Author: donhall930

                        I am sure that there are better ways to lose a few pounds but being the optimist that I am, I’ll put a positive spin on this! And ‘spin’ may be the operative word here because that’s what started my ‘crash’ diet a few days ago. Well, maybe not the spin as that came a few microseconds after my car whammied the center guardrail on Route 24 Westbound in Madison, N.J. and that whammerization came a few more microseconds after I fell asleep whilst driving.

                        For those of you that I have been around me over the past year or so and have had the pleasure (?) of having me nod off in mid-sentence, you know that this affliction can strike at any time. In this case, it was just a normal Sunday afternoon, on my way home from Chatham, where Paula’s son Matt and his family live. I did not get too far, maybe only ten minutes out when ‘Zzzzzzz’ happened (with no warning) and I woke up in time to witness the Honda slam into the guardrail after traveling from the right lane, across the left lane and shoulder to impact the guardrail. We (the Honda and me) then careened back into the two westbound lanes, spinning several times until we reversed ourselves (still spinning) and re-crossed those same lanes until we ended up back in the center median on some very nicely greened grass. The driver’s side window airbag deployed which hindered my unhasty exit from the vehicle as I was still wonky and I remember feeling bad because I was going to cause a traffic jam on RT. 24 and everyone hates traffic jams on that road. I was quite embarrassed standing outside the offending (but innocent) vehicle.

                        I got back in via the passenger side and looked for my phone which had beat a hasty exit from its windshield window holder. I found it hiding in a rather remote place in between the seats and console, I am sure that it was quite scared as it had a front row seat (until impact) of the whole situation.

                        Several cars had stopped across the road and with many gestures asked if I was ok. I gave them the ‘thumbs-up’ signal as I was sure that I was just fine, maybe a little embarrassed, and feeling quite guilty for making the event that we were afraid of come true.  You know that feeling, the “I told you so” scenario, dreading the facing of those that had muttered that phrase before. It’s funny the stuff that goes through your brain at times like this.

                                    My phone was begging to be made useful, so I calmly (?) dialed 911 and proceeded to report what happened. Luckily, I came to a stop exactly across from the 4.4-mile marker, so I felt quite official reporting my position to the dispatcher. It only took a few minutes for everyone to arrive and I mean everyone. I’m guessing that they all needed to get out of the house because I didn’t think that my little fender-bender required the level of response that was quickly arriving at the scene. It seemed as if they all materialized out of thin air because when I finished with my second call, the one to Paula, on scene were no less than five police cars, an EMT-ish-looking vehicle, a fire truck, a tow truck, and the official ambulance rig.

                                    The Officials convinced me that I needed to take a ride in that ambulance instead of having Paula just drop by and whisk me away from this mess. This is the start of the ‘Hindsight Episodes’ that only make sense in that vein, and when recalled later one asks themselves, “What were you thinking!!!???”

                                    It was a good thing that I took that ride, more on that a little later. In the meantime, I walked to the ambulance as they took the Honda away, clambered in and found a seat. The guys were nice and we had a pleasant conversation on the way to Morristown Medical Center. They suggested that I should lie down on the stretcher, I protested, and they then said, “We can’t pull up to the Emergency Room with you just walking out of the rig, believe us, it will go much better with you on the stretcher.” That was the second Hindsight Episode that occurred because they immediately got me into the Trauma Unit, which again looking back, made all the difference in what happened next.

                                    By then Paula had been dropped off and found me down outside Trauma Room 2 because I had my cell phone on me and had texted her my location. There I was in the hallway waiting my turn in a triage of sorts when Paula looked over at me and I said, “I don’t feel so good” as my eyesight dimmed and the edges of my vision darkened and moved inwards. She looked at me and quickly ran to find an official-type person who upon arrival took another look at me and quickly wheeled me into an adjacent trauma room.

“BP dropping! 50 over 30! No time to cross and type-match, hang a unit of O negative” It may not have been exactly like that, but remember I was somewhat compromised by this time. It turned out that after a CAT scan and a few other diagnostic tools being implemented, it was determined that my spleen had been put through an abnormal amount of physical abuse and had decided to bleed on me internally. I guess it’s what you can’t see that’s the scariest. (Just ask those swimmers in Jaws!)

                                    They ended up giving me two units of the good stuff.

                                    Had I just had Paula pick me up from the scene and gone home like I thought I could have……

                                    I guess I should apologize for the lack of pretty photos attached to this Post as there really are none to be found, except maybe this one.

                                    By now you’ve probably surmised that I was going to be staying in Morristown for a few days. I can personally attest to the Quality of Care slathered upon me by the staff in the ICU. I spent about three days there flat on my back waiting for hemoglobin numbers to be reported. Apparently, they are the bellwethers of internal bleeding. My numbers steadily improved thanks to the emergency procedure with a Fancy Name that was performed on me soon after it was determined that I had that internal bleeding issue. Its name is Radiational Splenic Artery Embolization, and it is a minimally invasive procedure that jams little coils into the bad parts which stops the bleeding (good) but eventually kills a part of the spleen (bad) but the spleen has a Pep Rally for itself and heals somewhat (despite all of this) in about two months (good). I am forbidden to do certain activities during this time period as further agitation of the spleen could hinder its recovery (bad). I cannot do things that are obviously trauma inducing but some other items are added to the list such as ‘ladder climbing’. This is not because the spleen is afraid of heights, it’s because if I fell off of the ladder, I would immediately be into that previous category of Trauma Inducing Activities. I was also forbidden to report to Training Camp until I got an All-Clear from my doctor. The Giants were not happy.

