Old Thomas, Tallinn, Estonia
I was standing in a nearly empty museum, in an upstairs room lined with plaques covered in paragraphs and old pictures. We were intending to leave, having found what we were looking for – the 1952 version of the guardian of Tallinn, the copper weathervane Old Thomas. In this small city museum in Estonia, I had wandered into the back room just to see what there was to see.
As I browsed and skimmed the walls of words, I caught a few phrases that suspended me mid-stride. Deportations, Siberia, children freezing and starving to death… In a “wait, what?” moment, I started back over with a frown on my face. Around me, all at once I took in the images of war and hatred and pain – busts of Stalin, Nazi flags, cattle cars of people being transported.
Of all the countries we visited, I knew very little about Estonia. I didn’t know they had been taken over by so many countries. I didn’t know that the Soviet Union had undertaken 2 mass deportations, sending young and old Estonian men, women and children to Siberia. I didn’t know that the Nazis had occupied Estonia in between those deportations, sending away even more “undesirables.”
Old Hansa, Tallinn, Estonia
I didn’t write about that discovery in my travel journal. I wrote about the cool medieval restaurant where we ate lunch called Old Hansa. I wrote about the cinnamon beer and the big wooden spoon that came with my soup. There’s a whole paragraph about our food. I wrote about eating marzipan cake (Tallinn is famous for marzipan…who knew?).
All I wrote about the museum was this: “we learned more than expected about the hardship Estonians have faced.” I didn’t elaborate.
But out of all the memories from this incredible trip, that quiet moment in the upstairs room of the Tallinn City Museum particularly lingers.
Lighthouse, Warnemünde, Germany
Like there are two sides to every coin, there are two sides to our trip. There’s the simple freedom we felt in Scandinavia, and there’s the rich but heavy history we felt in Estonia, Germany and Russia. We were enveloped in the gorgeous flowers climbing the German homes, the sunny boardwalk, strawberry candies and old lighthouses on the shores of Warnemünde, the onion domes and towers of Tallinn, and the incredible palaces and museums of St. Petersburg, the Neva river and delicious vodkas. But all the while, evidence and memories of the World Wars, the Holocaust, the upheaval, oppression and seemingly endless assassinations throughout Russian history remain.
Golden Peacock Clock, St. Petersburg, Russia
I didn’t feel the heaviness in the people, nor in the experience of visiting these wonderful places. I feel the heaviness when I sit in my home and think back; when it frighteningly saddles up next to our current climate and I have to ask myself “Have we learned nothing?” The history of humanity seems stuck on repeat, “otherizing” groups of people, picking “in-groups” and “out-groups,” and following these dangerous paths until atrocities explode.
I feel the heaviness when I think of the 80% – or even 90% – of my friends who are afraid and affected by the state of our country. My friends who worry how they will be treated because they don’t look or don’t live like me. My friends who have lived here for decades and are now told their immigration papers will not be renewed without explanation. My friends who are all too often reminded that hate is loud right now in America. That hate has been emboldened. I fear for them; I weep with them.
St. Christopher, Tallinn, Estonia
Sitting on the couch one evening, my middle school daughter said “I don’t like that I look like this. It’s not fair.” Not referencing the awkwardness of puberty, or low self-esteem, she was talking about being blonde, light-skinned, blue-eyed. The unfairness she feels is that she is treated kindly at all times. She is spoken to with respect. She never experiences the looks, condescension or suspicion our friends receive.
It’s easy to just carry on, business as usual, when the world treats you well. But right now is not the time. We must not be indifferent, and we must not hate the haters. We must protest hate with connection, with a recognition of our shared humanity. We can start by just paying attention, with kindness, friendship, honesty; by refusing to be fooled or distracted when hate and fear are normalized. Like the smiling statue of St. Christopher in Tallinn with a stone on his back, we must bear some of the weight so that others will not be crushed.
“There may be times when we are powerless to prevent injustice, but there must never be a time when we fail to protest.” –Elie Wiesel
“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28
Travel always shapes you. It helps your eyes to open a little wider, your mind to see a little bit differently, and I believe it always makes you a better person than you were before you left. Below are my travel doodles and some photos from Warnemünde, Germany, Tallinn, Estonia, and St. Petersburg, Russia:
