H.E. Ambassador of Estonia to Australia, Jaan Reinhold, and Sõrve kultuurijuht Ella Scott. Here Ella is receiving her letter of appreciation signed by Kristina Kallas, the Estonian Minister of Education and Research, at the end of Sõrve Summer Camp, January 2026. Photo by Tomas Kuru.
During the event, speakers, including Foreign Minister Margus Tsahkna, emphasised the vital importance of encouraging the use of the Estonian language across all diaspora activities.
The sessions were conducted in Estonian. As I do not speak eesti keel (Estonian), I was allocated an interpreter, which allowed me to understand what was being discussed. Two common challenges emerged among the organisations represented at the round table: • the importance of maintaining eesti keel as the centre of culture • the difficulties of attracting second- and third-generation diaspora to participate.
While Sõrve has been increasingly successful at attracting younger families, the use of the Estonian language is limited compared to camps in Europe and North America. As our community moves further from its original Estonian roots, our traditions and language face the risk of being lost. Without a deliberate focus, Sõrve risks becoming “just another sports camp” — enjoyable, but not meaningfully different from any other holiday activity.
Just as the Aboriginal Dreamtime stories serve as spiritual narratives that form the foundation of culture, law and identity, the Sõrve Constitution’s mandate is to:
“Maintain and promote Estonian culture, language and traditions among young people of Estonian heritage in Australia.”
Sõrve is in a unique position to celebrate these traditions, ensuring the “wisdom of the ancestors” is preserved and passed on to future generations by those entrusted with this knowledge.
On returning, I was pleased that the Sõrve Sõbrad komitee (committee) agreed with my suggestion to establish the role of kultuurijuht (cultural lead) as part of the leadership executive at Sõrve from 2026.
Sõrve Sõbrad Komitee: Arvi Lehtsalu (VP), Taime Maidla, Ella Ranniko, Sulev Kalamäe (P), Toni Lehtsalu, Barbara Howard Kalamäe (S), Elen Ellervee (T), Katrin Porm, Danae Pikatt. Photo by Rachel Matwisyk.
The kultuurijuht role, supported by those in the juhtkond (leadership), is to plan and oversee the integration of keel (language), rahvatants (folk dancing), laul (singing), käsitöö (crafts) and ajalugu (history) into all aspects of camp programming culminating in the Kultuuri Konsert (cultural concert) on the final day of camp.
Such a significant position needs to be given a lot of thought and, with the input of the Sõrve Sõbrad komitee, I was able to develop a role description and selection process that can be used for future kultuurijuht selection. As the next camp was only a matter of months away, it was agreed that Ella Scott be invited to take on this inaugural role for Sõrve 2026.
Ella chose as her theme: “Rahvas algab raamatust — 500 years of Estonian books”. In the lead-up to camp, she asked elanikud (camp participants) to pack their keelekott — their language bag of favourite Estonian sõnad (words) and each morning at lipuheiskamine (flag raising) she introduced a “word of the day”. This was an opportunity for her to also explain the plural form of the word in eesti keel, something that is often muddled with English. For example, saying tares rather than tared (huts).
Kids helping Eno Raud’s book character “Sipsik” (a.k.a. Lachlan Bell) find his way home. Photo by Tomas Kuru.
Following the 500th Anniversary of the Estonian Book theme, Ella worked with Lachlan Bell, who has been a juht (leader) for several years and is now studying at the University of Tartu, to update the Sõrve laulik (song book), curating a vibrant mix of timeless classics and fresh additions to reflect the camp as it is today and honour its longstanding singing traditions.
Bookbinding was chosen as the craft activity this year with language and culture being integrated into the project. Children (older kids from the A group) made eksliibrid (ex libris) for their laulikud, and younger kids from the C and F groups had lots of fun helping Eno Raud’s book character “Sipsik” find his way home.
Ex libris made by kids at the Sõrve Summer Camp 2026. Photo by Lachlan Bell.
Although I don’t have an Estonian birthright, my forty years of involvement in the community have made me passionate about providing the opportunity for my grandchildren to be engaged with their cultural heritage. I see the kultuurijuht role as crucial in not only maintaining the Sõrve traditions, but also in immersing the younger generation of Australian-Estonian children in their cultural heritage and exposing them to current events in Estonia.
For future camps, the role of kultuurijuht will be filled after Expressions of Interest are advertised.