                                    I spent about those days in the ICU flat on my back, not moving at all. The scariest part of this was my Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) which I am the Poster Child for that usually has me on the verge of Panic Attacks if I feel that I am in a position that I cannot get out of…… like the middle seat of  Regular Coach (sardine) Class with the Fasten Seatbelt sign glaring at me. Now not only am I unable to move (it hurts too much) but I’m confined to the bed with all of the ‘stuff’ attached to me.

                                    Ok, so go ahead and ask The Question.

                                    “Gee Donny, how do you go to the bathroom?”

                                    I’m glad you asked that Mr. Bedpan! Actually, since I was on a diet that inspired the title of this Post, (namely Clear Liquids) I was spared the need to use that barbaric instrument of embarrassment.

                                    “Well, what about, you know, going #1?”

                                    This activity is automatically taken care of by an even more barbaric instrument named Mr. Catheter. But I am happy to report that after some initial ‘discomfort’ (their term NOT mine!) things settled down and #1 was taken care of and I didn’t even think about it! For the time I was in the ICU, there were no numerous nightly trips to the bathroom!

                                    While I was in the ICU, I studied really hard so that I could pass those numerous Hemoglobin Blood Tests. Apparently, all of that studying paid off because the numbers improved enough for me to be transferred to a regular room ‘upstairs’. I was released into the custody of another Warden but not before they unhooked some of my apparati, and ‘untethered’ me from that nifty device that removed the need for those nightly bathroom visits, so FREE! I was to join the inmates upstairs.  

                                    They put me in a bed with one of those pads on it that signals when you get out of bed. Apparently Nurse Ratched determined that I was a Fall Risk. Couple that with the remaining assorted tubes and wires that would have strangled me if I had fallen and you can understand why they are so adamant about following their In Bed/Out Bed Classification.

                                     Unfortunately, I inadvertently tested their system. All I wanted to do was innocently dangle my legs over the side of the bed. This necessitated some movement that that ‘pad’ didn’t like. It took me a long time to even get into a position that remotely resembled an attempt to get near the side of the bed when all of a sudden screeching alarms sounded throughout the complex, automatic doors slammed shut, the Hospital S.W.A.T. team scrambled, and the team member stationed on the roof rappelled down and came crashing through my window. Meekly I wiggled my way back onto the “pad” and resumed the position. Unfortunately, my roommate almost succumbed to a Heart Attack when the guy broke through the window. He hastily requested to be assigned to a different room.

                                    The staff upstairs was equally as good as those in the ICU but a little more obsessed with my bodily fluids/ extracts that I was holding back until I got the All Clear from BMFC (Bowel Movement Flight Control) so that I would not have to use the aforementioned (and distained) Bed Pan. (How’s that for a run-on sentence!) There are no boundaries when it comes to this subject either. Questions like “have you pooped yet?” get asked in anyone’s company and after a while you don’t care anyway! And the term ‘pooped’ has somehow replaced the more refined nomenclature term of Bowel Movement (BM).

                                    This subject is bantered around with such regularity (pun intended!) that there are now random PA announcements ….

                                    “Attention everyone! Let’s all congratulate Mr. Hall in Room 139, Bed 2  as he has now won the right to claim his free extra dessert this evening for his first Post-op Poop Episode! Stop in anytime and give him a High Five if he’s not in the bathroom!”

                                    Now let’s talk about those ‘gowns’ that everyone is issued upon incarceration and are impossible to figure out how to tie closed. Apparently, there are five(?) ties involved, one is kind of inside, and attaches somewhere, but who would ever have figured that one out! Two up top, and the last two around back. And this all needs to be done behind you where you can’t see. Having an ‘assistant’ becomes mandatory and there’s not someone always around. Again, there is an air of informality that envelopes the premises because it is futile to keep everything ‘under wraps’ for long. Yes, the staff does a great job of being discreet and do their best to guard your dignity and privacy but after a while you just don’t care anymore. All you need to have is a uniform of sorts and an I.D. badge…. so even a custodian could be asked to help sew up that rear observation area!

                                    I started writing this two days before my release as I had Paula bring my laptop down to me. I set up my table and chair in front of my window, it looked like an ‘office’ of sorts, and I had many a comment on it. I was hoping to be sprung from the joint on Wednesday as I got the ‘thumbs-up’ from OT, PT, my local Floor Staff, the Cafeteria, and the Janitor. All I needed was the Spleen Squad to punch my ticket to freedom, but nooooo, they wanted another day just to be sure. By now I figured that I was fully healed (in relative terms) and wanted OUT! ASAP. That wasn’t happening until Thursday, so I sat down and started writing. I was gradually feeling better as I could get up now without setting off NATO alerts. It was still quite painful to move….. I can’t believe how much being slammed around inside a jammerized vehicle can hurt, even with seat belts and air bags keeping you relatively in one place! What did we do before these inventions were being utilized!!!???

                                    All in all, I can’t say enough about the care that I received in Morristown. Most of you know that I was in the Service Industry and my valuation and evaluation of personal service comes from many angles. The Staff at Morristown was so good that in that weird sort of way, makes one want to go back there just to experience their genuine care about your well-being.

                                    My Parole Board hearing went well on Thursday, the Warden did not even show up to escort me to the gate, all we needed to do was walk out the door. Yup! no embarrassing wheelchair needed, although it took an extraordinary amount of time for me to walk, but I need to do this as it was another step in my recovery. I fell asleep on the way home and no; I was not driving this time. In fact, my driving privileges have been revoked by the Board of Family and Friends until I get my sleep disorder under control.

