Estonia Castles

Driving Through the Baltics: Part 11 – Lake Peipus or Old Believers, Onions, and Honey

| 2suitcasesfor2years

Gently undulating farmlands soon flanked the road as we departed Tartu for a day trip to the Old Believers villages that dot the southern shoreline of Lake Peipus, Estonia’s largest lake which creates part of the country’s border with Russia. The villages are also part of the Onion Route, a 30km (19mi) tourist drive that promotes the area’s culture and “Estonia’s most celebrated onions, the Peipsi sibul, a golden variety known for their long storage life and flavor,” which the Old Believers have cultivated in the sandy soil of the region for several centuries.

The group’s name stems from a schism with the Russian Orthodox Church in the 17th century, in which they did not abide with the reforms Orthodox clergy patriarchates were initiating, and wow, wow, wow regarded the reforms which curled the beards of its elders, “as a corruption of their faith which was heralding the End of Days, and as such the Russian church and state were servants of the Antichrist.” Their dissent wasn’t allowed, and during The Russian Orthodox Synod of 1666-1667 the church and Tsar Alexis sanctioned their persecution. The group’s oppression was so severe that some ardent followers self-immolated in the ultimate act of protest. Thousands of Old Believers chose to escape their persecution and fled across Lake Peipus for refuge, and established a series of farming and fishing communities, in then Swedish-controlled Estonia, in which they prided themselves on their self-sufficiency.

We passed more farm tractors than cars that morning, but it was still a surprise when a large John Deere tractor pulled up alongside us in the gas station to refuel. Varnja is the southernmost village and the gateway to outdoor activities in the Peipsiveere Nature Reserve, which protects the fish and wildlife of the Emajõgi delta.

It’s a beautiful area, and was nearly deserted mid-week at the beginning of October. Fishing was once a viable livelihood, but only a few boats go out nowadays. Instead, some folks have converted them into niche rentals, like the owners of Mesi Tare who have creatively repurposed several small boats into maritime bungalows, both floating and permanently beached.

There wasn’t a soul about in the village, only an idle tractor in front of a barn with bundles of onions hanging from its rafters, or a plume of smoke from a chimney, and the lone dog sunning obliviously in the middle of the lane. Winter preparations were underway with large free-standing globe shaped piles of freshly split wood stacked along the lane or piled in cords neatly along the sides of houses.

As we left the hamlet and headed north on Kesk Tn, the main road connecting all the settlements along the lake, we stopped at Varnja’s Old Believers Prayer House, a red brick structure built between 1928 and 1930, and the nearby Issanda Templisseviimise, the town’s youngest Old Believers chapel constructed in 2015.

As we headed farther north, long narrow inlets, like the fingers on our hands, stretched from the roadside into the lake. Baskets, bowls and buckets of apples were in front of homes with backyard orchards that had what is commonly called in Estonia, “the apple flood.” This abundance is shared with the community, and the apples are free. It’s a long-standing tradition that reflects a spirit of sharing and generosity within Estonian culture. Occasionally, an abandoned stork’s nest crowned a telephone pole along the road, their yearly winter migration to southern Africa had already started in August.

We turned off the main road at every sign that pointed to the way to a kirk, church. The Kasepää Old Believers Church and Cemetery were particularly interesting.  The current 1862 sanctuary sits atop the foundation of a building that is thought to be the site of one of the group’s earliest churches after their exodus from Russia. Graves in the cemetery were marked with the traditional three horizontal-bar Orthodox cross. The configuration dates from the 6th century in which the Top Bar represents the inscription ordered by Pontius Pilate, The Middle Bar, the main beam where Christ’s hands were nailed, and Bottom Slanted Bar symbolizes the footrest and its slant reflects the fate of the two thieves crucified alongside Jesus – upward towards the repentant thief (St. Dismas) and downward towards the unrepentant one.

In Kolkja, a village first mentioned in historical records of 1592, we climbed the Vaatetorn bird-watching tower for an expansive view across the marshes and 3,555km2 (1,373 sq mi) Lake Peipus. The 219km (136mi) long lake has an average width of 82km (51mi), and is surprisingly very shallow, with an average depth of 7m (23ft). At its northern end the lake feeds into the Narva River between the Estonian border city of Narva and the Russian city of Ivangorod into the Gulf of Finland. Ice fishing is a popular winter activity on the lake which typically stays frozen from November to March. Small ice flows remain on the northern part of the lake until early May. Though with the recent climate change folks living along Lake Peipus have noticed a shortening of the ice season.

Afterwards, we stopped at Suur-Kolkja Vanausuliste Palvemaja, an Old Believers house of worship that was constructed in 1883, and its cemetery which was down the lane.

As we left the village an enterprising older woman, with a babushka covering her head, was unloading bags of onions, loaves of bread, and jars of jam from the trunk of a taxi and arranging them on a foldable card table she had already set up along the road. We had assumed the area was nearly deserted, but maybe there was an end-of-day rush hour as people returned home from work.

Although several museums, cafes and restaurants were shown on Google Maps, they were only open on the weekends during shoulder season. Our search for coffee took us to the larger town of Alatskivi, where we were able to satisfy our “drive a little, then café,” philosophy with a good lunch at Kivi kõrts, a bright eclectically decorated tavern, including a restroom decorated in a quirky theme.

We drove farther to Kallaste, a still larger village on the shore of Lake Peipus, but were discouraged from investigating the town in depth by the number of roadwork closures that hindered our travel.

On our return route to Tartu we passed through Alatskivi again and purchased honey from an automated vending machine near beehives in front of a local beekeeper’s home. We enjoy the simplest of things and found this combination of ancient practice and modern technology delightful. The machine even accepted credit cards.

At the roundabout in town, we circled twice to figure out how to reach the town’s library, which had a large wooden sculpture of two hands, with fingers carved from tree trunks, protruding from the ground in front of the building.

Earlier, the server at the tavern suggested we visit Alatskivi Castle,an old Baltic German feudal estate with vast land holdings, that was first mentioned in the historical records of the early 1600s. In 1885 Baron Arved von Nolcken, a widely traveled aristocrat, purchased the estate and reconstructed the old manor house in a Scottish baronial style, that is said to closely resemble Balmoral Castle, which he had recently visited. The von Nolcken family lived in the manor house for twenty years before they left for Germany with all their possessions, including the manor’s silk wallpaper, at the beginning of the Estonian Peasant Revolution in 1905. During the Soviet occupation of Estonia the lands of the estate were a state-controlled collective farm, and the castle was used as school, cinema, and library. Today, after extensive renovations the manor features a fine-dining restaurantand 4 suites available for booking directly through the castle, along with offering  a ceramic studio and workshop in the cellar. There is also a wax museum featuring figures of the manor’s servants; a butler, lady’s maid, cook, baker, groomsman, stable hands, and laundry maid are just a few of the various trades depicted. The exterior of the castle is totally white, and during the winter, with snow on the ground, must shine brilliantly on a sunny day. Or vanish totally from view during an Estonian tuiskav lumi, a blizzard. We wondered – if the walls of the castle could speak, what tales would they tell?

