An Estonian Odyssey of Awkwardness

I was supposed to be revising an essay for you and I even had picked one out which was 90% finished. But Eurovision fever is starting to take hold as the Estonian semi-finals took place last week. Five songs were chosen by a jury to go straight to the finals, which might be displaying a lack of faith in the voting public. But the semi-finals took place as normal with another ten entrants and phone numbers set up for voting.

As a part of the semi-final presentation on national television, a short film called Tartu 24: A historical drama in three parts was released.

The context for the drama is that Tartu has been named the City of European Culture for 2024 and holding events to celebrate this all year long. The Estonian Song Contest finals will also be hosted in Tartu, picking the best song to represent Estonia in the Eurovision song contest.

Each part of Tartu 24: A historical drama in three parts is two to three minutes. The main characters are Ott Sepp and Märt Avendi, an Estonian duo with a long history together. You might recognise Märt Avandi from The Fencer. Both have had many roles within Estonia but as a duo, they are best known for their popular comedy/parody show from 2008-2015 called Tujurikkuja (“wet blanket”). This show consisted of short skits that poked fun at Estonians and Estonian culture, including the Estonian general distrust of strangers and desire to be left alone.

Märt and Ott also hosted or co-hosted the Estonian Song Contest in 2010, 2011 and 2016.

While I was working on translating the episodes, which I’d thought would be a “fun challenge”, someone added English subtitles. To be honest, I wouldn’t have made it through the text without that help. You could just put on the subtitles and watch the videos and be done with it in less than ten minutes. But instead, I have chosen to make you struggle through the Estonian along with me.

So, having set the scene, let’s watch part one. Note that the moving text at the bottom of the film are the artists with the phone numbers to vote for the song(s) you wish to make it to the semi-final. You can ignore them, as I already voted for 5Miinust and Puuluup on your behalf. You’re welcome.

Ott Sepp stands alone in front of his hut, content, gazing across a snowy plain. Then, in the distant mist, the shape of a stranger appears and his face falls. Märt draws near and steels himself up to speaking to Ott, who is desperately trying to pretend he hasn’t noticed him.

“Tervist!” Hello!

When he doesn’t receive a reply, he adds “Mõnus koht sul siin!” Nice place you have here. Ott stares off into the distance. Märt goes for a direct question. “Mis selle koha nimi on?” What is this place called?

Ott is forced to answer out of basic politeness. “Tartu,” he says.

“Tartu? Ta-Tartu. Tartu… Ilus nimi.” Tartu. A pretty name.

Tartu is the “second city” of Estonia, where it’s said that Tallinn is the head and Tartu is the heart. It lies on the Emajõgi river, which has been settled since the 5th century.

“On, jah,” says Ott. It is. And then I hear “Isa panin”, which is impossible. Isa means father and “panema” means to lay or to put, but panin would be the first person past tense. Assuming that I’m mishearing Isa, then [ma] panin would mean “I lay it here” or, as the subtitle puts it, “I put it myself”

I had to go to VeryPatientFriend to ask what the first bit of that sentence was, and it turns out it is ise, or myself so now everything makes sense again. Also, she thought you might like to know that, panin can be a slang term for sex, which is coarse but not obscene. So “ma panin teda” means I had sex with her. Estonian doesn’t have gendered pronouns but she wryly explained that it’s usually heterosexual men who would say such a thing.

“Mmhmm,” nods Märt. The two spend a moment in silence. In fact, one thing that really strikes me in this sketch is that they are not afraid of silence.

“Mis on Tartus ka huvitat on?” So, what’s interesting [to do] in Tartu?

“Midagi.” Midagi means something, where I thought that you needed to negate it (mitte midagi or pole midagi) to get nothing. But from the context, he’s clearly saying there’s nothing to do there (and he doesn’t seem that bothered). VeryPatientFriend jumped in again to explain that if you use “midagi” alone like that as an answer, it actually does mean nothing, not something. It was at this point that I realised that my idea of translating this whole thing was not one of my better ideas.

“Noh!” This is a common exclamation (along with Nii!) that I don’t really have the hang of but here, it’s clearly expressing doubt or disagreement. VeryPatientFriend broke it to me that I was wrong and it was actually “Nooh!” which is not the same thing at all as “Noh!” apparently but yes, is expressing doubt or disagreement. The subtitle says “Come on…” which she was happy with..

