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EESTI ELU reedel, 25. juunil 2021 — Friday, June 25, 2021
Tiny Estonia emerges as tourist mecca Thirty years after seeing off the Soviets in a singing revolution, Estonia hums new tune as tourist mecca Andre Ramshaw, Vancouver Sun, June 2021 Fought over by powerful neighbours for centuries, the pocket powerhouse of Estonia is emerging from the shadows of the pandemic never more proud of its high-tech pedi gree and easily accessible his tory. From the money-transfer service Wise to the video-com munications platform Skype, the tiny Baltic republic has plugged into emerging tech nologies in a big way since regaining independence in 1991 after a “singing revolu tion” that saw off the czars of the Soviet Union. When not busily coding the next disruptive computer appli cation – the Estonian capital Tallinn has Europe’s highest per capita number of startups – its young and well-educated population is busy welcoming cruise-line operators, stag-andhen revellers and day-trippers to its burgeoning tourism sector. That new-found confidence and Silicon Valley glamour is reflected in the shiny sky scrapers dotting Tallinn’s busi ness district, but make no mis take: the roots of that success lie in the Hanseatic League, the mighty trading bloc in which Tallinn thrived upon joining way back in 1285. To the delight of tourists, much of the history remains within the walled confines of the Old Town, declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997. Luckily, too, the drab Soviet-era accommodations have been swept away in favour of primp and pamper western hotels. One amenity you won’t need is a wake-up call. Tall Hermann will take care of that. A nine-storey limestone tower, Hermann stands sentry over the Riigikogu, or Parliament build ings, and was built in the 14th century during Tallinn’s Han seatic heyday. Each morning, the blueblack-white of the Estonian flag is raised from Hermann to the strains of the national anthem. At sunset, the ceremony is re peated as the flag is lowered. In hotel rooms below, meanwhile, the nerves of guests are also straining – to the swelling notes of My Fatherland, My Native Land, My Pride and Joy. Mercifully, Hermann’s songand-dance is never performed before 7 a.m. or after 10 p.m. After a day or two of rude awakenings, the song becomes the welcoming signal to start another round of sightseeing. And there is no more fitting way to experience Estonia than to be roused by song, its citi
zens still justly proud of the mass demonstrations in which Estonians lustily sang forbidden national songs and patriotic hymns, sending the Soviets packing with a ringing in their ears. It became known as the Singing Revolution, and lives on in an annual song festival. Music is worshipped every where: Freelance salesmen skulking among the walled ram parts pigeonhole tourists with pitches for everything from a Baltic Black Sabbath to Estonian Easy Listening. Always the most westernized of the former Soviet republics, Estonia – roughly the size of Nova Scotia – is taking the eco nomic lead among its Baltic neighbours Latvia and Lithuania, which all joined the European Union and NATO in 2004, as it turns its back on seven cen turies of rule by Danes, Swedes, Germans, Poles and Russians. For the best view of where it all started, climb the spiral staircase to the top of the 15th-century Town Hall. From here, a bustling square lies below, while in the distance is Hermann and the 16th-century cannon tower Fat Margaret, now an acclaimed maritime museum. Hermann and Margaret are among roughly two dozen of the city’s original defence towers still standing. Also nearby is the Kiek-indekök fortification. Is this what really makes Tall Hermann wail like a banshee each morning? Apparently not. Its rude English connotations aside, it’s actually Low German for “peep into the kitchen” and refers to the voyeuristic possibilities from its upper floors. Today, as with Fat Margaret, it houses a museum and is surrounded by parkland popular with picnickers headed to the nearby Museum of Occupations and Freedom. Not surprisingly, medieval Tallinn (or Reval, as it was called then) was known as one of the most fortified settlements in northern Europe. From the Raekoja plats, or town hall square, haphazard lanes rise steeply to the Parlia ment buildings and Alexander Nevsky cathedral on Toompea hill. Spidering out amid these lanes is a thicket of bars and restaurants, many serving up terrific views alongside a glass of the Vana Tallinn rum-based liqueur. For those in need of a no-nonsense tavern, Estonians are fond of commandeering a few English-sounding words and tacking on an “i” or two. Hence some amusing abomina tions like the Buldogi Pubi. Despite its forward-looking attitude and embrace of glassand-steel corporate HQS, there are reminders of its Soviet occu pation in the drab apart ment blocks ringing the city core. But for a truly eye-opening look at Brutalist architecture,
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Employment Opportunity The Estonian Foundation of Canada seeks an OFFICE AND MARKETING MANAGER who will lead marketing, communications and community/donor relations for this national charity. The successful candidate will manage the Foundation’s office and one part time employee. The Manager will oversee and lead the funding applications program (as directed by the Board), create and manage fundraising and community awareness campaigns, and ideally plan and write content for platforms such as the EFC website and community news outlets, and assume other duties. The applicant must have excellent project management skills, good writing and communication skills, as well as a basic understanding of Estonian. Familiarity with the Estonian community in Canada would be an asset. This position can provide flexible hours and could evolve in future. We are interested in hearing from you if you have most of these skills or willing to learn. Compensation commensurate with experience. Please apply with resume by June 30, 2021 to president@estonianfoundation.ca. Estonian Foundation of Canada is a registered charity that supports Estonian cultural and heritage initiatives across Canada.
