So, we got up bright and early, on this Tuesday, because we were getting a ride with this man working in Jõhvi, and the busses from Alajõe were awful. We watched a little of the Simpsons on TV, while having our breakfast, and then were off, (after lifting our behemoth suitcase into the trunk of this poor little car.) I think that I ended up sitting in the front seat, and then had a conversation of sorts with this man, whose English was pretty good. He turned out to be an interesting person.

He used to be a detective in Tallinn. A detective, dealing with crimes, murders, and so on. It was... fascinating, at first... and then something inside of me revolted at the idea, and ... was a little disturbed thinking of the violence this man had seen in his work, and also a bit sorry for him, for having seen it. -And having to deal with it. I don't remember now though, if he retired from the force, and then moved out to the country, or if ... Yes. I think it's this one: He had worked his way up the ranks, (he was near a retiring age,) and got himself transfered out of the capital city, out to the east county. And here, he was still a detective, but now, he was dealing with the wilderness. Don't ask me exactly what that means, but he's the chief detective for the wilderness areas in the east.

Can you imagine what his job entails? Obviously, people dumping garbage into the woods, or perhaps cutting their firewood from within protected parks. Perhaps if people get lost, that too? And... (don't laugh,) unruly animals? I think I might have actually asked him about unruly animals. Anyhow, he's now (at least,) equal parts forester and detective, and works in two or three offices, (as well as in the bush,) out in this region. That's the person we got a ride with, and he dropped us off at the Jõhvi bus station. Again, we thought we'd leave our luggage, (have I mentioned that it weighed thirty-two kilos?) at the bus station, while we looked around town.

At this terminal, the price of leaving the luggage there was very low, and they gave us just a piece of ripped off cardboard, with a number on it in felt pen. (I'm leading somewhere with the information I've given about baggage check places, so I know it's weird, but just be patient.) It was a bit cold, a bit rainy, and very grey. And we were both quite sleepy, and tired, and less then thrilled to be in this town, at 8:45 in the morning, with most things still closed. But... there we were. So, we made the best of it, and had a look, to see whatever there was to see. We went to one church... which was closed. then we went to the center of the city; town-hall square, thinking that even if everything was closed, there should at least be the old buildings, and nice architecture there. After a bit of searching, we decided that we had indeed found it; It was a large concrete square, in front of the town-hall. It was also the roof of a parking lot. And it didn't have proper drainage, so there were puddles here and there on it. Someone HAD made an attempt to make it interesting though: by putting some modern, geometric, layered shrub-and-flower-pot-amalgamations on it. Unfortunately, they just looked bad. The whole thing was... empty concrete. It... dampened our enthusiasm... yet more.

After that disappointment, we went to the Russian Orthodox Church, (which was just across the road.) It was not too big, but it was well kept. And it was the first time that I've been inside such a church. (I think.) What surprised me, was the sheer amount of religious decorations. That's not the right term, is it? I mean pictures, carvings, and statues of saints... and crucifixes, and Madonnas, and so on. (and on, and on, and on.) To my uneducated eye, it looked like... there had been ten or fifteen old, churches, each dedicated to a different saint, or holy figure, and then each of the churches were emptied of everything, which was put into this one orthodox church. Does that make sense? And then all the worshippers of each church, came only to that one. So, every picture was cared for, and had it's own set of devout followers. Every single various Christ, and every single Mary had it's own fresh flowers, and lighted candles. Now, I might be giving too severe a picture here... in fact, I think there were only eight to ten holy Icons, with lighted candles in front of them. But still, to my eye, the place was nearly cluttered. All the more so, because the typical style of Russian Religion, is one of so much ornamentation, and gold leaf, and decoration... that every square foot of the walls and ceiling, would have something in it, which tries to catch the eye.

I then started to wonder, how the Russian Orthodox church became like this. Could it be... Could it be nearly exactly as I've described it? And it was just that the Russian Empire stretched so wide, and had within it so many different cultures, that it became an amalgamation of all these culture's religions? That when it was absorbing the cultures, and making them a part of Russia, it simply adopted their patron saints, and traditions, instead of trying to supplant them with other ones? It's an idea that I could understand. (Not that the theory is based on anything more than idle thought, and twenty minutes observation of one isolated church. So I wouldn't be surprised if this theory is utterly groundless.)

Now... me and religions...