The next long sentence by Ott, who is mumbling and hard to understand, just about robbed me of my will to live. “Jõgi on siin [something],” he says, the river is here, “aga something something something something praegu.” aga means but and praegu means now, but I was damned if I could work out what was in the middle. It was about this point where someone added the English subtitles. I was very grateful, although not as grateful as I would have been to have Estonian subtitles. The river is here somewhere, but it’s not visible now. That would be “Jõgi on siin kuskil, aga ei ole näha praegu,” which is maybe what he says? I can’t quite catch the negation there (ei ole) because OTT MUMBLES AND HE LEARN TO SPEAK MORE CLEARLY.

Sorry. I’m fine and not regretting my life choices. Really.

The men stand in silence , waiting for me to stop grumbling.

Ott then goes on to say say something like “Noh ja kullsis” and I don’t understand that either but it doesn’t really matter as he clearly ending the conversation as he turns to go back inside. VeryPatientFriend explained that he actually says “No hea küll siis” in which No is distinct from Noh and Nooh and even though I can’t hear the difference between them, she assures me that Estonians can. She translates this one as a neutral “Well, then.”

Märt laughs and says “Milline melu” which translates as “What fun” or better, VeryPatientFriend tells me, as “What a buzz!”

I spent three hours making sense of this and could only hope that part 2 would be easier.

Part two opens with Ott in his hut, cooking a chunk of something of dubious origin and age, as shown by his sniff to check that it is edible. Sounds of construction distract him from his meal.

Märt is outside, sawing planks and building a second hut.

Ott is outraged. “Mida sa teed?” What are you doing? “MIDA SA TEED?!”

“Ma kolin ka siia.” I’m moving here too. “Mõtlesin et hea üle tänava.” I had to reverse translate that one as he slurs “Mõtlesin et” into each other but it comes down to, I thought it would be good if [we were] across the street. “Saame teineteist külastada.” We can visit each other.

Ott’s response is the most Estonian thing I have ever seen. “Mida?” What? “Ei! Miks?!” No! Why?!

“Noh!” There’s that exclamation again. “Siin on sellest… mõnus (something) vaimsust!” I’m definitely mishearing this as again it makes no sense. But we have mõnus again, as in “nice place” in the first video, and the dictionary tells me that vaimsus means spirituality. This place, it is nicely spiritual. I guess. Subtitles do better here with “Well, there is such … a nice spirituality here.”

Ott’s look needs no translation. He goes inside but cannot stop looking outside. He is distracted and cannot enjoy his chunk of meat. He storms back out.

Märt is excited, which means I can’t understand a word of what he shouts. “Look what I did!” says the subtitle, which is actually a phrase I learned: “Vaata, mis ma tegin!” Which… if I do the aural equivalent of squint, I can kinda hear him say that.

Ott looks frightened. “Mis sa tegid?”

Someone explained this phrase to me just last week. I asked why you can say “Mida sa tegid?” or “Mis sa tegid?” when they both mean “What have you done?” But, as it was explained to me, one of them is a straight-forward question while the other is more of a groan, my god, what have you done. Ott is using the one that doesn’t actually want an answer.

Märt’s excitement is undiminished. “See on kulturikeskus!” “It’s a cultural center!”

Every Estonian town has a cultural center and even many of the villages. The city cultural centres all look a lot alike, as the traditional local community houses were replaced as a part of the the Sovietization of Estonia after the country was occupied by the Soviet Union. The community houses were replaced with Stalinist-style “organizations of cultural education”. By 1950 there were 651 of these cultural centers across the country.

PatientFriend, no longer quite so Very, explained that the joke here is more that if there are two people, there has to be a cultural center.

Ott is not impressed. “Mis asi?” *What are you talking about?”

Südalinna kulturikeskus!” A cultural center in the heart of the town! “Sellest saab meie kultuurihäll!” I had to work backwards from the subtitle: “It will become the cradle of our culture!” He’s so sweetly excited! He’s also jogging in place against the cold, while Ott, the traditionalist, is preternaturally still.

“Noh, hetke ….” he says, using a bunch of words at a mile a minute. I already had my doubts about continuing at all so I gave up and switched to the subtitle. Well, there’s only a snowman there at the moment but–

Ott walks away.

“Küll saab,” Märt mutters to himself. He then shouts it. “Küll saab!” Even though for once I understood him clearly, the phrase is difficult. “Saab* means he/she/it becomes and “küll” is a sort of positive emphasis. So in this case, I’d go with It will become something! The subtitle goes for It will be something. I feel like neither of these encapsulates the strong belief underscored with “küll”.

Alone, Märt looks around, still grinning excitedly.

This part has emphasised Märt as representing the European Estonian while Ott is the Estonian Estonian, the traditionalist who wishes nothing more than to be left alone with his wooden hut and the questionable lump of meat.

