Haapsalu and the Jahta Hostel
Read about our lovely little hotel at Haapsalu on the Estonian coast.
We had sunshine filled days in our lemon yellow wooden building on the bay
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The Adventure begins. Into Estonia
My next adventure is underway. The starting point is Helsinki – the end point…who knows!
And from the very beginning it appeared that things were going to be a bit challenging.
Drama #1 occured as soon as I arrived at the airport. I was met by my fellow traveller who handed me the keys to his large (left-hand drive) transit van and he announced that, due to certain circumstances I had to drive.
Out of Helsinki during the rush hour. Along the motorway which was being dug up and like a slalom course. And directly into the low setting sun and with the sand which had been laid on the icy roads during the winter whipped up into a swirling sandstorm.
The only thing that I can say about that white knuckle ride was that the sky ahead of us resembled nothing that I had seen before – it was pure molten gold and more beautiful than any sky that I had ever seen.
I had been in Finland during winter once before when I had visited Tampere – you can read about that experience here
The frozen fjord at Espoo, Finland
But we survived the journey and the next day we spent a half a day walking around Helsinki which is an OK sort of a city, but it is very spread out. The highlights are the Uspenski Cathedral with its red brick and green onion dome roofs and the fantastic-from-the-outside-but-plain-inside white Cathedral.
Helsinki Cathedral
Drama #2 began after we had booked a night in an apart-hotel in the dormitory town of Espoo over the internet. The hotel had no receptionist present at any time. When you are sitting in your vehicle and you have very intermittent internet access and no Finnish SIM card and you have paid for the night over the internet but cannot open the email which contains details of your room and the key code, you cannot even begin to express your frustration. But eventually we sorted that problem out and got into the hotel.
On day 3 we were back in the van for another white knuckle ride back into Helsinki for the ferry port. Dodging the trams I was quite proud that I only managed to jump one red light – I didn’t notice the junction let alone the traffic lights – but I was just relieved to reach the terminal in one piece.
And then there was drama #3. Two very large border guards were cruising around the queue of cars when they pulled up alongside us and studied us intently. We KNEW that they would be interested in us and then they were asking for our papers. While everything was in order things were not straightforward (but not my story to tell at this stage here) and then I was being asked to blow into a breathalyser and I had the cells from my tongue scraped for a roadside drug test.
When everything came back negative (alcohol, marihuana, opiates and amphetamines) the border guards lost interest in us, allowed me to take a photo of the drug test and decided that they didn’t need to pull everything out of the van. And so I drove us onto the MS Finlandia for the 2.5 hour trip across the Gulf of Bothnia to Estonia.
Beach huts on one of the islands as we leave Finland
Estonia
If driving in Helsinki was nerve wracking I almost had a complete meltdown in Tallinn. Driving off the ferry I was horrified to discover that here there were trolley buses, which instilled fear into me as unlike trams they were perfectly capable of veering off their tracks and EVERYBODY was driving at twice the speed limit (at least) and they are, I think, probably the second most aggressive, fast drivers in the world – after those in Bahrain.
We tracked down our hotel for the night which was in an old stone building that was once a sauna complex for the town, and from which we could see the large castle which dominates Tallinn.
Part of the castle at Tallinn, Estonia
On Sunday morning we set off on foot to explore, wandering around the little winding streets although it was next to impossible to get lost as the tall spires of the various churches which rose above the walled city acted as good orientation points. Tallinn has an incredibly well preserved wall surrounding much of it and little streets which are a charming mix of the traditional wooden houses and the modern. The old town square was picture postcard perfect in the warm winter sun and we were lucky enough to bag a table outside one of the little bars and rest for a while.
The town hall in the Old Town Square, Tallinn, Estonia
We visited the Orthodox cathedral which is up near the castle complex. The inside was atmospheric with the smokey haze and scent from the candles and the incense rising high up into the onion dome. Pillars were painted with flowers and swirls and there was constant movement as people flowed between the various icons and altars, many stooping to touch the floor and some even kneeling to kiss the floor in front of some of the relics.
The Orthodox Cathedral, Tallinn, Estonia
I had really enjoyed learning Spanish when I was travelling in South America and now on this trip I want to learn a musical instrument. Many travellers have guitars or drums but as I desperately need to reduce the weight that I carry, I opted for the harmonica. Back at the hotel that evening S, my fellow traveller who can play many instruments very well gave me my first harmonica lesson. I thought that it went rather well, and rather easier to learn that Spanish but some of the other hotel guests may argue otherwise.