Well, as I might have said before on this website... and as I've discussed with a number of people at times in my life, I don't ascribe to any religion. I neither insist upon, nor deny the existence of any god-like being or beings. I DO respect the right of each and every person to believe whatever they whish to believe, however they wish to believe it. Now, I'm also a curious person, and would like to understand other people... and that includes what other people believe, and what religion is to them. So I like to go to churches, and various places of worship. But I've always imagined how much I would hate it, if it was MY place of worship, and loud, ignoramus, un-initiated Tourists came... to gawk, point, make jokes about, take pictures of, and point out everything which isn't "normal" about, the place that is holy to me. So, I've always made it a point to be quite, reserved, and toned down, when ever I'd be in a place connected to religion. (Only a very, very few times, would I find myself in some chapel alone, with such great, Great acoustics... that I'd just have to break into chant... -that sounds odd, doesn't it? I mean a Christian-type chant, or some piece of sacred music I learned long ago in choir. But even then, I would stick to the things in Latin, figuring that they might have been written before there was a split in the church... so that I could feel more-or-less certain that if a bishop, or cardinal, or whatever happened to pop his head out of a confessional, or what-ever, he could not, in fact, have a strong objection to what I was singing.)

Anyhow, that was all just a few times, when I was in the mood, and the acoustics were too great to resist. The point was, that I'm always trying to be so somber, and respectful, that no-one could object to my presence. Now... living a bachelor's life all these years... and going to so many places by my self... always by myself, I think that I've been leaning further in the somber direction than I realized. I was shocked, and half scandalized, when we were sitting on a bench in the Russian church, and Pamela started talking, in a normal voice, about which paintings she liked, and what she thought was strange, or special about the statues, and the way she found the ornamentation to be a little much. My way of dealing with other religions had become such an automatic habit, that I didn't know how to respond to her. All I could think was "I can't talk in here. Why is Pamela talking? What is she doing?" -Oh dear. I'm laughing now, as I write it, and see what a square, stern figure I must have been, but I was really too shocked for words at the time. In defence of her speaking, (in a normal tone!) it must be said that some local women were also in there for some of the time, and were chattering away about the Weather, Polotics, and what ever else, -what ever else it might have been. I couldn't actualy understand a word of it.

I'm sure that Pamela was really a bit concerned, what with the way I was only answering her in whispered mono-syllables, and looking so very, very uncomfortable. So she asked me, "What's wrong? Are you alright?" Now... how could I try to answer that? Not even realizing how extreme my behavior in churches had ended up becoming over the years. Now... now, it all makes sense to me, and I can see how very, Very different Pamela would be, in relation to other Religions. Afterall, She actually has a religion of her own. She knows her God, and therefor would have no thoughts at all about possibly offending that deity in his place of worship. (I haven't had a discussion about that with her, but that's just one way that I imagine our viewpoints would differ in such matters.) Anyhow, it gave me a bit of a shake, and made me realize, (slowly, I'm still doing some realizing now,) how much of a dark, silent, strict person I had become in the face of Religion.

I fear that I might have even cultivated this... habit specificaly; I could have found it much easier, when I'd be in some church, (and note, that I've not been in an English speaking church for about eight or nine years.) If I had a look of silent thought, and wordless, concentrated solitude, I wouldn't then be approached by people of that church, who would ask in whichever foreign language... whatever they would ask. (I think in the Russian church, they were telling me where the candles were, that I could buy, to light in front of the saint of my choice.) There is also the hope that such an air of solitude, and deep thought, will excuse me from all the "mistakes" I'm bound to make. For example, should I cross myself with holy water when I enter? Should I kneel, and cross myself when I walk before the high alter? I could watch others, and make a good show at doing the same as them... but I would feel it to be... perhaps disrespectful. And certainly False. My personal feeling is that such things should only be performed if they have meaning. And the only meaning they could have for me, at this time, is one of... faking it. Of miming the movements of the others, to cover my own feeling of insecurity at being in their special place. It would be a little like the westerners who put their hands together and bow a thousand times whenever they meet someone from China. Or worse -when they meet someone from Nepal, who they can not differentiate from Chinese. Their actions are false, false, false.

So... has this been enough off topic? Can I actually remember what country I was writing about right now? Let me see...

Once we were out of the church, and I could actually bring myself to speak again, I tried to explain to Pamela, but I think I was not awake enough, besides not being all that clear in my own head, what I thought was my problem with talking in the church. We went then to the Market, which was beside the bus station, and which had opened by this time. We wandered around in there for a while, and spent some time in the Fish building, looking at a chart, which had pictures of the Fishes of Europe, with their names in seven languages. Out front of that house, was a very happy, satisfied-looking cat. (But it's not the cat I have a picture of. That cat was in a Market in Tallinn, sleeping amidst the boxes of produce.) Pamela took a picture, but not of this cat. She saw a big box full of baby Cauliflower, which she found too cute and adorable for words. Well... if a picture's worth a thousand words... Unfortunately, she didn't have anything in the picture to give a size reference, so it just looks like a flat of Cauliflower. There's no way to see that each one is no bigger than a small fist. In the end, the only thing we bought in this market, was a bag full of Chocolates. We got a mixture of Russian and Estonian ones, from this stand which had each kind in a separate container. So we really went through them, saying "ten of those, and six or seven of these. Let's have some yellow ones as well..." and so on.