                                    I can assure you that as much as I try and make light of this situation, I am fully aware of how fortunate that I am to have kept this a One-Person Incident and the thought of this happening on just a regular road with oncoming traffic is quite sobering. I still can’t believe that with all of the spinning and crossing of multiple lanes on Route 24 that this still remained a single car MVA.

                                    I am home in the motorhome behind Yetter’s Diner as I write this, feeling about 90% better than I did upon my release! But still CTQ, (Confined To Quarters) so if you’re stopping by the Diner for a bite, walk around back and see if I’m home, we can have a chat!

                                    Oh, and I can report that my Crash Diet was a huge failure as it appears that I actually gained a few pounds during my incarceration! Who knew that Clear Liquids for a few days (followed by real food) (minus no Exercise) could be so fattening!

Yes, I know that this is really late but between leaving for the airport at 3:30 AM, connections to Munich, and the arrival in Newark, then the sun was in my eyes, and I stepped on a rock, and then the dog ate the first draft, then we needed to pick up the Motorhome who received some pampering while we were away, then getting settled (groceries, etc.) and having a mild case of Jetious Lagium …… well, here it is anyway 😊

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Our last full day in Helsinki was spent roaming the countryside in a really cool Mercedes “Party Bus”! The seating was sectional, groups facing each other and in the rear the seats lined the perimeter, all facing inwards with tables in front of everyone. Our journey for the day was divided between two places, the little town of Porvoo and visiting with the Count of Malmgard…… Count Erik Cruetz. Yes, he’s a real Count, this particular Manor House goes back 14 generations and portions of the original land holdings still endure, albeit a tad smaller than it was a few centuries ago.

                        Let’s start where we did, in Porvoo. It was a gray, misty, Sunday morning when we arrived. The ‘Old Town” is obviously cute and has mostly wooden structures. This area used a lot of wood as the forests are thick and the masons are not, so the carpenters won out.

                        We arrived a bit early for a Sunday morning, which means that we had the town all to ourselves for a while. Luckily the bakeries and cafes were open as a cup of cappuccino seemed to be on everyone’s mind. Some of the other shops opened soon after we arrived and we were only scheduled for about two hours there as we had an appointment with the Count, and we did not want to keep him waiting! (because he had lots of things to …..count!  Sorry, couldn’t resist!)

                        The Count met us at the front door of the Manor House, which was constructed during the late 1800’s because the family wanted a more ‘modern’ home than was presently there. He was quick to explain that the family did not want the Manor to be museum, that each generation was free to add what they thought would be appropriate for future generations to see and enjoy. Having stated that, he assured us that wanton disregard for the past was not an agenda item either!

                        In today’s society, with its blurring of aristocratic levels and division’s, having a title such as a Count or Baron, Earl or Duke, may seem too be a bit archaic, but the titles do still exist and as long as the holders of these titles are nice, decent people who don’t flaunt their ‘status’ immaturely….. then why not have some fun? There’s a story that comes out of Tallinn. Tallinn with those teeny-tiny lanes and alleys….and the dress of the day included very wide, almost hooped skirts. And really only one of those outfits could be in these narrow lanes at a time. it seems that the courtesy in that day extended to another lady walking head on was to let the lady with the higher title proceed first. I’m sure that you can see where this one is going….. anyway, two ladies meet…. either of the same title or some other de facto issue that caused them to argue over who should give way to who. It gets messy when the escorts of these ladies (who just want to go home and have an ale) have to defend the honor of their lady…..like throwing their coats down over mud puddles and similar chivalrous actions. Arguments ensued, guys got impatient, and finally one of them said, “Since you both seem to be of equal title, why not let the older of you proceed first in recognition of your vast experience.”

                                    To my knowledge they may still be there because it would be a cold day in Tallinn before any Lady would admit that she was older than the other!

                        I’m sure that most of you are familiar with Downton Abbey (and if you are not, please run, sprint, or gallop to your TV’s, find Downton Abbey and sit and watch all six seasons plus the three ‘continuing’ movies, and do not get up until you are finished!) so the bantering about of these titles from that era will be familiar, but still confusing. Who is the Top Dog? And who is last among definite non-equals? (I’ve assembled a list at the end of this Post with the correct ranking of these Titles, just in case you bump into some of your local hob-knobbers and want to make sure that you curtsy in the correct order!)

            You will find that most of today’s ‘Families of Peerage’ need to have other sources of income other than just ‘being’ their titles. In other words, they’ve run their family’s ancient money wells dry and need even more income in order to keep their Manor Houses maintained. Have you ever tried to renovate an existing hundreds of years old home? Just stabilizing them to halt any further deterioration is expensive, never mind improving and bring it up to present-day standards. The Counts present day industries have been alluded to and will be further explained in a few paragraphs from now.

                        First we need to explain the why’s and wherefores’ of the Counts claim to fame (past) so we need to (very) briefly re-visit that Imperial Russian era because that’s when Finland was part of Russia, as an independent Grand Duchy (which means that good ol’ Czar Whoever-Was-In-Power-At-The-Time was  the actual head of state there.) This lasted until that fateful day in 1917 when, courtesy of Lenin and his cronies, there was no more Czar and Finland quickly took this opportunity to vamoose itself from the Russian Empire.

But before its brief inclusion in the Rusky Regime, Finland was part of Sweden for almost 700 years! That probably explains why in Finland signs are often in both languages!

