Postcard from: Tallinn

o o k atripto Estonia B

By Laur Gel der

Split person al it y

If you’ve been seduced by Prague or Budapest, you’ll love the terracotta turrets, medieval apothecaries and candlelit taverns of Tallinn.

But Estonia has its own personality. The singsong lilt of its language, the black bread and herring sandwiches and the clapboard houses appear Scandinavian. But peel back the layers, like a babushka doll, and you’ll discover the Russian infl uence. The pretty pink baroque facade of Kadriog Palace, built by Tsar Peter I, is at stark odds with the austere Patareil Prison that squats beside the chilled steel-grey Baltic harbour, a reminder of Estonia’s not-so-distant Soviet past. The KGB Museum gives a chilling sense of life under occupation and is located in Hotel Viru, which housed both foreigners and spies in a time of paranoia.

Estonia has been occupied by Danes, Swedes and Russians, but independence followed the Singing Revolution. Two months before the Berlin Wall came crashing down, thousands of citizens staged a peaceful protest, singing forbidden folk songs and joining hands to form a 400 mile human chain, linking Tallinn to Vilnius in Lithuania.

Tall inn ’s ol d cit y dat es back to th e 13th cent ury

Karson at Unsplash Digit al nat ion

Estonia is a forward-thinking country where digital rules (even voting is online) but art fl ourishes. Tallinn still has its Russian-infl uenced orthodox churches with

prett y pastel s

Eryka Ragna at Unsplash

For great views of Tallinn’s terracotta turrets, walk along its ancient walls

Former submarine shipyard, Port Noblessner, is home to the lively Pohjala craft brewery

© Marek Metslaid

© Rasmus Jurkatam

summ er nights

their onion domes and glittering relics, but most people prefer to worship the Estonian way, via nature.

I hopped on a bike to explore. Starting on the bone-shaking cobbles of the old town, I pedalled to the old fi shing community of Kalamaja where the Telliskivi Creative City’s old factories now house over 200 hip indie businesses selling everything from truffl es to hand made ceramics.

Hungry, I headed back to Old Town for dinner. It’s so far north that summer nights stay light but at Olde Hansa they batten down the hatches for a medieval feast of wild boar and rabbit stew, washed down with fi ery black pepper schnapps. When I left at midnight the sky was still violet.