Let’s hope my little seed of an idea will be able to grow like the Tamme-Lauri oak — a symbol of Estonia’s independence and a subject of national pride — to play a lasting and significant role in maintaining Estonian culture in Australia.
“Be brave – practice and use the Estonian language!” Alar Karis, President of the Republic of Estonia
Barbara Howard Kalamäe is the 2025-26 Secretary of the Sõrve Sõbrad Komitee.
Kick off your shoes, raid the snack drawer — the first Global Estonian newsletter of 2026 has landed, serving big diaspora thinking and enough delicious cultural goodness to keep your evening scrolling justified.
This issue opens with Marin Mõttus, Estonia’s Ambassador at Large for the Diaspora, basically saying sleepy January absolutely is not — the world is shifting fast and Estonia’s more visible on the global stage.
The headlines you will repeat to your friend (and ponder over)
Because Global Estonian always serves a delicious buffet:
Niina Petrõkina has done it again — she’s retained her European figure skating title. (Remember the Winter Olympics are starting soon!)
Estonia’s population fell by over 7,000 in 2025 — a stat that sits behind a lot of the “how do we stay connected?” thinking.
Animal of the Year 2026: hedgehogs (plural!). They’re here with a message: be kind to nature… and also to small spiky introverts.
Vastlakukkel season is back — which means time for cream buns, pea soup and sleigh rides on snow or grass.
And for Eurovision-curious readers: all 12 Eesti Laul 2026 songs are up on Jupiter for your annual “I’m just listening casually (obsessively)” phase.
Film night, anyone? Jupiter has a stack of excellent Estonian films you can watch for free — the perfect excuse to make cream buns and invite friends over. (To use Jupiter abroad, you’ll need a registered account.)
The bits that feel very “Australia, hi”
Here’s where we perk up in our blue-black-white corner of the Southern Hemisphere:
Preserving Estonian memory in Australia — a video story featuring Maie Barrow and the work of the Estonian Archives in Australia.
Portia Stanton-Noble showing off her book "The Big Dead Dry".
Portia Stanton-Noble’s debut novel The Big Dead Dry is now in development as a feature film with Australian production company 13th Street Films. A mystery with a dash of romance and a cast of quirky locals — yes, please!
Australian Estonian author Portia Stanton-Noble has confirmed that her novel The Big Dead Dry is now in development as a feature film with 13th Street Films. If you like your crime with a side of romance and regional oddness, this is exciting news for you. The characters sure sound like they were made for the screen.
Set in the fictional regional South Australian town of Brumby Flat, The Big Dead Dry drops a newcomer, Raquel Willaston, straight into a community where secrets travel faster than gossip at the post office. A mysterious stranger arrives — and is soon found dead at the base of the town silos — kicking off an investigation led by Senior Detective Phillip Duncan.
The novel’s world is packed with quirky characters (the kind you definitely recognise if you’ve ever lived in, visited, or driven through an Australian country town). They include a silo mural painter with a mysterious edge, a vintage-loving local reliving the past, an ex-military man running on precision, a flirtatious postmistress, and a shop selling rain gear in a town stuck in drought.
About the author
Portia Stanton-Noble was born and raised in Melbourne to Estonian parents who migrated to Australia after World War II, and she now lives in regional South Australia — the kind of background that makes many HEIA readers go, “Yep, one of us.”
Portia’s novel The Big Dead Dry is the first in a four-book murder mystery romance comedy series. The second book, Pretty Dead Ordinary, returns to Brumby Flat when a wedding celebration turns sinister and Detective Duncan finds himself under suspicion.
The third book, Drop Dead Like Flies, shifts the drama to a nearby national park and a folk festival anniversary where old grief and fresh danger collide.
And then comes the finale: Dead Goes the Neighbourhood, where a “next door” town, a travelling circus, and a fresh wave of murders drag Detective Duncan back into the chaos — sequins, sparkles and all.
Outside the Brumby Flat world, Portia has also released the rom-com The Life She Never Had and the murder mystery The Cut Off Road. Her most recent title A Body Came Ashorehas received a Bronze book cover award from the Wickham St George Book Cover Awards.
Who are 13th Street Films?
13th Street Films is led by Brisbane-based filmmakers Sian and Joel, who met while studying film and screen media and later joined forces to build the company together. Their track record spans comedy, thriller and genre work, and they’ve been steadily racking up development, festival and industry momentum. For example, they co-founded the Brisbane Indie Film Festival.