We had a great time exploring the cultures and complex histories of Estonia, Latvia, and regrettably only a small part of Lithuania during our three week-long road trip through these fascinating Baltic countries.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

An Estonian Road Trip: Part 4 – Three Autumn Days on Saaremaa Island or A Castle, Conflicts, & Churches

| 2suitcasesfor2years

A row of windmills silhouetted against the early autumn twilight lined the road as we sped toward Kuressaare, the largest town on Saaremaa Island. A heavy plumbeous cloud cover was darkening the sky earlier than usual, but we hoped to reach our lodging, Vinoteegi Residents, before nightfall.

From past experiences of driving in Europe, parking our rental car was always an issue, and sometimes very costly. We were pleasantly relieved during our three-week road trip through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania that we only had to pay for parking once when staying in Riga, Latvia. The rest of the time, convenient and safe parking was available on the street. After settling into the charming boutique hotel, we walked several blocks through a residential area and the historic town center to dinner.

On the town square the lively activity at Söstar köök & baar caught our attention, and we enjoyed several tasty selections from their eclectic menu.

The next morning, we were up early to take advantage of the photographer’s “golden hour,” at Kuressaare Castle, a twenty-minute walk from our hotel. Our stroll down the quiet neighborhood lanes was a nice introduction to the town’s charming diverse architecture.

In the dawn light the bastion fortress, Saaremaa Island’s most iconic landmark, looked particularly beautiful and intriguing. So much so that we found ourselves returning to the citadel several times during our stay to snap photos of it in different light.   

Construction of the fortress’s earthen ramparts started after the Teutonic Order defeated the pagan Saaremaa islanders during the Great Northern Crusade in the early 1200s. A century later the fortress was transferred to the Bishopric of Ösel–Wiek, based on the mainland in Haapsalu, and the building of the three story, stone Bishop’s castle began. Interestingly, the first written record of the castle appears in 1380 concerning the murder of Bishop Heinrich III Biscop. Elected by church officials in 1374, Heinrich III turned out to be very corrupt and was, among other abuses, accused of selling church land and assets to support his mistress’s lavish lifestyle. Ignoring the charges, he left Haapsalu and fled to Kuressaare Fortress’s newly finished Bishop’s castle, with only the loyal members of his staff. A while later the bishop was reported missing. After an exhaustive search of the castle Bishop Heinrich III was found dead in the fortress sewage system, with the garrote still around his neck.

During the 16th century the Bishopric sold the castle to the Danish Empire, which promptly began to improve the castle’s fortifications with the addition of the encircling moat, which established the citadel that exists today.  

Early in the 17th century the Danes ceded Saaremaa Island to Sweden. Lutheran preaching which began during the Reformation was now the formal religion of the land and the Swedish government exercised strict control over religious life with regular inspections by church officials to all the congregations across the island called “visitations.” These visits were to “inspect the religious beliefs of peasants and to root out the remnants of paganism and Catholicism.”

With the signing of the Treaty of Nystad at the end of the Great Northern War (1700 – 1721), Sweden ceded all of mainland Estonia and its islands to Russia. Estonia attained a brief independence at the end of WW1 which lasted for 22 years before Russia, as the Soviet Union, returned.

One of the towers of Kuressaare Castle had been used for centuries as a prison. But with the communist Red Army occupying the island in 1940, unheard-of horrors befell the castle, and its courtyard was used as the execution ground for ninety islanders. During WWII, Estonians were forcibly conscripted to fight in both the Russian and German armies. The Nazi Army occupied Estonia from 1941 to 1944. But with the Soviet Red Army advancing again, roughly 27,000 Estonians started a journey to freedom in Sweden from the islands of Saaremaa and Hiiumaa in the fall of 1944, an exodus from their homeland that would become known as “The Great Flight.”

After the Soviet Union annexed Estonia at the end of WWII, the communist regime forcibly deported 30,000 Estonians from every region of the country to Siberia. Few returned. Estonians caught trying to escape Saaremaa Island now were considered “enemies of the state,” and shot by the communist border guards who patrolled the island’s beaches.

In 1994, the fiftieth anniversary of the event, a monument called The Freedom Gate, acknowledging Sweden’s help and Estonia’s gratitude, was erected in Stockholm.  The inscription on it reads, “We came in small boats over the sea to escape from terror and dictatorship. Thousands of men, women and children reached the shore, among them workers, fishermen, farmers, intellectuals. We received a warm welcome, we were able to find work and to safely establish homes and families. We did never forget the country from which we were forced to leave and we strove for its freedom. Let the Freedom Gate testify to the humanity and tolerance of the Swedish people towards those who were looking for shelter in evil times and let it commemorate a tiny nation who found here a new home for itself.”  By Estonians and Estonian Swedes in Sweden – 1944-1994

The castle’s palace now hosts an interesting museum with exhibits dedicated to explaining the island’s complex history over the centuries. One of the exhibits honors the “Forest Brothers,” a loosely knit group of resistance fighters who opposed the Russian occupation and its security forces. They used their knowledge of the island’s forests and bogs to evade capture by hiding supplies underground in sealed milk cans. They disrupted the Soviet Union’s occupation efforts until most of them were hunted down and killed in the early 1950s. The most famous Forest Brother, August Sabbe, continued the fight, well into his seventies, until he died in a gun battle with KGB agents in 1978.

There is also an intriguing ethnological wing with a large collection of centuries-old island artifacts.

The next day we headed to the lighthouse at the tip of the Sõrve peninsula, only a 45-minute drive from Kuressaare. It was a beautiful drive and along the way we noticed the island’s eclectic bus stops. Some were quite ordinary, while one was lined with bookshelves, and served as a lending library. Another was enclosed with windows and filled with hanging plants. Many were colorfully painted.

We detoured to the ruins of the Church of the Nativity of Christ in the village of Tiirimetsa, population 50. (A small aside here: a village in Estonia doesn’t necessarily refer to a central collection of buildings. It is often just an area.)  It was the first of several historic churches on Saaremaa we planned to see over the next couple of days, but we nearly drove past it, as the ruin was nearly hidden in the shade of a tree line. Built in the 1870s, the once grand Russian Orthodox church was looted and vandalized by soldiers in the Soviet Red Army during WWII. Afterwards during the occupation, the church was used as a barn until the roof collapsed. Tall trees now reach for the sky from its sanctuary.

On the peninsula now, we drove down a serene country lane to the Jämaja kirik, and interrupted a husband and wife team mowing the grounds and vacuuming the sanctuary. Although not expecting visitors, they graciously let us enter. Something led me to believe the woman was the pastor of the church, but there was a language barrier. Donna, herself a pastor, thought I was mistaken. Her reasoning was that no congregation would ask their preacher to also clean. But I couldn’t imagine the congregation of the church being that large anymore, and multitasking might be needed. Built in the mid-1800s over the ruins of an early 13th century church, the historicist style building was very pretty in its pastoral surroundings.

Inside, the church was very bright and since the windows were open you could hear the sound of the sea rolling onto the beach, not far away. The blue tones of the sea are reflected in the church’s altar painting. The church’s cemetery is farther down the lane, on the water edge. 

