Post 3: Recap of the first week

I’m sitting in the “luxury area” of the Olympic Casino, one of the two nicest casinos-attached-to-a-mall that you will find in the Kreslinn area of Tallinn on any given Thursday. I’m quasi-shielded from the blaring neon glow by an encasement of bamboozling bamboo, but the effect serves little the purpose of luxury. Don’t worry Mom, I haven’t stumbled into the glamorous downfall of casino gambling, with its Pyrrhic victories and inescapable doom; I just seem to have found the cheapest pint in town --- and it only took me three days!






The pint, by the way, is Rock Beer, with a star where the ‘O’ should be. This, however, is not the most impressive feature of this generally unimpressive aspirant vendor of bourgeois fantasy. To gamble in Estonian casinos, you need to register each time. Then, if you declare yourself a problem gambler, you are to be refused entry, in accordance with the Estonian Gambling Act of 01 January 2009. It’s not easy to outshine a $1.35 pint that is available 24/7 (yup), but this law has appeased my inner policy guru --- a taskmaster of the very worst kind. Good laws are hard to come by, and even harder to pass, so kudos to the Estonian parliament, whoever and wherever they are (probably within 5 K of me right now).





Anyway, I wrote that much 3 days ago now, and then left to go to an International Student party at a club called Parliament. 300 boozed-up maniacs from all corners of the globe, dressed (barely) in the colours of their respective flags, a troupe of acrobats/dancers rhymically writhing and somersaulting in glowing sequined leotards, Jager and pumping house music --- I don't need to tell you a what sort of time was had. In my usual understated fashion, I apported a red and white ribbon up and down my arms, red "2010" sunglasses (I guess New Years never stops at the malls in Tallinn), a Canadian flag worn cape-style, and red and white clothespins as earrings, just for a little finishing touch. I won some sort of prize for best outift, but apparently didn't hear not only the emcee calling my name through the speakers, but also the crowd on the dancefloor chanting it. I'm pretty sure I know where I was, and she was prettier than whatever nonsensical doodads they were going to give me on stage. Still, I hate to miss a receptive audience ...



Enough chronological order; all this structure is driving me insane. Know what's crazy? Estonians at crosswalks. Man, they will NOT cross unless the light is green. If a major crosswalk indicator malfunctioned,, pedestrian traffic would grind to halt -- 9-day-traffic-jam-China-style. I crossed two lanes in the middle of a mile-long straightaway, with no traffic visible in either direction, and the girl I was with called me "suicidal." From what well does this devotion to order spring? Is is a Soviet-era fear-of-violating-the-rules hangover? I leave that question to the psychologists. I'm going to stick to the facts. Well, one opinion --- it looks weird.



In other news, I visited a pharmacy that's been open since 1422, and ate at the McDonald's in Old Town. For all of you who are sneering about this choice, bugger off. I'm here for two years, I ain't no tourist. I'll do what I want. Interesting note: condiments are all extra charge. Not extra condiments -- I'm talking a pack of ketchup. Also, if you pay extra to large size your drink, you get the drink you normally get in North America. Is that why we're fat? Can't help.



Just coming upon the McDonald's was a bizarre experience. I walked into Old Town Tallinn, and initially saw a flower shop. Nothing unusual about that, except it was followed by 11 MORE CONSECUTIVE FLOWERSHOPS!! Good lord, I know the Netherlands is close, but how much demand is there for fresh cut flowers in this city? I strolled past this affront to entrepreneurial logic and came upon a giant stone gate, with the date 1218 on it. Indeed, this gate was constructed in 1218! That's a little while ago. I was still thinking about the serf labourer that must have spelled these rocks when I walked through the archway, stepped around a red-hooded beggar and then, they were beheld: The Golden Arches (trademark). Curiosity got the better of me, well, that and my love of McNuggets.



Pulp Fiction had led me astray. Well, my assumptions based on the opening dialogue of Pulp Fiction proved to be false, but that doesn't have the same ring to it. In that scene, Vincent Vega (Scientology dreamboat John Travolta) talks about his life in Amsterdam. Specifically, he talks about where you can get beer, including at the movies and at Mickey D's. Well, I had been to the movie theatre, and yes, there was not only beer, but full bar service at the movies. Nothing like a triple Jack and Coke to dull the grinding of skull-gnawing mediocrity, or to make Aston Kutcher seem charming. Oh wait, didn't his last movie go straight to DVD? I digress. McDonald's doesn't serve beer here. That's the moral of the story. Well, that, and it is adjoined to the oldest (by about 500 years) man-made structure I have ever seen. Quite the juxtaposition.



I've got a ballin' new pad. Well, ballin' by Estonian standards, anyway. Brand new fixtures and flooring, a view of the Baltic Sea and THE HOTTEST LANDLADY ON THE PLANET. She's 26, with a Masters' degree in Thermal Engineering, and owns her own apartment plus the one I am renting. My friend Jeffy had a definition of the ideal woman -- not only gorgeous, but also owned her own house and spoke three languages. Well, I've found her. Now I've just got to start breaking things in my apartment, to get her over here regularly.



Well, friends, there's more to tell, but I'll keep this instalment relatively short. I still have to tell about the University, and my first night out on the town for real. This place is something else.