Viimne testament hallis linnas. Vabandust, ma ei viitsi kahes keeles esialgu. tuleb inglise.

Hästi, ma seletan natuke lähemalt, mis ma selle segase meelespeaga mõtlesin.
Allright, I´ll explain a little better, what I was aiming at with that crazy note.
Me and my mother had long planned a trip to Tartu, to visit my granduncle with his wife and sort-of-grandaunt with her daughter. The planning took so long, that we didn´t even dare to call in front, in fear that at least the grandaunt might be insulted in some way for having to wait for our visit so long. We had a bag full of presents - slippers, scarf, chocolate, a bottle of wine, a bottle of heart drops, bath salt, herbal tea and some more stuff that mom didnt want to show me for some reason.
I don´t know why, but somehow, from the moment we took our seats in the bus, this visit seemed somehow...terminal. It was an overall gray day. The bus was so hot I thought this trip really is very me. I was almost choking there all the way, the only times I felt all fresh and nice were when we past a poison green field that almost killed my eyes with its unnatural colour. there was a huge contrast between the desert air in the bus and that freshly glowing field.
There is always something happening at the circle surrounding Tartu. this time they were building some sort of a bridge, but I saw no river. Weirdos.....wait, the river is about a hundred meters to the left. I guess they...moved it?
And they had established a hiking route called The Rabbit Path. Heheh, their mayor is called Rabbit Wave. See? See what a weird place this is where i went?
I have always felt sort of spooky about a lot of thing when going to Tartu. The old Anatomical theatre, and right across the street a little up hill the puppet museum. Porcelain and hearts in a bottle. A strange question arouse in my mind: do they ever put those things together...... You walk around in the museum and don´t even know that old doll has an actual lung inside. That is why they talk, maybe?
What they have done with the center is awful, of course. I am not talking about the fact that every time I come here I end up in a big pile of mud and dogshit. And that there doesnt ever seem to be a sunny day in Tartu for me. It was grayer than on the road, as if that gray everywhere else had leaked from this very place. The invisible cell, that holds it inside....probably comes from that gray colosseum they´ve built. that thing is just way too huge for such an introverted town. Why, in dogs name? even a thousand hearts in a bottle wont give this thing a soul.

we tried to cross the road, which is made pretty impossible. There are several market buildings here, and you have to crawl over ponds of mud to get to them. It wasnt nice. What people do to please their relatives who have real estate.... we bought grapes and different cakes. And flowers.

First we went to see the granduncle. I have been there before, even stayed the night once, but this time it was different. When we arrived, auntie L. was scolding uncle A. for forgetting the cauliflower at the supermarket and taring a hole in his pocket. From the very first moment they seemed sort of sad. L. was a bit sick, she had in mind to got to town with us, but she coughed and looked all worn out. she is 75.
A. is always an amusing guy to talk to. He is very opinionated, especially about history of wars and politics of the moment, and there is no point arguing. It´ll never end. After a little meal we talked - oh, dog, about 4 hours straight, I think. but it didnt feel pleasent. L. and A. have sold their house - nice house in a suburb near Tallinn, built in the 60ies, with mostly A. own hands. L. was not nostalgic, she almost didnt want to bring it back, but she talked about it anyway. how the young family they sold it to had torn down the chimney - the most perfectly working chimney I have seen! most cases you almost kill youself trying to get the fire started, but I remember A.- s chimney worked ina millisecond. it is gone now, and I just cant express how stupid those people are in my mind. what is the house worth without its heart?
the garden had been wiped clean too the last time L. took a trip there. A. doesnt want to go there at all. He says he would get too angry and sad. The greenhouses were gone, they had grown some enourmous tomatoes even in the shadow of trees. Good greenhouses. Flowerbeds, the hedge that protected the house and garden from exhaust fumes, apple trees - all gone. L. didnt want to talk about that anymore. A. said seeing your life work and memories so ruthelessly wiped off one only hopes he doesnt have many years.
Now we talked of other things, animals, nature, the future of the country and language, we estonians like to smart out occasionally and get really philosophical. But maybe it is only because everyday life and simple things, they are just so damn hard. Getting old... I am watching people around me, they are so worried about getting that old. it hasn´t been made easy to manage.

