Dashiell's Travels

Dear all,

Remember when we used to have story time in kindergarten? Those late afternoon treats when the teacher would assemble the class around him or herself in the interest of a good old-fashioned fairy tale? When captivated expressions of pure awe and wonder would radiate out from the picture book in perfect synchrony? I want to have story time with you. We're grownups, sure, and this is a blog post, fine, but this medium will do in a pinch. The story I want to share is a story of excitement and discovery, a story of one boy's adventures around the world. There is happiness and there is heartache, and like any good fairy tale, this one is about love – and has a happy ending. Sound too good to be true? Then grab a carpet square and use your inside voices: it's story time.

Once upon a summer, the year 2012, I had a vacation to remember. After a mad scramble to finish my dissertation in record time, the sixty-page document was ready for submission a full 3.5 months early. This meant that, before returning to school again in the fall, the next few months were all mine. It also meant that I hadn't prepared a bit for the half-marathon I had registered to complete only days later. Triinu and I met in Edinburgh for the race and, despite my gripes and groans, we both crossed the finish line with smiles on our faces and pride in our hearts. I could not have asked for a more patient and understanding running partner. True, the encroaching full-marathon runners on our tail were a cruel reminder that some folks could accomplish twice what we set out to achieve in less than half the time – but that didn't matter much. (Or so Triinu reassures me.) Jello-legged and worn out, we were nonetheless content. Life goal #379: check.

After collecting out race medals, free granola bars, and corny commemorative t-shirts, we spent a final week in Glasgow together which passed in the blink of an eye. Then it was back to Estonia for the first half of the summer – back to land where hitchhikers are commonplace and the vast majority of dogs are German Shepherds, back to saunas and ciders, back home. Estonia in the summertime is a truly magical place. As the evenings grew longer and brighter, I slowly began to realize the true meaning of "white nights." At the peak of summer the sun never truly sets, but merely dips below the horizon just enough to be out of sight, the sky still fully illuminated with a yellow-orange glow. These endless nights are celebrated on the eve of the summer solstice, Jaanipäev, with a great jamboree involving the lighting of a bonfire as well as drinking, dancing, and singing, all in typical Estonian fashion. No presents are exchanged, no hymns recited, and no fairy tale characters arrive bearing chocolates or surprises. It's just you, and the world around you. Standing there in the bright of day on that crisp summer night, the great fire crackling before us, its warmth and light stirring something deep and fundamental to us all, I realized this was a holiday incomparable to any other I had ever experienced. I am devout in recalling all that I am thankful for each Thanksgiving Day, but on no other holiday have I felt so much gratitude and sincere appreciation toward all the wonders of the natural world.

The next few weeks were peppered with a few short trips, including, but not limited to: a quick cruise to Finland to observe the European Track and Field Championships as well as the local Pride Parade in Helsinki; a long weekend in Sweden where we reunited with a long-lost au pair friend, observed the local traditions at a high-school graduation ceremony and party, tried moose meat for the first time (and loved it), and sampled the local banana/pineapple pizza specialty (and did not love it); and a day-trip to Līvu Akvapark in Latvia, a water park that once was the largest in Eastern Europe.

The final chapter of our Estonian adventure took place on the island of Saaremaa, the largest of Estonia's 1,521 islands. We stayed in a rustic old farmhouse with primitive electrical fittings (the whole house went dim when the electric kettle was set to boil), no indoor plumbing (dishes were washed with a garden hose, and business was taken care of in the outhouse), and a heating system affectionally referred to as "Put more wood on the fire!" While you can purchase chanterelle mushrooms and wild strawberries at the market in Tallinn for over 30€/kilo, both specimens are found in abundance across Saaremaa, just begging to be snatched up and prepared into an omelette brunch or homemade jam. (Yes, we enjoyed both.) But with copious quantities of wild indulgences come copious quantities of wild nuisances – namely, the most concentrated infestation of mosquitos, horse flies, gnats, and other flying/biting insects I have ever experienced. In almost any other circumstance, seeing a person wearing long-sleeved attire in the summer heat and slapping their body with reckless abandon while cursing the air around them would raise some eyebrows. In Saaremaa, nobody bats an eyelash. For residents understand the insects to be a small price to pay for the great rewards – namely, the Baltic Sea. Nowhere in Saaremaa are you more than 30 kilometers from the shore. Our cabin was situated just a few paces from the Baltic, a great expanse of water with a seemingly glass-covered surface that extends as far as the eye can see. Standing there on the edge of the sea, on the edge of the world, skipping stones and watching the concentric ripples continue outward into oblivion, not a thought crossed my mind. And what an unexpected gift that was. After months spent in the high-tech interconnected urban world, it's hard to resist the allure of the slow-paced and no-frills lifestyle on Saaremaa. It enchants and seduces with its intoxicating beauty, making it easy to see why the mainland locals keep returning again and again, year after year.

