Estonia, overcoming anxiety, and my two big regrets
Last May, I toured to the Baltic states of Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia with the Northwestern Choir. It was my first time in Europe, my first time that far away from home, and my first time going on a trip where the focus was on performing. I’ve had travel anxiety for much of my life, so the idea of being on an eight-hour flight over the ocean terrified me. If something went wrong, there was no way and nowhere to pull a plane over, get out, and let the problem pass. A ten-day tour was daunting to me—wouldn’t I be homesick by the end? I thought for sure I would be ready to get back to Minnesota, so when the opportunity came to sign up for a four-day extension to Sweden, I decided to say no.
Fast forward to May. I spent the night before the flight crying, feeling worried and unprepared. The flight across the Atlantic changed all that. It was smoother than I could’ve imagined, and I felt fine the whole time. Landing in Europe in a jet-lagged daze, I was proud of myself and finally started to get excited for this trip. As the jet lag wore off and I began to see the country, I entered full travel junkie mode; photographing everything, saying yes to every possible chance to explore, spending as little time in the hotel and on social media as possible, and putting my whole heart into each concert. As day five rolled around, I realized how much I wanted to go on that Sweden extension. I kept hearing other choir members make plans for their time there and wishing it wasn’t too late to sign up.
On our second day in Tallinn, Estonia, we toured the city and passed through a street where artists painted scenes from the old town. The paintings were definitely within my budget, but it wasn’t convenient to buy one right then and there, so I told my friend we’d have to come back the next day. As we moved along, I saw other students handing Euros to the artists and picking paintings to take home. I didn’t want to fall behind the group, so I just kept telling myself I’d come back tomorrow.
As plans shifted for our free day, though, I never made it back to that street, even after admiring the artwork and personally telling artists I would be back for their work. I felt like a liar, just another American tourist here to take her own pictures instead of supporting the locals. Even just looking at the photo in this post, I so dearly wish I could go back and buy a piece of art.
One day, I’ll get to Sweden. One day, I’ll go back to that street in Tallinn and buy a painting—or two.
If I’ve learned anything from traveling, it’s to say yes. Say yes to new places. Say yes to experiences that connect you with the local culture. Say yes to buying souvenirs that support local artists and businesses and bring back a flood of memories.
