And then there was Tallinn

"Please don't let there be an old town, please don't let there be an old town".
This mantra was circling through my mind as The Boy and I jumped off the bus in Tallinn, Estonia, weary and travel grumpy.

We've been gradually travelling east on our way back to the land of Oz, generally only deciding on the next location a day or two before we jump on a train. On a spur of the moment decision we decided to also include the Baltic States on our trip, the lure of the mysterious east winning out.
Images of immense forests, cloud topped mountains and mysterious folkorish characters were continuously playing through my mind in the trip, and I was absolutely enchanted when I arrived.

The winding streets of the beautiful, medieval cities of Vilnius and Riga were like fairyland - sure there were touristy parts but for the large part we could wander aimlessly without seeing anyone else, hunting out quaint vintage stores and art galleries as well as hidden cafes and pubs.  Like good tourists we also saw all the 'must see' sights, but in towns this small that's a matter of hours. But like all medieval towns there's the old town and new town (cheers urban sprawl!) and after a little while all the old town squares I'd seen during the past month had started to meld together, they were breathtakingly beautiful but I was desperate to see and experience something different.

Which is where Tallinn comes in. After deciding on a visit to Helsinki for a few days we made our way to Tallinn in Estonia for the ferry trip across, adding a day in to explore the city itself. Which brings me back to my little mantra. We hiked from the bus stop to our hostel, grunting at each other in communication, our enthusiasm dropping with every kilometre and it was only the need for food which drove us out of the hostel an hour later.

But Tallinn was like no other city we'd been to before. Yes it was a beautiful medieval city with gorgeous views but it was also a city where the run down industrial areas in the outskirts have been re-purposed into local eating areas, the local jail (closed in the early 2000s) has been opened to the public in the same state it was in when it shut down - if you want to see the operating table in the medical ward it's still there! - with a funky beach cafe behind it full of locals and a Russian Flea Market where the mantra seems to be if you want it, we've got it. Including apparently at one point AK-47s which had only been stopped with lead. These were only confiscated when idiotic tourists were buying them as souvenirs and taking them to the airport for the trip home. A little scary!

But that's pretty much what I loved about it. Tallinn wasn't just another beautiful city, it had an edge to it which the locals embraced rather than trying to cover it up.

And you've got to admit it, that's a pretty cool mentality in this age of ever-increasing tourism.

What do you guys think?

The jail

Street graffiti at the jail

Beach cafe in Tallinn

Inside the jail

In the Telliskivi Centre

View of the Old Town

The only way to travel

As the heat of the August day started to wane The Boy and I hauled our backpacks on and hoisted ourselves on board an old train in a village on the edge of the Czech Republic. We were headed to Poland and had decided to save a few pennies and train it there. The train was old and noisy, the seats in the carriages were upholstered in a material straight out of the 1970s and judging by the noise the brakes made that was probably the last time they had been oiled too.

We settled down into our seats, opened the window wide so the smell of freshly mown grass could drift in, and immediately fell in love with the romance of it all. With a groan and a few too many bumps we started to move and the countryside flashing by was beautiful; fields and forests flashed by dotted here and there with tiny villages and families out enjoying the cooler afternoon. Our was only broken by the sporadic tin whistle from the train

I’ve long been a fan of train travel. Besides the obvious benefit of not spending hours on either end in an airport and then still having to push through customs at a snail pace, there’s the chance to actually see the country you’re travelling in rather than just the cities in all their touristic glory. As far as I’m concerned there’s something intrinsically romantic about train travel as well, it calls to mind the glory days of steam trains puffing across Europe, although considering there was a murder on the Orient Express there must be some downsides.

The Boy and I settled into our seats, the material hot behind our backs, for the four hour trip. But almost straight away The Boy was up and hanging out the window, camera in hand trying to snap a perfect shot of the sun sinking behind the trees, a forested area full of wildflowers or a solitary man working with a scythe in a field. Passengers came and went, seemingly amused by how enchanted The Boy and I were with our surroundings until darkness forced us to pull our heads back within the carriage and settle down. 

Its not often that I fall in love with a trip between destinations. Normally I'm grumpy from last minute packing and the rush to the station/airport all the while struggling with shoulder bruises from my too heavy backpack that I refuse to lighten, and by the time I've settled into my seat visions of where I am headed are usually dancing in front of my eyes. All the time in between daydreams is normally reserved for reading, sporadic writing or catching up on some shut eye.

But for now I think it's safe to say I'm a convert. At least until I buy tickets for a 10 hour trip.