After the market, we went into a mall, which was also beside the bus station. When we were recalling this morning, to write it down, Pamela said this mall was Horrid. I thought it was just dull... until I remembered exactly which one it was. Then, I thought it depressing, and oppressing. Somehow... everything there... looked bleached by the sun, grey with dust, cheap-third-world-knock-offs, and... and... sad. So we didn't look around there too long. We went to look in a different mall. (What else was there to do? The first church we went to still wasn't open, and the center of town looked like nothing other than the concrete roof of a parking lot.) We then got a bit lost; looking for this other mall took about half an hour, and got us somewhere that was only four minutes walk from the bus stop. This mall was much more "normal" and it was simply dull; not depressing. And here was a cafe we sat at, and had some... second breakfast. Well... something to drink, and eat, to take up some time, and wait for this boring, boring, dull, rainy, grey morning to be over.

At last the morning was over, and we went to the J&otlide;hvi Kindlus-Kirik (that's the church we'd been past first thing in the morning.) Inside... there was relatively little to see. It was sparsely decorated, and with not much wood or stone work. Outside, it was much more impressive: It was a strong, and fortified church, which was a powerful resistance point in the couple of religious wars which happened long ago in this area. (Which religious wars? Ummm... I think one had to do with the Teutonic Order. And the other was something like the "Bishop's War"? I can't say exactly.) Anyhow, this was a church with a great deal of blood-shed about it, and in it. And because of that history, it's got plenty of archery slits, extra thick walls, and other defensive architecture.

It also has a crypt, which houses it's little museum. This museum probably has... an entire 50 historic pieces, dating as far back as the iron age. It's very, very little, for the two rooms and passage way that are down there. But I was impressed with what a good job the church had done with these few pieces. They were professionally mounted, in nice, clean glass cases. The lighting was good on them. And they had a tour system, where the museum curator, (the little old lady who wasn't upstairs cleaning the church on that day,) could play a CD in any of five or so languages, which was heard through speakers (of decent quality) in the two rooms. This "tour" CD did a good job of describing the pieces in the museum, and the ages they came from, as well as giving a picture of what the countryside was like back then. It also told about the history of the church itself, and it gave two or three of the legends about how it came to be built. It also gave details about the bloody battles, and the terror which had been in these lands. There was one point in time, where the church itself was feared, and to make it's spirit rest, some man was buried alive in it's walls. Pamela found such details... a bit disturbing. But I... was not disturbed. (It sounds very bad, if I say "interested." But I wasn't surprised to know that people here too, were given to suspicion, terror, and violence. And I'm always curious to know how people then deal with their troubles.) The Tour CD was well produced, as well as narrated, and had some ambient sounds, including the "many hairy horsemen" and "clashing steel" sounds for the battles, as well as the Gregorian chants for the rites of the dead. It was... a TOUCH kitsch... and the ending of it... was too silly for words. It went something like, "And now, you can leave by the front entrance, and leave the souls here in Peace. After all, there are some secrets of the past, which we should not look into at all."

So, like I said, this little, little church didn't have a great deal to work with, but they should be commended for the professional result they present.

After that, we got onto the bus to Narva. Have I presented this town yet? It's one of the biggest five cities in Estonia, I think. It's right on the Russian Border, and it's got the highest percentage of Russian People, out of any Estonian city. (I'm sure there are villages, where the percent is higher, but no towns or cities.) It's also the place where (I've heard,) there is the most aggression, and discord between the two cultures. I've also heard Estonians talking about this city, referring to it's dirtiness, and Industry. (Industry as in big smoke stacks, and strip-mines. Not as in people who are eager to work, and get things done.) But... Pamela and I thought that it couldn't be much more boring, empty, and depressing than Jõhvi was, so there we were, to spend the afternoon... and evening... and night. Our bus to Russian was leaving from Narva at 1:25 in the morning. So we had plenty of time... to wait.