We know, of course, that Märt is right: Tartu will become something great and we will all be excited (well, I’m excited) to celebrate it as the European Capital of Culture this year!

But PatientFriend saw this a bit differently, that Tartu is so small compared to most European cities and Märt reflects those Estonians who like to think that they live in the big city, but you can drive around Tartu in like 35 minutes, hardly a European capital.

She also thinks I should tell you that the hunk of meat that Ott is cooking might be a loaf of bread.

The third and final part has much too much dialogue and moves way too fast for me, so I mostly had to rely on the subtitles.

Ott is in his hut, again cooking a questionable-looking chunk of meat. He is just sitting down to eat when he hears voices outside. We hear a quiet whimper of “Mis…?” What?

He bursts out of the hut to find foreigners standing outside.

He shouts at Märt. “Mis toimub? Kes need on?” What’s going on? Who are they? The verb Toimuma is to come about but I think the subtitles have the better translation with “What’s happening?”

Märt starts to shout his reply and then catches himself and drops his voice, so that the guests don’t hear. “Head- head uudised. Tartu valiti kakskümmend neli aastal Euroopa Kultuuri pealinnaks!” He bounces with glee. Good- good news! Tartu was selected as the European Capital of Culture in the year 24!

The next sentence is slurred into one so I hope I have it right. “Kuidas see võimalik on?” Ott physically shudders. How can this be?

But from here, I’m really stuck. “Euroopas on [something] kaks linna, Rooma ja Korintos… Ja liindes [something] kõiki [something] mumble [something].” Märt whistles and says something more. Maybe I’m just tired but I’m really just leaning on the subtitles now. In Europe there are mainly two cities: Rome and Corinth, and everyone has enough of them. PatientFriend assures me this is quite a clever historical joke. So start producing some kind of culture quickly! We don’t want to be shamed.

“Jesus Kristus!” Agitated, Ott runs back into his hut.

Märt barely notices. “Jaa, jaa! Tema lubas ka [something] [something] loenguid andma” Yes, he also promised to come and give lectures. This one, I got! A reminder that this is the year 24, nine years before the crucifixion. He turns towards the guests, who are looking around in confusion at there being nothing to see. “Yes?” He dashes over.

Inside the hut, Ott picks up a stringed instrument and destroys it. This is a kannel, a traditional Estonian instrument which represents the only actual culture in our tiny Tartu of three huts.

Meanwhile, at the Cultural Center, crowds of people line up to get in. We cut inside to people dancing and singing, including a number of women in traditional Estonian dresses.

Märt is shown onstage as three different musicians, dressed in a jester’s hat. One of him is playing a parmupill, a type of jaw harp. The parmupill was common in Estonia in medieval times but doesn’t have the historical significance of the the kannel. I’m getting in over my head here but I think that the tavern scene might be meant to depict the mixing of cultures in medieval times, effectively the cultural evolution of Tartu on fast-forward.

Or maybe they are just having a damn good party.

Ott stands in the cold, watching in dismay, before turning away. He comes to a decision and shoves his wooden house into the ground, destroying it.

The party goes on. Märt pours paint over himself and the crowd goes wild. I’m not sure if this is meant to represent selling out?

No one cares about Ott, who has tied his belongings into a bag and attached it to a hobo-style stick. He walks off into the misty, snowy distance, with a voice-over that sounds a lot like “Hell is other people.”

From the subtitles:

Ott disappears into the wilderness, saving himself from the painful awkwardness of having to socialise with strangers.

LÕPP – The end.

The entire sketch plays on the idea that the worst thing that can happen to an Estonian is to have to interact with strangers. I’ve told the story before that during the pandemic, one of the most popular jokes was that the Estonians couldn’t wait for the 2-metre distance rule to be cancelled, so they could go back to staying six metres away from any other people. It’s easy to imagine the people of Tartu both flattered at being celebrated as the European Capital of Culture and at the same time wondering why all these people are here and what to they want?!

Meanwhile, 5Miinust&Puuluup entry to the Estonian Song Contest made it to the finals! It is called”(nendest) narkootikumidest ei tea me (küll) midagi”, or We don’t know nothing about those drugs. If the song gets chosen to represent Estonia in the Eurovision contest, I will attempt another stunt-translation and go through the lyrics. However, Friend (possibly no longer Patient) says she might have to leave town (maybe she’ll move to Tartu?) and that honestly, it’s not only because I keep sending her my attempts for comment.

I fear before starting this, I should have considered the old warning. Analyzing humor is a bit like dissecting a frog: You learn now it works but you end up with a dead frog. If you made it this far, thank you for indulging me!