Tallinn (Estonia) and Helsinki (Finland)

Just a 2.5 hr boat ride from Tallinn across the Gulf of Finland lies Helsinki, Finland. We arrived at the Tallinn port to discover crowds of people hitting up the liquor store in the terminal. Apparently, the skyrocketing prices that would meet us in Finland are so notorious that there are ads for deals of - not six packs - but cases (!) of drinks (soft or hard variety) that come with a complementary dolly for easy portability. What kind of place was it that we were heading that normal-looking families felt the need to stockpile hand carts of energy drinks and vodka?

One surprise meeting us first off was the ferry. It was really a cruise liner. Two thousand people swarmed the 9 decks in under 30 minutes. Had you not sprung the extra for a cabin, an early boarding and rush to claim the choicest seats should be in your plans, lest you be one of the unfortunate souls who had to huddle in a corner on the floor next to the raucous children's play area. In our innocence, we were lucky and rode the tide that ended up at tables in a bar with a decent view. The pros had already booked dinners in the buffet restaurant (sold out, even at 22 euros a head, which at the time we thought was a little pricey) or the fancy Italian place with white linens and a jacket and tie requirement. We survived on mashed potatoes and meatballs from the cafeteria that Rich said tasted like Ikea. To be fair, there were a fair amount of Swedes on board, and Swedish is the second official language in Finland.

Upon docking, we discovered fairer weather in Helsinki than we'd had all trip. Chilly, yes, especially as the night drew on, but sunnier than in the rest of the Baltics. If you weren't aware already that Finnish design is internationally renown, there are signs everywhere announcing Helsinki's appointment as the 2012 World Capital of Design. At the Design Museum, you can see what it's all about. The neo-Gothic exterior is nothing very special, but the interior houses a permanent collection showcasing the history of Finnish design in furniture, textiles, and other media. Objects like your standard orange-handled scissors (made by the Finnish company Fiskars) remind the visitor of their everyday contact with Finnish design. There's also an obvious but charming bias for Nokia - also Finnish - products. One exhibit traced the process from concept to finished piece, including a highly amusing student project where childless friends can utilize mock dolls in an attempt to reconnect with their friends who have reproduced... complete with a handy dictionary! Another fascinating exhibit highlighted how contemporary design can be used to solve international aid challenges. There was a sturdy flat-pack house with a porch for refugees, water containers that can be air-lifted to drought-stricken areas with parachutes that double as tents, and bicycles that store energy and monitor urban pollution and traffic. The only downside was that the "No Touch" rules of a museum are still in effect. This seemed a little unfair where texture and feel are integral to the design. 

Tallinn, Part II (Estonia)

There is more to Tallinn than the Old Town. We ventured out to the wooded neighbourhood of Kadriorg Park. Meaning "Catherine's Valley" in Estonian, Kadriorg was named for Catherine I of Russia, wife of Emperor Peter the Great. Their 18th Century baroque palace now houses the foreign art collection of the Art Museum of Estonia.

The star of Kadriorg Park, though, is the KUMU. The Kunstimuuseum, or "Art Museum" in Estonian, is an impressive glass building, sharp and soaring (designed by a Finnish architect), at the end of a long, tree-lined boulevard. And we couldn't get in. One of the problems with traveling during the holidays is that places of interest - say, one of the largest art museums in Northern Europe - might not be open when they should be. We had trudged through the snow of that long, tree-lined boulevard only to stare in disbelief at closed doors. Eventually, a young German couple and an older German lady joined us in the hopes that we had all been mistaken, our watches might be a little fast, and maybe it was a little earlier than the 11:00 opening. After 20 minutes of shifting and stamping our feet to stay warm and peering into the darkness of the hallways, we had to admit defeat and retreated.We returned the next day and were triumphant! We even exchanged a nod of victory with the older German lady when we met again - indoors - at the coat check. The permanent collection is large, and we didn't see everything. Of particular interest were Difficult Choices (an exhibit on art and propaganda during Estonia's period as a Soviet state), the hall with works by Kaido Ole (an Estonian artist curiously obsessed with caster wheels), and the highly disturbing exhibit by Lithuanian artist Šarūnas Sauka. Originally drawn in by the thumbnail of his "Man with Problems" in the KUMU brochure, we quickly realized this was probably one of the only pieces they could have put on such a public piece of paper without someone being disgusted or offended. Sauka's paintings and sculptures evoke the details and religious themes of Hieronymous Bosch, except more twisted and graphic in its sexual and food fetishes. I was kinda  appalled that some parents brought their 7 year-old son in with them. That kid was probably going to have nightmares... because I certainly was! 