A short distance away we hoped to have our ritual “drive a little then café,” morning coffee at the Family Café at Ohesaare bank, a rocky beach area reached by descending a shallow embankment.  It’s a popular spot where folks come to build small cairns, and there are literally thousands of these wobbly stone towers along the water’s edge. There is also a nice example of an Estonian windmill near the café. To our disappointment the restaurant was not open mid-week during the September shoulder season, even though checking its hours on Google Maps indicated otherwise.  In the larger towns this wasn’t an issue, but restaurants and cafes reducing their mid-week hours was something we had not anticipated.

When we reached the tip of the peninsula the Sõrve lighthouse towered over us. We didn’t climb it, but instead walked the meditative stone circle near its base.  At the water’s edge the sea was perfectly flat with the ebbing of the tide, and the view across the Baltic was endless.

Heading back to Kuressaare we stopped at a park in the village of Salme to investigate some wooden sculptures of people that we had noticed earlier as we drove by. Our closer inspection revealed they were depictions of Vikings. The sculptures link to the accidental discovery, during road construction in 2008 and 2010, of two large Viking burial ships, one 38ft long and the other 56ft in length and dating back to 700 AD. They contained the skeletal remains of 42 warriors plus artifacts, that included swords, spears, arrowheads, and dice in the grave sites. Historians speculate that the Vikings were defeated by the Saaremaa islanders, and that the survivors were allowed to pull the longships ashore to ritually bury their brethren.

Back in Kuressaare we strolled along the harbor’s promenade to the large whimsical sculpture of Suur Tõll ja Piret, a mythic Estonian couple, happily dancing in their birthday suits. The Folkloric heroes are especially beloved on Saaremaa, where legends portray the helpful giant as defenders of the islanders.

The castle was across the harbor, and we couldn’t resist taking some more photos of it in the late afternoon light.

Centuries of religious turmoil have embroiled Saaremaa, starting with the Northern Crusade’s imposition of Catholic Christianity on the islanders in the 13th century and ending with Martin Luther’s Protestant Reformation in the 16th century. But it’s left an enduring mark on the island with seven historic medieval churches that still stand, amazingly enough, and are actively used, albeit by a smaller number of worshippers than during their heyday.

We didn’t visit all of them, but we did use them as destinations to work our way across the island to explore other areas. After a tasty breakfast the next morning at Pagariäri | Vanalinna kohvik, a bakery and café in old town Kuressaare, we headed to Kaarma Church. Originally dedicated as The Peter and Paul Church, it dates to the late 1200s, making it one of the oldest churches on the island. The church was originally built without a steeple, as was the style at the time. But any structure this old was bound to have withstood numerous alterations and additions over the centuries. The church underwent its first major alteration in the 15th century, when the bell tower – the first on the island – was added to its façade. Later heavy buttresses were added on either side of the church entrance to prevent the front wall from collapsing. The inside was quite intriguing with a pulpit from 1645 and wonderful carved wood sculpture of St. Simon of Cyrene, along with other interesting pieces and primitive stone carvings.

Afterwards we headed to see the windmills we had zoomed past the day we arrived on the island. In use on Saaremaa since the 14th century, there were nearly 900 of the iconic windmills, or one for every two farms on the island by the early 1900s. In 1925 Angla was a prosperous village with 9 privately owned windmills built across its highest point to catch the wind for the mills to grind the grains harvested from the hamlet’s 13 farms. Most of the windmills across the island did not survive WWII, and many of the ones that did were left abandoned after “The Great Flight,” which saw the depopulation of the island. After Estonia’s 1991 independence, Alver Sagur acquired the property with the village’s remaining 5 windmills, and spent years restoring them with parts salvaged from other ruined mills from across the island. They are now the centerpiece of the Angla Windmill Hill and Heritage Cultural Center which Sagur envisioned to preserve Saaremaa’s unique agrarian culture. 

Four of them, the oldest dating to the early 1880s, are post mills typical to Saaremaa, where the whole windmill turns around a central post to bring the sails into the wind by physically moving the long arm projecting from its side. While the other one, built in 1927, is a Dutch mill, where only the top which houses the sail’s gear shaft rotates around the stationary base.

Only one windmill has been totally restored to working order and still is used occasionally to grind grain, and you are allowed to climb the ladders between floors to examine its inner workings. The museum also had an interesting collection of historic agricultural equipment. The center’s restaurant was also good, and we really enjoyed their coffee.

We did a quick detour to the old Russian Orthodox Church in Leisi, which was built in 1873, and has those distinctive orthodox crosses atop its domes, before backtracking to the medieval Karja church, only minutes away from the windmills.

Noticeably the church, from 1254, was built without a steeple, which was a common style for fortress sanctuaries in the 13th century. There was another car in the driveway, though we didn’t see anyone, and the church was locked. Next to the door was a wonderful carved stone relief sculpture with rustic figures. Posted on the door was the caretaker’s phone number, but no one answered when we called. But luck was with us, and as we were just turning to leave two people appeared walking down the driveway. One was waving a set of keys.

Inside, more relief carvings decorated some of the interior’s architectural elements.

Along with an elegant altar there were some partial remnants of medieval era decorative paintings, faded but still visible on the walls.

On the way back to Kuressaare we turned off the main road to visit the church in Valjala, the oldest preserved stone sanctuary in Estonia.  Construction of the church started in 1227 after the Livonia Crusades of the 13th century, which forced Christianity on the pagan indigenous populations of Saaremaa Island and the northern Estonian mainland. The islanders didn’t convert willingly and their resistance was fierce, requiring the church to be expanded and fortified by the end of the century.

The entrance to the church looked more like a door to a medieval castle, ready to repel any attempted siege, and of course it was locked, a dilemma that was fortuitously resolved with the arrival of a middle-aged woman coasting to a stop on her bicycle. With a friendly greeting, she unlocked the door and vanished as quickly as she had arrived. The sanctuary was dimly lit with ambient light from its tall narrow windows, which dramatically highlighted the sculptural wall decorations. There was also a highly carved Romanesque baptismal font that is believed to be original to the church and is thought to be one of the oldest pieces of carved stonework in Estonia. In the 17th century the church’s tower was added. Three centuries later lightning struck the tower and destroyed its steeple.

We locked the door behind us when we left and when we reached our car, parked across the street, turned to look back at the church. Our mysterious bike rider had returned to check the lock, “Thank you,” she called. We waved.

That evening, our last night in the village, we wandered about with no particular restaurant in mind, simply enjoying the town’s warm ambience on a nice fall day. We checked Saaremaa Veski, a restaurant located in a beautiful historic 1899 Dutch-style stone windmill. However, it was only open on the weekends during the shoulder season. Further on we came across the sculpture of a giant hand called “Suure Tõllu käsi,” the Hand of Suur Tõll, which playfully references the beloved folkloric hero always giving the islanders a helping hand. The artistic work with its abstract background subtly reminded us, after several days of exploring medieval churches and a castle, that we were still in the 21st century.

