Backpashing Belinda

Tallinn, Estonia, July 2006
I´d been wanting to go to Estonia for some time....the first Estonians I ever met were at the Sydney Olympics in 2000. Erik Nool, an Estonian athlete had just won the decathlon and we happened to jump on board with a carriage full on drunken ones celebrating his victory! Dancing and singing Estonian folk songs at the top of their lungs...was quite an experience to behold.

So, after more than 3 years living and working abroad, I finally had the chance to go. I´m living in Helsinki at the moment, and it´s only an hour and a half by catamaran...so...after spending midsummer at the family´s summer cottage, I got home, jumped online, booked some tix and went the next day to Tallinn!

After a rocky ride on the boat, I arrived in lovely Tallinn - and, so it seemed, so did half the continent! Heritage listing is a funny thing...one of the main aims of listing a cultural/natural treasure is to ensure it is protected. But then, of course, as soon as something gets the WHL stamp on it, every flag-wielding tour group descends upon it.....and is it really possible for a cultural treasure such as Tallinn to be properly appreciated when there are swarms of people there? I guess it´s like many other places, but as the Old Town is so compact, it feels really suffocating here.
Flag wielders and mobs aside, Tallinn was lovely.

A short walk into town in the blazing sun (yes, it was hot here!) saw me arrive at my hostel....at least I hoped it was my hostel, for as I started up the staircase, I caught glimpse of some brightly scripted words on the wall.....

“Strip tiis”!

Uhoh....

Now, my knowledge of Finno-Ugric (Finnish, Estonian and Hungarian; Finnish and Estonian being quite similar) words at this time was limited to a grand Finnish vocabulary that went something like this - “Moi” - hello, “Hei Hei” – Bye, “Mitää Kuluu”, “Hyvää” – good, “Kippis” – [which sounds remarkably like something lots of people like to do on the weekened] – cheers, and “nukkumaanmenoaika “ – bedtime [I´m working with kids and it pisses them off when I say it at 5 in the afternoon!]. But, hmmm, kinda obvious hey?

What to do..... “Is the hostel somehow affiliated with a strip-joint?” I wondered.

Hmmm....fingers firmly crossed, I wandered up to the first floor, to find what appeared to be a very pleasant hostel. No strippers in sight, nor any seedbags! I hoped that come evening time, that´s how it would stay!

So after offloading my bag, I wandered through the winding cobbled lanes of medieval Tallinn to its heart, at Raekoja Platsto, which is home to the 13th Century Town Hall and surrounded by bustling cafes. I climbed up the Town Hall Tower for a glorious glimpse down upon the old town before wandering, alongside throngs of tourists, up to Toompea Hill, Tallinn´s birthplace and presently home to the Estonian parliament and the spectacular Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, with its amazing mosaics and glimmering icons.

After savouring more splendid views from Toompea Hill, I scaled parts of the city walls, before grabbing a bite to eat, stopping by at the old KGB headquarters (nothing special) and heading back to the hostel, which seemed to be free of scantily-clad ladies being ogled over by dirty old (or young) men. In fact the only people that seemed to be there were the grouchy reception ladies and my roommates - the first, a sniffly Japanese girl, and the second, a fellow Sydneysider, Christina, who was on a whirlwind Summer trip through Europe.

The next morning, after perhaps the worst omelette I´ve ever had (after 3 months in Africa and 4 in Asia, I´m quite an omelette connoisseur!), and some teeth enamel-removing-strength coffee, I wandered in search of some of the old town´s art nouveau (a little disappointing after Riga), and stopped to look at the Holy Spirit Church and its splendid 15th century clock, before heading to the Museum of Occupation. As was the case in Latvia, Estonia was occupied by Nazi Germany and then the Soviet Union for much of the 20th century, and the museum details the history of the occupation and of Estonia´s attainment of independence in 1991. Whereas in Czechoslovakia, they had a Velvet Revolution (bloodless and largely casualty free), in Estonia, they had a “Singing Revolution”. Over a period of 5 years between 1987 and 1991, nightly singing masses across Estonia gathered to sing Estonian national songs and hymns, which were banned under Soviet occupation. On 20th August 1991, one-fifth of the Estonian people rallied together in Tallinn. As Soviet tanks stormed through the city to try and put a stop to the rally (apparently Estonians are awful singers!) the people acted as human shields (to protect TV and radio crews) and the independent state of Estonia was declared for all the world to see.