Tallinn (Estonia)

Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, is a fine city. As an important port for trade in the Gulf of Finland between Western/Northern Europe and Russia, it was owned at some point by the Danes, Germans, Swedes, and Russians. The charming Old Town - much larger than Riga's - reflects its medieval heritage. We embraced it by sampling some of the culinary history. In one candle-lit establishment, you can choose a "feast" from a menu in the style of an illuminated manuscript - calligraphy and all - while minstrels in medieval dress play flutes and drums in an upper loft. Traditional recipes paraded before us: juniper-marinated smoked beef, crisp pickles, smoked salmon, grilled salmon in a savory sauce with some unidentified nut, forest berries (possibly currants or lingonberries), rabbit in a wild mushroom sauce, and saffron spelt. Our personal favorites though were the game pot (a rich, minced mixture of wild game), the braised wild boar (almost like having barbecue), and the sausages made from moose, elk, and BEAR! No wonder people in those days were always suffering from gout. In case such feasting makes one thirsty, the beers come in big crockery to put some hair on your chest. But seriously, my cinnamon beer was really lovely, probably the closest I will ever get to pumpkin ale in Europe. Ok, the place was a little touristy, but we never did get to go to Medieval Times in the States, and the food here was really pretty good.

Tallinn has more modern alternatives, too. Every corner seemed to have a chic restaurant touting haute cuisine - morel soup! - or a cozy cafe with delectable cakes and dozens of armchairs to sink into. Sure, there were still places catering to the bachelor party pub crawl crowd. Nevertheless, there are also boutiques selling one-off pieces for the aspiring fashionista. Quality Estonian woolen handicrafts (each region has its own distinctive patterns), woodwork, and ironwork are abundant in the high street shops as well. Rich was so fascinated with the latter that I suspect he'd build a forge and start a smithy if we had the space. He had to content himself with buying a sinister-looking iron knife, which the shop lady raved was indispensable in the kitchen.

Viljandi (Estonia)

The bus ride from Valka/ Valga to Viljandi was mostly uneventful, despite the promising moose-crossing signs on the roads. While the Latvian countryside had continued to evoke the Midwestern U.S. (flat, snowy farmland unbroken except for the occasional small copse or windbreak of trees and decrepit barn), the rolling landscape around Viljandi reminded Rich of a postcard England. The town helped, too. Cottagey buildings and village greens were tucked into winding, narrow streets. All that was really missing were the thatched roofs.

Castle Park (yes, more castles!) is the star of Viljandi. There are ruins of a 13th Century Teutonic Knight castle, plunging ravines where the ancient moat lay, and a picturesque suspension bridge. There is also a lake at the foot of the park - frozen currently - that in the summer sees all manner of water sports.

The Kondas Centre showcases famous local artists. The eponymous Estonian artist Paul Kondas is best known for Strawberry Eaters, an oil painting which for me looks like sunburned folks with creepy smiles all going for a bowl of fruit just before they go after YOU! It's true - you can tell by the glint in their eyes! Needless to say, we appreciated the offerings from other Viljandi artists more, including whimsical pieces from a children's book illustrator, stylish drawings from a graphic designer, and an impressive selection of traditional wooden and woolen handicrafts made by the local schoolchildren. Actually, it was encouraging that there were several places throughout our trip where we saw arts education and the learning of traditional crafts by the younger generation were being promoted. One of our favorites was an amusing series of paintings of animals with donuts decorating the walls of a donut shop (names, ages, and grades of the artists on proud display).

Sigulda (Latvia) and Valka (Latvia) / Valga (Estonia)

We made our way out of Sigulda with some trepidation. In theory, we should be able to make it all the way to Viljandi in Estonia with public transportation. However, the details were sketchy at best, and our guide book had already proved more out of date than we liked. The first hiccup we had noticed when we arrived in Sigulda - the train station was closed for renovation. After wandering around a bit, we found the temporary office. We boarded the train bright and early. The carriage was never more than a third full, but as the stations ticked away towards the Latvia-Estonia border, it became emptier and emptier until there was no one left on the train except us and the two ticket checkers. Each station we passed was more remote and didn't even appear to be connected to any town or village. The only sign of civilization would be the lone station agent greeting the train in uniform and cap, holding a colored circular paddle like something out of Thomas the Tank Engine. I did get to see a couple of antelope through a clearing in the pine forests though.

Luckily, Valka (in Latvian), or Valga (in Estonian), magically appeared more town-like on the border. Of course, we had exhausted all the highlights on the visitor's map within the 2.5 hour wait for the next leg of our journey. But the slightly desperate ladies in the tourist information center were really friendly, and the cafe they recommended served us almost a taste of North Carolina - hamburgers with cole slaw! Best of all, catching the coach bus onto Viljandi ended up being relatively cheap and painless. This low season, off-the-tourist-trail plan was becoming easy peasy.