On July 2nd, Triinu asked me if I knew what was happening two days later. Truth be told, I had completely lost track of time and had no idea. After some gentle nudging, I finally agreed that we should somehow celebrate America's independence day, and an outdoor BBQ was arranged. When it comes to authentic American ingredients at the local Saaremaa grocery store… well, it's slim pickins, folks. But with a few slight winces and an adventurous spirit, I managed to throw together cheeseburgers, roasted green chiles, grilled corn on the cob, and cole slaw – or at least something slightly resembling each of those items. Just as we sat down to our first round of food, Triinu happened to notice the family dog, Athos, enjoying something delectable at the table side. Uncertain of what he could be eating, we decided to investigate further, only to discover that, sure enough, Athos was just polishing off the last of the burgers. While our subsequent sandwiches had be composed of cold cuts, we were at least partially comforted in the knowledge that Athos experienced the best Fourth of July feast a dog has ever known. And besides, we found that sliced turkey breast "burgers" were a natural complement to the also slightly less than traditional "strawberry-marshmallow-and-wafer-cookie-s'mores". So while the authenticity of the meal was certainly arguable, the flavors of home were nonetheless present, and the delightful and understanding company turned what could have been a disaster into something extraordinarily memorable. In a few hours time it was all behind us, and we found ourselves gathered around the outdoor fire pit singing traditional folk songs from America and Estonia both, laughing about the day's events, and gazing into the star-flecked deep blue above, our faces glowing with warmth in the firelight. America may have never known a better birthday party – a fairy tale ending, indeed.

Upon our return to Tallinn, the remaining few days in Estonia were spent luxuriating in summertime bliss, waking up late to lengthy, lazy brunches, buying and eating strawberries by the kilo on a daily basis, and biking long and late into the everlasting evenings. While it was difficult to say goodbye when we boarded our flight to America, the sadness was tempered by the excitement of the second half of our summer, yet to unfold. A bumpy nine hours later, we arrived in Washington, D.C., tired and disoriented, and almost immediately found ourselves on a bus headed for New York City. Being a tourist in your own home country is great fun, especially if you have an Estonian tour guide to show you around. I'm convinced Triinu's Big Apple prowess could rival many locals', and I relished every morsel of insight I could convince her to divulge. But before we could get too comfortable, it was back on the bus. Within 24 hours we went from Washington Monument to Statue of Liberty and back again, and still managed to avoid whiplash.

Maintaining our breakneck pace, our next stop was Austin, where we sampled Triinu's first snow cone and DQ blizzard, took a one-night trip to Sweetwater to experience some real Texas, and spent the rest of the time riding around town in my Dad's hot rod Triumph Spitfire convertible. Then, on August 4th, it happened: foreigners overtook the Stanford household. Not just the rest of the Estonian gang, including momma Katrin, daddio Toomas, brother Timm, and sister Britu, but also another long-lost au pair comrade from Canada. It was a full house to be sure. And busy, too. In just four days, we managed to wedge in virtually every attraction central Texas has to offer: from the bats at Congress Bridge to the voices of the Zilker Hillside Theater, from the Tex-Mex flavors of Taco Cabana to the unconventional mix-ins at Amy's Ice Cream, from the water-slides at Schlitterbahn to the depths of the San Marcos River. And yes, of course we played a round at Peter Pan Mini Golf. But our whirlwind Texas adventure was all too brief, as most travels tend to be. Over the next several days, Triinu's family devoured most of the the American southwest while I remained in Austin, catching up on some much-needed hippie vibes and Texas heat. (Often I wish I could somehow store a little of that warmth and take it with me to the UK, where I would gladly trade a day of 110+ degree heat for the unremitting wind and rain.) We all then arranged a brief rendezvous in San Francisco to visit my brother Hunter before finally returning to my Mom's home near D.C. for the final leg of the trip. East Coast, West Coast, Texas, and the Southwest, I'd say we covered ground pretty well in just over three week's time.

