Tallinn is a Baltic fairytale

I'd been told that Tallinn was beautiful but it's hard to get the measure of a place when you touch down at midnight and there's little to see but empty streets and worn-out shop fronts. "Why you come here?" snorts the taxi driver. "Tallinn not good."

Oh dear. I'm in the Estonian capital on a recommendation and was led to believe all would be charming. I sit back in the seat and sigh, watching my breath almost freeze in front of me. It feels a bit like no-man's land.

Then, out of nowhere, the outline of medieval turrets rises above the city's old quarters as arterial roads give way to 13th-century cobbles - the reason people come here becomes obvious.

Only 15 minutes from the airport and you're in a Baltic fairytale. In fact, Tallinn's almost Disney-like old town, thought to be the best preserved in the world, was rightly declared a UNESCO world heritage site in 1997.

The place might have been designed with Christmas in mind, its architects intent on creating a city that comes into its own when afternoons draw in and there's an excuse to festoon buildings in festive lights.

Unsurprisingly, the large Town Hall Square hosts a vast Christmas market that runs for 40 days from 29 November to 7 January. There's a sense of stepping back in time as you mooch around the alleys, strolling past gabled houses and half-hidden courtyards.

Cavernous cafes fogged by steaming milk lurk enticingly on every corner; and if you want to see the view that adorns every box of chocolates, walk up to the elevated vantage point and take in a panoply of russet-coloured rooftops, Gothic spires, the vertiginous TV tower built for the 1980 Moscow Olympics and the harbour ferrying in Finns from Helsinki, an hour across the Baltic Sea.

The following morning I'm met at my hotel by a charming local couple, Eva-Maria and Indrek - young entrepreneurs in fur hats, armed with a wealth of local knowledge.

Booked on a personal tour covering the city's Soviet legacy, I fold myself into their Eighties Lada and am shown the surviving landmarks of that dubious epoch. Estonia gained its independence in 1992 but spent most of the 20th century within the Soviet Union.

We pass the old KGB headquarters where unfortunate individuals were shot or sent to exile in Siberia; visit the grisly, derelict carcass of Paterai, a waterfront prison; plus I'm shown around a makeshift statue graveyard that houses the toppled remains of giant granite Stalins.

I also spend a strangely thrilling hour firing guns with real ammunition at an indoor shooting range. Instructor Tonu looks as deadly as the cartridges littering the floor but his patient instruction soon has me wielding an AK-47 like a pro. I can't say what smelt the most - the gunpowder or the whiff of testosterone.

Back in the tank, Eva-Maria tells me she is the daughter of Harry Egipt, perhaps the country's most famous film producer.

In the Seventies and Eighties, his all-singing, all-dancing TV commercials sold Soviet housewives everything from washing powder to minced chicken. Genius examples of their type, they're as kitsch and wildly dated as you might imagine, and recently revived for the title credits of Borat.

As we sit watching them on a laptop, it's obvious how far this country has come. Tallinn is a city on the rise, with an educated workforce, high technological standards and an overwhelming desire to be modern. Estonia also wants to be known as a Nordic state rather than an eastern European country, and the proliferation of cool blondes manning hotel receptions and world-class restaurants reflects this.

While not every girl here is quite as desirable as local model Carmen Kass, stag parties still descend on the city looking for beer, love and everything in between.

If it's wenches you're after, the only compulsory thing to do in Tallinn is eat at Olde Hansa, a sort of medieval Hard Rock Cafe that swaps burgers for bear steaks and employs staff straight out of The Canterbury Tales (with a Carry On film twist).

Eating in the city veers from the rustic to the sublime. If pushed, I'd say try modern Estonian at Mekk in the Savoy Boutique Hotel for gourmet soups and clever ways with lamb.

On my return home, an old woman serving food at the airport cafe cracks her knuckles and eyes me contemptuously. "You have to order butter in advance," she booms in faltering English.

I get dry bread as thick as a doorstep, and rich mushroom soup garnished with dill. It's delicious.

Madam Brezhnev looks at me devouring every spoonful and grins from ear to ear. She's probably thinking: "I bet he doesn't get that in Gatvik."

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Estonia's Tallinn is like a Petri dish of capitalism

It's amazing what a stretch of water can do. The country of Estonia sits across the Baltic Sea from Sweden and Finland. Yet the struggles of the last couple of generations couldn't be more different on opposite sides of the sea. Traveling to this former Soviet republic spices up any visit to this region — especially if you connect with the people and tune into their story about their struggle for freedom.

During World War II, Estonia lost its independence to Soviet expansion and sank into a 50-year communist twilight. In an attempt to "Russify" the country, the Soviets moved out Estonians, moved in Russians, and built massive-scale, cookie-cutter apartment blocks. During my visit here in the 1980s — when labor was cheaper than light bulbs — an old babushka would actually go through museums with me turning on and off lights as we went from room to room.

Those days are long gone. Estonia's thriving capital, Tallinn, is like a Petri dish of capitalism. Just 50 miles from Helsinki and an overnight boat ride from Stockholm, the city is busy cleaning up the mess left by the communist experiment. New shops, restaurants, and hotels are bursting out of old buildings. Just a few years old, the striking Kumu Art Museum brings Estonian art together in one place, with many key works purchased after 1991, the year Estonia gained independence. Before then, only pieces that fit the communist ideology were added to the collection.