The following day I went out alone to explore Tallinn. I found the ‘Knit Market’ where rows of stalls are set into arches underneath the town walls and ladies sit knitting and selling their woollen socks and jumpers. I found the ‘Cat Well’ where in the olden times people would throw the stray cats (dead and often alive) as a sacrifice to ensure that the water to the town wouldn’t run dry – never mind about the risk to the public health from the decomposing bodies.
And I saw St Olaf’s Church with its slender spire and which was once the tallest building in the world, although it and all of the other museums were closed, either because it was Monday or the ‘wintry season’ or both so I was unable to climb the tower and look out over the red roofs of Tallinn.
Castle and town walls in Tallinn, Estonia
I was stood in the street studying a map when two young men approached me and asked if I needed any help. Forty five minutes later we were still chatting by the side of the road. Andri, smart as a pin in his blue suit and Gunner a teacher, both spoke excellent English and had a cracking repartee of anecdotes and observations on life. They were hilarious and I was sorry to have to move on and to say goodbye to them. And a little later in the day they emailed me to tell me that just after we had separated they had been fined for jay-walking!
Andri and Gunner
Estonia, like many places that I visit, has surprised me. I try to travel without any pre-conceptions and always with an open mind, but you can’t help but absorb information which the media decide should shape your view of the world. I have always thought that it is so important to watch the news and to be aware of what is going on in the world, but as I travel, I am more and more disillusioned, not by the news itself, but by the spin which is placed on the stories and which distances us from other people, countries and cultures.
Estonia is spotlessly clean – from the streets without litter to the clarity of the air. For all of my first week I was blessed with brilliant blue, cloudless skies, crisp cold mornings at freezing point, but with temperatures rising rapidly in the sun during the daytime. Most people can speak many languages – English, Russian, Finnish and Swedish seemed to predominate and they are friendly and keen to chat.
The cat well
I love to travel and to see things. Old buildings, modern towns, forests or beaches are all fantastic but for me, it is the connection with people who make my travel so special. Andri and Gunner were a chance meeting by the side of the road but they made my day in Tallinn, so for this journey as I travel down through the Baltic States I intend to delve a little bit deeper into the lives of the people that I meet and bring you some of their stories.
I hope that you will follow me and accompany me on my adventures as I head south.
Where am I now?
I have a plan of sorts.
Today I will be flying from Barcelona to Helsinki where I will begin a road trip south.
I plan to travel through Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania learning about the culture and history of these countries as I go, and I will try to get a little side trip into Russia – did you know that there is a little area called Kaliningrad marrooned off to the west and sandwiched in between Lithuania and Poland?
The idea is to continue through Poland and Germany – and see where I end up, depending on what takes my fancy.
So sign up to follow me and see where I end up
You will laugh about this later
You will laugh about this later
sunrise over the Andes
Those words were supposed to comfort me, but I just wanted to pull the duvet tightly around me, snuggle deep into the wonderful bed and never surface again.
My adventure had begun. I had booked my coach to Heathrow and I was looking forward to my treat of a night at the Thistle Hotel where I had planned to enjoy a leisurely evening meal with a couple of glasses of wine, check out their roof terrace which overlooks the runway and Terminal 5 and experience their new Pod transfer system.
Instead of a fluttering of anticipation and excitement I began to feel quite queasy on the coach and before I even reached Heathrow, I was in the throes of a fully fledged vomiting bug. Somebody up there must have been looking out for me because at least I had one of the better coaches with a decent clean toilet. The bus deposited me at Terminal 5 and feeling dizzy and more light-headed by the minute I struggled with my backpack and my rucksack and staggered off to find to the Pod, the state-of-the-art transport system to my hotel.
the ‘station’
clean lines
I have to admit that when the hotel had phoned me to enquire whether I had heard of the Pod I thought that it was an expensive sounding gimmick, but boy, was I glad of it now. At the futuristic little station tucked away in Terminal 5 consoles rather than ticket officers waited, their screens glowing invitingly in the muted light, lined up alongside little docking stations behind a glass screen. As I followed the very simple instructions on the screen an unmanned electric cart trundled into view. Parking up next to the waiting business man standing at the next station I watched as he stepped in. My Pod was not far behind and I gratefully collapsed onto the wide seat, whilst a soothing recorded voice welcomed me to the experience and advised me to remain seated. Smoothly and almost silently we whizzed along a little roadway, up and down ramps and bridges, crossing over main roads packed with cars. The journey took just five minutes and I very quickly found myself in the car park of the Thistle. Check in was luckily speedy and hassle free, no doubt hastened by my very odd grey complexion as I just needed to get to my room and collapse in a heap.