13th Street Films created the six-part POV web series Socially Distant (which screened at Melbourne Web Fest), co-directed and produced the short thriller OUTPOST (Darwin International Film Festival), and produced and directed Voyager as a proof-of-concept project. On top of that slate, their current project list includes Welcome to Wrigleton (a mockumentary comedy about a country town on the brink), and Filthy Habit (a feature film with an… let’s say a bold premise involving a nun exploring some sins).
What happens next
At this stage, the project is described as in development, with casting and further announcements to come. If you love seeing Australian landscapes and offbeat small-town stories make the leap from book to screen, and supporting Australian Estonian authors, keep this on your radar.
Portia shared her excitement about the film adaptation:
“I’m thrilled that The Big Dead Dry is being developed into a feature film by 13th Street Films. It’s an incredible opportunity to showcase the beauty of South Australia while bringing the story’s intrigue, comedy and drama to life.”
Congratulations, Portia! We’re excited about this film. We’re also looking forward to your next books.
Acknowledgement
Thank you to Portia Stanton-Noble for the information and photo.
Screenshot from video "Maie Barrow – Keeper of Estonian Memory" by Priit Laineste.
A new video by filmmaker Priit Laineste takes us into Sydney Estonian House and down to the Estonian Archives in Australia — with Maie Barrow as your guide (and yes, she knows exactly where the good stuff is).
In “Maie Barrow – eesti mälu hoidja” (Maie Barrow – Keeper of Estonian Memory), Priit also captures a quick slice of Sydney’s Australian-Estonian community life — including moments around Restoration of Estonian Independence commemorations in 2025 — before the camera heads downstairs, where the memory lives.
Downstairs, where the memory lives
Once we’re in the archive space, Maie becomes both guide and storyteller. She explains what the Estonian Archives in Australia holds, why it matters, and what it actually takes to keep a heritage collection alive (spoiler: it’s not magic — it’s steady, meticulous work). The archives have been collecting Australian-Estonian history since 1952, and Maie points out the kinds of “community time capsules” you hope never end up in someone’s mystery garage box: documents, photographs, books, artworks, and the paper trail of organisations and events.
We also meet Dr Terry Kass — historian and author — who is the Honorary Archivist since Maie stepped down after 29 years in the role (though Maie still volunteers and stays closely involved). And we’re introduced to Ave Nukki, President of the Estonian Society of Sydney, who pops in with a thoughtful note about language and cultural continuity in Australia.
If you’ve ever wondered where old Eesti Päevad programs go, what happens to newsletters after everyone’s finished debating them, or how a family story gets traced across decades — this is your window into the “how” behind remembering. But it’s also about something bigger: what communities choose to carry forward, and what it takes to keep those choices alive.
Maie’s story, in her own words
One of the best things about these videos is that Maie doesn’t present the archives as a museum behind glass. She talks about real people, real decisions, and the long, careful work of preserving what matters — while still making space for the complicated bits: belonging, language, identity, and the occasional question of what exactly are we called again — Estonian-Australian or Australian-Estonian? (Yes, it comes up. I’m glad — I’ve wondered about this.)
Maie also shares her own personal journey — including her family’s displacement during wartime, growing up speaking a “secret language”, the experience of visiting Estonia decades later (first time in the 1960s!), and watching Tallinn change through different eras.
And if you’re thinking, this is the kind of lifelong work that deserves recognition — you’re right. Maie’s decades of archival work have been formally acknowledged, including the Order of the White Star (5th Class) bestowed by the President of Estonia.
📺 Video links
Priit Laineste has shared two videos from the same Sydney visit — they complement each other beautifully.
Make your Sunday morning count: on 1 February 2026 you can tune in via Zoom or meet at the Estonian House in Sydney for a conversation on relationships and wellbeing with author and relationships expert Lilian Saage (in Estonian).
Picture it: a summer Sunday morning. Some of us with coffee, some with kids climbing the furniture, some bravely attempting a “calm” start to the day. And then — one simple, surprisingly brave question arrives in Estonian: how are our relationships actually going… with ourselves, with our partners, and with the people we work alongside?
This event brings that question to life through a talk and discussion around the themes of conscious relationships — the kind that don’t just “happen” but can be understood, practiced, repaired and strengthened.