The thoughtful properties of Nordic glassware Vincent Teetsov hen one speaks of Nordic W glassware, Iittala is one of the top names that will be brought up. Founded in Finland in 1881, the organic details and functionalist elements of their designs altered the trajectory of glass production in Europe. As with other Finnish brands, such as Arabia or Marimekko, its Nordic qualities have found a comfortable place in the homes of Estonians around the world. For instance, the undulating Aalto vase from 1932. The drinking glasses with kastehelmi (“dewdrop”) sides. Or the tree trunk-like ridges of the Ultima Thule pitcher from 1968. Estonia has its own glass tradition, however, that deserves to be understood. Glass manufacturing took place for the first time in Estonia in 1628, when Jakob de la Gardie, a Swedish count, soldier, and businessman found ed the Hüti glass factory on Hiiumaa. Within 16 years, the factory was among the largest of its type in the region, made
head to the Linnahall arena. Described as a cross between a nuclear bunker, a Second World War sea-fort and an “inscrutable temple to a vanished god,” it was built for the 1980 Olympics as the Lenin Palace of Culture and Sport. Now tarred with graffiti, its weed-strewn concrete crum bling under foot, the stadium is awaiting a planned €300 million ($440 million) reconstruction that would see it transformed into a 5,000-seat concert venue attached to a new ferry port linking Tallinn with the Finnish capital Helsinki. Fans of dark tourism will also cherish the Viru KGB Museum, located in a hotel that was one of the crowning achievements of the Stalinist “Intourist” agency through which all foreign visitors to the U.S.S.R. were shepherded.
The Kaali Meteorite Crater bowl.
possible by abundant resources nearby like sand and clay. In a 1969 issue of the Journal of Glass Studies, glass artist Maks Roosma wrote of the nascence of Estonia’s broad er glass industry, which fol lowed the Great Northern War between Tsar Peter I and the Swedish Empire. After Estonia was pulled into the Russian Empire in the early 1700s, the export of wood was restricted, and so new glass factories were opened where the wood could be used instead. One factory, in Piirsalu, Lääne County, not only supplied vast amounts of glass for “sur rounding estates and towns”, but “Since the new capital of St. Petersburg was under con
Opened to great acclaim in 1972, the highrise inn quickly gave rise to rumours about spy ing and talk of a 23rd floor that didn’t officially exist. By the early 1990s, it was confirmed that dozens of rooms were bugged with listening equip ment, as were tables in the restaurant. The highlight is the KGB listening room on the top floor – the mythical 23rd storey – where tour guides relate enter taining stories of shadowy excess among racks of spy gadgets, gas masks, uniforms and tape recorders. With its beguiling mix of Cold War relics, digital prowess and medieval marvels, the de lightfully compact Tallinn will put a song in anyone’s heart – even if it’s not Baltic Black Sabbath.
Photo: glasstone.com
struction during this period, it is logical to assume that the high quality, colorless window panes produced at Piirsalu were marketed there.” Roosma makes a connection between the two places due to archaeological field work, which has shown that window glass was “the principal product” of Piirsalu factory. The next era of glass produc tion began at Meleski glass fac tory, founded in the late 1700s, on the border of Viljandi County and Tartu County. One of its most notable owners was Johannes Lorup, who, in 1924, took charge and pulled the factory out of decline. Lorup eventually decided to move operations to Tallinn and invited collaborations with many differ ent European glass artists, look ing for new ways to experiment with the form and details of glass. This change brought the company to new markets in North America, western Europe, and the Mediterranean region. During the Second World War, Lorup was deported to Siberia and his company was nationalized, becoming Tarbe klaas. This company, in turn, was operational until 1993. The ups and downs of these glass makers can be found in the glassware on display at Meleski Klaasimuuseum. The products became more and more adventurous through the years. Some earlier designs in clude bent tube shapes, rounded jugs, nearly conical bottles, and serving dishes with complex swirling patterns. In 2005, a new company called Glasstone was born, on (Continued on page 10)
