Our friends at City Paper, a bimonthly magazine and tourist guide in Tallinn, Estonia, sent us a press release crowing about being one of the few publications to correctly predict that Marija Naumova of Latvia would win last year’s Eurovision Song Contest.

And now Editor Michael Tarm and the rest of the staff have picked this year’s winner: Russia.

Come May 24, I hope they’re wrong.

Not that Russia shouldn’t deserve to win the Eurovision contest some year. But I want to believe that Russia’s entry this year, “Ne ver, ne bojsia, ne prosi” (No Faith, No Belief) sung by the controversial duo t.A.T.u., is not the winner others are saying it is. To my ear, it doesn’t sound like anything new from Elena Katina and Julia Volkova, although the song does stand out from some of the sugary stuff offered by other entrants.

Besides, part of the trick of Eurovision—as Naumova’s victory showed last year—is putting on an impressive stage show that will wow television viewers across Europe. The Russian duo, who have filled the world press with questions about their sexuality and sexual identity, probably will have to up the shock factor to convince audiences that they should earn the Eurovision title.

I can hardly wait.

Russia, City Paper argues, has the most professional of the 26 entries that will be vying for the honors in Rīga’s Skonto Hall. To lose would be an embarassment.

City Paper rounds out its top five choices with Estonia, Norway, Turkey and Iceland. Latvia’s entry, “Hello from Mars” performed by the trio F.L.Y. (composed of Mārtiņš Freimanis, Lauris Reiniks and Yana Kay) places 15th in the publication’s list. And at the bottom is Sweden’s Fame and the song “Give Me Your Love,” which City Paper calls “as hackneyed as they come.”

In announcing its prediction, City Paper acknowledged that the Eurovision contest is about pop music, but it looked for songs that stood out from the pack. That’s one reason, according to the press release, the publication picked Estonia’s entry for the No. 2 spot, while holding out the suggestion that the song could in fact win. Estonia’s entry, “Eighties Coming Back” performed by the group Ruffus, is “the least pretentious, the most gritty of this year’s crop of songs,” City Paper said.

I’ll agree Estonia’s entry is different, but I’d rate it in the middle of the pack. A song about the return of the 1980s? C’mon…

And I’m convinced Latvia won’t win this year. F.L.Y. makes a nice trio, and each of the singers is already an accomplished artist, but “Hello from Mars” just doesn’t shine compared to a few other songs in the competition.

My favorites include Turkey, France and Belgium. Turkey’s Sertab Erener offers “Every Way That I Can,” a song with just a tinge of the East, enough to remind listeners that it’s from a country that bridges two continents. France’s Louisa Baileche performs “Monts et merveilles” (The Moon and the Stars), a restrained love song that stands out in part for not being as pop-oriented as other entries. And Belgium’s Urban Trad draws attention with “Sanomi,” a song more at home in a world music contest than in Eurovision—which probably explains why it’s last in the online ratings on the Web site for the song contest.

Those same ratings put Russia first, just as City Paper does.

Let’s see what the voters say. Maybe City Paper will have to eat crow.

One of the gems of the 52nd congress of the American Latvian Association, held May 2-4 in St. Paul, Minn., is the exhibition of 40 photographs by Pēteris Jaunzems.

The exhibit, titled “Gaisma pret tumsu” (Light Against the Darkness) and consisting of black-and-white images from the days of the January 1991 “barricades” in Latvia, was first put on display two years ago to commemorate the 10th anniversary of Latvia’s civil disobedience against the Soviet regime. Although the symbolism of the exhibit has worn off a bit since the anniversary, Jaunzems’ work still communicates the passion of those who stood up to tyranny.

Jaunzems, according to the brochure that describes the exhibit, was born in 1938 and has had success both as a fine art photographer and photojournalist. His pictures have been exhibited widely and have earned him more than 200 awards. Jaunzems is on the staff of Kurzemes Vārds, a regional daily newspaper in Liepāja.

The pictures in the exhibit often are grainy and contrasty, thus showcasing their journalistic quality and accentuating the theme of the exhibit. They are photographs taken from a Latvian viewpoint and reveal the strength of both individuals and the masses.

I was particularly taken by two images. One reminded me of a portrait of the American writer Ernest Hemingway. It turned out to be a portrait of the Latvian poet Olāfs Gūtmanis, titled, in Latvian, “Dzejnieks un Tautas frontes Liepājas nodaļas līderis Olāfs Gutmanis,” but in English simply “The Poet.” Gūtmanis appears to be looking into the wind, as if hoping for new times to sweep over Latvia.

In contrast to the singular poet was a picture titled “Daugavmalā” (On the Bank of the Daugava). Unfortunately, the title only describes where the image was taken. The Daugava River splits the frame. In the distance is the suspension bridge—Vanšu tilts—that carries traffic from Rīga’s Old City across to the Pārdaugava district. But in the foreground is a river of protestors carrying Latvian flags. It’s a powerful picture, showing both the unity of the Latvians in 1991, as well as a nod to how the nation has often turned to the Daugava for strength.

A closer look at some of the photographs reveals a subtle humor. “Protesta balss” (Protestor) shows a man in a dark hat and coat. Around his next he carries a selfmade sign with the word “Latvian” written not in Latvian, but in Russian, the language of the oppressors. That this was a snub of the Soviet regime’s attempts at Russification cannot be missed.

In another picture, Jaunzems turned his camera’s lens skyward to capture one of the Soviet helicopters that flew low over Rīga during the protests of January 1991. The picture is titled “Maskava! Nesūti mums slepkavas!” (Moscow! Don’t Send Us Murderers!, but unfortunately translated in the brochure to a watered-down Moscow! Keep Out!), which is taken from a Russian-language protest sign that appears in the foreground. The image made me smile when I noticed the straw Christmas decorations hanging from wires. The lines made by the straw mimic the lines made by the blades of the helicopter, both seemingly fragile objects that could be easily crushed.

The exhibit, unfortunately, appeared well-traveled. Photographs were bent and boards on which they were mounted were bruised. Yet, I have to admit, that added to the character and emotion of the pictures.

If the exhibit comes to your community, go take a look. The pictures tell a story of which we need to be reminded.