it's a great little city, i'm tallinn you.

Tallinn, my friends, is pretty. And old. And full of tourist-people, ok, sure, but pretty. 

My version of a quick history of the city: "modern" Tallinn officially begins in 1219, when its already-extant castle was mentioned in a Danish chronicle, after the Danes defeated German crusaders and took the city. In 1349, Denmark, in debt, sold Tallinn to the Teutonic Knights, and its position at the crossroads of trade between Western Europe and Russia created a fair amount of prosperity (albeit primarily for the city's German masters and not for local Estonians). In the 16th century, as Russia, Sweden, Denmark, and Poland fought for dominance in the northern Baltics, city leaders feared Russian invasion and capitulated to the Swedes, who held the city until 1710. In that year, after yet another territorial war between Sweden and Russia, Tallinn was forced to surrender to the latter, by which time the city had lost four-fifths of its population to war, famine, and the plague. The city lost any semblance of autonomy when it was folded into the Russian empire in 1889, but Peter the Great ordered a railroad and a port built, and introduced various manufacturing and industrial enterprises, all of which improved trade and prosperity within the city. Along with that came confidence and local pride, however, and, coincident with the Russian Revolution, Estonia declared its independence in 1918. It was not until January of 1920--after fighting a war with both Russia and opportunistic German invaders--that Estonia officially gained its sovereignty, which, as we all know, lasted only until 1944, when the USSR annexed it again (after the WWII Nazi occupation). Mass deportations, collectivization, and immigration of Russians into Estonia ensued, as well as suppression of Estonian culture and language to the extent that, by the 1970s, locals were concerned for its survival. This, combined with the arrival of Finnish tourists and television (which brought Western ideas into the country), created nationalist pride and momentum. Estonia declared its independence in 1988, and was finally recognized by the USSR as an independent nation in 1991.*

But back to us. 

Arriving by cab from the airport, one's first view of the old city is rather impressive:

...just not so much when I take this photo with my phone. Ah, well. Here, the 14th-century Viru Gate.

We arrived mid-day, checked into our lovely and wonky old hotel...

...no, srsly, so wonky, we had to go up and down two sets of stairs and around at least 8 corners to get to our room, where the door was this size. (Mike for scale.) It was a gorgeous hotel with lush and clean rooms, but man were those walls paper thin. Sigh. There really is no such thing as a perfect hotel...

...and headed towards the city center. Here, just around the corner from our hotel, the old market section of town and the suuuuuuper tall, 15th-century town hall (built in 1402!).

Lovely view of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral (1900).

War of Independence column, commemorating those who died during Estonia's war for independence, from 1918 to1920.

Main destination, the 15th-century Kiek in de Kök ("peek in the kitchen," since it loomed high over the city when it was built) artillery-tower museum.

Underneath the tower and attached city walls are the bastion tunnels, which date to the 17th through 19th centuries and were built for defense of the city, but were never used for that purpose. Prior to WWI, they functioned as a prison; during WWII, they became air raid shelters; during the Soviet era, they were fallout shelters; during the 1980s, they were a safe hideout for the illegal punk scene; and in the 1990s and early 2000s, they served as shelter to people who found themselves homeless during the economic uncertainty after independence. (Not going to kid you, this tour is rather short and goofy, but the impression of going back in time--starting in the Soviet-modernized tunnels and going into increasingly smaller, more primitive spaces--is pretty cool.)

Plus, it ends in this very nifty little museum of carved stone containing bits and pieces from the 16th through 19th centuries...

...in a tunnel from the 17th century. Neat.

Above the tunnels, in the tower museum, are all manner of interesting things. Here, an epitaph to 17th-century plague victims.

In the "arms from all over" collection (well, that's what I'm calling it, anyway), a beautiful Iranian battle axe from the 18th century.

A couple of Western European "pepper-pot" pistols with revolving barrels, 19th century.

Sixteenth-century Western- or Central-European sword. (Yes, we're very much into arms and armories. And towers. And tunnels. What.)

View of city walls and Tallinn Bay from the tower.

Unlabeled, but old-timey, cannons and cannonballs on the tower ground floor.

Outside the tower, an impressive view of Maiden (left) and Kiek towers (both 14th century) and a bit of the remaining city walls, which are from the 13th century. (Amazingly, Tallinn still has almost 2 km of these walls and 26 towers. Unbelievable and awesome.)

After the museum, we ascended the (much lower than expected) Toompea Hill and visited the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, which is beautiful inside and out, but (of course) allows no photos.

After a quick mulled wine and cinnamon-roll-type pastry in a nearby cafe--'cause DANG, was it cold and windy up on that hill--we took a few quick photos from the Paktuli Viewing Platform behind the castle and meandered back down through old town.

Not kidding, Tallinn is ridiculously lovely.

Stopped into a local linen shop (of which there are many, many, many for the tourists!) and spotted these incredible, ginormously long hats. Hee.

Tallinn really loves its doors, I'm going to say. So many pretty ones.

See? 

So many.

All over.

Old medieval-y buildings (13th? 15th? 17th-century?) buildings along the terribly picturesque St. Catherine's Passage.