            So, we find ourselves in front of the King Charles IX of Sweden, the year is 1606 and he is listening to the complaining Catherina Hess, a war widow who in a few years will marry Ernest Cruetz…..(there’s our connection to present day, same last name of the Count introduced to you earlier) So the King gives her a big slab of land, and a title that goes along with it, first an untitled ‘rank’, then as a baronial estate, and finally, Ta-Dah! as a  tippy-top Count-level part of Swedish nobility which survives the next 500-plus years and we find it today reinventing itself in more modern times as there are no more serfs, ladies-in-waiting, or footmen to do their bidding!

                        And….. we get to visit his home, take a tour of the old place (which needs a ton of work) (which costs a ton of money) and take a look at what the Count and his estate are presently involved in and very proud of! They are continuing in two veins, one of organic farming, the other in making traditional ales. So far, so good. They have a good reputation for both, we sampled the ales when we were served lunch there and together with some other surrounding organic farms, this region is making headway into that ever-growing market.  

            Apparently, it is far easier to have an organic farm and use those techniques when your neighbor does. The Count informed us that he and the surrounding farms are all have the highest organic certification that can be had and they all cooperate with each other and since they all “do” organics, they can freely borrow each other’s equipment because it hasn’t been tainted with the nasties. Also, because their lands are contiguous to each other, they don’t need to fret about any over-blow from each other of non-organic pesticides, etc. And talk about ‘sustainable’ practices, they even have a historic hydro-electric plant that supplies their electricity!

            All of these efforts show up in the quality of their produce and of course, their brewery products. I don’t like beer, so I don’t drink it. This makes me the wrong person to write about the flavorful aspects of this ancient beverage. I can however relate the fact that they use some ancient grains like ‘emmer’ from which they derive their Emmer IPA, one of the fav’s.

            It was nice to meet an actual person of peerage that laughed with us, spoke about the realities of today’s world, and still needed to be practical when it came to the “Royal Treasury” as it is not as bottomless as it once was. He spoke about having to upgrade the heating system for the Manor House, they’ve decided on Geo-Thermal and also the fact that all of the windows need to be replaced, most of which are well over a hundred years old. And there are over a hundred and fifty of these historical components to be worked on! (And I don’t think that they just call up the local Anderson Replacement Window guy for an estimate!)

            And now, the real reason that you’ve gotten this far… the verily promised list that explains the different ranks in a peerage system! For your perusal and enjoyment…….

Ranks of Peerage

(Most “Royal’ type nations, some countries vary a little bit!)

King/Queen….. unless the Queen gets her title through marriage, in which case she is the King’s Queen, but not a Sovereign. In this case then first born will inherit the Crown.

(King Charles/Queen Camilla)

Queen/Prince Consort…. in this case we have a man married to a Sovereign Queen, he can never be King and is never granted that title.

(Queen Elizabeth/ Prince Philip or Queen Victoria/Prince Albert)

Duke/Royal Duke…. This title always is directly below that of the Monarch. In fact, a Duke/Dutchess may rule a specific area, usually a section of a country. In today’s terms there are not many of these left. There are two duchies in Great Britain, that of Cornwall and Lancaster. Presently the Duke of Cornwall is Prince William, his father King Charles was the previous Duke of Cornwall. This dukedom generates millions of pounds (dollars) per year in income for the Duke. This helps run their estates and provides a source for their philanthropic endeavors. If you are so inclined, there is an article from the April 2012 National Geographic that highlights parts of the Dutchy of Cornwall (particularly the Isles of Scilly) and the then Prince Charles. I remember thinking that he was a pretty good guy after reading about his involvement with the people of the dutchy. (You can just google that article, and Nat Geo should forward it to you)

Marquess…. We don’t hear this one too much, maybe because no one knows how to pronounce it! The holder of this title originally was a large landowner that had the responsibility of guarding the borders of a realm, nowadays it is mostly an honorary (but real) title. And by the way, it is pronounced mark-kwass

Earl/Count…. Used interchangeably by us, varies otherwise by country (Earl in the UK and Count in Sweden) Ok, if you do happen to be a fan of Downton Abbey, this is the title that Robert holds.  Traditionally these guys were larger land holders and as such, they managed the tenant farmers and the like, as well as commanding troops for the Crown. Like most of the others, today it is largely a ceremonial title, but again, a real one. It can be awarded but most of the time it is hereditary.

Viscount…. Here’s another tricky pronunciation for you, it is vai-kount, the ‘s’ is silent. These are quite often members of the House of Lords.

Baron….. the lowest, but still higher than you or me! These faithful servants of the Crown are very similar in scope to their members to the north on this list, the Viscounts.

So, there you have it…. Everything You Ever Wanted(?) to Know about The Peerage System But Were Afraid To Ask! This is the fun stuff, the stuff that you never know may someday appear on Jeopardy!…. now, aren’t you glad you paid attention!

Yesterday we left Tallinn on a ferry that crossed an arm of the Baltic Sea, the Gulf of Finland. It’s about 50 miles across and it takes about two hours or so to cross it. The ferry is BIG, not unlike a small cruise ship. It was quite comfortable being on it, restaurants, slot machines, video games, Sports Bars, Gift Shops, and Duty-Free stuff!

We entered Helsinki, our bus rolled out of the Ferry, and we boarded it for a ride to our hotel. This hotel used to be a prison. Complete with all of those prison-like amenities that one would expect…… solitary confinement, big, tall, long ‘cell blocks’, etc. An enterprising entrepreneur saw something in this and after some extensive renovation opened up as this hotel. Since it is Prison, I decided that a Black and White collection of photos would be approporiate!

An assortment of Prison Photos

Bread and water were served for dinner…… at least it was rye!

Oops!

This is out of order, it was supposed to go out a few days ago, my bad!