“Oysters,” prominently displayed on the placard in front of Vinoteek Prelude drew us inside. Rustically finished with stone walls and roughhewn ceiling beams, the restaurant had a wonderful warmth enhanced by candles lit on the tables. The menu featured locally sourced produce, fish and game meats, along with an extensive wine list. The oysters were fantastic, though they were imported from Brittany, as the shallow waters of the Baltic Sea stay too warm and are not salty enough to grow them.

The next morning, we were up early to explore the eastern part of the island before catching a late afternoon ferry back to the Estonian mainland and continuing on to Pärnu for the night.

Miraculously, the door to the Pöide church was open! Some renovation work on the tower end of the church was underway, and workers were erecting scaffolding. The early history of the first churches on Saaremaa tends to be quite confusing with overlapping dates. But it seems the ancient church in Pöide vies with the Valjala Church as the oldest Christian place of worship on the island, each being quickly built shortly after the conclusion of the Livonian Crusade, in 1227. The original Pöide chapel was the only surviving part of a Livonian castle destroyed during the St. George’s Night Uprising of 1343, which saw the indigenous islanders kill their German and Danish overlords, and “drown the priests in the sea.” The folks seeking refuge at the Pöide castle withstood a siege for eight days before surrendering their weapons, with the assurance they would not be used against them. They were lied to and when they exited the castle the islanders stoned them to death. By the end of the 13th century the Livonian Order had reconquered Saaremaa and the small original chapel was expanded to the east and west. At this time the roof was raised and vaulted. When the fortified tower was added it became the largest medieval church on the island.

The inside is cavernous and at one time had enough pews to seat 320 parishioners.

In 1940, on the day that Estonia was forced to become a member state of the Soviet Union, lightning struck the church’s tall spire that was erected in 1734. Some considered it an omen of future difficulties. The church did not fare well during WWII with Soviet troops looting anything of value, and burning the pews for firewood, before it was used for decades as a hay barn. Only some sections of early painted wall ornamentation and the heaviest stone architectural artifacts were left untouched. One of the pieces to survive is the ledger stone of a local Saaremaa knight entombed by the altar, its carving now partially worn away by centuries of footsteps over it. Today the church holds services twice a month and hosts religious music concerts.

There was no missing the onion top domes of the Russian Orthodox Neitsi Maarja Kaitsmise in the small crossroads village of Tornimäe. The 1873 church’s setting on a small rise above the village wonderfully highlights its beauty. With the signing of the Treaty of Nystad to end the Great Northern War in 1721, Sweden surrendered Estonia to Peter the Great’s Russian Empire. Originally the Orthodox church had an insignificant footprint on Saaremaa, but that changed in the mid-1800s with the unfounded rumors that the church would give land to the islanders, mostly Protestant serfs, if they converted to the Orthodox church. Consequently, nearly 65 percent of the island’s Protestant rural peasantry fell victim to this deception, and converted to the orthodox religion, in the false hope of attaining their own land.

Down the hill from the church, we parked at Meierei Kohvik, a small café, one of the only two businesses in the village, for lunch. I was driving and had just turned off the ignition when Donna asked if I heard the car horn blaring. I’ll admit that I am slowly going deaf, and even with the help of hearing aids still have difficulty. “No. It must be from that truck over there.” “It’s from our car and it’s very loud,” she responded. By this point on our trip we had been driving the car, without any trouble, for over a week, so this was new issue. It turns out that that I inadvertently pressed something on the key fob, but no combination of pressing buttons would undo it. Unfortunately, to our dismay, the car’s manual was totally in Estonian too. So, there we were sitting in the car in the middle of Saaremaa island with the horn blasting away. I was totally useless in this situation. Fortunately, Donna resolved the problem by doing a quick internet search. Peace and quiet reigned once again. The café was simply furnished, but the food, pastries and coffees were very good. They also had a nice selection of apple juice and cider produced on Saaremaa available for purchase.

We arrived to Illiku Laid, a small thumb of land protruding into the Vaike Strait which separates Saaremaa from its smaller eastern neighbor, Muhu Island, with hopes of seeing From the Sea, an environmentally conscious sculpture, depicting human-like creatures emerging from the water. It was created by the Estonian artist Ines Villido using lost fishermen’s nets and other garbage retrieved from the sea. It was created several years earlier for the annual 4 day I Land Sound festival that’s held on Illiku Laid every July. The festival is the event that turns this sleepy backwater into Estonia’s version of Burning Man and “brings together artists, musicians, and creatives from around the world, fostering cultural exchange and collaboration, with a strong emphasis on environmental sustainability and community engagement.” Disappointingly, the sculpture was not there, but on tour as part of an environmental awareness campaign. Though we did realize we had seen one of Villido’s other works, Trust the Whale during our wanderings in Kuressaare. Her Cigarette Butt – Stand Up Board, made with 29,000 butts collected during the 2019 festival, was on display along the waterfront.

Saaremaa Island receded in the rear-view mirror as we followed the road across the Väinatamm, a long narrow causeway and bridge that connects Saaremaa to Muhu, before ending at the Praamid ferry terminal in Kuivastu. The day had passed quickly, and we arrived in time to take an earlier ferry to Virtsu, on the Estonian mainland. We had purchased our tickets for a later crossing, but there were enough open cars spaces that we were allowed to drive aboard. There was barely enough time to climb to the observation deck before the ferry’s 30-minute crossing concluded. We headed to the coastal city of Pärnu for an overnight stay before continuing our travels to Riga, Latvia.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

An Estonian Road trip: Part 2 – Across the Pine Barrens to the Pakri Peninsula & the Gulf of Finland or Soviets, Swans, Windmills & a Polar Bear

| 2suitcasesfor2years

Dense forest lined the road, occasionally thinning to provide a glimpse of Tallinn Bay. It seemed as if we had only left Tallinn minutes earlier, quickly passing through its outer boroughs to enter a semi-wilderness beyond the city limits. To paraphrase; We weren’t in Tallinn anymore. Lively, and charming, one third (461,000) of Estonia’s 1,370,00 citizens call this “gem of the Baltic,” home.

Only 15 minutes from the center of Old Town, we were in the surprisingly different forested landscape of Eesti Vabaõhumuuseum, the Estonian Open Air Museum, an ethnological recreation of a historic fishing village on the shore of Tallinn Bay, with the wonderful mission of showcasing the country’s rural architecture and way of life during the 18–20th centuries.

A pleasant set of trails through the woodland connected 14 separate areas that featured different buildings.  Some of the buildings have docents dressed in traditional clothing to help explain how residents lived centuries ago. The wooden windmills were particularly interesting and the large sturdy log cabins surely would have made Daniel Boone envious.

Leaving Tallinn behind: this was the first stop of our 21-day road trip through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. There was hardly any traffic on the roads through the sparsely populated countryside that traversed stretches of open fields, bogs, pine forests and swaths of beautiful birch trees. Vast tracks of forest still cover over fifty percent of Estonia’s territory. Set away from the roadway a bike path, just one of 7,230 cycling routes and bike trails in Estonia, loosely followed our route from the Open Air Museum to Keila in search of a mid-morning coffee break.

