Igor and he was evasive when I asked him what he was hauling, which made me a little nervous. When we stopped at a truck stop 8 hours later, sores has broken out on my ankles and patches of hair were falling out of my scalp. “Still better than paying for a plane ticket!,” I thought as I made a travel pillow by stuffing my discarded hair into a paper bag.
The drive to Kiev was pleasantly uneventful. Igor was an entertaining driver, cursing in a vaguely Slavic-sounding language whenever he got cut off. And I think Igor enjoyed my company, too. He said I was his favorite person to watch sleep.
Getting to Tehran
I said my goodbyes to Igor on the outskirts of Kiev and made a new sign: “Tehran”. I began to lose faith in my mission as hundreds, if not thousands of trucks passed me over the course of what felt like a century. Many times, a truck would slow down as it approached only to throw discarded soda bottles or McDonald’s wrappers at me and speed up again.
Finally, after more than 14 hours on the side of the road, a trucker stopped and offered me a ride. He worked for a military contractor: he couldn’t take me to Tehran, he said, but he could give me a ride to Mosul, Iraq. I accepted
his offer and hopped in the cab, thinking it’d be easy to find a ride to Tehran from Mosul.
It was a long three day drive to Iraq, and Mosul had a much more pronounced “war zone vibe” than I had anticipated. The military contractor dropped me off on the outskirts of town and I wrote “Tehran” on a rock I pulled from the ruins of what looked like a school. I waited for hours in the sweltering heat before seeing a single car, and when one finally did approach it sped up and tried to hit me. I was able to dive out of the way in time, but the incident didn’t leave me very optimistic about my chances of getting to Australia.
Three days later, a military convoy heading to Afghanistan stopped and offered to drive me to Tehran. And two days after that, I was writing a new sign – “Calcutta” – from the side of a highway in Iran. To think that I almost caved in and bought a plane ticket while sleeping under a bullet-riddled piece of iron siding in Mosul!
Getting to Calcutta
NOTHING INTERESTING HAPPENED ON THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY. IT WAS COMPLETELY UNEVENTFUL AND THERE’S NO USE IN DESCRIBING ANY PORTION OF THIS LEG OF THE JOURNEY IN DETAIL. SUFFICE TO SAY THAT IT WAS PLEASANT AND QUIET.
Getting to Hong Kong
After my stitches healed and I was able to eat solid foods again, I posted myself on the side of the highway outside of Calcutta and drew my next sign: “Hong Kong”. A driver named Hintao picked me up after only a few minutes and offered to take me all the way to the port of Hong Kong, where he was dropping off some shipping containers filled with toxic wastewater. I asked him where that toxic wastewater was being shipped to and almost jumped out of my seat in excitement when he responded: Sydney, Australia! Jackpot!

"We could not calculate directions between Kolkata, West Bengal, India and Hong Kong Island, Hong Kong."
I struck a deal with Hintao: I’d drive the truck the rest of the way to Hong Kong if he’d let me stow myself in the shipping container and ride – for free – to Sydney. He agreed, and I climbed behind the steering wheel. Maneuvering a massive truck was harder than I thought: I took a turn too quickly at one point and the cargo hit the truck’s loading door so hard that it burst open, spilling six barrels of wastewater into a nearby stream. Hintao and I had a good laugh at my driving skills as we lit the stream on fire to burn off the wastewater and fled the scene.
Getting to Sydney
After driving together for four days, Hintao and I had developed a strong friendship. He didn’t want me to leave for Sydney: he thought we should open our own trucking business together. I had to decline his offer, and Hintao and I exchanged emotional goodbyes as he locked me into a shipping container before driving to the port. The next six days are a blur, as the inside of the shipping container was pitch black and the fumes from the wastewater caused me to pass out frequently. But I very vividly remember the elation I felt when the door to the shipping container was opened and the bright Australian sun warmed my face. Unfortunately, I was arrested on the spot by the Australian port authority and spent the next two weeks being interrogated every day by Australia’s version of homeland security.
Once the Australian authorities deemed that I was not a terrorist but rather an exceptionally thrifty idiot, they released me – and I was free to enjoy Australia with the knowledge that I didn’t pay a single cent for transportation to get there. By this point, however, my hair had completely fallen out and I had developed a severe case of rickets, so I wasn’t able to do much sightseeing. I did, however, manage to send Sydney, Australia postcards to both Igor and Hintao before starting my journey back home. But that adventure will have to wait for another article – partly because it’s rife with interesting anecdotes, and partly because I’m barred from discussing it publicly by the Malaysian government.
But the absolute best part about my trip to Australia – the thing that put a smile on my face each of the four mornings I spent there before having to leave – was that I got there for free. I overheard some tourists talking about their flight one day in a park. “Fools,” I thought I as I applied rubbing alcohol to the open sores on my ankles. “Don’t they realize that they could have hitchhiked for free?“