We were here nine years ago (almost to the day!) on a Princess Cruise. I’ll comment on that Cruise at the end, and it will have some interesting information for you.

Tallinn is the oldest of the Capital cities (1248) that we’re going to visit, straight out of our favorite medieval times. Its Old Town section is divided into an Upper Town and the Lower Town which affords an opportunity to view things from a higher elevation. Interestingly, our guide for the day told us that Tallinn really only has about 40 to 45 days a year that are not overcast. I guess that makes us fairly lucky because if I showed you photos of nine years ago, they are indistinguishable from those of yesterdays!

                     A note on that.

                     Yes, the skies were that blue.

                     Obviously in Lightroom (my Adobe photo processing software) I have the ability to tweak aspects of a photograph just as if I were working in a darkroom. In fact, I need to be careful not to overdo anything as my eyes become jaded/accustomed/blurry (?) when I stay too long on a project. Suddenly, things get out of control, and I find that sometimes the colors can get ‘over saturated’ only because my brain thinks that it’s normal. If this ever gets (or is) like that, please drop me a line as I consider this to be one of the Cardinal Sins of some publications.

                                So, what you see is what it was!

I could subtitle this piece as “The Rooftops of Tallinn” as there are so many steeples all with multiple views depending on what lane you’re walking down, that it makes for difficult decisions as to what photo may be better than the next. I solved that by including (almost!) all of them.  

                                Tallinn is one of those places that are wonderful to just get lost in because you can’t get that lost! I’m really just referring to the Old Town here as this is the place with the meandering medieval lanes and paths. Quaint little shops and cafes can pop up anywhere and it’s the excitement of the ‘find’ that keeps one in that meandering mode. And then, when it’s time to exit the maze, all you need to do is look up, spy a familiar steeple or tower, and head towards that and get reestablished with your directional orientation and head back to the present day leaving the Serfs, Fair Maidens, and Knights behind.

                                Now for a few more of those photos!

Here is that tid-bit on that Cruise that I promised. 😊

Back in 2017 we signed up for a Seven-Day New England Cruise embarking the last week of September, which puts it near enough to the good ‘leafy’ color times that it was very popular. About ten days before we were scheduled to leave, I received an email from Princess asking if we would consider giving up our room for a cruise in the future.

                                Obviously, the ship was overbooked and they needed some staterooms. The very last thing that a Cruise Line wants is for you to show up on the dock with luggage in hand, and they not have an available room to put you in. That would be suicide. Airlines are a bit different, they just find space on another flight either with them, or another airline.

                                So, no matter what it cost, they needed my (and I’m sure a few more) room(s), I was skeptical, so I checked it out and found that cruise lines have regular departments dedicated to this exercise. It is called a ‘Move-Over Cruise’. In our case, here was what they offered us in exchange for saying ‘Yes’.

                                Free 7-to-10-day cruise, anywhere we wanted to go.

                                Upgrade to a Mini suite

                                All of our monies refunded.

They did keep our money in an ‘account’ until the end of whatever cruise we decided on. This was used to draw from for excursions and the like until we got home and then we received whatever wasn’t spent.

                     We had a year to make up our minds,

                     Narrowed it down to the Mediterranean or the Baltic.

                     Ten-Day Baltic out of St. Petersburg won out, so onto the hot line I went, “Bob” picked up the phone in their offices in California. I gave him all our info, and he confirmed our eligibility for this (which we already knew). When I told him of our decision he said, “Don’t take that one, take the same one, but embarking from Copenhagen.”

                     I said, “We can’t, that’s an eleven-day cruise and you guys told us we had a limit of ten days.”

                     Bob said, “No worries, I don’t want you to have to worry about getting in and out of Russia, so I’d rather see you on the eleven-day one….. it’s the same cruise and you’ll get two full days in St. Petersburg.”

                     Don said, “Sold!”

                     Moral of this story: If you ever book a cruise and they ask you to give up your room (and you can move your vacation) act fast because they only need so many rooms and they obviously ask more than they need to…… so FYI……it’s ‘First come, first served’ in this case!

Some more pics!

If you’ve gotten this far, I thank you. I know that this was a longer one, way too many good pics, but then I believe that Tallinn deserves it. We’ve been lots of places and back in ’17 when we first visited here, we said that this was one of the places that we’d love to come back to, so here we are! And you are too!

I was thinking about just putting together a few photos for my next Post…… you know, pretty pics of quaint villages and cobblestoned streets. That would be easy as there is an abundance of those types of things to see.

But then something happened.

It was innocent enough, just a day of travel between countries, specifically Latvia and Estonia, when Aida (our wonderful Tour Experience Leader) put the DVD that she had mentioned to us earlier into the player. Filling our time with meaningful experiences is an important part of her responsibilities and providing us with options pertaining to this concept keeps her very busy.

                     So just when we all were reveling in the thoughts of possibly taking a road trip ‘nap’, the screen pops on and the story unfolds.

                     This is where my job gets almost impossible, as it is in fact, impossible to go on without employing every cliché that has ever been uttered by every person on this planet that has wanted to be free from the tyranny that has never been erased from our collective histories.

                     I am begging you to stay with me here.

                     Most of us remember the fall of the Soviet Union, it was there before us on our nightly news programming, usually headlining the broadcast until something a little more ‘current’ (?) popped up for a day or two. The Berlin Wall had been pierced almost two years prior and to say that the Iron Curtain was getting a little too rusty would be an understatement. But that was Germany and while we all know how close East Germany was to the Soviet Union, the more lenient policies of Mr. Gorbachev and a few ‘mistakes’ made innocently enough by East German officials led to the Perfect Storm of events that allowed thousands upon thousands of East Germans to flood the borders and stride across the “Line”. They were unimpeded by both their own military and that of the Soviets who were all boggled up with a war in Afghanistan and an economy that was bad and getting worse by the nano-second.