Event details
🗓️ Date: Sunday, 1 February 2026 🕔 Time: 11.00 am (Sydney & Melbourne) | 8.00 am (Perth) | 1.00 pm (New Zealand) 📍 Where: Sydney Estonian House (141 Campbell Street, Surry Hills NSW 2010) or online viaZoom 🎧 Zoom: Meeting ID: 810 4356 1976 | Passcode: 365 944 🗣 Language: in Estonian 🎟️ Register for free: https://www.trybooking.com/DIVFL
As the event poster reminds us: “Meie elukvaliteet sõltub suhete kvaliteedist, nii tööl kui eraelus. Suhe endaga mõjutab suhteid teistega.” (Our quality of life depends on the quality of our relationships, both at work and in our private lives. Relationships with ourselves impact on our relationships with others.) In other words: relationships aren’t a side hobby — they are the infrastructure of daily life.
The session will explore topics such as:
how to create a safe environment for collaboration and clearer communication (and what that asks of us)
how to notice whether we may be undermining ourselves in relationships (yes, it happens)
how emotional and sexual closeness connect in a partnership, and where curiosity and playfulness fit in
how trust and commitment grow — and what to do when passion feels like it has wandered off into the laundry pile of everyday life.
Poster by Lilian Saage.
The book at the centre of the conversation
The discussion is based around the book Mina, sina ja kõik meie vahel (Me, You and Everything in Between) — a practical guide to building a more conscious partnership, starting with the relationship that sits underneath all the others: the one you have with yourself.
It invites readers to pause and notice how earlier experiences, family patterns, and emotional defense strategies show up in the present — not as a reason for blame, but as a doorway to understanding and choice. The book frames this as more than reading: it’s a set of reflections and practical steps for making sense of relationships, developing and sustaining them.
The event features Estonian author, mentor, trainer and family therapist Lilian Saage, whose work focuses on supporting people toward healthier, more conscious relationships in both personal and professional life (read more about Lilian Saage here). One line from her writing captures the spirit of the session — gentle, encouraging and very practical:
“Every step counts. Including the one you just started.”
This event is hosted by the Estonian Society in Sydney, offering a chance for community members to join a shared conversation — either in the room at Sydney Estonian House, or online via Zoom from wherever you are.
If you’ve been wanting something that feels both meaningful and useful — ideas you can actually take into Monday morning, not just nod along to — this is a lovely opportunity to listen, reflect and perhaps make one small, helpful shift.
Thank you to Ave Nukki and the Estonian Society in Sydney for organising this event and for this information. Thank you to Lilian Saage for information and poster. We’re excited about this event!
Estonian Women's National Cricket Team. Photo: Medha Gooch.
With the Australian summer of cricket well underway, it seems a good time to get an update on Estonian cricket (Eesti kriket). What? I hear you say. Estonia plays cricket?
Eesti kriket
From across the green field in an outer suburb of Tallinn come urgent voices: “Head šotti! Kaks, kaks! Tubli Eesti!” (Head shots! Two, two! Go Estonia!) as the two batters in sinimustvalge (blue-black-and-white) make their ground and move closer to winning the game.
It is September and I am at the Estonian National Cricket Ground at Tiskre, about a 10-minute drive west of Tallinn, with Medha Salome Gooch, the team manager. The Estonian National Women’s Cricket Team is hosting Czechia in a three-match T20 series and hoping to end the season with a clean sweep win to improve their world ranking.
I am the only spectator today, sitting under my Eesti lipp (Estonian flag) tied to some scaffolding, perched on a borrowed seat. The Tiskre grounds consist of two grass pitches and mown ovals surrounded by a few shipping containers as sight screens and storage, a couple of portaloos and a construction shed in a large grassy paddock. However, team manager Medha tells me that they have finally been given planning permission for a proper pavilion with team changing rooms, officials’ area and, most importantly, a bar and food for visitors. They hope construction will begin next year.
The first game of cricket in Estonia was played in 1998, after a trip to Australia exposed Baltic businessman Kristian Garancis to the excitement of the Boxing Day Test. On his return to Tallinn, he met with other expat cricket fans and the first scratch matches were organised against Finland. With increased development and investment from the International Cricket Council (ICC), the Eesti Kriketi Liit (Estonian Cricket) was formed and joined the ICC in 2008, enabling Estonia to participate in international competitions.
Estonian Women’s National Cricket Team playing cricket at Tiskre. Photo: Medha Gooch.