It was a surprisingly frustrating endeavor. Takeaway coffee from a gas station? No no. This was nearing a crisis situation for us. Those in the know understand that without that a coffee fix, life in the universe is imperfectly balanced. Fortunately, we found a very nice gourmet café, Cake Atelier, on the main road through Keila. Chatting with the owner about our trip through Estonia, she shared that we were in luck today, as it was one of the town’s twice-yearly craft and food festival days and pointed down the road.

We both like exploring local markets and this one in Keila, while very small, was a perfect local event to have stumbled across. Set up in the parking lot of a small strip mall, it wasn’t geared toward tourists. It was simply regional food purveyors sharing what they love to do. Samples were abundant. There were extraordinary amounts of smoked fish, pickles, sauerkraut, and baked goods, along with foraged lingonberries and wild mushrooms.

From July to October foraging for berries and other wild edibles is a popular activity in Estonia and explains why we saw so many cars parked at various spots along the road in the middle of nowhere. We ended up purchasing a bottle of artisanal Rose Hip liqueur from a middle-aged woman who had been an exchange student in Florida in the early 2000s. Her cordial, lovingly crafted from her grandmother’s ancient family recipe, was very tasty. We purchased a bottle and enjoyed it as a nightcap during the rest of our trip.

Next to the parking lot was a pretty church, Mihkli kirik, Keila’s St. Michael’s Church.  This wooden church was first erected here shortly after the Danes conquered northern Estonia in 1219. A century later a larger stone church was constructed to accommodate the worshippers living in the growing village. The present church replaced an older one destroyed during the Livonian War of the 16th century. There were some interesting stone carvings around the door to the church, and an intriguing cemetery that called for further investigation.

Across the way the Scottish House, with its majestic sculptures of highland stags in its courtyard, seemed incongruously placed. But we enjoyed resting, enveloped in its warm wood interior, and lunch was very good.

Our destination at the end of the day would be the guesthouse Pakri Baron, at the foot of the lighthouse, at the top of Pakri Peninsula. But we rarely drive the fastest and most direct route. Our road trips usually connect the dots, and resemble Ws or Zs to points of interest along the way. With that in mind we headed to the Keila Waterfall in Lõokese tee, Meremõisa – gotta love that name – 13km (8 miles) away.

Without any tall mountain ranges, Estonia really isn’t noted for its waterfalls. But the Keila Falls, the third largest in the country, were relatively close. The falls are in a pretty river park that has a trail over a wooden suspension bridge that crosses to the opposite side of the falls. There is a small renovated hydroelectric power plant at the Keila waterfall that first started to produce electricity in 1928; the river park was originally part of the extensive grounds of the Keila-Joa manor. The neo-gothic style building was built in 1833 and is one of Estonia’s best surviving examples of the popular 19th-century architectural style. Unfortunately, the grounds of the manor house/museum were closed the day we were there.

Nearby, the all-wood Kõltsu Manor built in the late 1800s was another fine example of Estonian architecture. The large home was commissioned by a baroness to be used as her summer residence. After World War II, the house and grounds were used by the communist Russians as one of their Pioneer Camps. The name sounds so benign, but in reality, while they did offer camp activities, they were Soviet re-education camps that indoctrinated Estonian youth with communist ideology. Today the manor hosts events, weddings, and outdoor concerts during the summer months.

The forests in Estonia have their own stories to tell. We did not stop at the memorial to the 2000 Jewish victims of the Nazi massacre in 1944 at the forced labor Klooga concentration camp. Closer to our destination we stopped in Paldiski to purchase the makings of a picnic dinner and breakfast the next morning at the guesthouse. Apple trees grew wild along the edge of the road. We picked a few for munching later. White with a pink center, they were probably an heirloom variety called “Eva Kuld,” similar to the Pink Pearl variety. The apples were delicious.

We had timed our arrival at Pakri Baron to coincide with the sunset in hope of getting some nice photographs of the lighthouse and the coast as the sun dropped. However, the weather was fickle. But the guesthouse was wonderfully situated next to the lighthouse, which towered over us, and was a stone’s throw from the Baltic Sea. The still active lighthouse was built in 1889, and during the summer months it’s possible to climb its 275 steps to the top. Unfortunately, it was closed during our visit in mid-September. In front of the lighthouse is a copy of sculpture called The Ship’s Last Sigh (1899) by the Estonian artist Amandus Adamson (1855–1929), who grew up near Paldiski. The sculpture was chosen by vote from 5 of Adamson’s works by the residents of the community in 2008 to commemorate their native son. The guesthouse even had a traditional Estonian sauna in a separate building, just one of the 100,000 saunas in a country of 1.3 million. It’s definitely a cultural thing.

It was still dreary the next morning as we started our drive to the resort town of Haapsalu on the west coast of Estonia. But there were places to explore along the way. We don’t recall how we actually came across the existence of the Ämari Pilots’ Cemetery, but most likely it was a result of scouring Google Maps to find points of interest along our route. More accurately it could be referred to as the Russian Pilots’ Cemetery.

What piqued our interest was the use of tail fins from crashed Soviets planes as headstones to mark the graves of the pilots that died in accidents while flying from the former Russian airbase, Suurküla Aerodrome, during the Cold War era. The cemetery’s discreet location, in a forest almost obscuring it from the road, was so that reminders of the peacetime deaths, from a high accident rate, would not affect the morale of the military base.

The cemetery appeared to be well cared for, but it’s a reminder of a painful and repressive 46 yearlong occupation by communist Russia, unlike the monumental Soviet propaganda sculptures that were in public spaces across the country, which were destroyed or sent to the Soviet Statue Graveyard in Tallinn. This reminder of a dreaded past, like an uncle no one wants to talk about, was left to rest in peace.

Nearby was another reminder of Soviet rule: Murru vangla was a Soviet forced labor camp and re-education center where prisoners were sent to work in a limestone quarry for the duration of their sentences. After Estonia’s independence the prison and quarry were closed and abandoned. Water eventually filled the quarry and partially submerged some of old mining structures and prison buildings. Set against tall, eroded dunes created from slag left over from processing the limestone, the water of the quarry shimmers like a Caribbean beach. The uniquely beautiful manmade setting has slowly become a popular destination for divers and swimming. What’s left of the prison was turned into a museum. There is an admission fee to access the quarry area, but since the day was still heavily overcast, we kept driving a short distance down the road to the Padise Monastery. Founded in the early 14th Century by monks displaced from a monastery in Latvia, it flourished until the St. George’s Night Uprising, when Estonians rebelled against Danish rule and the imposition of Christianity upon them and killed 28 monks. The building was later turned into a fortress, but by the early 1700s the stones of the deteriorating fortification were used to build an adjacent manor house. What’s left of the monastery’s ruins has been preserved and now operates as a museum, and the manor house is now a boutique hotel and spa.

One of the many things we enjoy about traveling during the shoulder season, aside from fewer tourists like us out and about, is the affordability of really nice hotel rooms. Our case in point was our midweek 2-night stay at Hermannuse Maja, which backed up to the ramparts surrounding Haapsalu Castle, cost only €97.00, and included breakfast. Parking was easily available on the street.