                                So, the Stage had been set.

                                All that was needed were a few cast members.

                                But it took another two years before the Opening Night was to occur.

                     Let’s assemble the cast.

                     To do this we need to rewind more than a hundred years to an innocent enough singing festival that was held in Tartu, Estonia, then a part of Imperial Russia. It was held every five years and eventually moved to the larger city of Tallinn where it is still held.

Now we’ll fast-forward to the Soviet times when the singing of ethnic, ‘old-timey’, ‘get a feeling of the good ol’ days’, ‘wish it were like that again’ songs were, get this…… forbidden. In their place were inserted songs about Lenin, Marx, Stalin, and the greatness of socialism and the Soviet ways of life. You may ask, “Why then did the people participate?” Probably for the same reason that they all go to the polls to “elect” their dictator with a “unanimous” vote. Not to participate would make you stick out like that proverbial ‘sore thumb’.

                     So our cast has been assembled and every five years they would gather at a special outdoor stage. It is an incredibly large venue that can hold 15,000 on stage and another quadrillion (or so) folks around it.

                                Let the festivities begin!

                                The key song that both sparked and unified the then reluctant participants was “Land of My Fathers, Land that I Love” which you can tell just by its title was emblematic of the undercurrent of repressed feelings of a nation of suppressed people.

           When the choir first sang it (I would have loved to have been in on the planning of that one!) the officials ordered them to stop, but to no avail. They then ordered the orchestra to play loudly over them but (oops!) someone forgot that there were those quintillions of folks in the festival audience who were not going to let a few trombones get in the way!

                                Guess who won that one!

                                Here we go!

                                1987-1988 the Singing Revolution gains headway (complete with another strictly forbidden exercise) of the display of the Estonian national flag.

                                1989 – The Baltic Way, a 420-mile-long unbroken human chain that linked Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia beginning at 7PM and lasting for fifteen minutes on August 23, 1989. Can you imagine the planning needed to accomplish that one!

                                Boom! September 1991 the full restoration of Independence of the three Baltic countries! YAY!!!!!!!

                     And that is ‘Restoration’ with an asterisk* because for all of recorded time, they were only independent for 22 years between the World Wars. Talk about perseverance!

                                                          ++++++++++                             

We are here.

We are here speaking with the people who endured the Soviet repression/suppression/whatever ‘pression’ you want to insert there.

We are here to listen to their stories.

We are here to see their incredible progress.

We are here to see the smiles on their faces when they speak of their good fortune.

 And we are here to see the sadness in their eyes when they relate the stories of their grandparents who they never saw again after they were sent to a gulag somewhere in Siberia.

Then Aida pressed ‘Play’ and nothing will ever be the same.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I invite you to watch this indescribable documentary on the unfolding of these events.

It seems to be available on several platforms, Apple, Amazon Prime, HBO max, and if they don’t work, there are several teasers around, google it or go to TheSingingRevolution.com for more information.

                                I promise.

I can hear the screams of anguish and despair already,

But have no fear or trepidation as the torture will last only a few paragraphs and several photos.

We are going back to Art Class for a few seconds!

“Oh no Donny! Not that again! We’d rather a lecture on (God forbid) Plate Tectonics! Anything but that stupid Art Wrecko or Gecko or whatever it is!”

Nicely done Class, I can see we’re making progress, you were able to at least rhyme something correctly, but no we’re not looking at Art Deco again, but its relative, Art Nouveau. And there’s no better place on the planet than Riga to show examples of this style. Thankfully, Riga’s architecture was able to survive WWII mostly intact as the bombing was minimal and there was no systematic razing of structures like there was in Warsaw.

           So, you know all those cool decorations that are on some fancy old buildings? That’s them, that’s Art Nouveau. It featured the ‘organic’ aspects of life, flowing curves, plant-like florals, and a more modern take on our old friends from Europe, the gargoyles by incorporating lots of busts and faces. These were used at time in the same way….. they could stare at their neighbors with distain or be ‘reminiscent’ of a ‘message’ that the architect wanted to get across.

The period really only lasted about twenty years from roughly 1890 to 1910, and Riga is one of the worlds treasure troves of this type of architecture with over 800 buildings still available for perusal!

           No worries, I’ll show you just three!

           Now, that wasn’t so bad now was it?

Walking Tours of these cities is really the only way to discover the hidden gems within. Usually, the walk starts early in the morning and ends around lunchtime conveniently around the Main Square (which Riga has too many of!) and then we disperse for the real reason we all come here and I can assure you that as good as Art Nouveau is, it pales in comparison to a good eatery!

Hence this place!

           Riga was an important Hanseatic trading city and as such, had the infrastructure to support it. You know, buildings that were secure, could hold a lot of important ‘stuff’. And were economical to store goods that need both that security and good, constant temperatures…. like a basement, or better yet, a cellar (almost the same but cellars sound much older!)

(The Photos are of a really dark place so best viewed in a darked environment!)

                                This place SCREAMS as it is the real deal! These cellars, this one in particular, date back to the 13^th century ….. that’s the 1200’s folks! In it would have been for the storage of grain, honey, flax, and other notable items such as salted fish, meat, butter, and cabbage. Imported luxuries, such as spices, nuts, and wine, were also stored there. They were quite secure I can assure you as even the present-day entrance to this tomb-like place was interestingly a steep (def non-ADA compliant!) set of stairs.