Eesti v Czechia
In August, the 64th-ranked Estonian women played 44th-ranked Gibraltar in three games, and despite winning the first game in a shock result, they lost the series two-one. This series against 72nd-ranked Czechia is the last for the summer and is a great chance to finish the year on a high and show their new coach Anuradha Doddaballapur (Anu) their match skills after weeks of video-based training plans.
In the first game on Saturday morning, captain Annemari Vessik wins the toss and sends the Czechia team in to bat on a beautiful, sunny and hot day. Czechia opener Katerina Tesarikova shows her excellent hand-eye coordination and puts the Estonian bowlers under pressure with her powerful hitting. At 0-56, Medha confides that the players are off their game, bowling too many wides and no-balls. The introduction of Chamali Lokuge’s spin suddenly changes the game, with three wickets falling quickly and the pressure back on Czechia. However, they complete their 20 overs with a very respectable 107 runs, with Tesarikova top scoring with 56.
The Estonian run chase begins badly, with Geethma Madanayake run out in the second over, but Ragne Hallik and Annemari Vessik soon steady the innings with some strong hitting. Ragne, especially, clearly loves to hit the ball hard! At 4-72 in the 11th over, Estonia is the clear favourite to complete a comfortable win — but cue the dramatic music because a series of bad shots and a hat-trick (three players out in three balls) swings the momentum sharply, as Estonia’s scoring almost stops. With 12 balls to go they need six runs, but only have two batters left. Czechia quickly pile on the pressure, bringing all the fielders in close to the batter to stop any easy runs. Pressure works both ways, however, and it strains the Czechia bowler Pavlickova, who bowls four wides in a row, leaving just two runs required from the final over.
My fellow spectators — Medha, and groundsman and local player (UK born) Kevin Pattenden — look worried. Kevin’s wife Sirle is the last batter, and he tells me she has excellent defence but is not a quick scorer! First ball of the last over and Viktoria Frey sees the opportunity to win the game with a big shot but is caught out. Kevin covers his face! 5 balls left, two runs to win, Sirle on strike. As described, her first two balls are well defended for no runs before she manages a quick single on the third ball. One run to win from two balls, one wicket left — anything could happen.
And in a huge anti-climax, the next ball is delivered way wide. In the confusion of running batters and fielders and an attempted run-out, the umpire’s call of “wide” means Estonia have won this heart-stopping game. The team are happy and greet the batters with smiles and clapping, but they all know that without the 47 extras from wides and no-balls, they would have lost. The Eesti top scorers were Annemari and Viktoria, each with only 13 runs.
Estonian Women’s National Cricket Team playing cricket at Tiskre. Photo: Medha Gooch.
Getting cricket established in Estonia
With an hour for lunch before the next game, Bolt food deliveries are ordered, and I help Kevin and Medha get cold drinks and iceblocks from the local supermarket. They are both happy to share their love of cricket with me and discuss the challenges of establishing the game in Estonia, including that while many Estonians play sport, there are few games here where catching and throwing are so important. Basketball and football require very different skill sets.
Kevin grew up playing cricket in England and was living in the north near Bradford with Sirle and their two children, Henri and Amy, until they all moved back to Estonia in 2020. Henri is on the cusp of selection for the Estonian men’s team, while Amy has already played for Estonia, appearing alongside her mother against Guernsey in Oslo in 2024. Kevin told me his kids are not dual nationals — they hold only Estonian passports — but were lucky to grow up playing cricket in England.
Medha was born in India but has lived in Europe for several years and is married to Australian-born eestlane (Estonian) and cricketer Steffan Gooch. It was Steffan who propelled the Estonian men’s team into the Challenger Division playoffs of the 2024 European Cricket League with a six off the last ball, and still holds the ECN’s best bowling figures of six wickets for 2 runs.
During the lunch break, I also discuss the plans and hopes for the women’s team with their new coach, Anuradha. Anu is a seriously impressive woman. She works full-time as a cardiovascular research scientist at the Max Planck institute in Germany, spending her holidays in Estonia as a professional cricket coach. Anu was the first woman to take four wickets in four consecutive balls in an international match. She was captain and player for Germany for 13 years, and still holds the record for their best bowling figures of five wickets for one run.
Anu explains how Estonia is taking a bottom-up approach to developing cricketers, with ambitious plans to bring cricket to 1,000 schoolchildren each year through local coaching clinics. She knows it is vital to create a clear development pathway, especially for young cricketers, moving from schools competitions through under-15s, under-17s and under-19s into national adult competitions.
