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Wisdom comes slowly


Myrakas is riding a rocking horse.

Alright, Myrakas is back at the helm. In short, every summer for the past 7-8 years, we’ve been driving a few thousand kilometres south for about three weeks and spent a merry time there. For those of us from flat lands where the low sky seems to tap against our heads for most of the year, this is quite a powerful change. A lot of bright blue waters and a lot of winding roads. Though, it's possible that one could have enough of this at one beautiful moment.


Over time, we’ve accumulated quite a bit of wisdom. Aside from the basic "Don’ts" like: "Don’t annoy your wife!", "Don’t bitch about things!", "Don’t drink beer too slowly!" or "Don’t let some shady guy with a hairy chest and gold teeth drag you into his dark den of a store!", we’ve added an important one to the list: "Don’t travel to warm places during summer!" Let’s face it, I probably won’t manage to do that anymore anyway, as the next few years will be spent feeding people during the longer days of the year. The vegan street food trailer is waiting in the yard, and grilled sandwiches need to be cooked. There’s an flicker of hope that by working hard through the warm months, I’ll be able to save a bit of money to then scurry off to the south at a much calmer and cheaper time, for example in October.


But enough of that. The real problem is that by forming these roadtrips into the main event of our year, we've done a great disservice to ourselves. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to spend the in-between time sitting at home. Sometimes, it feels like maybe I should quit using Facebook altogether, since it’s full of bastards posting pictures of themselves posing on some cliff edge or in a calm lagoon. No shame, no honour, I say. While we’re huddling between piles of snow like cold, blue potatoes, they’re showing off with their fried cellulite.


In reality, there is a treatment for these kinds of torments. Of course, to rest under the palm trees for several weeks every quarter, I should have made smarter choices decades ago. But now, being old, dumb, lazy, and poor like the permanent exhibition at a village museum in the middle of nowhere, one has to proceed with caution and wisdom. You need to be clever! And that’s where the Latvians I praised in the last post come to the rescue.


In fact, for an Estonian who has already set the bar pretty low centuries ago, it doesn’t take much. A few days away from the daily grind would be enough! You would see some unfamiliar faces and a broken-down house with a story you don’t know yet. Go out to eat for a change. It doesn’t have to be a Michelin-starred restaurant, where a streak of seaweed puree is drawn on your plate, and they’ll only let you trade it for your entire paycheck. A simple, delicious pizza will do. At least the person serving you speaks a foreign language, which in turn awakens the travel molecules in your bloodstream and makes them shake about.


In a way, you could just take an impromptu trip to Latvia, but you might come back with a long face and with your hands hanging down. That’s why a good travel planner is essential for every family. Our Muti is an amazing travel planner. My job is simply to fill the tank and keep the car between the white lines. Wonderful places, colourful people, and taste experiences that pamper your stomach seem to appear along the way. More about our October travels to our southern neighbours in the next post.

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