So no nice meal or drink on the terrace. I couldn’t even take advantage of the tea and coffee making facilities in the room, but I did come very close to experiencing the on-call doctor. Luckily by four in the morning my symptoms had eased and I felt more confident about taking two consecutive flights and travelling for close on twenty four hours.
the pod
As I checked out, I was able to experience the Pod transfer system a little better. The little vehicles reminded me of some of the better bubble lifts at ski resorts, clean and nippy with stacks of room inside for up to four passengers and their bags. The station was just a short walk from the hotel reception and whilst marginally more expensive that the Heathrow Hotel Shuttle Bus, it was certainly worth the extra. I still come out in a cold sweat when I think how I was intending to catch the shuttle bus and I am not at all sure that I would have managed that journey.
Anyhow the day picked up and the adventure truly got under way.
The British Airways flight to Miami airport passed smoothly despite the American man to my left pointedly refusing to be drawn into any sort of conversation at all but he insisted on spilling over into my seat. The British man on my right did chat away but he also kept falling asleep and snuggling in against my shoulder.
Customs at Miami was more interesting. I had to go out through customs and then re-enter. It was very busy and at the head of my queue there were two men joking with each other about who was to go first. Well, the customs officer wasn’t having any nonsense at all and bounced out of his booth, got right into their faces and bawled at them, insisting that they tell him what was so funny. He really was quite menacing and was tapping his belt as if itching for them to give him an excuse for a good beating or a shooting. Torn between being nosy and trying to shrink down behind the man in front I really wished that I could have taken a photograph but that was a definite no-no. After my turn of being photographed and finger printed I automatically drifted forward to lean on the officer’s desk – and was promptly ordered in a very loud voice and in no uncertain terms to stand right back IMMEDIATELY. To lull me into a false sense of security, the official allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch in what was possibly a tiny smile, and when I responded with the same he yelled at me again – he was certainly revelling in his power and also managed to snigger at my passport photo too, but he did ‘ma’am’ me and wish me a good onward flight.
over Peru
There then followed an extremely boring seven hour wait at Miami for my next flight which would take me down to Lima in Peru. I have to admit to getting a little nervous at this stage, worrying about the imminent taxi ride and simply locating my hostel. A couple of airplanes later (they kept breaking) and three gate changes we boarded two hours late but had another uneventful five and a half hour flight to Lima. I managed to doze for most of it but woke to a magnificent sunrise whilst below the plane, the sharp jagged peaks of the Andes pierced the fluffy magicalness of the clouds, running all along the horizon on the left as far as the eye could see. I was momentarily confused as the captain announced that landing was imminent and the clouds were still far below us, but all became clear as we suddenly descended and landed in thick fog know as garua. Carmen, the dinky little Peruvian to my right explained that for much of the year. Lima is rather cruelly cloaked in a grey mist, not like any normal mist but one which bathes the city in a luminescent ghostly pale glow. It lifts briefly for a few short months during the summer and is due to do so any day now and when it does the people of Lima will rejoice
My adventure did not have the auspicious start that I had hoped and planned for but I will certainly not forget it and Sis was right – I am in the southern hemisphere, I am in South America and I can laugh about it now
Disclaimer: I received complimentary tickets for the Pod by the Thistle Hotel: but this did not, in any way influence my comments in this article, which are my own, personal views.
Le Touquet
To the British, who are brought up on a culture of home-ownership and with a continuous supply of DIY and gardening programmes which are drip-fed to them via a plethora of television channels, many European towns may appear bland and characterless. With properties which often front straight onto pavements and windows shuttered tightly against prying eyes and either the sun or the cold, houses can appear austere and foreboding.