Creative businesses are flourishing all over the city. Once, while on a midmorning coffee break, I stepped into a courtyard inhabited by booming little businesses. I wanted to sit at the courtyard's trendy little cafe with its wicker chairs rocking on the rough cobbles. The seat I was eyeing seemed empty, but it had a vest hanging on it. So I looked for another empty spot; it had a vest, too. I really, really needed a coffee and wanted a seat. Then I realized every chair had a different vest hanging on it. Estonian chic.

Despite modernization, Tallinn makes you feel that culturally, you've traveled far. The city's Nordic Lutheran culture and language connect it with its Scandinavian neighbors, but two centuries of Tsarist Russian rule and 50 years in the Soviet Union have added a distinctly Russian flavor. Among Nordic medieval cities, there's none nearly as well-preserved as this one. Its mostly intact city wall includes 26 watchtowers, each topped by a pointy red roof. Within its walled center, colorfully painted medieval houses share cobbled lanes with blocky, communist-style buildings.

While tourists see a peaceful scene today, Estonians still see reminders of dark times. Locals joke that Hotel Viru — a blocky white skyscraper — was built from a new Soviet wonder material called "micro-concrete" (60 percent concrete, 40 percent microphones). St. Olav's Church is notable for what was once the tallest spire in Scandinavia. It's also a reminder that the KGB used the church's tower to block Finnish TV signals. With Tallinn within rabbit-ear distance of Helsinki, Finnish television gave Estonians their only look at Western lifestyles. People still tell stories of the day Finland broadcast the soft-porn movie "Emmanuelle." Throughout Estonia, locals hadn't seen anything like it, prompting a historic migration to Tallinn. Nine months later, the country experienced a spike in births.

These days, the city is enlivened with Estonians enjoying their freedom. Baroque and choral music rings out from old Lutheran churches. The Town Hall Square — where knights once showed off in chivalrous tournaments, and criminals were chained to pillories for public humiliation — is now full of Scandinavians savoring cheap beer and children singing on the bandstand.

Just outside the city, the Song Festival Grounds host a huge national festival every five years, with 25,000 singers and 100,000 spectators. While it features big pop-music acts, too, it's most compelling for the role it played in Estonia's fight for independence in the late 1980s. Last summer, I visited here with a guide named Mati, who spent his time in the USSR military driving Soviet officers around the Crimea.

Mati explained to me that when Estonia was breaking away from the Soviet Union, more than 300,000 people — a third of the country — gathered to sing. Locals would put on folk costumes knitted by their grandmothers and travel here to sing in defiance of Soviet rule. This became known as the Singing Revolution. "We are so few in number we must emphasize that we exist," said Mati. "We had no weapons. All we could do was be together and sing. This was our power."

I was so inspired that I went back to my hotel, purchased the documentary "The Singing Revolution" from iTunes, and watched it right there. Any visitor to Estonia not tuned into this stirring bit of modern history misses a beautiful opportunity to be inspired by a valiant people's struggle.

Source http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/ricksteveseurope/20104~.html

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Craftsmanship surging in Estonia

Estonia is known for its innovativeness and eagerness to adopt and invent new technologies. Yet the old and the traditional has not at all been forgotten. Among the Nordic capitals, only Tallinn and Lubeck have far-reaching roots in the history of marzipan.

The recipe for marzipan was invented in Hanseatic Tallinn by a student at Town Hall Apothecary, which is also known as the oldest apothecary in the world. Since then marzipan (originally Marci Panis) has been produced in Tallinn. When visiting Tallinn, it is suggested to go to one of the two marzipan museums in Tallinn, on Pikk street 16, or Viru street 4, where one can shape all sorts of marzipan figures. These are popular places for celebrating children’s birthdays among the locals. Also, Estonia’s biggest chocolate manufacturer Kalev had its start, in 1806, in Pikk street’s marzipan boutique in the Old Town. Kalev celebrates its 203rd birthday this year.

As for handmade sweets, the selection is wide. Chocolaterie Cafe on Vene street 6 offers a Parisian atmosphere along with handmade chocolates made on site, with almost religious care. It is told that the owner of the chocolaterie, Peeter Reier, learned the “sweet art” from an old master of Brussels, and his truffles are definitely worth tasting.

A new and growing trend in Estonia is to eat chocolate to stay healthy. Healing handmade chocolate bars and truffels are produced by Kolleste Kommimeistrid in the southern Estonian town Polvamaa. There is no magic behind the recipe, but there is science. The handmade chocolate bars contain pollen, propolis, or honey, and are copyrighted by the company as being unique, and are sold in pharmacies. It is known that propolis carries similar healing properties as do weaker antibiotics, able to kill over 100 different viruses. But antibiotics also kill the “good viruses,” while propolis removes the “bad.”

CEO of Kolleste Kommimeistrid Imre Sokk says that sales of their handmade chocolates, (especially those with propolis) has shown significant growth in recent months. Whether it’s due to this period of flu-panic, or just greater awareness of the healthiness of propolis and pollen chocolates, people have started to consume more of them.