                                Not much has changed today as meats, butter, honey, spices, and fish can all be found there courtesy of their medieval menu. And yes, we could be found there also…. not just once, but twice as we wanted to go back. And the more we talked about it with our comrades, the more they wanted to join us. Aida wanted to check it out for future tours to visit, and it got an enthusiastic ‘thumbs up’ from her! I wonder if we can file for future ‘commissions’ on the sales 🙂

Remember, Only You can Prevent Freedom! (or Forest Fires!)

(Or something like that. Story in a few minutes.)

This entire area has gone through so many political boundary and ideology changes in the last few hundred years that it makes them a card-carrying member of Borders-R-Us. Through it all, Lithuania has tried, with very limited success, to declare its independence from whomever has the yoke around their necks at the time.

Usually, it’s the Russians.

1831 was no different, except that now it also involved the defunct Prussian entity. Men went to war, families stayed home, and men did not return thus.

A small ancient ‘fort’ located on a hill in Lithuania became a memorial of sorts as families who could not locate bodies of their perished rebels, started putting up symbolic crosses at the site of the former hill fort. Over the generations, the place has come to signify the peaceful endurance of Lithuanian people despite the threats they faced throughout history. Loved ones continued bringing crosses to the Hill in memorial.

           The practice grew, the people embraced their idea of a place to erect a cross in memory of someone or in hope of something,,,, the Hill grew too.

All is well and good in The Hill of Crosses country until the Revolution, the big one, the one where the Czars were made candidates for the Hill themselves, the one where Lenin and the Bolsheviks rose to power, and it was the year that Communism became synonymous with Russia…… 1917.

                                Communism and organized religion don’t get along.

                                Fast-forward to the Soviet occupation starting in 1941 which ended the Lithuanian’s brief dally with Independence that it claimed when that 1917 event shook things up for a bit.

Oppressed Catholic Lithuanians and communists don’t get along either.

                                The Hill of Crosses becomes a symbol to both, and to both, was as important as it could be. Three times the Authorities (including the KGB) try and remove it. They used bulldozers, troops, and even thought of flooding the land…. nothing worked. Every night the Faithful would risk punishment severe in order to fulfill what they now considered a Sacred Duty……. Keep the Crosses coming.

                     You all know what happens….. I don’t have to tell you who won, the fact that we went there is proof enough. Pope John Paul II went there in 1993, said that it was “a place for hope, peace, love, and sacrifice.”  If a visit from a Pope and an affirming statement doesn’t solidify your place in the world, I don’t know what does!

                     The Hill has grown into The ‘Field’ as they have now worked their way down the sides and into the fields on either side. There are numerous trails that meander through the plantings making it easier for someone either to visit an old one, or find the perfect place for a new one.

                     The parking lot is across the street; a long walk needs to be accomplished before you may step onto the Hill. Happily, no one has started charging admission although there is the obligatory “Book Shop” (aka souvenir stand.)

That was the second stop of the day.

Yesterday we traveled from Klaipeda in Lithuania to Riga, Latvia. It took all day mainly because we made it so, stopping there at The Hill of Crosses and an old Cold War site.

 Our first stop was at a disassembled ICBM missile site straight out of that Cold War Era. In fact, that was its name….. The Cold War Era Museum and Missile Silo (roughly translated!) Inside we saw what was ‘what’, and where that ‘what’ was located, and how and why the ‘whats’ were there,,,,oh, and plus how many ‘what’s’ there were.

                                Confused?

           Well, all of this was a ‘re-creation’ as nothing was left after the fall of the U.S.S.R. Military posts were abandoned, locals came in and ransacked the place, absconding with anything that could be of value. I wonder how many homes in the area boast electricity upgrades courtesy of the miles and miles of wire pinched from there! Generators, tiles, lumber, desks, pencil sharpeners, 😊you name it and poof! it was gone!

           Apparently, there are only three sites in the world that are now open for public inspection….. this one, one in Arizona, and one in Ukraine. We’ve been to two out of the three and I don’t think we’ll ever get to Ukraine, so we’ll stay put at two. FYI, if you ever go to Tucson (which makes a fabulous get-away anyway!) check out the Titan Missile Museum, it is definitely worth it!

I can tell that your detective skill set is on High Alert as we venture further to the North. Several Captain Obvoius-like observations as to our change in dress shows me that I can’t get anything past you guys! Yes, the temps have plummeted, and those Accoutrements of Activity (Outdoor Department) have found their way out of the suitcases and onto our hands and heads. But have no fear! Neither rain, nor wind, nor snow, or gloom of night can keep us…. Well.…maybe Gloom of Night, no one likes that! And as you will see, there are Tales of Nere-do-Wells afoot, and I can feel them breathing down my neck.

                     There were several activities over the past two days that dealt primarily with old lifestyles and folklore. As the homogenization of our species continues to march forward, folks around the world are scrambling to ensure that their “story” is set down somewhere so that it can be told over and over again in the future. It is the wise culture that has this process already underway and is now just fine-tuning it to meet today’s standards.

                     Someone may ask why this is so important and that answer is not that obvious as the need to know and remember these types of things waxes and wanes with whatever is going on in one’s (or society’s) life at the time. But I think that it’s easy to simplify the answer and make it personal….. who doesn’t like sitting around with your grandparents and listening to stories of the ‘olden days’ and especially those about your parents! It is the wise family that keeps this tradition moving forward, enhanced by the modern ways of documenting these tales before the sources of them wither away forever. There are still questions that I have for my Mom that I wish that I had answered, or photos identified, before she was no longer there to ask.

