A couple of weeks a go I wrote up my friend Hrvst’s report on an Estonian family. Yesterday, as the kids played on the Playstation and the squirrels whirled around the tree, fairly equivalent activities, there was a knock on the door, followed by a long pause. This is rare, as most of our friends are trained to barge in after knocking, or in Dylan’s friends’ case, clamber in through the window. When I answered the door there was an eager lanky type, not quite starched enough to be a Mormon on a mission, but put a short sleeve white button-up shirt on him and you’re on. He introduced himself as Markko (exotic spelling my personal affection), whose English should be excused as he’s from Europe.

Oh really, what part of Europe?

Estonia it turns out. He was surprised I’d heard of the place (and the internet blockade which took place there not too long ago). He also asked what country’s flag our neighbors were flying — I explained it was a pirate flag. He was going door-to-door selling educational books and software for some company in suburban summertime Florida. Poor Baltic kid.

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