I am always curious (or perhaps that should be ‘downright nosy’) to know what goes on behind the facades and a quick peep or a more resourceful strain of the neck will often reveal pretty courtyards with colourful plants and tinkling fountains, ultra-modern designer kitchens or rabbit runs of corridors and polished wood or marble. Unlike the British who often feel the need to parade their accomplishments and possessions, the Europeans are generally not too concerned with displaying their homes and instead focus inwards.
Le Touquet bucks the trend. Sitting on the coast to the south of Calais this town is jam-packed full of beautiful buildings. I defy you not to gasp as you approach the town along long tree-lined avenues. Tantalising glimpses of the most amazing homes can be caught between the trees, or for an even better look, get out of the car and walk. Away from the edge of the road, smaller secondary pavements weave and dodge between shrubs and trees and swoop past manicured lawns. From these inner paths you can gaze freely at verandas, swimming pools, statues and turrets. Just as you think that you have found THE dream home, an even grander property comes into view.
The Post Office
The older buildings nearer to the town centre set a precedence when they were built. The Post Office is housed in an imposing mustard yellow stone building, designer shops jostle alongside a huge array of delicatessens and the market place has permanent stone tables tiled with pretty mosaic all ready for the traders to set up their stalls.
Le Touquet
Even the smaller properties boast little wooden verandas or arched windows with multi-coloured shutters. On the promenade these quaint little buildings are being elbowed into the shadows by the inevitable rectangular apartment blocks, but if these bring holiday makers and money into the town we must forgive this minor intrusion..
The beach is MASSIVE. And windy. Land yachts nip along the huge expanse of sand and the wind whips up the fine sand, blasting it into bare legs and stinging the eyes. A few resilient souls lean into the gale force wind clutching their coats and jumpers tightly around them and strongly suspecting that no matter what time of the year they were to visit, the wind would still howl along that particular stretch of coastline.
Le Touquet
The market at Le Touquet
I visited two establishments on my visit this time. One rather posh bar cum coffee shop which doesn’t deserve a name check here and the English Bar called Le Globe Trotter. On entering both places I checked that I would have access to Wifi (as I needed to work on my laptop). In the posh, lets charge silly money for a hot chocolate place in which the fawning proprietor assured me that I could use his Wifi, the waitress looked extremely puzzled when I complained that I couldn’t access the net and informed me that they had never had Wifi for customers. I didn’t feel quite so bad when I managed to throw the contents of my hot chocolate over their pristine linen table cloths and I certainly did not tip. Le Globe Trotter in contrast, had a lovely atmosphere and despite being themed as an English bar was really quite French. There was the old lady sat in the corner with her little dog and drinking her coffee, the men reading their newspapers with their beers and the bar man polishing glasses and listening to the radio. I sat there in my booth for nearly two hours, taking my time over a couple of beers, working on my computer and watching the wind howl up and down the street outside.
Just call me Poppins – Scarlet Poppins
Flying into Madrid and with my instructions clamped tightly in my hand I negotiated passport control, the metro and the Cercanias train system to arrive at my destination for the next week . Senorio de Illescas is a dormitory town which lies bang in between Madrid and Toledo, just 35kms to either on a train or a bus and with the journey costing an amazing two and a half euros. I had discovered the family who were to be my hosts on the Workaway website – but unlike working on the farm in Portugal my remit here in Spain was to speak English. And to play with the adorable seven month old baby who I shall call Garban (Spanish for something small like a tadpole or a chickpea)
After the structure of the farm where we had a specific (though flexible) timetable to follow, here there was no such structure. The timetable was dictated by Garban, but with his ready smiles that was no hardship.
the familiar symbol of Madrid
I began writing this account of my experiences in Madrid intending it to be factual and objective but as I leave, heading south to Estepona, it is hard to remain composed.
The family that I lived with for three weeks took me into their home and into their hearts. I have met both sets of parents, brother, sister, aunts and uncles, cousins and the amazing grandmother. We have prepared meals together and swapped recipes, cycled, walked, shopped and chatted late into the night.
Dyana and Hunter have been the ultimate hosts, tour guides and friends and there were tears all around as we said our goodbyes. They have ‘met’ my parents via skype and they extended an invitation to them to visit them in Madrid which was reciprocated by my parents should Dyana and Hunter return to the UK.