Around the corner from our hotel the Müüriääre café, with an attractive interior and tempting food display, was the perfect spot for lunch before exploring the unusually named Haapsalu Episcopal Castle on a cloudy afternoon.

In the late 1100s Christian missionaries followed German merchants along old Viking trade routes into the region known as Livonia, that is today Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. The land was originally populated by pagan tribes, but unfortunately located between Orthodox Russia and Catholic Western Europe. Never happy with the status quo, religious zealots called for a Northern Crusade against the Baltic pagans, and with the blessing of Pope Celestine III, persecution began in 1195. The efforts to recruit an army was assisted by a papal bull which declared that “fighting against the Baltic heathens was of the same rank as participating in a crusade to the Holy Land.”  The medieval era was fierce, and bishops not only accompanied the crusaders spiritually into battle, but wielded swords alongside their troops fighting those heathen tribes. Haapsalu Episcopal Castle was built to project the power of the church during the thirty years it took to subjugate the region. In 1583 during the War of Reformation the Catholic stronghold fell to Protestant Sweden and the cathedral became a Lutheran church.

A tall defensive wall still encircles the nearly 1000-year-old castle. And the church has been nicely restored after surviving fires in 1668 and 1726 and neglect during the Soviet occupation when it was used as a granary. Though only the outer walls of the monastery, which was later converted to a palace, remain after the 1668 fire.

We enjoyed walking along the ramparts and climbing the castle’s tower. Surprisingly in mid-September we practically had the site to ourselves. Wandering through the ancient, vaulted dungeon-like rooms of the castle’s museum that showcased life in Medieval era was particularly interesting. The grounds of the castle are quite extensive, and one section in a now dry moat has a medieval themed playground with all sorts of structures for kids to climb on. During the summer the castle hosts a series of concerts, and the town welcomes tourists with a busy schedule of events.

Dinner that evening was across the street at the rustic Talumehe kõrts, which specialized in traditional Estonian dishes.

The next morning, we woke to a perfectly clear sky. The sunny weather was a welcome reprieve from several gloomy days, and we took full advantage of it to explore the picturesque town and walk along the Haapsalu’s bayside promenade. The walkway extends for quite a distance along the waterfront, and is flanked with a variety of architecturally interesting buildings along its length.

At one point we spotted a polar bear standing on an ice flow. A statue! It was one of several exotic animal sculptures, recreated from old photographs of the wooden figures made in the 1920s, for a section of the boardwalk called Africa Beach, a beloved small park from the 1800s. During the Soviet occupation the original wooden sculptures were used as firewood by Russian soldiers. With the Russians finally gone in 1991 the park was revamped as a children’s playground.

A short distance beyond the playground the walkway ends at the 5-story tall Tagalaht birdwatching tower. Climbing the tower offers views over the saltwater marshes of Haapsalu Bay, which is an important stopover for artic birds during their Spring and Fall migrations. Swans, cranes, and a variety of ducks can also be spotted.

The small town existed on the region’s fishing and agricultural base until a visiting physician observed that the local folk used sea mud to treat a number of ailments. He opened Haapsalu’s first therapeutic mud treatment resort in 1825. It soon became a popular destination for several generations of Russia’s czars and aristocracy. A bench along the path commemorates the spot from which the composer Tchaikovsky watched the sunrise when he summered there.

Walking back to town we passed the distinctive green onion shaped dome of Haapsalu’s Maria-Magdaleena kirik, a Russian Orthodox church. The church was consecrated on July 21, 1852. In the audience was the son of Czar Nikolai I, Alexander (later Czar Alexander II, Emperor of Russia, King of Poland and Grand Duke of Finland.)

We worked our way across town to Lake Väikese and savored a delicious lunch overlooking the water from the enclosed patio at Wiigi Kohvik, before following a walking path along the water that circled the lake. Along the pathway we noticed that nearly every home on the lake had a traditional Estonian sauna in their back yard. They were all different sizes and shapes, with some constructed with wood and others totally covered with earth. We wondered if folks jumped into the lake as part of their sauna ritual. Brrr! Just thinking of it made me shiver.

Overall, we had a very nice tme in Haapsalu. The next morning, we checked out early and drove to the harbor at Rohuküla to catch the first ferry of the day to Heltermaa on Hiiumaa Island.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Estonia Part 1: Tallinn – Captivating, Charming & Caffeinated

| 2suitcasesfor2years

Why Estonia? We are sure folks can relate, our pockets aren’t as deep as we’d like, but that doesn’t keep us home. A low budget, off-season destination is more attuned to our lifestyle anyway. So, when an under $400, September fare from New York City to Tallinn, Estonia popped up in our email we jumped at it after some research confirmed we could find some very nice hotels from $50 to $100 per night, often with breakfast included. Exploring the lesser visited Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania also fulfilled our desire to extend our travels beyond western Europe, which previously had been very Mediterranean-centric. Living in the very hot and humid southern United States is also affecting our decisions concerning vacation destinations, as we are now seeking alternative destinations as a result of climate change. The heat of a southern summer often continues into September and October, with temperatures at home in Georgia often in the high nineties. Estonia offered a wonderful reprieve from the sweltering summer heat with a daily high average of 14°C (57°F).

The history museum at Maarjamäe Castle was an unusual first stop for us after picking up our rental car at the airport. But it was the closest we’d be to it during our three-week road trip through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. The museum is in a renovated 17th-century chateau, which was left to ruin for decades during the communist Russia occupation of Estonia. It is beautifully set on a bluff across from Tallinn Bay, and was built by the Brotherhood of Black Heads, a professional association of unmarried ship owners, merchants and foreigners dating from the 14th century, as a summer retreat.

Today the museum’s permanent exhibit, My Free Country, explores 100 years of modern Estonia’s history, from its 1918 declaration of independence from Russia, and the following War of Liberation, through twenty years as a sovereign nation before being invaded by Nazi Germany and communist Russia during the Second World War. The fifty years of brutal Russian occupation after World War II and communist propaganda are also covered, up to Estonia’s 1991 second declaration of independence from Russia, which was overwhelmingly supported by 78 percent of Estonians. It’s a difficult mission to reconcile the terror of the communist years into a bright, hopeful future, but historical research, as well as oral histories, document forced resettlements to Siberia and imprisonment in labor camps during the Soviet reign of terror, when Estonians were prisoners within their own country and shot if they tried to escape. The exhibit highlights a proud history of an unrelenting desire for freedom, which prevailed under the worst conditions. A history that, it is hoped, the younger generation of Estonians, who have not experienced communism, never forgets. As one quote on an exhibit referring to Russia said, “Nothing good ever comes from the east.”

After the 1991 independence, colossal, large-scale Russian propaganda sculptures, which once dominated prominent public spaces across the country, were removed from view but not destroyed, as they are part of Estonia’s history. However, they were erected behind the museum in a space fittingly called, with Estonian humor, “the Soviet Statue Graveyard.”