Once again, the first thing for us to do, was leave the luggage at the bus station, so that we wouldn't be taking it with us, all around the town, the whole long day. (Breath in... breath out.) This was the worst. Pamela and I afterwards called the people at the bus station the Rhinoceroses. They were not so large... but VERY ill in temper. I took the luggage around, to where there was a door into the room. The man there greeted me with "What are you doing! What do you want! You can't be here!" (Breath in, breath out.) I did my best to explain, (In Russian,) that I wanted to keep my suitcase here for the day. "You can't be here! Go to front window!"

So, I went back inside, where there's a little window looking into this room, and the Lady Rhino there asked "What!?" So, I said I wanted to keep my luggage there." And she said "Take it around to the door! Now!" So, I took it back there, gave it to the man, and went around to the lady again. She said "Pass port!" I tried to make sure I understood. "Passport!!!" -which was in my luggage. So, much, Much, MUCH to the Rhino's annoyance, I had to go back to the door, open the pocket of my suitcase, and get my passport out. I then filled out a form, which was carbon-copied in triplicate, sign it, pay even more than I did in Tallinn, and was told that I'd have to be back by six in the evening, because the office closed then. Well... I think I might have even tried verifying... of asking her if there was anywhere else I could keep my luggage, AFTER six. -But that was a mistake. You can try discussing something with a Rhino, but you sure as heck won't get much out of it.

Alright... so from six to one thirty, we'd have our 30 kg of luggage with us... waiting around in this deserted bit of town, for the bus to come. But until then, we had the freedom to walk around however we pleased. But where to walk? I asked two men standing at the bus-stop outside, if there was anything good to see in Narva. They said that there was a good museum... but it was closed on Tuesdays. So... which way to the center of the city then? They had a good, through "Russian Discussion" about it... with all the arguing, and angry, fed-up tones. Then they seemed to agree that there was no center of town. I think I asked twice about that, and they confirmed for me, that the town had no center; No center strip. No town-hall square, no market-square. No Center. Great. Just Great.

Well... Pamela and I started walking down the biggest street we could see, thinking that as all the others were smaller, they were leading out of town. And we had some luck: it was a fairly central street, with many shops on it. There was also a little square, with a bust of Alexander Pushkin in it. We looked at a few Cafés, but found none which excited us. (I was, by this time, really hoping to find Pelminid, which I could show to Pamela. They are the Russian food that I know best... after Borscht. And... I was really hoping to be able to introduce Pamela to them.) We ended up going towards the castle we could see, (Oh... and I somewhere had got a map by this time, so I could say that there was, Indeed, a castle there.) This was the old, old fort built on the river. Huge, buttressed stone walls. Stone, stone, stone. Ah, and all of this, since we got off the bus, was in Rain, rain, rain. And we were still sleepy too. So, we were rather pleased, when in this castle, there was one covered walk-way on a wall, that was set up as a café. So we sat there, at this wooden table, and had a bite to eat, and something warm to drink, and just rested, and rested, and rested. Eventually, the sun even came out... (I think. Perhaps it just stopped raining. But that was enough for us.) I was writing this account of our vacation, and Pamela was writing post-cards, (to be mailed off, before we left Estonia.) The sun brightened our moods, as we finished these things off. Just after we'd finished writing though, and were leaving the Caé, the rain began again. Ah... (breath in, breath out.)

Still, we walked around the castle/fort, and took pictures in the drizzle. There was also a statue of Stalin that we got a picture of, as well as many other tourists who were walking around the castle. This Stalin was very popular. This surprised me a bit... considering that the general Estonian feel tends to be that he was an Oppressor. I later found out though, that this is actually the only statue of Stalin in the whole country. All of the others, (and, of course, there used to be many of them,) have been destroyed. There is only this one, at Narva, Pointing to the other side of the border, which remains. I guess that this would be enough to explain much of it's appeal; Just the fact that it's unusual, and unique in the country. We also looked at the possibility of going into the museum there, in the castle... but it was closing about five minutes later, so we saw no more than the first hallway, where one would pay the entrance fee.

Then... I suggested we see the "dark Garden", which was pointed out on the map, not too far from the Castle. It wasn't all that dark. It wasn't all that interesting either, (at least Pamela didn't seem impressed by it at all.) I thought it wasn't faulty though; Not bad, just... not interesting. Then, I said we could go around this last curve of the pathway, and still get back to the bus station with exactly seven extra minutes. I actually had a great time... (relatively,) calculating the exact distance on the map, and knowing how long it would take, down to the minute. We even passed a post-box on the way, so we dropped the postcards in there, and continued on. And my timing seemed to be just right... so we took a couple of those extra minutes to look into a hotel on that main street, heading to the bus station. Pamela had the inspiration, you see, that the Hotel might be good enough to let us leave the luggage There for a while. I was doubtful, and would normally never even think to bother the people there to ask. But... I thought... It would make Pamela Happy. It WOULD be great if it worked too... So...