Since my arrival, Garban has sprouted two new teeth, he has begun to crawl and he has started at his nursery. It was difficult to watch the anguish on Hunter’s face as he walked away from his crying son leaving him with the nursery staff, and it brought back many memories for me with my children. Perhaps if I could turn back the clock and I had the benefit of hindsight I would maybe do some things differently – but there is no point regretting what I did or didn’t do – they were the right things at the time.
tapas dish of pig’s ears
Anyway, I digress. It was easy to love Garban and I loved every minute of my time in Illescas – even when challenged to eat tripe (pigs intestines). With ten pairs of eyes watching me, and the family holding their collective breath, I struggled gamely to chew and swallow. Feeling rather like a contestant on ‘I’m a Celebrity’ I regret to say that I failed miserably, although thankfully Mario gallantly reached me with a bucket in time! I felt honoured that despite many of the family not speaking any English they included me in the family birthday celebrations and with sign language and with Dyana and Hunter translating, I felt very much a part of things.
The economic situation in Spain is bad – but Dyana (named after an actress) and Hunter (so called following his wild antics one evening when he chased a massive bug around the kitchen with a tea towel) have good jobs. Dyana was enjoying her last two weeks of her maternity leave when I rocked up at their door, and then during my third week Hunter took annual leave and stayed home while she returned to work and little Garban began his gentle introduction to the nursery.
I was impressed with Dyana and Hunter’s standard of English and also that of their brother and sister. It made me keen to persevere with my Spanish lessons. I know that my understanding did improve over the three weeks although I still lack confidence when trying to speak. Learning a language is a pleasurable pain – or should that be a painful pleasure – for people who want to be stimulated and love learning, and I know that forthcoming experiences will be greatly enhanced if I can understand and make myself understood in Spanish.
So what exactly did I get up to?
Well, no two days were ever the same.
sleepy tigers
To begin with, I usually rose at eight-ish most mornings and after breakfast I would usually entertain the baby and chat to Dyana. We would often go out for a walk or we would go to the shops. We went once to the weekly market set up in the shadow of the futuristic looking bull ring, where they sold local produce, stopping to study a pair of tigers who were sleepily sprawled out in a trailer which was parked on the street. They were not a permanent feature of the town but were part of a travelling circus which was in town. We stopped several times for beer or a coke and tapas in some bars and as the temperature was a toasty thirty degrees for the majority of my stay, I often lay in the garden on a sun lounger or I dipped in and out of the little pool.
Garban is totally doted on by his entire extended family and I never once witnessed any irritation or impatience with him. If he couldn’t sleep then not to worry, it just meant more time with him. If he refused to eat, no matter, still more time with him. Perhaps because of the devotion that he received, he had little need to cry or grumble and was ready with his smiles and cuddles. Dyana’s brother and Hunter’s sister showered him with affection and it never ceased to make me laugh when either set of grand parents arrived and the battle to cuddle and hold him began between the couples. He was so content and happy to be with me and I earned the nickname Mary Poppins.
With encouragement and plenty of hints and tips from Dyana and Hunter I set off on some mini-adventures and I explored Toledo, Madrid and Sergovia – and you will get in-depth reports from these amazing places in the future I met some lovely people including a lady from New Zealand, travellers from Colombia and Poland and of course from Madrid itself, and amazingly I also met up with friends from the UK who happened to be in the area.
the local bull ring glows under the sunset
As I now bowl south on the coach I can see an intriguing looking castle on a distant hill which is flanked by a row of old fashioned windmills. The rain that accompanied our departure from Madrid has stopped and the windmills gleam in the sun. The plains of Spain are truly enormous. Stretching for as far as the eye can see, crops and dried grasses wave golden yellow in the sun and with far away mountains propping up the sky on the horizon this is certainly no place for the agoraphobic. I have loved every place that I have visited so far on my travels and Pollyanna-like, I always try to find beauty or something of interest. Madrid felt very special to me. The centre is compact – even more compact than Lisboa and contains a diversity of sights all within walking distance to each other. The metro system is sleek, modern and inexpensive and there is a range of eating and drinking places to suit all tastes and budgets. Most importantly of all for me, it felt safe. When the lights come on at night it takes on a whole new persona but still envelops and welcomes its inhabitants.
I am very excited to be moving on and to be meeting up with friends at a wedding in Estepona but I am also very sad and truly sorry to leave an amazing family. I know that I have made some friends for life.