Our first lunch in Estonia was at the museum’s café, Maarjamäe Resto, an unexpected culinary delight, which could be considered a destination in and of itself.

It was still too early to check in to our hotel in Tallinn, so we headed nearby to the Tallinn Botanic Garden, a large park with an extensive greehouse. The grounds were quite pleasing with their plantings, and the greenhouse with its various collections of tropical plants was very interesting. Though in the section filled with cactuses from around the world, Donna, ouch!, accidently brushed one with her hand and imbedded some spines into her skin. Not a huge issue when you are home and have the proper tools to pluck the pesty spines from your skin and relieve the discomfort, but when you are traveling, it’s another issue entirely.

Fortunately, the barista operating the café in the greenhouse had dealt with this before, and he ran out to his car to fetch a roll of good old-fashioned duct tape to grasp those microscopic thorns. He was very nice, a 30ish Italian man who during conversation jokingly related that being a part time medic was not part of his job description when he was hired, and visitors getting pricked with cactus thorns happens more often than you would think.  We were curious how a warm-blooded southerner ended up in the northern Baltics. “You know there is always a woman to blame, and I followed my love back to her Estonian homeland.” We asked if he missed the warm Mediterranean weather and la dolce vita. Yes, the weather is nicer, so we visit my family, but life is better here in Estonia as there are more opportunities for those willing to work and get ahead. Estonia is leaps and bounds ahead of the other European countries in embracing digital technologies. So much so that the government considers internet access a fundamental right and ensures that everyone across the country, even on the smallest islands, has reliable internet, and offers digital literacy programs for the technology challenged. The government also endorses working from home remotely, and offers an Estonian Digital Nomad Visa. “Estonia is very big in cybersecurity, and this enables every person, business, and government institution to be connected. We are one of the most digitally advanced countries, and we can even vote securely online in Estonia.” This digital future contrasted with as well as complemented the vibrant centuries-old walled city of Tallinn.

Despite not having particular plans for Tallinn, we knew we would enjoy exploring the city as soon as we saw the ancient architecture along the way to our hotel. Having a rental car and finding a hotel with free parking is difficult in any city, but we scored big withTaanilinna Hotell. The hotel was in an excellent location, just on the opposite side of the old town’s historic ramparts, and a short walk from the 14th-century stone towers of the Viru Gate’s flower market.

Google Maps got us close, but the hotel was a little difficult to find, and we mistakenly drove through a pedestrian only area; fortunately, there were few people about. In order to find the hotel, we parked and walked down the street, when we spotted the hotel’s sign, which was set back from the lane. It’s a modest hotel, and the staff was very nice. We enjoyed a quiet 4-night stay.

With Tallinn’s old defensive wall only a stone’s throw away, history surrounded around us, and we quickly set out to explore and to find a place for dinner as twilight descended on the old town. Our wandering took us down various lanes, past distinctive centuries-old 4 to 5 story tall buildings that served, as was the medieval custom of the time, as the multifunctional home/warehouse/offices of wealthy merchants.

Lights twinkled on and illuminated the cobblestones in a golden glow. I know it’s cliché, but our first impressions of Raekoja Plats, the Town Hall Square, anchored with its soaring 64M (300FT) tall 13th-century watch tower, were beautiful, charming and magical. We were disappointed to learn that the tower is only open from the beginning of June to the end of August. We love a good tower climb!

Still retaining its original footprint, Tallinn is one of Europe’s best preserved medieval cities, with 26 watchtowers along its ancient ramparts and city gates, topped with distinctive cone-shaped red roofs.  The walled city still encircles a vibrant and active community, which supports a lively arts scene, along with a robust nightlife.

Its preservation seems surprising for a city that has stood at the crossroads of conflict since it was founded by a Danish King in the early 1200s. In addition to the Danes, Tallinn has been ruled by the Brotherhood of the Sword, the Teutonic Order, the Holy Roman Empire, the Swedish Empire, Czarist Russia, Nazi Germany, and the Soviet Union. The city’s prosperity and resilience throughout the centuries is testimony to the strong spirit of the Estonian people. 

One of the nice things we enjoy about staying in one place for several days is the opportunity to experience the locale as it quietly awakens with the sun. Whether it is cloudless blue skies or a place cloaked under clouds with folks huddled under umbrellas to ward off the rain, a place breathes and its mood changes by the hour, from day to day. The destinations on our walks were always different, but we often crossed the same lanes and stopped to photograph something different that caught our eye, which we hadn’t noticed before.

Old town Tallinn is mostly flat and is a wonderfully walkable city. There is a short uphill stretch to Toompea Hill (the upper city), where we visited the Kiek in de Kök Museum, the Bastion Tunnels, and Neitsitorn, the Maiden’s Tower. During the 1700s when the towers lost their military significance they were often repurposed as private apartments, with a craftperson’s workplace on the lower level, and rooms above. During both world wars the tunnels were used as air raid shelters. While the towers were lived in continually, most famously by the Estonian painters and twin brothers, Kristjan and Paul Raud, until the 1960s, when the city deemed them unsafe for habitation.  Abandoned, the towers became a destination for homeless squatters and Estonia’s emerging counterculture. The extensive tunnels were an area the police refused to go. A popular, unlicensed bar opened in the tower on New Year’s Eve in 1980. Unfortunately, it didn’t survive the economic turmoil of the era as the Soviet Union began its descent into a failed state.

After an extensive multiyear renovation, the Kiek in de Kök Museum opened in 2005. The Maiden’s Tower now hosts a new Neitsitorn café, which has a nice view out over the Danish King’s Garden, and the ghostly blackened bronze statues of three monks named Ambrosius, Bartholomeus, and Claudius. Legend holds that they occasionally appear spectrally in the garden, though the only thing that appeared the morning we visited was a sleek red Ferrari 296 GTB that was the center of a photo shoot. The tower also has the re-created art studio of the twins, Kristjan and Paul Raud. The tunnels under the ramparts have been creatively reenvisioned and now house a variety of interactive digital multimedia and historical exhibits.

A walkway along the ramparts between the towers at the museum led to an exhibit about Tallinn’s café culture. Though the first coffee house opened in the town of Narva in 1697, Tallinn didn’t get its first café until 1702 when one opened on Town Hall Square. The oldest still-operating café dates from 1864, when the renown marzipan bakery, Maiasmokk, decided to offer coffee to go along with their tasty, sweet treats. After 160 years the Maiasmokk Café, even surviving nationalization during the Soviet occupation, is still open and a beloved cultural institution in Tallinn. Most of the exhibits address Tallinn’s café culture during the repressive communist era, when going to a café to share a coffee was one of the few recreational activities people could afford. With our “walk a little then café” philosophy for exploring a city, we felt we had found kindred spirits in Tallinn.

Decades later Estonian’s infatuation with coffee continues. This cultural obsession was fully on display when Estonian singer Tommy Cash performed “Espresso Macchiato,” during the finals for Estonia’s 2025 Eurovision contest and came in third place! Though in Italy some humorless Italians didn’t like the caffeinated cliches and called for the song’s banning.

