Marta's New Home

This is our new home. As sad as it was to leave all our stuff behind in America, it feels damn good to actually have a new roof over our heads after living on planes and in airports and even in Warsaw, Poland.

Europe is such a strange entity. It's supposed to feel different but it feels the same at first but then it actually feels quite different than the US. If you can follow that. I know that I felt a little strange about moving Marta across the Atlantic. Would she magically become polite in mid-air? Would my child change, as our surroundings changed? Fat chance. As soon as we were escorted to the Hotel Okecie in Warsaw to spend the night and eat yummy, greasy Polish food, Marta was running around, telling ladies that she liked their hair and, by the way, did you notice my pink boots? One guy even gave her a rose. How cute.

On the planes, she was really into the Polish babies. I got really tired of chasing her. On the way to Tallinn she kicked and screamed. The Italian guy in the seat behind us was very upset. He put his fingers in his ears. The Polish guy in the seat in front of us was content though, flipping through his nudie mag and drinking a can of beer at noon. See, Europe is a little different.

In Tallinn, we put our bags in our old Valgevase apartment and headed south on the train to Tartu. Marta spoke to her mother in Estonian, but to all strangers in English. She didn't realize that she was in a country where almost everybody spoke her literal mother tongue. And that's sort of something I have been paying very close attention to. The bilingual child learns one language from Mom and one from Dad. That way she learns no mistakes and has the benefit of being really smart and cool and knowing two languages.

This situation came to a head when we got to Elo's place in Tartu. It was snowing and cold but Tartu looked beautiful with its wintertime lights. Marta first tried speaking to Simona in English, and Simona knows some English, but then Simona was asking me to translate and I realized that Marta was going to be forced to use her mother tongue (instead of her father tongue) to communicate with her cousin.

The thing is that Marta is a social animal, and like a comedian, she knows her "lines." She has a routine, "my name is Marta Petrone, I'm three, do you like my pink boots?, come on, let's play" that she never uses with other, non-English speaking kids. Never used. Until now.

Today she went to school, where the kids are also three and really know no other languages. I watched as Marta said "come on" a few times with no response, until she said "tule!" and her young friend obliged and followed her. We are told that she used her English more than half the time at school. My guess is that she will phase out as the days progress and she gets accustomed to using her Estonian language skills.

She still has the differentiation down between Epp and I. This morning she woke up and said, "Come Justin, wake up, wake up" with no hesitation, in the same way she'll confidently tell Epp that she wants to eat something in Estonian. I've got her to the point that she knows that my language is called "English" but she hasn't figured out, at least with me, that Epp's language has a name and is its own entity.

I'm glad Marta has this time though. Her school is so cute. It's this sprawling yellow house with a red roof and her class is the "Mesi Mõmm" class, or "honey bee," where other cute children gather and räägi eesti keeles. Outside, while they were playing, many had their own kelkid, or sleighs. It was a site to behold, seeing little midgets holding on to their sleighs like they were fishermen in dingies. I hope she likes her school. Her teachers seem experienced and like they've got their heads screwed on right.

Marta is also happy to see family members she hasn't seen in a long time. Both her and Simona went after Priit and attacked him like good nieces. I think Marta likes yelling Priit's name. Anyway, she is doing better these days. Less jet lag and less cranky behavior, which means she still is pretty cranky anyway, but not extraordinarily cranky.