It’s here: http://www.womanthinks.net
Estonians often expect everyone to know their local celebrities. As there is only a little over million people in this country, you basically have to know half of them to be accepted as a true Estonian. And not because they have done something remarkable. Mostly just because they are.
I get it. It is a miracle that after all that ravaging by the Germans, Russians, Danes, Swedes and Poles we still have our own language and our own country.
But shouldn’t we then cherish each Estonian for staying here? Not just those, who have been blessed with vanity?
Maybe next time call your grandmother before getting angry at someone for not knowing who Koit Toome or Carmen Kass is… just a thought.
My grandfather married my grandmother to win a bet (his friends thought he could never charm that shy girl sitting in the corner).
Which means I exist because someone wanted to have a bit of a fun.
But I think I have the last laugh on this one.
Mainly because they’re not alive anymore.
It’s a good day for Estonian journalism today. Someone important died. Death sells. Not as much as Putin and thunder, but it’s a bit of a click-magnet.
Isn’t it nice to know that we all contribute to better journalism? If not before, then surely when we die (assuming that money does make things better, of course).
Either you like it or not.
So The Guardian was a good read today. There was an article about snowstorm in French Alps.
Scores (we don’t know how many, but a lot, yeah?) of British tourists had to spend a weekend in a… French GYM! What could possibly be worse?
Yes, it does get worse. This guy named Mountain Maud (A Mountain. Really? Your name is Mountain and you’re stuck in mountains? Wow. A child would raise an eyebrow. Not a Guardian journalist though. She goes on. She quotes Mr. Mounatain. Mountain says that many holidaymakers were “losing the will to live”! In another article they are saying that kids are “subsisting off Haribo sweets”.
And this poor guy Toby Ahern (at least he’s not called Airplane, you have to grant him that) tweets (thank god, at least he had internet connection) he had been at the airport for 39 hours “and counting”.
This clearly equals death.
Okay. So in one of the most expensive holiday areas in the world, the Brits are losing their will to live. How are other people spending their holidays? For example, The Guardian again, reports on 37 Palestinian children, who lost their parents just some months ago, were on their way to a week-long holiday to Israel. Except that they weren’t allowed to cross the border.
No mention of Haribo sweets anywhere. Poor kids. But nobody’s complaining of being on the brink of immediate death though (despite the fact that this all happens in the war zone). Phew.
Oh and um. This has nothing to do with Estonia by the way. We never complain. Why should we? The country is covered with wireless. We are literally swimming in joy.
“Thank god I don’t have a date tonight,” I thought looking at myself in the mirror. Minus ten is not good for my skin.
And then I remembed: we don’t do dates in Estonia. We do inviting someone out with twenty other people (and make it seem like an accident), buying her a drink and falling on her when the time is ripe.
Thank god we don’t do dates in Estonia. Nobody will notice imperfections in the dark corners of Tallinn.
Every conversation leads to the war talk lately, because of the… you know, Russia invading the world situation? And then a bit because of the Islamic state.
Was it the same before the First World War? Did everyone get so fed up with talking about the war that they decided to just get over with it?
The only way to prevent the war talk is to make sure nobody mentions NATO or Russia.
To save the evening, I made up a game:
The one who mentions Russia has to buy vodka shots for everyone.
The one who mentions NATO has to make a toast and remind everyone how important friendship is.
The one who mentions Russia and NATO in the same sentence has to you buy a bottle of vodka and leave really fast.