Back in Vana Turg, the old market square.

Dinner on our first night in Tallinn was at Leib, this magical little seasonal/local place behind some ancient buildings alongside a lovely hidden garden in the old town. (Really, I can't overstate the charming-hidden-garden-feel of this restaurant. I can only imagine how gorgeous it is in the summer, when that garden is in full bloom!) Mike started with onion soup with a 63-degree egg (his favorite), and I had broad bean hummus with pickles, dried carrot shavings, and fried sprouts. As mains, Mike went for filet with Jerusalem artichoke puree, a slice of salsify, and root veggies; and I had the pork cheek (also) with root vegetables, salsify chips, and kale. And, because I firmly believe that any place that has tremendous food will have tremendous desserts, we went for it: I had apple sorbet with a salty honey-oat cookie, soft meringue, and these teensy little purple berries (HOLY YUM!), and Mike went with the weirdest-sounding thing (as he does, on occasion), the "dried egg yolk" (salty and shaved on a Microplane!) with cherry cream and yogurt sorbet. A really excellent meal in a lovely, cozy setting with very friendly servers. (Can't. Recommend. Enough.)

Plus...wooden butter knives with their name on it! ("Leib" means "black bread" in Estonian, and of course some of that and some terrific salted butter came along with everything.)

Day 2 began with a traipse back past some of the spectacular city walls (this street is called Müüriwahe--Germanic influence here, too!)...

...back through St. Catherine's Passage...

...and to the rather wonderful city historical museum. I've become a huge fan of city museums lately; all the ones we've seen recently have had absolutely magnificent, and thoroughly enjoyable, collections. 

This particular museum happened to occupy part of a lovingly-restored 14th-century house.

This guy is a weathervane that was on top of the spire of the Town Hall from 1952 to 1998; his name is Old Thomas, and his legend is that as a boy, he won an arrow-shooting contest in which the participants (only the wealthy were allowed to compete) were failing miserably. Instead of punishing him, the town educated him and trained him, and he became a loyal and dutiful guard of the city gates, and retained the respect of the entire city for the rest of his life. (Awwww.)

Seventeenth- or eighteenth-century imported Delftware. (So...pretty...)

In the room dedicated to Estonian life during the Soviet era, there were plenty of tales of tragedy...and a smattering of snark, which I greatly appreciated. ("Here's to you, Comrades!")

Estonian nationalist posters from the 1970s. (The center one, at least, advertises for the national singing contest, which is a massive and important folk festival in Estonia.)

Maxim M1910 heavy machine gun used by the Soviet army.

In the small medieval cellar, there is an astounding collection of ceramics from all over the world, with, among many other things, a handful of Art Nouveau designs...

...and some glorious, glorious Wedgwood. (Be still my heart. Want all of this.)

After the city museum, we strolled past the Town Hall (sadly, not open for visits until the middle of summer)...

...and made our way to the Museum of Occupation, the collections of which address everyday life (including, but not limited to, housewares, media, propaganda, examples of wealth and poverty, spycraft, etc., etc.) in Estonia during the Soviet era. Near the end of WWII, fishing boats like these successfully carried around 27,000 refugee Estonians on the day-and-a-half crossing to Sweden, although many others were lost to storms, mines, or attacks from warships. Under Soviet rule, these types of fishing boats were destroyed so as to better isolate Estonia from the West.

KGB surveillance device; the hole on the other side is one millimeter wide.

These might have been the most interesting artifacts in the museum: Tallinn Machine Factory's socialist competition flags, which were used both to promote communist ideals and to boost workers' morale. These were awarded for such competitions as "best youth organization for cleanliness and work culture in the plant" and "best communist youth organizations on the occasion of V.I. Lenin's 100th birthday." Since the flags were all hanging thusly, it was difficult to get any good photos of them, so I'm trusting the museum's signage that some of the text on these begins with, "Proletarians of the world, unite!" (You have to understand, for a history major, this kind of thing is amazing.)

Prison doors from Estonia's notorious Paterei prison, which was in use from 1924 until 1990 and held partisans and political prisoners.

I'm not going to kid you, at the end of the museum's exhibit--mostly chronologically-arranged artifacts, with a video here and there, but rather quiet on the whole, and involving lots of reading--where the movement for independence gained momentum and finally succeeded, I genuinely wanted to cheer and hug the people around me and may have shed a tear or two. It's a small museum, but a powerful place, and well worth the visit.

Also, next to the bathrooms, there's a bust of Lenin that's 3/4 my height, so there's that.

After the Museum of Occupation, we headed out to get ready for dinner at the nicest place on our agenda...

...and, on the way to our taxi, passed this busker playing some serious (and quite good) heavy-metal guitar next to his Pomeranian. HAAAAAAH!

Dinner was at the Chef's Hall in Noa Restaurant,** which is commonly agreed to be the best restaurant in the country (wooo!), is about a 15-minute drive outside of the city center, is right on the coast, and is so totally and entirely worth the slight hassle to get out there. The food was beautiful and inventive; the service very friendly (the sommelier was a hoot!); the kitchen right next to us, so we could watch the rather-hipster chef and sous chefs prep and assemble everything (neat!); and the entire experience just really, really good.