we went back to the marketplace and bought another cake for grandaunt II, and then I went into The Colosseum to buy yarn. There was jazz playing in the mall and I couldnt help to think that the musicians, when doing gigs ordered buy malls and shopping centers, arent much more than salespersons. it has become so plain, hiring someone to entertain the crazy crowd during whole sales or campaigns. soon we´ll be able toBUY musicians from a shopping center.

grandaunt II had been waiting and waiting on the window for us to arrive. She has aching feet, they are always swallen and wrapped in some smelly stew she ridiculously hopes helps with it. I am surprised she hasn´t got gangrene yet. But because of that, shehas barely left the apartement for those two years she has lived there. her daughter does the shopping and other things. grandaunt only goes to doctors appointments and for that she calls a taxi.
they used to live in Viljandi, in a beutyful wooden house. Their neghbour was a naivist painter who became known after a documentary by Mark Soosaar (Sunday Painters). I remember him, tall, corpulent guy in a dirty worksuit, bead all oily. they shared a was a romantic house and a romantic kind of neighbour. But when they sold their apartement, it wasnt even worth enough to cover the moving expenses to Tartu. cousin S. took a loan, asking my mom to back it up. so thats why I didnt get that new computer..... there went my 25 000. Never mind. Anyway, it is a lot easier for aunt II to live in an apartement where she doesnt have to chop wood and warm the water on a stove and take care of the garden and do a million other stuff. unlike A. and L. she doesnt regret a thing. She is far from being nostalgic for Viljandi. I would even say she hated the place. but then, she didnt build the house herself either.
grandaunt II is the kind of person who goes through all the old scandals and gossip and relatives she is crossed with every single time you meet her, over and over. I have always become rather impaient by the time I have listened to her for 2 hours. this time I surprised myself. I actually wanted to hear what she had to say. I felt like i had to. she was saying how everything satrted going wrong when J., my grandfather died. relatives turned against each other, property rights were lost, documents hidden. not to mention my granny going crazy and shutting herself out from the world. when grandaunt II- s housband died very suddenly in 1988, it became even worse. there were rumors the guy had hidden money somewhere in the apartement. or maybe his birth home....some relatives found out and came to scare grandaunt II and her daughter. They said her housband owed them money. The even lit her woodshed on fire and poored ashes in her flowerbed. they terrorised her a lot. I dont know if I should be telling this, cause it seemed....well, she was talking as if she wanted to rehearse for a last will and testimony. it wasnt like a goodbye yet, but it was a scetch for it. but I am trying to bring it to you what is the life of old people in today´s world, well this corner of the Earth. and I think it is essential. there is no point in telling anything else to make you picture it.
anyway, the birth home of her housband was seccretly sold by some double-crossing relatives. they even cheated out a part of the family burial ground. anything they got their hands on. now the ancestors are gonna lay next to a perfect stranger. hope they at least get introduced in the Afterlife Pub....,
she kept insuring us she still has friends though. some that call her, some that send a christmas card every year. but that´s it. she is still lucky I think, I dont know what would have happened if her daughter wasn´t there. She is not a bad person, despite the fact she talks too much and always forces people to eat like animals although they can barely take another bite. she is my moms godmother.
somehow I have been left out of many things concerning The Family. especially my mothers side. It is like I dont belong into their life, it is like I have no family and I am just a visitor. It was the first time I heard a lot of things, and some of them I cant tell you.... It is becoming the old folks´ fairwell and somehow my initiation into the Family. I have realized there are not many relatives that I even know. certainly not the younger generation. Will I even get christmas cards when I reach their age? No one even cares enough to terrorize me. I have never listened, I havent had the patience or haven´t been worthy. but those stories aren´t just smalltalk it is someone´s life.
me and mom decided to buy a video camera and go on a trip though her childhood lands and take granduncle A. and aunt L. and grandaunt II and my granny and many others along. maybe next summer...I think, definately at least next summer. so that I at least have one story on tape to remember and feel I have something to be a part of. I´ll try to catch up, before they are all gone.


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