Tallinn

Finland has Europe's second highest suicide rate and some of its most visible incidences of public drunkenness. It's hard to sympathise. Less than 24 after arriving in Helsinki, Garry and I were rapidly running short of sights to see. Sunday threatened to be a particular dull day. We were warned that most shops and restaurants would be closed leaving the town centre all but lifeless.


Sunday dawned sunny and warm. On a whim we caught a boat across the Baltic Sea to Tallinn, capital of Estonia. We couldn't have chosen a better day to travel. The Baltic Sea was a still as a mill pond with hardly a ripple in sight. Our ferry raced across the 60 kilometre stretch of water, reaching Estonia in less than 1:40 hours. The medieval old town's skyline of church spires and towers hinted at the many sights that lay in wait.


Tallinn is a remarkably well preserved city. Tall, slender homes, painted in bright and inviting hues, lined gently winding cobbled streets. The old town itself sits on a rocky hilltop surrounded by towering stone walls. These remarkable three metre thick structures rise up to 16 metres in height. The wall once stretched more than four kilometres with 46 towers along its length. At least two kilometres remain intact today, along with 26 impressive towers.


We entered the town via a gate at the northern limits of the old city wall. Within seconds we found ourselves transported more than half a millennium back in time. We may our way towards the Town Hall Square, dominated by a surprising simple stone town hall. The hall's only decorative feature were a pair of drainpipes sculpted in the shape of a green dragon's head. The square itself was encircled by cafes and bars, each with its own lively outdoor dining area.


We wandered the narrow streets, climbing steep stone stairs until we reached the town's highest plateau, known as Toompea. From here, sweeping views of the old town and its harbour had our cameras clicking at a frantic pace. Toompea is also home to the city's oldest church, the Cathedral of St Mary the Virgin; and the city's most spectacular church, St Alexander Nevski Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox Church festooned with bold brown, onion domes.

I soon spotted people in the tower of St Olaf's Church and insisted we climb its 60 metre spiral stone stairway to the roof. The effort was worth it. From the edge of its weathered, green copper roof we were greeted by a sea of red tiled roofs stretching into the distance. Since the Middle Ages, the church's impressive weathered copper spire has varied in height. The current construction rises 124 metres. However, an earlier spire reached 159 metres, making it the world's tallest structure from 1519 until 1625.


Lunch was our next highlight. We chose Olde Hansa, a restaurant located in the basement of an old merchant's home. The venue risked being a terribly cliche tourist trap. However, nothing could have been further from the truth. While tourists were being shoe-horned into tables on modern wooden decking mounted on the pavement, we chose to dine indoors. Our candle-lit meal consisted of traditional Hanseatic dishes including Wild Boar, Elk and even Bear. We washed it all down with dark, honey beer flavoured with herbs. In the quiet, stone-walled cellar it was easy to imagine life in 14th Century Tallinn.


Our final stop for the day was the Okupatsioonide Muuseum, otherwise known as the Museum of the Recent Occupation. It offered a glimpse of life in the Estonian Republic during the Soviet and Nazi occupation from 1939 to 1991. During the Cold War little was ever heard of the Baltic States. Garry and I were both surprised to learn how brutal the Soviet annexation had been.

Our day in Tallinn adds Estonia to the list of countries I've visited. That's country number 53.