Other points of interest on the hill included the onion-shaped spires of the Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. It’s across the street from the pink building that houses the Estonian Parliament. (A very good eye-level view of the cathedral can be seen, on the uphill walk, from the restored bell tower of the mid-1400s St. Nicholas’ Church.

He was the patron saint of merchants and seafarers. It was formerly one of the wealthiest churches in Tallinn until it was severely damaged by WWII bombing. Fortunately, many of its fine ecclesiastical art works, acquired from the art capitals of Europe during the Hanseatic era, had been removed from the church for safekeeping at the start of World War II.  Now restored after a 30-year long renovation, the church serves as the Niguliste Muuseum, and exhibits the works that survived that cataclysmic war. Fortunately, the 105 meters, 345 ft, tall spire has an elevator that whisked us to the viewing deck.)

Farther along in one of Tallinn’s oldest churches, the 13th century St Mary’s Cathedral, there is a unique private worship box, totally enclosed with shaded windows, built directly across from and on the same level as the pulpit. Jokingly, we speculated it was designed for a wealthy patron so he could fall asleep and snore, without embarrassment, as the priest orated endlessly.

The hill also has the best vantage point for cityscapes of Tallinn’s historic skyline, the Patkuli Viewing Platform, and a mysterious red gorilla, that seems incongruously out of place. But we will leave him for you to find.

Stairs from the viewing platform ascended back toward the lower town, and we were close to Balti Jaama Turg, the Baltic Station Market. It was Tallinn’s first train station constructed in the 1860s, and became a market hall in 1993. A major renovation in 2017 totally revamped the three-level market, which has become a magnet for residents and tourists seeking a lively venue filled with diverse international eateries, antiques vendors, clothing shops, and food stores.

The next day, closer to our hotel, we wandered about, climbed more towers, walked along arched and tunneled alleyways, and descended into a cellar or two. Our walk along Müürivahe Street to the Hellemann Tower and Town Wall Walkway was quite interesting. The real prize was the view from the tower window towards Town Hall Square – it was a panorama filled with red tiled roofs and steeples.

Across from it was the Dominican Convent built in 1246. It was the oldest monastery in Tallinn and supported the adjacent St. Catherine’s Church which was completed in the early 1300’s. The convent couldn’t exist solely on the alms it collected, but the friars were an industrious group who supported themselves as farmers, and traders of fish, while also operating a brewery that sold four different kinds of beer, while they spread the gospel. “The monastery also drew profit from the veneration of relics,” and at one time, records suggest, they had “twelve silver reliquaries containing the heads of saints, with each head reputed to cure a different set of diseases.”

But everything came to an abrupt end during the Protestant Reformation in 1524 when a Lutheran mob ransacked the church and monastery, and the friars were expelled from Tallinn. A partial restoration was undertaken in 1954, and it’s now a museum, which also hosts art exhibits. Its rough stone chambers and some fine carved stone works were intriguing. We didn’t notice any fireplaces, which left us wondering how difficult living within these spartan walls must have been.

Next to the monastery is Katariina käik, St. Catherine’s Passage, an old medieval lane that separates the church from the surrounding buildings. Today it’s lined with restaurants offering Estonian cuisine, and artisanal crafts shops, featuring the talented women of the Katariina Gild who craft jewelry, weavings, ceramics, blown glass, and leatherwork. At the far end of the lane, under the arched entrance off Vene Street we found the Restaurant Munga Kelder to be a nice place to dine.

Within earshot of a town crier’s call was the Masters’ Courtyard. It similarly has unique craft vendors, but also has a restaurant that fills the courtyard with rustic tables covered with colorful tablecloths, which gives the courtyard a joyful, boisterous look.

Marzipan lovers, we had to stop one afternoon at the Maiasmokk Café. The ambiance in the front room was very old school with an ornate ceiling, and mirrored walls with polished wood trim and newspaper hooks! When’s the last time you’ve actually seen a newspaper? Their colorful back room is a temple to marzipan with display cases showcasing the sweet crafted into figurines and other shapes.  The variety was just mind boggling. And if your timing is right you might be able to see them being made.

With our sugar cravings satiated, we checked out Tallinn’s Great Guild Hall, directly across from the café. It featured several floors of interesting exhibits dedicated to the city’s history and trade guilds.

Across from the guild hall and the café is the Church of the Holy Spirit. During the medieval era it was the main church for everyday folk in Tallinn, and the first chapel to offer masses in Estonian, not German or Latin as was the tradition of the other churches in Tallinn at the time. With its stark white interior and original dark wood ornamentation, it is one of Tallinn’s least altered churches.

There were several other interesting facades down the street from the Great Guild Hall.

Tallinn has a rich nautical heritage that started during the early Viking era in the 6th-century when the area that would become Tallinn was a stop on the Baltic trade route that connected Sweden to Constantinople.  The area of Tallinn traded furs and bog iron for wine, spices, glass, and jewelry. Shortly after the Danes established rule over northern Estonia in the early 1200s, Tallinn now a larger port city, joined the Hanseatic League, a confederation of medieval trading cities located along the Baltic and North Sea coasts. The Dutch, German and Swedish merchants of this association brought several centuries of prosperity to the city that’s still reflected in the fine examples of merchants’ houses and guildhalls that line Pikk Street. The league’s maritime trading also supported ship building which remained a vital industry through the Soviet Era which saw the shipyards build warships and submarines for the Russian navy.

The importance of Tallinn’s maritime history is well told with two museums in the city.  One is housed in a squat, round, 16th-century cannon tower called Fat Margaret, which once guarded the port, but now is a modern, state of the art museum, with ship models, interactive displays, and the hull of an excavated wooden shipwreck to view.   

Its sister museum is on Tallinn’s waterfront at the Lennusadam Sea Plane Harbor. It was raining heavily the day we visited, so we didn’t see the historic ships docked outside, but we did enjoy the full-size boats on display inside the old seaplane hangar. Especially the submarine Lembit, built in Tallinn and launched in 1936, which was the pride of the Estonian Navy.

The large concrete hangars themselves are noteworthy, as the three connected shells were the largest reinforced concrete domes in the world, without any central support columns when their construction started in 1912. They were ordered built by Russian Tsar Nicholas II to shelter the seaplane squadron that was part of Peter the Great’s naval forces. It’s a cavernous space with a seaplane hanging from the ceiling, and where you can actually walk under a submarine. The museum also had a nice café which overlooked the exhibits.

When the weather was inclement or the walking distance too great, we used Uber to get around. The service worked very well for us in Tallinn. Getting to Telliskivi Loomelinnak, the Telliskivi Creative City, from the Lennusadam Sea Plane Harbor was one of those occassions and it worked perfectly.

It’s an old, street-mural covered industrial site that’s been revamped into a hip entertainment and nightlife destination with theaters, galleries, restaurants, and bars. It was a fun place to explore, but I think we skewed the demographics a little bit.

 Till next time, Craig & Donna

P.S. We purchased Tallinn Cards to use during our stay in the city and found it to be quite beneficial and cost effective. The card offered access to over 50 museums and attractions, free travel on public transportation, and discounts on sightseeing tours.