AS I rolled off the ferry in the back of a rented people carrier onto the tiny island of Muhu, I was reminded of Caithness.
Today as the fog rolled around the house and closed down the view and opened the imagination, I recalled Muhu.
"Muhu," our guide Maarika explained, "is the island where time rests." I let the words roll around in my brain as I wonder what exactly that means. It might refer to a more leisurely way of life or a nostalgic look at village values or a part of Estonia where the influences of
freedom and the west have not reached. It means, I came to believe in my brief visit, all of those.
Muhu reminded me of Caithness in three ways. First, when Maarika said that all too often people drove through Muhu without stopping on their way to the more famous, larger island of Saarema, I thought of all the times I had heard folks complain about visitors who lingered perhaps for a night here on their way to Orkney.
Secondly, both Muhu and Caithness have a handful of dedicated people committed to preserving and sharing the treasures of Caithness. The last connection was the most compelling personally, though hardly as profound as the others. Fish soup.
As a child of the prairies, fresh fish is a treat still associated first in my mind with exotic holidays. In an Indiana childhood, fish was all too often the deep fried, breaded squares dished out on Fridays at the school cafeteria. I think those squares are the American equivalent of fish fingers, but I am not curious enough to try tasting them.
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