Anu also believes it is important for young Estonian girls to see their national team full of local players — following the adage that “you can’t be what you can’t see”. Anu notes that many European countries rely on landing externally trained cricketers to rise up the ICC rankings, but says this approach “soon drops away — you can’t expect players to materialise from nothing”. During our conversation, teenager Maia Mägi is busy working on her bowling in the nets behind us. Medha later tells me Maia only discovered cricket at school this year, decided she wanted to play, and now turns up every weekend to improve her skills.
Estonian Women’s National Cricket Team. Photo: Medha Gooch.
After a debrief by Anu, the Estonian women come out for the second game of the day determined to improve their focus and play to their strengths. This time Annemari decides to bat first after winning the toss, and the batters improve significantly, scoring 153 runs for five wickets, with Ragne Hallik top-scoring with 32. In the Czechia innings, Maret Valner ramps up the pressure, taking two wickets in the first over and another in the fifth to leave Czechia at 3/22. When Lokuge takes three wickets in the ninth over and Ragne takes two in the next, the game is effectively over, with Czechia dismissed for 32 and Estonia winning comfortably by 115 runs.
The last game of the series takes place on Sunday morning, with the ground hidden by thick fog before play. Czechia win the toss and elect to bat first. Carrying confidence from the previous day, the Estonian women remain focused, taking a wicket with the first ball and piling pressure on Czechia. By the end of their innings, Czechia have scored just 58 runs. In reply, Geethma Madanayake and Ragne Hallik do most of the early scoring, and Estonia finish their season with a seven-wicket win in just 10 overs. Now it is time to pack away their cricket gear and plan for the next season.
At the end of the season, the Estonian women’s team have again improved their ranking and, as of December 2025, sit at number 58 in the ICC table. Who knows what heights they might reach as more youngsters like Maia Mägi are exposed to cricket at school and decide that this funny game is worth committing to.
How Australian Estonians can help
What can Australian Estonians do to help the game in Estonia? Go and watch, support, and — if you play — share your cricketing skills and experience. The team is also looking for an assistant coach and a team manager. Any takers?
You are invited to take part in a questionnaire, with the option of a follow-up interview, as part of my Master’s research project at the University of Tartu in Folkloristics and Applied Heritage Studies, within the Department of Estonian and Comparative Folklore.
My thesis, titled “Routines and Rituals at Sõrve: Inheritance of a Camping Tradition in an Estonian Children’s Summer Camp” (working title), examines the traditions, rituals and everyday folklore of Sõrve Summer Camp. The study focuses on how camp practices contribute to community life, identity-building, social relationships and the development of a distinct Sõrve culture within the Estonian-Australian diaspora. It also considers the historical development of the camp since its modest beginnings in 1953 at the Narrabeen Fitness Centre, as the Sydney Eesti Seltsi Täienduskool’s end-of-year celebration.
The project is currently in the data collection phase and seeks contributions from people (aged 18+) with connections to Sõrve across different generations and roles. Whether you are a former C-grouper, long-term alumni, or just a visiting guest for the weekend, your participation will help build a well-rounded and representative picture of the camp and its more than 70 years of practice.
Below is the link to a secure Microsoft Form, and your participation — whether you have attended camp in any capacity — is of value to my research. All responses are anonymised, with the option to be identified if you choose. Your participation is voluntary, and you can withdraw or revoke consent at any time. The form takes approximately 40 minutes to one hour to complete.
Thesis questionnaire:“Routines and Rituals at Sõrve: Inheritance of a Camping Tradition in an Estonian Children’s Summer Camp”
Suur, suur aitäh! (Thank you very much!) Please feel free to share this form with anyone you think might be interested or relevant. If you are interested in a follow-up interview, do not hesitate to contact me at lachlan.christopher.bell@ut.ee
Hello you. Yes, you — wherever you are in the world, whatever you’re seeing when you peek out the window (a blazing sun or big piles of snow). Here come our New Year’s greetings — sent with love, optimism and with a lingering smell of fireworks up in the air.
It’s the first day of the year. A reset. A cosmic Ctrl + Alt + Delete. That magical moment when we open our eyes and briefly believe we are brand new people who definitely drink more water, reply to emails on time and exercise every morning.
Hold onto that feeling. Hide it in your pocket. Use it recklessly all year.
Growing up in Estonia, 31 December was not just a date — it was an EVENT. On par with Christmas Eve, easily. Possibly better.
