A Return Trip

Overcoming apprehension to find a pleasant surprise.

Tallinn, Estonia

June 9, 2023

My wife left the USSR as a ten year-old girl. Since her escape, she hadn’t returned to any place that had once been Soviet soil.

Until now.

Leaving most family and possessions in Odessa, Ukraine, she and her father made their way across Eastern Europe, thru Vienna, and thence to Rome.

After a temporary stay in the Eternal City, they crossed the ocean and arrived in Savannah. There they began building their lives in the United States.

Now, she’s back on the other side of the ocean. Among places on our itinerary, this was the one that induced the most anticipation, tempered with a tinge of trepidation.

The anticipation was warranted; trepidation wasn’t. Most trips feature pleasant surprises and unfortunate disappointments.

To this point, we’ve avoided any letdowns. But today we found a wonderful surprise.

Home to one of the last pagan cultures in medieval Europe, what is now Tallinn adopted Christianity when the Livonian Crusade came to Estonia.

As it did with so many cities on this contested sea, Denmark laid first claim. They called the city Reval. The name stuck for seven centuries, till the current Estonian appellation was adopted during the First World War.

The usual suspects came and went. Danes, Swedes, Germans, and Russians took their turns planting their flags. By the end of the 13th century, Reval was the most northerly port in the Hanseatic League.

The Danes sold the city to the Teutonic Knights. After the 16th century it went Lutheran, and to Sweden. Then the Czars came.

For two hundred years, from the arrival of Peter the Great to the execution of his last successor, Estonia was subjected to rule by Russia.

Toward the end of the First World War, Estonia proclaimed independence, which German occupation immediately mocked. By the end of the year, the Armistice was signed, Tallinn took its new name, and Estonia entered the eye of the storm.

But the trailing edge is always the worst. By the late 1930s, the wind picked up. In 1940, the surge hit shore, and swamped Estonia.

First the Soviets annexed it, then the Nazis occupied it, and finally incendiary bombs brought much of Tallinn down to the ground.

But, mercifully, not all of it. Some of Europe’s best-preserved Medieval structures still stand in the Old Town and on Toompea Hill.

Three decades ago, the Soviet Union collapsed, and Estonia revived. Amid and around the many lovely edifices from earlier eras, some Soviet “architecture” is still strewn…like shreds of debris the winds of history haven’t had the decency to blow away.

We began our day on Tallinn’s periphery, and worked our way in. We passed the appropriately hideous hovel housing the Central Bank of Estonia. This concession to monetary mischief was founded a hundred years ago, before the half century interlude when the Soviet “system” made things worse.

Our first stop was the pretty pink Presidential Palace erected, as my wife informed us from her childhood memories, in the characteristic color of Petrine Baroque.

After watching what we think was a relatively informal changing of the guards, we walked up the block to Kadriorg Palace. Built by Peter the Great for his wife Catherine, we might’ve spent more time there than she did.

The Czar and his wife were here occasionally during construction. But Catherine rarely came after her husband died.

She missed out. The palace is understated, yet lovely. As at other palaces around the world, the gardens of flowers and fountains are modeled on Versailles, tho’ on a much smaller scale.

Designed by Italian architect Nicola Michetti, the magnificent main hall is one of most beautiful examples of Roman Baroque in northern Europe.

The palace houses the Kadriorg Art Museum, with the Estonian Art Museum’s collection of foreign art…mostly Western European and Russian art from the 16th to the 20th century. Unfortunately, most of these works were temporarily displaced by a modern Finnish exhibition in which we had little interest.

After resting al fresco at a delightful Kadriorg Park café, we resumed our ride around the city, and eventually to its center.

We caught quick glimpses of the exclusive Pirita district, named for St Brigit and including ruins of a 15th century convent erected in her name. We also passed the Olympic pool, site of swimming contests in the 1980 games the Americans boycotted.

As we returned toward town, traffic congealed, and soon stopped. We hopped from the bus, and took to our heels.

We’re glad we did. Within a few minutes, we approached the city gates, and entered another world.

In 1265, Queen Margaret Sambiria built her eponymous wall around the town. Notwithstanding the city’s contentious history, what’s preserved within remains remarkable.

We made our way toward the Upper Town, which once belonged to the Hanseatic League and still hosts the magnificent streets and structures of Toompea Hill.

We stopped for an outdoor lunch that took a little longer than we’d have liked. But my bowl of bear dumplings was more than enough to sustain me thru the balance of the day.

Along narrow medieval streets of brick or stone is a procession of churches, palaces, and castles from which Toompea Hill nurtured, guarded, and ruled Medieval Tallinn.

This confined quarter kept our eyes up and our heads on a swivel.

St Mary’s Church on Toompea Hill (known colloquially as the Dome Church) is the oldest in Estonia (1219), and the only Toompea structure to survive a 17th century fire.

Unfortunately, a century earlier, the Reformation had already done what flames couldn’t. Originally Roman Catholic, St Mary’s fell to the Lutherans in 1561.

Of more modern vintage atop Toompea is Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, built in beautiful Russian revival style during the late-19th century Czarist period.

In the 1920s, the Soviet’s sour taste for “imperial oppression” and “bourgeois religion” prompted a decision to tear it down. Fortunately, a lack of funds (another characteristic feature of Bolshevik reign) kept them from doing so.

The insufficient funds that kept the building standing also pushed it into disrepair. But this cathedral has been lovingly restored since the Soviets left. Three decades of tending have rendered it remarkable for the likes of us.

Across the plaza and up the hill is the Estonian parliament. Known as the Riigikogu, this unicameral legislature was first established in 1920. Disbanded during the Soviet occupations, it now sits within Toompea Castle.

Down the cobblestones toward old town, my wife began speaking Russian with a local artist. After a few minutes discussing her sketches, one of them was purchased, slipped inside a bag, and will soon seek a spot on our domestic walls.

For now, it accompanied us to Town Hall Square. Dominating the plaza is the oldest town hall in the Baltic region. The hall and plaza date from the 14th century. Thru the centuries, renaissance and baroque accoutrements accentuated the predominant gothic style of the structure and square.

Today the energy was decidedly modern. Patrons overflowed from perimeter cafés as impressed pedestrians covered the cobblestones. We were among them,  reveling in a place where our time was too short.

From the square, my wife was reminded of her initial apprehension visiting this place.

Blocking a neoclassical façade were barricades filled with obscene signs and placards of protest. From the pediment hung the Russian flag, the outward emblem of this besieged embassy.

And also of an empty one. Estonia expelled Russian diplomats after the invasion of Ukraine, a move that was reciprocated soon thereafter.

A block away, a pair of nondescript double doors lead to a basement that served as interrogation center, torture chamber, and prison for the KGB. By time we arrived the facility was about to close, so my wife was spared the decision whether to go inside.

We instead opted for something more uplifting, making our way to what was once the tallest tower in the world.

St Olav’s Church was constructed in the 12th century, but extensively reconstructed a couple hundred years later. The gothic structure was the world’s tallest building when originally built.

The high spire was meant as a signpost for ships. But it was also a good lightning rod. The church burned several times, so it was reduced in height to 124 meters.

As with many churches (and most places) under Soviet captivity, this one deteriorated thru neglect or misuse. Tho’ still spartan, the impressive interior of St Olav’s has been refurbished the last thirty years.

Since the Soviets departed, all the paint’s restored, rust removed, and the cobwebs are gone.

As the afternoon waned and our boat beckoned, so were we.

JD