Estonia in Glorious Eurovision_world

Estonia in Glorious Eurovision

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Why do I do it? Why do I pick out the trainee check-in desk clerk just because she looks nice? Her boss hovered over her, prompting her with every line, which she delivered as though she were a hostage making one of those phone calls to her parents (I\'m OK, I\'m being treated well, please tell the Government to release the Libyans etc.). Deep down I knew that this marked the beginning of a long separation between myself and my bag. The plane to Stockholm was one of the smallest I had seen, and that included several model aeroplanes. As I climbed the three steps and smiled at the inevitably attractive air hostess, I remembered my last plane trip, a particularly joyous occasion six years ago when I returned from spending a year in Germany. Manchester had never looked so inviting as on that day. I quite liked flying really, apart from the takeoff, where I always closed my eyes and tried to nod off, since if I am going to die I want to be only ninety per cent aware of the fact. JZ Skyways, mmm... doesn\'t have the reassuring ring of BA or Lufthansa does it? Anyway, once that we were level and the cold chicken and rice came round, I relaxed and begin to fall into a sort of fitful doze, occasionally prising open a tired eye to take in the wonderful view of the Baltic and the island-infested Swedish coastline.

Meanwhile, a brief, very brief stop in Stockholm and a transfer to a bigger, but just as empty plane to Tallinn, capital of Estonia. And after a gourmet snack of a ham sandwich with a barrel of salt poured onto it, we skimmed above the forested hinterland of Tallinn and landed at the airport. The terminal itself was just one long greenhouse. There was one entrance, two passport officials, and a very empty arrivals hall. This was, of course, because this was the only plane that had arrived at the airport for some time, days in fact as far as I could tell. The one baggage carousel was empty in minutes, the arrivals hall was empty in minutes, all except a bored looking woman in the baggage office, and me. It was no place for agrophobics. The carousel was switched off, no more bags. I had problem. Which is exactly what I sorrowfully said to the bored woman on the baggage desk. But wait, she speaks English! Hurrah! After she had taken my baggage tag, having rejected two bits of boarding pass, she showed me a chart with about twenty different types of bag on it. Choose one, she said. Of course, none of them looked remotely like my bag, but I pointed to one and she informed me that my bags would not be here before midnight. Smelly undies in the morning then.

I changed some money (virtually coinless society, they even have a 4p banknote) and leaving a trail of cheese biscuits leaking from my pockets along the gleaming, spotless, slick as glass floor I went to wait for the bus. The normal rigmarole for catching buses in Continental Europe is a bit of a trial, as invariably it requires buying tickets from those little kiosk places that stand on every street corner and usually in between as well, not to mention having to work out how to punch the damn thing in the machine on the bus, whilst a plain clothes ticket inspector circles around the helpless floundering foreigner. With zero knowledge of the local language it is never an enticing prospect. Imagine my delight when all I had to do was get on the bus, chuck some cash at the driver, and say "Kesklinn" which meant "Centre", a fact conveniently displayed on a nearby roadsign. The ride took about five minutes, which made me realise that Tallinn is possibly the only capital city in Europe where one could walk from the plane to the city centre in less than half an hour. We came to a sort of commercial area, with a hotel where half the bus got off, so I followed (good tip, always follow the locals). Feeling liberated without my heavy pack, I wandered off down a bit of an alleyway where lots of reconstruction was taking place and emerged at a small but very modern and extremely clean hotel with nice English speaking staff. They even showed me to my room, rather than just throwing the key at me and going back to the crossword. The room was big with a modern bathroom, a double bed (!) a telly, and a fridge! I gratefully flopped on the bed awhile, had a shower, idly nodded off and checked that the telly worked.

City Square I emerged into the blissfully warm Tallinn evening and headed for the old town, a matter of yards from the hotel door. The Old Town offered a melange of styles and atmospheres, on the one hand Eastern European with the endless kiosks and cobbled streets and street hawkers and view of the more Soviet architecture beyond, but also the Western designer shops and electrical shops and of course MacDonalds, and in some ways it felt even Mediterranean with the narrow streets and the old city walls and archways and pavement cafes and, of course, the sun.

I walked steadily up the hill, past the locals and the surprising number of tourists up to the town square. Always a good place to get your bearings. The town hall square was a modest affair, set on a slope with a slightly unusual town hall set to one side. You tend to expect ornate, gothic town halls of large dimensions whilst travelling around Europe, but this one was small, white-washed and covered in scaffolding, understated yet refreshingly simple. Most encouraging were the ring of pavement cafes and bars which encircled the square, well patronised and, as the sun cast it\'s long shadow across the shiny cobbles of the square, tempting beyond words. I stopped at one and had my first Saku beer, pale, thin tasting, but refreshing, then again canal water would have been refreshing in this perfect setting. Tallinn seemed to be a very good place to sit and do nothing, just sit and have a beer, nothing more required. The atmosphere was very laid back and easy, but most noticeable was the lack of any threat or hassle or aggressive beggars which you tend to get in capital cities. Everyone who passed seemed to be enjoying life, not exactly shouting it from the rooftops, but just feeling very happy. The people were markedly Scandinavian, either blond and beautiful, or pale with jet-black hair and deep green eyes. This trait was particularly prevalent amongst the women, who were the most stunning human beings I had ever encountered in my relatively short existence. So I had another beer, which was almost the same price as in Britain, a minor irritation. I noticed the Scandinavian strain as I was travelling from the airport and was struck by the contrast between the relatively well-groomed people and their drab Soviet surroundings. Rather like the entire Swedish population had been forcedly transported to Kiev or somewhere. They were out of place, indeed they had been out of place since 1945. A Western European people, their homeland Russified, but their genetics unaltered.

Talking of Russification I climbed the hill towards Toompea, leaving behind a chanting troup of Hare Krishna monks in Raekoja plats (Town Hall Square). The Hare Krishna movement is rapidly becoming the religious equivalent of McDonalds, you turn a corner, and hey presto there they are. Toompea offers a great contrast. It was, and still is the symbol of power in Estonia, having been the place where Tallinn was founded as a fortress back in the 13th Century. To stand on the Castle Square today is to witness an amazing contrast in historical fortune. This one site tells the story of Estonia as well as any history book ever could. Approaching from the Kiek in de K鰇, a medieval tower of which more later, on the left you have the modern centre of Estonian government, Toompea Castle, not really a castle at all, more of a palatial rather uninspiring complex of government offices, not unattractive as such things go, but hardly a tourist

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