After learning a little about Estonia´s struggle for independence, I wandered around the sunny Harju Hill to the Danish King´s Garden (Estonia was governed by Denmark in the 12th and 13th centuries). According to legend, during the Battle of Lyndanisse (i.e. present day Tallinn), a flag fell down from the sky, helping the Danes to win the battle – this flag is still used by Denmark today. From here I stopped at the Kalev “factory”, where marzipan was said to have been first created, before heading down to the Dominican monastery.

I had read that in this monastery, one of Tallinn´s oldest buildings, there exists an “energy pillar”, a source of mysterious power. I too hoped to get some of this “power” so sauntered inside, where I was met by a 900 (or so it seemed) yr old monk who was delighted to see me, and spoke at length (firstly in Estonian, then broken German) and with enthusiasm about the monastery and its history. He showed me a new collection of photographs (of monks of course), before leading me into the “energy” chamber. He encouraged me to stand in the centre of the room and sing (and presumably feel the good vibes)...so I did...and waited for the energy to hit me...but alas, I didn´t get those good energy vibes....so I wandered out to the delightful cloister for a concert of medieval music.

In the evening I met up with my roommate from the hostel, Christina. Her American flatmate had arrived, and as it was the 4th of July, we went, along with our new roommates, a friendly American couple, in search of pancakes! After a delicious feast on of cream cheese and lingonberry pancakes (there are about 60 types of berries in this part of the world – all delicious), we headed off to the “Pub With No Name” (but plenty of beer, unlike the song), to watch the World Cup play-off between Germany and Italy. Having had our World Cup hopes dashed by a dodgy ref call in Australia´s game against Italy, I was of course supporting Germany! Besides, they were the hosts! But....infuriatingly, the pretty boys won – this time, fair and square...

The next morning, after a much nicer omelette and coffee combo than previously, I headed out in search of the Estonian History Museum (closed), Music museum (closed!) and finally the Fire-fighting museum (meant to have a cool doll house that demonstrates 30 ways to burn down your house!! Great for the hidden pyro in me...but closed too!!!) before wandering up to St Olaf´s Church to climb its spire. In the 16th Century, St Olaf´s Church was the tallest building in the world. Its 124m seems relatively puny in comparison with the world´s tallest building today, Taipei 100 in Taiwan (509m)., but the view from the top was, of course, amazing, and worth the gazillion or so stairs to get up there!

After all those stairs, I was in need of some food, so I headed off in search of the Embassy of Pure Food, an Estonian (not-quite) vegetarian restaurant.... with incredible food, and certainly the friendliest and most efficient embassy staff I´ve met anywhere in the world!

Last stop in Tallinn was the Linnahall, a monstrosity of a building I´d past on my way into town from the boat. During the 1980 Olympics in Moscow, they decided to hold the sailing events in the Baltic sea (Moscow is a long way inland), and used Tallinn as their base. The Linnahall, an extraordinarily revolting building was thus constructed as the Olympic event centre, but has seldom been used since. It´s one of the few remaining reminders of the Soviet era in Tallinn – in typical Soviet Style, it´s an ugly lump of Concrete with little to redeem it but the wacky statue atop it, and the potential for skateboarders to run amok!

And from there, I did some last minute shopping at the nasty port shopping complex, before bidding the steeples, towers and medieval streets of Tallinn farewell!

