The Sound of Silence

One notices right away in Estonia that everything, and everyone, is extremely quiet. On one of our first days here, we dropped into a busy supermarket. There was no Muzak, no people chit-chatting, just the squeezing of apples, the rustling of cabbage leaves and the bristling by of fur-coated elbows. Even in some of the hipstser artsy bohemian-type bars, where you'd think the bartender's musical spin cycle would be top priority, the volume is kept so low, you can barely hear the selected tunes. The flipside is you can hear your interlocutors pretty well, and there's no need to shout over other people or the bar's favoured soundtrack. All the same, you still couldn't do much eavesdropping on surrounding tables -- whether it's the language or the temperament, Estonian chitchat is subdued and even mumbles sound muffled.

Even cell phone manners are (enjoyably) restrained. People's ring-tones do chime at volume, and present some of the most tuneless and/or high-spirited Euro-pop variants imaginable, but the ensuing conversations are pleasantly inaudible. One started today with the screamy intro part of James Brown's "I Feel Good" (not only startling in its high-pitched shriekiness, it was disconcerting as it left me pondering the timely association of James Brown + death rattle), but was followed up by none of the usually loud-mouthed one-sided conversational blasts, though the dialogue was taking place a mere metre away from me in the closed quarters of a Eurolines bus.

Cashiers have started blurting out phrases to me just before I pay. I don't know if they want smaller bills or exact change, or whether they're asking me whether "that's all". I doubt they're concerned about the packaging of the groceries ("Will that be paper or plastic, ma'am?"), since they generally have bags for purchase at the cash, and a lot of people recycle their own. Since whatever's uttered is quiet and curt, my initial desire is to say "pardon me"-- idiotic since I wouldn't understand what was being repeated in any case. I pause, then grunt something and give a blank, uncomprending look. Theirs is a blank-faced, silent retort that involves continuing the transaction as if nothing had been asked. An Estonian did assure me, though, that foreigners are not expected to learn any Estonian at all -- and perhaps they don't want them to. This may explain why we've had trouble finding much in the way of teach-yourself Estonian grammar books/CDs (for English speakers).

All of this seems a bit surprising when you learn that Estonia considers itself held together vocally -- through singing. In fact, it was the culmination of national sentiment through song that united the Estonian people, channelling and strengthening their drive for independence from the Soviet Union. The movement is referred to as "The Singing Revolution". Maybe the silence makes sense, then -- Estonians are literally saving their breath for the important stuff.

"Laulev revolutsiion," a documentary film that gives the historical background of the 20th century Soviet occupation of Estonia, followed up by a recap of events leading up to and surrounding the Singing Revolution, premiered in Tallinn in November, and is luckily now (or still) showing. Though not without its problems, the film gave us a useful overview of what's been going on here, and provided some excellent insight into local sentiment with respect to recent events. An article about the film and its makers is here.

Lastly, here's a peek onto the groovy, possibly UFO-inspired, ceiling of the movie house -- the beautiful Kino Sõprus in the Old Town. This photo is not from the Singing Revolution, but from a one-off, full-house screening of "An Inconvenient Truth". Though we showed up with half an hour to spare, we were lucky to nab 2 of the last 3 available tickets. Our seats were in the front row -- you are supposed to sit in the seat you were assigned. This comfortably eliminates the 'lights-out latecomers' seat-finding conundrum' that inevitably transpires whenever there's a packed house. Before the film, a man gave a brief talk, presumably introducing the film -- we gleaned that this was about all things eco-, bio-, and enviro-. Props included two large rocks and a bucket of water, followed up by a second, larger, bucket.