In we went, to the front desk, and I explained as nicely as I could, as humble as could be, what our situation was, with the luggage, and with the bus at 1:30 in the morning. And the kind receptionist didn't even take a second's thought, to say "sure! no problem." What a relief THAT was!!! So, it was just a short little hop down to the bus station, give the proper form to the Rhino, (and perhaps sign somewhere,) and take the luggage back up to the Hotel.

Then we went and had lunch... somewhere. I can't recall now. After that, we went walking, heading towards this or that, which looked interesting on my little tourist map. The first thing we saw, was a rather big, Russian Orthodox church. It was large, and it was brick, and it had the "onion domes." But it was also already closed, so we couldn't take a look inside. It was also... situated in an ugly, half-industrial part of town. (The other half of it's composition, was the run-down, Russian Cement housing projects.) The picture we took, showing this... tends to get a reaction from the people who look at it. It's not exactly a positive reaction though. I think it ranges from Discomfort, to Sadness, to Annoyance. ("why did you take that picture? It's a terrible thing.") -Well, it is a terrible thing. -But not the photo itself; The situation that it shows. A huge beautiful church, surrounded by such... ugliness. Anyhow, it's a notable picture.

Then we walked by the train-yards... (which were right by the church,) and stood on a bridge while a coal-train made it's way into Russia. (These yards stopped at one end, with the Border to Russia.) Pamela was reminded of a book she read, which started with the line "He crossed the tracks on his way home every day." -That's from some depressing, but interesting book she told me of. We also looked in the Train station. This was an empty, depressing place. There are only two passenger trains going from Narva each day, so it was entirely deserted.

After that somber place, we went to the large, Lutherin Church, which the guide map said was "under Hammer for some years." I thought it would be interesting to see a giant hammer, resting on top of this church... but it looked like it was just under renovations, and/or repairs. All the doors were boarded up, and half of the windows... the bottom half of each window. Which made a really interesting effect, because there were circular stained glass windows set higher up. so, if you looked through the empty window spaces, with the rough bricks showing, at Exactly the Right Place, you could see a perfect stained-glass saint peering at you. I was fascinated by it, and spent at least fifteen minutes walking around this church, through the vacant lots and so on, trying to get a good picture of all eight windows. It was depressing, and deserted, but also beautiful, (unlike the train station.) On our walk, we also had a lovely view of the river, from one of it's high banks, and saw a strange Lion Statue on top of a monument that has something to do with Sweden.

It was sometime then, that Pamela realized she was really enjoying Narva. It's a bit odd, but I can see what she meant. Yes, it was raining, lonely, grey, a bit dirty, ugly, and stressful at times. But... it was also relaxed. We just walked around looking at things. It was a slow day, where we took our time, and didn't try to see "important" things. I think of it sort of like the beauty of seeing a grave-yard. It's often lonely there, and a bit dusty, and there's so many old, stone things, half-grown over, and dirty. It's a bit depressing... But -Every time I go to a graveyard, it's an opportunity to have self-reflection. It leaves me refreshed, and calm. I'm more steady afterwards, and can think clearer. It's sort of that feeling, I think, that I got a bit of from Narva. (And perhaps it's a similar thing with Pamela)

We had dinner at the Hotel, where we had left our luggage. It was a nice place to eat. The food was good, and the Italian Chardonay we had was Just Right. (we both found it quite good.) But... that only took us to about 11:00. Perhaps 11:30, after we had payed, and sat at our table for as long as possible. So, what was there for us to do until at least 1:00? In this desolate city, where it might have been raining? We asked the desk attendant, if it would be much too much to ask, if we could wait there in the foyer, and they were again, so kind as to not even think about it. We were more than welcome to. So, there we sat, tired out of our minds, with little or nothing to say. We both dozed off a little, (well... I might have dozed a lot,) on each others shoulders, and I imagine that we were a bit of a sorry sight to see. Waiting around, drowsy as can be, (we got up just after seven, remember? And there'd been no where to really rest the whole day,) falling asleep on each other's shoulders in a hotel lobby at Midnight.

Eventually, our Purgatory was over, (albeit a purgatory on a very comfy couch,) and we took our Luggage, and went down to the Bus Station. There were about three of four other people who were getting on the bus there. So, at last, at 1:25, we got on the bus... and found other people sitting in our seats. There were only a small sprinkling of single seats left free here and there. So, we sat two or three rows apart, (and started filling out our Custom's Declaration's forms.) But that can come on the next day's Journal. The Next Country's Journal.