Bel x

Riga, Latvia...Feb 2006 (OK, so I´ve been lazy)

Early February in London. A chilly 7 degrees, if you´re lucky. Miserable, grey, bleak, dark... I´d thought it would be nice to have a few days somewhere sunny. Malta, perhaps, or maybe Cyprus. - somewhere I hadn´t yet been. But alas, flights were just too flipping expensive; like me, every sun-starved Pommie had had the same idea. So I started focusing on anywhere else in Europe I hadn´t been.

Finland? The aurora borealis...Lapland....Santa Claus...tobogganing... £400 just for flights? No way!

Liechtenstein? It´s another country...famous for producing false teeth....ummm maybe not

Estonia? Tallinn´s meant to be gorgeous...

Latvia? It´s cheap there....meant to delightful...and...

I can go bob-sledding there!?!?

So I went to Riga...where it was a mild -10 upon my arrival late at night.....so much for the warm sunny place dea!!

A quick taxi ride into town left me at Fun Friendly Frank's Backpackers.....I usually have a policy of avoiding places with such wanky names (e.g. “Top Banana” in Phnom Penh was a complete dive), but it had gotten such amazing reviews on hostelworld.com, that I decided I must stay there. Being absolutely shattered from a hectic half-term in the schools, I promptly hit the sack - this particular sack being a rather comfortable bunk bed in a mixed dorm room. After 2-3 hours sleep, I awoke to the cacophonic stumbling of an inebriated Irishman, who was intent on finding his nail-clippers (as all inebriated folk must do)! After a few minutes of fumbling through his bags, he hit the floor with a thud.

And began to snore....like a camel with indigestion might. All attempts I made to rouse him (holding his nose, throwing pillows, chucking water in his face, banging the door against him etc) failed, and so I blearily wandered down to reception, and asked to change rooms...

At four in the morning? No problem! (Lesson number one: Nothing will waken an ossified snorer!)

After a couple more hours sleep, I rugged up to brave the fresh -12 Rigan air, and wandered out in search of coffee. I got distracted though, by the sight of the frozen solid Daugava River! For an Australian, who still thinks +11 is ridiculously cold this had quite some novelty! I stared in amazement at this 800m wide river, and in horror at the crazy people who were walking across it

CRAZY...

So I found that coffee, and then, as perusual, went in search of the highest tower in town, the bell tower of St Peter´s church, and took the lift (they´re very modern in Riga! No bollocking woebegone steps like in Italy) to the top for the astonishing view over the whitescape of Riga.

Did I mention it was -12 when I stepped out? Ok, so at the top of St Peter´s bell tower, it was about -30 with the jolly wind! Back inside for me (more coffee).....to visit the ornate House of the Black Heads (the patron saint of the guild was Maurice, an African warrior), a 14th century guild house, and the Museum of Occupation, which details the German and Soviet Occupations of Latvia during much of the 20th century. Ironically, the square outside the Museum of Occupation is home to a massive statue of the Latvian Riflemen, who were central in helping bring in the Soviet era.

Over the next 2 days: I explored the Heritage-Listed Old town (Everything is listed these days, except perhaps for Brisbane, which just simply isn´t worthy!) with its beautiful art nouveau architecture (assymetric shapes, decorative arches, faces, vines/flowers etc.); wandered through the lovely white parklands filled with children bum-sliding down icy footpaths, ducks snoozing in the (not very warm) sun and Rigans admiring the wintry landscape; visited the architecturally confused Dome Cathedral; window-shopped (mostly from the inside to escape the cold); and drank far too much coffee (As part of my health kick, I only have coffee when I´m “travelling” – this means I still drink coffee all the time! hehe).

So what about the bob-sledding? Well...as soon as I arrived, I asked when I could go. Tomorrow? Nope, we´re booked out. What about the next day? Yeah, possibly. If we have enough people......which thankfully, they did.

Shortly before I was due to head off bob-sledding, I sauntered down to the riverbank to do as the locals did - I figured, that if I were silly enough to jump into a bob-sled, I really should be silly enough to walk out onto a frozen river.

