Tallinn, Estonia
In Estonia, we resumed the schedule of ship-sponsored tours with "Glory of Old Tallinn." The opportunity to visit Tallinn was probably the biggest factor in our decision to cruise the Baltic; while we'd been thinking of possible honeymoon sites, President Bush made a stopover in Tallinn, and virtually every news break included the phrase "magnificent walled city."
It was a short bus ride from the port to the gates of the upper city, historically the home of knights and landowners (ie, power), while the merchants (ie, money) stayed in the lower city. Catherine the Great had a small pink castle built just inside the wall, which is now the offices of Parliament. Opposite is the rather new Alexander Nevsky cathedral, which we entered from the side to find a service in progress--even the priest seemed bored.
Our next stop was the Lutheran church, which was surprisingly ornate inside. As in a theater, there were private boxes reserved for the nobility; we all immediately noted that some were higher and closer to the altar than the pulpit.
From there, we stopped in a side street for a longish talk about living under communism, and its long-term effects, before continuing to a scenic overlook above the lower city where we stopped for photos, shopping, and buskers. The oddest little salesman was offering Russian passports and an old gas mask (the others stuck to postcards, amber, and nesting dolls).
We crossed through a 15th-century gate and down a very steep street to the lower town to visit St. Nicholas church, notably the only building in town damaged in WWII (by friendly fire from Russia). On display was the only remaining portion of Bernt Notke's Totentanz, one of a pair of 150-foot danse macabre paintings. I spent as much time as I could at a temporary exhibit of historic church bells; I wrote in my notes that 200 Estonian church bells went "missing" after WWII, but later discovered the issue was bigger than that (link in German). We were treated to a short concert by a string quartet from the Estonian National Opera, featuring "light classics," arrangements of famous arias, and an inexplicable "Fiddler on the Roof" medley.
After the concert, we walked to the town square, near city hall, which was mostly populated by cafes and tourists. The city hall is topped by a weather vane called Fat Thomas, has brightly colored metal dragon head gargoyles added supersticiously after the upper city burned, and features manacles attached to the walls facing the square, for folks sentenced to the pillory. Shortly after we left the city square, our guide gave us the opportunity to ride the scheduled bus back to the ship, or stay in town to poke around. Of course we stayed.
We went to a popular-looking cafe for lunch, called Double Coffee, realizing too late that it was popular with obnoxious twentysomething American expats. At least the food was good. From there, we went back into the upper city (did I mention how steep the street was?) to mail thank-you notes from the Post Office opposite Alexander Nevsky. The cathedral was absolutely packed, with hordes spilling out into the street, and we were very glad to have gone earlier. The postal employees spoke at least three languages while we were within earshot, so getting airmail stamps for cards to the US was very simple, but wow was I disappointed with the design! Here I was, thinking sending our thank-you notes from Europe would be a really cool gesture, and I'm willing to bet a lot of the recipients didn't even notice they came from outside the US: what should have been ye olde typical Estonian stamp was in fact the Rotary International logo.
Back down in the lower city, I went sweater-shopping in one of the stores guaranteed by the cruise line; one of the two I bought was a one-of-a-kind prototype, and I just picked it out because it was pretty. Lucky me! We continued to a wool market just inside the city wall, where local handcrafters sold beautiful sweaters and other knits; that was one of the few cases where I really wished we had more luggage space for souvenirs. After that, we went rather quickly through a souvenir market just outside the wall, continued to a liquor store about halfway to the port, went through a mall at the ferry port, and finally returned to the cruise terminal thinking we'd just have to leave the country with our pockets full of useless Estonian kroons.
Parked at the cruise dock was a tractor-trailer from a local chocolate company, of which the side folded down to create a mobile chocolate store. Why every country didn't do this I shall never know. Each of the two ships carried about 3,000 people, none of whom had any interest in dragging kroons all over creation, and keen to exchange them for something more valuable, so why not chocolate?
It was a short bus ride from the port to the gates of the upper city, historically the home of knights and landowners (ie, power), while the merchants (ie, money) stayed in the lower city. Catherine the Great had a small pink castle built just inside the wall, which is now the offices of Parliament. Opposite is the rather new Alexander Nevsky cathedral, which we entered from the side to find a service in progress--even the priest seemed bored.
Our next stop was the Lutheran church, which was surprisingly ornate inside. As in a theater, there were private boxes reserved for the nobility; we all immediately noted that some were higher and closer to the altar than the pulpit.
From there, we stopped in a side street for a longish talk about living under communism, and its long-term effects, before continuing to a scenic overlook above the lower city where we stopped for photos, shopping, and buskers. The oddest little salesman was offering Russian passports and an old gas mask (the others stuck to postcards, amber, and nesting dolls).
We crossed through a 15th-century gate and down a very steep street to the lower town to visit St. Nicholas church, notably the only building in town damaged in WWII (by friendly fire from Russia). On display was the only remaining portion of Bernt Notke's Totentanz, one of a pair of 150-foot danse macabre paintings. I spent as much time as I could at a temporary exhibit of historic church bells; I wrote in my notes that 200 Estonian church bells went "missing" after WWII, but later discovered the issue was bigger than that (link in German). We were treated to a short concert by a string quartet from the Estonian National Opera, featuring "light classics," arrangements of famous arias, and an inexplicable "Fiddler on the Roof" medley.
After the concert, we walked to the town square, near city hall, which was mostly populated by cafes and tourists. The city hall is topped by a weather vane called Fat Thomas, has brightly colored metal dragon head gargoyles added supersticiously after the upper city burned, and features manacles attached to the walls facing the square, for folks sentenced to the pillory. Shortly after we left the city square, our guide gave us the opportunity to ride the scheduled bus back to the ship, or stay in town to poke around. Of course we stayed.
We went to a popular-looking cafe for lunch, called Double Coffee, realizing too late that it was popular with obnoxious twentysomething American expats. At least the food was good. From there, we went back into the upper city (did I mention how steep the street was?) to mail thank-you notes from the Post Office opposite Alexander Nevsky. The cathedral was absolutely packed, with hordes spilling out into the street, and we were very glad to have gone earlier. The postal employees spoke at least three languages while we were within earshot, so getting airmail stamps for cards to the US was very simple, but wow was I disappointed with the design! Here I was, thinking sending our thank-you notes from Europe would be a really cool gesture, and I'm willing to bet a lot of the recipients didn't even notice they came from outside the US: what should have been ye olde typical Estonian stamp was in fact the Rotary International logo.
Back down in the lower city, I went sweater-shopping in one of the stores guaranteed by the cruise line; one of the two I bought was a one-of-a-kind prototype, and I just picked it out because it was pretty. Lucky me! We continued to a wool market just inside the city wall, where local handcrafters sold beautiful sweaters and other knits; that was one of the few cases where I really wished we had more luggage space for souvenirs. After that, we went rather quickly through a souvenir market just outside the wall, continued to a liquor store about halfway to the port, went through a mall at the ferry port, and finally returned to the cruise terminal thinking we'd just have to leave the country with our pockets full of useless Estonian kroons.
Parked at the cruise dock was a tractor-trailer from a local chocolate company, of which the side folded down to create a mobile chocolate store. Why every country didn't do this I shall never know. Each of the two ships carried about 3,000 people, none of whom had any interest in dragging kroons all over creation, and keen to exchange them for something more valuable, so why not chocolate?
Labels: honeymoon
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home