It's much easier to post the menu than to rewrite it, so please forgive my scribbles in the margins. (I thought it was rather charming that they handed out pencils to everyone so that we could take notes. And we did.)

I do believe this is the asparagus with "truffle hollandaise, brown butter, smoked lardo," and dill oil. Beautiful.

Sadly, I'd only really allotted us two days in Tallinn--the place definitely deserves longer--and so we had just a little more time on day 3 to fit in a little more meandering before we headed to the airport. By pure accident, we passed the early-15th-century Great Guild Hall and decided to go in, and I'm quite glad we did. (Just FYI, the Great Guild existed from at least the 14th century, and was a group of married, German, Hanseatic merchants [unlike the younger, single, Blackheads guild, which was also present here] who controlled the city at the height of their power. Over the centuries, the building has served many purposes, including meeting hall, party headquarters, courthouse, wine cellar and bar [...more partying...)], arts venue, stock exchange, and site for church services.)

Rather feeble shot of the outside.

Anyhoo, we found there yet another small-but-mighty collection in a medieval building, with, hands-down, the best exhibit I've ever seen in a museum.

But first, more weaponry. That massive bad boy on the left is, as the label would have you believe, an Estonian two-handed sword from around 1550.

Long poleaxe (or bardiche, if you want to get technical) from Tallinn, 16th century.

Nineteenth-century liquor bottles found in a well. (These are on display with a rather large collection of other, similar bottles, having been tossed there after various parties in the wine cellar, one assumes).

Oooh, and now my favorite exhibit. They called it "The Spirit of the Thing," a collection of "exotic and rare objects from the collection of the history museum." I call it the "Super Duper Fangirl No. 1 Autographs 'n Things Collection", because boy, was it. (Really, it reminded me of the "Cabinet of Curiosities" in Basel's history museum--just a set of miscellanea that was accumulated because it was interesting to the collector--but this one had so many random signatures and things supposedly belonging to famous people. Something akin to what a young girl might collect at a One Direction concert, say ["I think Niall used this Kleenex!"], only here, involving important historical figures.)

Goethe wrote this poem for a singer, 1771!

A book of cadenzas purportedly by Mozart, 1770!

Document containing Napoleon's autograph, 1812!

Eighteenth-century boot supposedly belonging to Peter the Great!

Martin Luther's autograph, 1540! (Ok, ok, that's actually pretty cool.)

Lenin's spoon, possibly!

It did seem to me that most of the things in that room should have been labeled with exclamation points; some of it was just so very iffy and goofy. Which is why I deeply, deeply loved it.

Ahem. Moving on.

In the main hall of the building, a display of artifacts from throughout Estonia's history.

Including crusader spear tips...

...and a sword "killed" so as to be unusable after its owner died (11th century).

Executioner's sword from the 15th through 17th centuries, replicas of which we'd seen in two other museums. Finally, an original!

There was also some Soviet memorabilia...

...including these medals awarded during agricultural campaigns and competitions.

There was also some lovely folk art, including these amazing 19th-century beaded belts...

...and this beautiful carved spoon taken by an Estonian refugee fleeing westward during WWII.

And with that, it was back to the airport and back to Riga for our final night, where we stayed in this remarkable edifice:

the Neiburgs Hotel.

One night in a fancy-pants hotel seemed like a good way to close out our trip.

We dined that night at Kalku Varti, whose reputation is good, but whose initial impression was less than thrilling: when we walked in, there was a massive tour group occupying the front third of the place. (Big-tour-group-food usually = no good.) We were further alarmed after we were shown to our seats and then the rest of the place filled up with some sort of international conference (again, conference-food-providers are also usually no good). However, we were pleasantly surprised; my starter of turkey breast with baby broccoli and Mike's cream of potato-and-leek soup with seafood were quite nice, and his herb-crusted pork with fried onions, snap peas, and potatoes, and my grilled eggplant with caramelized onions and brie were really tasty. It was a nice, if somewhat noisy, way to end our amazing trip to the frozen North, with its very friendly people, good food, incredible history, and proud local traditions and culture. I highly recommend it all.

Next up: well, we'll see when we get there.

*Sorry...I get caught up in these little histories, since this is a little like the kind of writing I used to do back in the ol' college days. It's just that all of these influences are so important to understanding the sense of a place, and I really enjoy getting into it. Ah, history, I miss studying and writing about you, especially when I stumble across tidbits like this: somewhere in the neighborhood of 15,000 partisans--the Estonian Forest Brothers--hid out in the forests and carried out attacks on the occupying Soviet forces into the 1950s! Naturally, under the great, grinding machinery of the USSR, things didn't end well for the partisans, but stories of that kind of resistance and unbelievable bravery always make my heart pound. I can't overstate how much I admire and wonder at that kind of courage, probably due to its extreme foreignness in my cushy, want-for-nothing life. It knocks me flat.

**Let me tell you, it's a little difficult to figure out where to eat when Michelin and the usual sources have exactly zero information about the countries you're visiting. Get on it, you people: there's some great food in the Baltics!