Christmas came with obligations. Because in Estonia, Santa does not simply give. Santa demands performance. You sing. You dance. You recite a poem you half-forgot. You prove yourself worthy. Only then may you approach the presents. Christmas was about the real tree and the pressure.
New Year’s was chaos, joy, fireworks and zero expectations — except happiness and new beginnings.
I’ve had the privilege of celebrating New Year’s in different forms, both in Estonia and in Australia — loud ones, quiet ones, sweaty ones, rainy ones, and ones involving animals that absolutely should not be walked.
There was the year I arrived in Australia as a backpacker and welcomed the New Year by claiming a patch of lawn near the Sydney Opera House at 7am. Yes. Seven. In the morning. We stayed all day. Like champions. As one does when in Sydney. Those fireworks are world famous after all.
The fireworks? Incredible, as advertised. Deafening. Worth every minute. The sunburn? A brutal but very Australian souvenir.
Then there was the New Year in Bundaberg, Queensland — rainy, slow, gentle. It rained for days, which meant cosy reading marathons and supply runs between downpours.
On one such run, I noticed a small crowd behind my fence. Curious, I stepped closer and discovered the reason:
My neighbour was walking his snake. Yes, you read that right. A snake.
We learned that Adam — bearded, calm, unbothered — occasionally takes his elderly python for a stroll. The snake had once arrived injured, been lovingly rehabilitated, and now lived a comfortable life involving occasional school visits and one rat per month. (No, Adam wasn’t schooling his python — he was showing it to schoolchildren, with permission from teachers, apparently.)
The python tolerated gentle pats. I patted it, pretending to be brave while every fibre in my body screamed absolutelynot. I did not put the python around my neck, as Adam suggested. Because I enjoy living.
New Year’s memories really do come in all forms.
New Year’s has always been loud in Estonia — gloriously so. Everyone went outside with fireworks and säraküünlad, regardless of weather or common sense.
When midnight struck, we hugged everyone. Friends. Neighbours. Strangers. People we’d never see again. We yelled “head uut aastat!” into the night like it was a group project and we were all equally responsible.
Even walking home, you shouted “head uut aastat!” at passing strangers. For a few magical minutes, everyone was your people.
Living in Australia means I get two New Years. One Australian. One Estonian. It’s double the joy and double the messaging chaos.
Messages before midnight. Messages after. Phone calls across time zones. Pots bubbling on the stove while one hand sends “head uut aastat!” messages at lightning speed.
Sometimes it’s chaotic. Sometimes it’s exhausting. Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to cook and bake and coordinate time zones.
And yet — I love it. Because that’s the one time of year when even the busiest teenagers, the hardest-to-reach relatives, the young, the old — everyone pauses. Everyone sends that message. We all show up.
Another long-standing tradition I picked up as a teenager in Estonia — from where, no one knows — is closing my eyes at midnight and making wishes for the year ahead. Wishes for me, wishes for loved ones.
Sometimes I only have two wishes, other times it takes me 12 minutes to list them all. I never share them. They change every year. Health. Love. Dancing next New Year’s Eve. A million dollars on my bank account. Very reasonable requests, honestly. Some come true. Some don’t. That’s fine. The ritual is the point.
Another long-standing tradition in my family is reading everyone’s horoscopes aloud. What is it about Estonians and horoscopes? They’re on national television every New Year. Predictions for the country. Predictions for everyone.
A national hobby of collectively imagining a better future.
The start of the New Year feels, at least to me, is like someone somewhere presses a reset button and says: “You can bring everything you’ve built so far — but leave your regrets behind that door.”
You don’t get to carry negative baggage into 2026. No emotional overpacking allowed. No heavy backpacks filled with old disappointments. Just hopes. Dreams. Curiosity. Kindness.
Good intentions for yourself, your people, your community? Step across the threshold.
Here’s the secret: you are in charge of this year. You get to feed the hope. Protect it. To make this year what you want it to be. And if you forget? The reset button works anytime. Not just today.
From all of us at HEIA – Hello, Estonians in Australia, a colossal aitäh for a year of showing up, scrolling, sharing, singing, baking, gently arguing about Estonian pronunciation, and heroically discovering events one day too late. You know we love you, and we’re endlessly grateful for all you do.
Thank you for making Estonian life in Australia loud, loving, fun and impossible to ignore — now go eat well, rest deeply, lose track of the date entirely, and we’ll see you in the New Year with full calendars, fresh stories and absolutely zero chill.
