Pickles, Cookies, and Flowers

In my last post, I described what a typical Estonian meal would be. They very much like the staple plan of pork, potatoes, and salad. Which, by the way, "salad" here does not mean a bed of lettuce adorned with tomatoes and veggies, it could pretty much be anything that you cut up into pieces and mix together. What I failed to mention, however, is the Estonian passive-aggressive love of pickles. No one ever talks about them or promotes them, but they are everywhere, yet in random places. It sounds like a conspiracy theory I know. But really, I've had pickles appear unsuspectingly in so many things that I order, everything from pizza to soup!

This past week we had in international food fest on our dorm hall. I have never eaten so much in my life, but I've never had so much fun eating either. All afternoon nations teamed up together to prepare something wonderful to unveil. In preparation for the event, we Americans spent quite a while thinking about what to make. We were challenged to come up with something that was feasible to make for a lot of people, feasible for us to make period, and wasn't already borrowed from another culture. We finally came up with chocolate chip cookies. Although a very good idea, I didn't have much faith in our simple and meager menu. To further my insecurity, every time someone would ask what America was making and I told them, they would just look at me. "Great," I would think, "they think it's lame". But the night finally came, and after much chopping of chocolate bars to serve as chocolate chips, and a work-out of mixing, our first batch was finally ready. They were so good. Just like a little handful of America. And apparently the rest of the international students approved, because no fresh batch lasted for more than 3 minutes on the plate. I finally figured out that when people looked at me strange for telling them what team America would be making, it was because they didn't know what chocolate chip cookies were! I was so proud that America could contribute a cultural element that went over just as well as the delicious authentic Greek salad and Italian pastas.

This past week I also had my first experience with a full language barrier. For the most part in Estonia, everyone either speaks English, or knows enough to get by. And if all else fails, you can just point to the menu or read the small digital screen telling you how much money to pay. When I made my first excursion to the small flower market in town, however, it was a little different. I walked up to one of the vendors to look at a specific type of flower he had. He saw me come and immediatly started to try to make a sale. I apologetically shook my head and explained I only spoke English. He was convinced I knew what he was saying anyway, however, and proceeded to make arrangements and quote prices. We finally both got so confused and flustered that he called over a nearby vendor that did speak English. She kindly explained to me what he had simply been trying to tell me all along. After she left, I paid, and he was putting my flowers in paper, he kept talking out loud in Estonian. All I understood was the word for English, and right then knew what it must feel like to come to America with little or no English. The situation didn't upset me, I left feeling a little amused at the whole thing actaully. But it did make me realize that I need to be more patient with people new to my environment at home.