Acting as a host and makeshift tour guide in my own country was something completely new for me, a role that brought its own distinct advantages. Namely, I was able to experience America through the eyes of foreigners, noticing all the strange, beautiful, noteworthy, unusual, and interesting things that I would otherwise fail to acknowledge. As is customary for me by now, this summer I was able to compile a list of the most interesting eccentricities of a foreign culture and land. What is not customary is that this list applies to my own culture and homeland. So without further ado, here are the top things that stood out – for me and the Estonians both – about America:

- Turning right on red is legal. What a time-saver!

- BBQ is different from grilling, a distinction marked by a particular sweet and spicy sauce (which was deemed absolutely delicious).

- A strange omnipresent sound fills the outdoor air. It is most notable at dusk, its source impossible to perceive. The noise was once mistaken for a sprinkler system. Locals seem completely unaware of its presence, yet to the uninitiated the sound is impossible to ignore. The culprit? Cicadas.

- There is always wind inside, thanks to ceiling fans (somebody please bring these to Europe).

- To-go boxes are not only available, but often even used.

- Four way stops dominate most intersections without a traffic signal. In trying to describe how four way stops function when two cars approach the intersection simultaneously, I was at a loss for words. The idea that we simply watch the other driver, possibly using hand signals or other gestures, was considered dangerous and disorderly.

- The roadway systems seem like something out of Star Trek, with highway overpasses stacking sometimes five or six levels high.

- Fat free, gluten free, soy free, dairy free, carb free, wheat free, meat free, and calorie free products abound. Wait, so why are we so fat again?

- Strange structures dot the landscape, appearing to be large round containers on cylindrical support beams. Writing or emblems are often painted on the side. Water towers, they turned out to be.

- There is so much unused space here, giving even the densest city centers a sprawling feeling.

- The frightening toot of the car horn, signaling the alarm system had been activated, was an unwelcome shock each and every time the doors were locked.

- A "short stack" doesn't look too short.

- There was a three-hour wait for one of the rides at Schlitterbahn. For comparison, wait times at the Latvian water park (if any) were measured in seconds.

- There seem to be tattoos everywhere.
- Eating with your hands is like learning a language – completely natural if you've grown up around it, but far harder to adjust to later in life. Burgers, pizza, and tacos were all politely dissected with fork and knife until directed otherwise.
- Total cost of water, including ice and adult-size glass: $0.

- Free refills? It's like a buffet for your thirst! The "bottomless cup of coffee" was especially revered.
- Flipping the switch to the garbage disposal brought about expressions of delight and fascination.

- S'mores are universally loved.

- The urge to leave shoes at the door is hard to overcome, leaving my Dad giddy with delight at the neat pile of shoes in the entryway: "I love how they're all leaving their shoes by the door…it's so great!!"

- The suggestion that sausage and bacon taste great when dipped in syrup elicited responses akin to the gag reflex.

- Several classically American edibles were experienced for the first time: bagels and cream cheese, authentic Mexican food, authentic Tex-Mex food, a Sonic Drive-In, bubble tea (only one person spit it out after tying), pecan pralines, peanut brittle, and chili cheese burgers/fries.

- Deer are everywhere. From a Northern European perspective, driving home in the evening is like going on safari.

One American staple that I couldn't let Estonians escape without having tried: good ol' peanut butter and jelly. Those brave enough to take a bite chewed a bit longer than usual with an expression of deep concentration across their faces. When asked how it was, a brief silence was followed by Timm's response:

"It was great!"

"Really?" I questioned.

"Actually, I hated it."

At least he was honest.

And willing. And courteous. And understanding. And tolerant. While my role as host was recognized and praised time and time again, I found it difficult to articulate and express the sentiments I was truly feeling: "No, thank you." Never have I experienced such an action-filled and thrilling summer vacation, and never will I understand how we possibly managed it all. As I waved goodbye to everyone at the airport, truly sad to see them go, I couldn't help but wonder just how me, my family, and my country were perceived through foreign eyes. It's almost impossible to envision how another culture might view you, and maybe that's for the best. Most things at story time are best left up to the imagination.

As summertime comes to a close, a new journey awaits. I currently write from The University of Edinburgh, Scotland, where I am pursuing a Master's of Science in Human Cognitive Neuropsychology. The events and experiences from these past two weeks alone could fill a novel, but those stories will have to wait for another time. There is always more news to come…

Wishing each of you a most pleasant fall,

Dashiell