Of course, the ice was thick and strong, and well able to support my weight, as well as that of the 20 or so other foreigners who had decided to brave the ice at the same time as me.

And then...bob-sledding....ah yes. There are only about 10 places in the world where non-professionals can go bob-sledding for the hell of it, and Sigulda, about an hour on the train from downtown Riga, is one such place. So a large mob from the hostel and I boarded the train for our journey out there. In the middle of nowhere (or so it seemed), the train ground to a holt, and the 30 or so of us jumped off and wound our way up to the bob-sled track, stopping on the way, to amuse ourselves by taking pictures of the "Puke" shop - Puke is Latvian for "flower"...quite funny methinks....

I wasn´t the first to go...I think some of the Irish lads jumped in first. I spent the next hour or so befriending a mob of Pommies (whose tag rugby team I later joined). And eventually it was my turn. Jen (one of the Pommies) and I jumped in for the ride....

"So", I said to the driver, "Whadda we have to do?".

"Nothing", said he, "But make sure you don´t hit my helmet with yours"

"That´s it?", I said, uncertainly

"Yeah, it´s easy" he said.

Ok.....so off we went....the first 30 metres or so....kinda slowish, like going down a slippery slide at the local park.....and then we hit the first corner.....WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH! And then it got faster and faster....and even faster. All the time I was focusing on not hitting the driver´s helmet with mine, as per his instructions.....and praying that we didn´t crash.....the whole thing was a bit of a blur. Crazy g-forces, sharp turns, shake, shake, shake, turn, whoosh, shake shake shake, turn whoosh etc....and then all of a sudden...

"BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!" screamed the driver as we approached the end of the track...but nobody did, so we just kept on going!

And when we finally stopped, we consequently incurred the wrath of the pissed-off driver

"Why you no brake?" he shouted at Jen.

"Why you no say to!" I retorted.

Who cares if we braked or not - we clocked the fastest time!! WOOHOO! Must have been that not-braking business of ours! (Lesson number 2: not braking makes you go faster than anyone else!)

After the bob-sledding, everyone was in a bit of a silly mood, and after nearly missing our train back into town (bloody lads at the supermarket held us up!), grabbed some ridiculously cheap pizza and headed out with Fun and Friendly Frank to check out a Latvian discotheque....It was bloody awful with its melange of techno-disco pop, scantily-clad women, thoroughly-turpsed-sunglass-wearing-downright-awful terpsichoreans and flashing multicoloured lights - but quite amusing nonetheless...

The next day was...a tad quiet after the adventures of the night before. Whilst most of the Pommie mob slept, Masum (one of the Poms) and I headed out in search of the ethnographic music (can´t be all pizza, bob-sledding and discotheques now can it?). We boarded, what we hoped was the correct bus. But of course, it wasn´t, and we found ourself at the "end of the line" in the middle of suburban Riga (i.e. the middle of nowhere").

Hmmmm what to do....

"Do you speak English?" I sheepishly asked a random young person at the bus stop.

"No".

"Hi, do you speak English? I asked another person.

"No English". Of course not!!

So we resorted to just sayig "Brivdabas muzej" (Ethnographic museum) to anyone who would listen, and eventually were pointed towards it (maybe).

So we started walking, (perhaps not) towards the museum, but stopped when we came upon some men sitting on jerry cans on a frozen lake.... fishing!

What the? We ambled over towards them, and sure enough, they were fishing...through holes they had burnt in the ice with oversized cigarette lighters....

Of course, I wanted to have a go....and asked one of the old fellas....but no....it seems only men are allowed to ice fish in Latvia. So whilst Masum had a go, I sat and watched.....grrrr...

After some running about on the frozen lake, and making angels in the snow (where you lie on your back in the snow and move your arms up and down across the snow – try it, it´s fun!), we headed back to town, to bum-slide the frozen footpaths (Lesson three, bum-sliding down footpaths is fun but gets you lots of bruises)...