“It is a unique recipe in the world, which we have copyrighted, and strongly suggest to eat it every now and then,” Sokk explains. Sokk comes from a family of apiculturists, and one day he started to research for more possibilities for honey and its byproducts. He came across the idea of chocolate and now their pollen and propolis chocolates are sold in Estonia’s pharmacies, stores and shops, as well as in Finland and Latvia. In Russia, Estonia’s embassies and consulates have taken the role of representing the chocolates. Sokk says he very much appreciates Russian customers, as they are always aware of what they look for. The CEO says he has witnessed no crisis at his company – on the contrary, their turnover shows a continuous growth trend.

“Saaremaa Sepad” – the Blacksmiths of Saaremaa – is a strong brand in Estonia and the Baltic sea region. Even though new technologies enrich the work of blacksmiths, this profession has retained something ancient and beautiful about it. Many look for their Christmas and birthday presents to the boutiques of Saaremaa Sepad. These presents carry in themselves the knowledge and legends of hundreds of years of craft.

Saaremaa is the biggest of the numerous islands of Estonia. The Finnish-like Saaremaa is known for historical and cultural reasons, as well as for the famous Saaremaa’s Waltz, by Georg Ots. Saaremaa has also kept its good fame among Russians. Latvians and Lithuanians like to come to seek the magic of this island, since they  don’t have islands themselves. Undoubtedly it drives from the high quality, uniqueness and rich variety of products of Saaremaa Sepad, but also from the strength of Saaremaa as a brand.

“We produce items that blacksmiths made in the old times,” Tullio Ella, master of the blacksmith’s workshop of Saaremaa Sepad explains, adding that their partly handmade production keeps historical traditions alive. “We also meet the needs of people who come to us with their own designs, and give our best to fulfill their expectations,” showing why their products stay unique. The company has been in business since 1997, but the skills and know-how this profession has probably date back to times when Estonians were still Vikings (Vikingr fra Esthland, or Aestland) and ancient traders. 

“Our blacksmiths are trained by Uulo Sink and have a long experience,” reveals Ella. He is a man who knows some secrets and legends of blacksmiths, being an honored member of one of Saaremaa’s oldest known families of blacksmiths. Probably the first blacksmiths came with the needs of ship-makers, in addition to making swords and other military equipment.

One will find candlesticks, horseshoes, souvenir keys, swords, bells, fireplace accessories, building accessories, grills and even furniture. The company itself sends real horseshoes as gifts to their business partners for Christmas. Ella says “This is so that they would be marked by the real horses that once used them,” he explains, expressing the goodwill shown towards their partners. This company also, in spite the world crisis, has managed to expand its business in recent years.
Saaremaa Sepad’s craftwork is sold in Finland, Sweden, Germany, Latvia, Lithuania, and soon in Norway as well. One can find their representative shops in Tallinn and Riga, the company also has a Web shop.

Ship-making and boatbuilding are old professions in Estonia. There are some 150 companies in the country currently making fishing-boats, barges, sailing boats, motorboats, military boats and even tankers. Being surrounded by water from three sides (some 70 percent of Estonia’s borders are located on the water), this profession has always been highly respected on the coastline and the islands of Estonia. TTU Kuressaare College trains experts in the field, along with other educational institutions.

OU Lindvart, an innovative boat-builder from Saaremaa, has recently finished designing and building a new innovative electric motorboat – Linda520. So typical in Amsterdam and Venice, it’s the first of its kind in the Baltic, they claim, and contributes to saving our planet from CO2 emissions. This elegant and silent design-boat is also usable on inland lakes and rivers, where the use of regular motorboats is forbidden. The boat is retro-looking, ecological and innovative at the same time. It is silent and emission-free, and needs to be charged every now and then, but is cheaper to maintain than a usual motorboat.

Design-wise, the boat is a rebirth of the design of Artur Vakrom, Saaremaa’s famous pre-war boatmaker and designer. The boat is made by father and son, Edgar and Kristjan Kana. Lindvart hopes to sell at least 30 boats per year in the future.
Estonia has recently been conquered by a cult of local embroidery, typically invading homes and wardrobes with beautiful and colorful patterns of the Muhu island and other regions. The Web page of Kadakmari represents most of the area’s handicraft shops. The most valuable are carpets and bedcovers, the making of which take up to three months.

Many are familiar with traders of knitted woolen clothing sold on the streets of Old Tallinn. One of the oldest factories is Hiiu Vill, on the island of Hiiumaa, where the local wool is turned into yarn and our deft-fingered artisans use it to make beautiful knitwear. Everything is made from local wool, and some of the machinery dates back to the 19th century. One of the owners, Tiiu Valdma, designs the clothing herself.

It is also a must to get acquainted with the pottery of “Eddi Potitehas” when in Parnu. The pottery was opened in 1996, and is famous for its blue ice-flower, or crystal pattern. It is possible to learn to make pottery under the guidance of Eddi personally, on site. There are many old ceramic factories in Estonia, but this one is memorable due to its personal touch.

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