Hugs and cheers from your HEIA team Kristi, Mark and Kristel 💙🖤🤍
Screenshot from the piparkoogid video by Silvi Vann-Wall.
Tere and G’Day!
It’s that time of year again: the temperature is rising, the shops are chaos, and plastic fir trees adorned with baubles are being arranged in the living rooms of millions of Australians.
Christmas is an odd time in Australia, when Northern Hemisphere cultural traditions combine with the sweltering Southern Hemisphere to result in one joyous, exhausting event. It must have been particularly confusing for my grandparents, who migrated here from Estonia after WWII and fully expected sunny skies and warm beaches in July, but instead got the damp, freezing conditions of the Bonegilla migrant camp in rural Victoria. And when summer finally rolled around? That’s when Aussies fired up the ovens and started baking ham! So bizarre.
Still, many of my grandparents’ Christmas traditions from Estonia persisted: Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day, was the time to open presents, and a plastic tree never set foot in their house – only a real pine would do! But the best one? It’s a tough choice, but I’m going to go with homemade piparkoogid.
My grandparents may be long gone, but I still eat these piparkoogid every year. They’re a classic Estonian Christmas treat, and if you’re “Austonian” (Australian-Estonian!) chances are you’ve eaten your weight’s worth of them. The taste and texture are quite similar to gingerbread, but the combination of cloves, ginger and cinnamon with blackstrap molasses makes them far more fragrant and robust. Best of all, they’re easy to make, light, and don’t take too much time to bake in the oven, so they’re very compatible with the Aussie heat!
Here’s my recipe for piparkoogid. I’m making them with my Australian mum, so it probably won’t be the same as your grandma’s recipe (please share your own recipes in the comments on social media)! I have a wheat and dairy allergy, so this version is gluten and dairy-free. You can also make it vegan by swapping egg for a plant-based egg replacer powder. If using wheat flour, reduce the quantity to one and a half cups.
Watch the video below to learn how to make piparkoogid!
One more thing: the dough needs time to chill in the fridgee (that’s how my grandpa would pronounce “fridge”), so start the recipe at least one day ahead!
Ingredients
2 cups of gluten free all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons of baking soda
1/2 teaspoon of sea salt
6 tablespoons of blackstrap molasses
1/2 cup of brown sugar
1/2 cup of butter or margarine
1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon of ground cloves
1 teaspoon of ground ginger
And 1 whole egg, whisked
Start by adding the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cloves and ginger into a medium-sized mixing bowl, and use a whisk to stir until everything is combined.
Next, put a saucepan on the stove and add the blackstrap molasses, brown sugar and margarine together. On a medium heat, stir until the mixture starts to bubble, then turn the heat off and set it aside.
After the wet mixture has cooled slightly, add in the whisked egg and move everything to a kitchen mixer. Beat until light and fluffy. You can also use a hand mixer, or good old-fashioned elbow grease for this part!
Add the flour mixture to the wet mixture and beat again to combine. You should see a brown dough forming. It’s ready when there is no more white flour visible.
Let the dough sit for about five minutes, before transferring it to a clean bench (lightly dusted with flour) and forming a ball with your hands. If the dough sticks to your hands, add a bit more flour. Cover the ball in kitchen wrap and let it chill in the fridge overnight.
When you’re ready to cut your cookie shapes, preheat the oven to 200 degrees Celsius, and start rolling the dough ball out until it’s flat. You can use flour and parchment paper so that the dough doesn’t stick to the rolling pin.
When you’ve rolled it out as thin as possible (but not too thin!), you can start cutting out your desired cookie shapes – I’ve got friends who always make them wombat-shaped, which is a cute “Austonian” touch!
Line a tray with parchment paper and grease it with a cooking spray. Put the raw piparkoogid on the tray, then pop them in the oven for 6-8 minutes, keeping an eye on them so it doesn’t burn. By now you should be able to smell the amazing fragrance!
When they’re done, take the tray out and place the piparkoogid on a cooling rack straight away – that way you can eat them as soon as possible.
Eat them with tea or coffee, or wait until dessert, or wrap them up for Christmas gifts. Either way: enjoy, and häid jõule (Merry Christmas)!
Silvi Vann-Wall is a Melbourne-based journalist and film critic with Estonian heritage. You can find more of their work at silvireports.com