                     It seems to be a little more important over here than back in the USA. That’s not taking anything away from our stance, it’s just that the stories over here can go back hundreds of years farther than ours do, and when you couple in the fact that in the relatively recent past, individual cultures have sustained incredible attacks on their very existence by overlords of repression…. well, this certainly does help hasten the need for providing vehicles for the survival of their tales.

                     The bulk of the last two days were spent witnessing such efforts. Here in Lithuania, a country whose heritage throws back to Baltic Tribes settled in their own little enclaves, the drives to keep the stories from being obliterated (even during Soviet times) started decades ago and sometimes needed to be disguised in order to survive. For example, unless you are “of” the people you’d have no idea what was being saved by the people because taken out of context, a fable just seems an innocent child’s tale. I am happy to report that these people’s stories and heritages seem to be firmly ensconced within both the actual and virtual walls of their assigned institutions.

                     One of the more enjoyable aspects of listening to these tales is finding out that no matter where you go there is a Princess waiting to find her Prince, a witch looking to thwart anyone’s plans, trolls aplenty just itching for a fight and a Souvenir Shop happily disguised in order to lure you in!

                                Here you go!

The Witch’s Hill

An attempt to keep the Lithuanian Folktales alive (when they were threatened by Soviet repressions) back in the early 1970’s these carvings were commissioned and then rendered. They have been lovingly cared for since then! There are about 80 carvings, here is just a small sample of them……

Folk songs….. folk tales……. there’s no better way to hear and see them than from people integrally involved with their keeping them alive!

I feel like I am back in school.

There is “paying attention” needed on an hourly basis, from geography to history to religion to ethnicity to culinary, if one does not keep up, then, that one gets lost.  

                     Having posted that thought, I will retreat from it and confess that this activity is not a chore! The presentations are an all-encompassing series of events designed to lure that old reluctant student out of retirement and smack them in the face with all things stimulating,,,,, and important.

                     We are still in Vilnius for one more day and that day contained several wildly different aspects that somehow all seem to make sense when combined. I believe that it is that way because learning about people(s) and places needs to have that well-rounded aspect that can only come with all of the boxes being ‘ticked’ that I listed in my first paragraph.

                     So, get ready, I did the “paying attention” for you and I’ll provide you with the Cliff Notes version, and you can feel free to just ‘audit’ this class, no exams needed, but…. I do encourage you to enroll sometime because the Class Trips are something quite extraordinary!  

                     Our day started at the old KGB building right down the road from our hotel. Yes, that dreary, Cold War, Boris and Natasha, Spy vs Spy, James Bond, Man from U.N.C.L.E. experience has a real-world genesis, and its name is Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti or the KGB. And it is as sinister as its hard-consonant name sounds.

                                We had a private tour of this facility which is now dedicated to the Freedom Fighters that helped make the downfall of the old Soviet Union possible. Our Tour was led by a gentleman who had the opportunity to delve through, and bring to the surface, old KGB evidence that spoke to the incredible evils that occurred within the walls of that facility. We saw detention rooms, solitary confinement cells, padded cells, and even the execution room where everything was so planned out that there was a drain in the floor for the blood and a special window chute to hoist the body through.

On one level, the scariest part was a giant map of the U.S.S.R. that showed hundreds of like facilities strewn about that vast area, that accomplished the exact same thing that this one did…. strike relentless fear into the populace with the express intention of keeping everyone contained and controlled. The Guide was very convincing…. as I had mentioned, he had a personal role in this building after the fall.  Anyway, he came across as a cross between Boris Karloff and Rod Serling, an effective communication combination I am sure you’ll agree.

                                The numbers associated with all of the fear and trepidation of the KGB are staggering in their own right. In the initial occupation by the Soviet Union back in ’40 and ’41, over 23, 000 citizens were either imprisoned, deported or killed. The next era, which ended with the death of Stalin, saw close to 400,000 ‘suspects’ being treated to the same fate.  You did not need to go to trial to get convicted, all you needed to do was look suspicious and have someone rat you out for listening to Western music (for example!) and wham! Into this hideous torture chamber you would go! After Stalin died, things got a little more lenient with only about a thousand people being ‘processed’ through this system here in Vilnius. That old building, along with the monsters that worked in there, were quite efficient as you now see. The fear of being ‘eliminated’ had been the most effective implement in their toolbox.

                                We then boarded our bus again for a trip outside of Vilnius to a beautiful lake region town named Trakai. This is where it starts to get interesting…..  there we found a very small enclave of a very small population of a very small religion. We met members of the Karaite community, a ‘sect’ of Judaism that has its own beliefs in how they interpret the Torah. They are not interested in anyone else’s ‘explanation’ or interpretation of the Torah, so they reject the traditional Hebrew study guide (?) of the Talmud. This is the main difference between them and Rabbinical Judaism. Definitely ethnic in origin, they trace their roots back to remote regions of (Crimean) Turkey where in the late 1300’s the Grand Duke of Lithuania persuaded some of them to leave the area and come and be guards for him in Lithuania. Away they went and now six-hundred years later a handful are left, some still 100% Karaite, living in Trakai. We not only met them, but we learned how to make one of their traditional dishes, Kibinai (think empanadas) which was in fact delicious!

                     Again, I could bore you to tears with the historical intertwining of these folks and their journeys out of ancient Egypt and their diaspora up and through Asia Minor and finally into Europe so…. I’m not going to do that! Rest assured it is a fascinating story, one that is worth investigating on your own, and it bears witness to being one of the fundamental traits of traveling with a group who revels in learning about the peoples of the world…. and eating their snacks!