Sights of Tallinn

Much to the locals’ dismay, Tallinn is commonly dubbed ‘Helsinki’s suburb’. But the nickname refers as much to the city’s aggressive technological development as it does to the throngs of weekending Scandinavians. Estonia is arguably the most developed of the EU’s new entrants – half of the population use e-banking, and tram tickets and parking spaces can be paid for via your mobile phone. Your typical former Soviet bloc nation this is not.

The history of Tallinn can be traced back to pirating escapades in the ninth century, when Estonian Vikings kidnapped a Norwegian queen and her consort and sold them into slavery. The Danes seized the rebellious city in 1219, and since then it has been shuffled like a deck of cards between Denmark, Sweden, Germany and Russia.

In 1920 the Soviet Union renounced its claims to Estonia ‘for all time’, heralding its first period of independence. But ‘all time’ lasted only until the Soviets sent the troops back in 1939; they left in the 1990s, after the demise of the USSR.

The effect on the city of the long-term presence of the anti-aesthetic Soviets created the common Eastern-bloc juxtaposition of the almost absurdly pretty old Tallinn – where red-capped towers punctuate medieval walls, and the skyline jostles with spires and weathervanes – and newer sections of town, where the look is brutal Stalinist office blocks. Visitors are, unsurprisingly, more attracted to the former than the latter.

Vanalinn, the Old Town, is enclosed by aged walls pierced by several historic gates, most notably Viru Gate, the main portal between the new and old parts of the city. From here, head west toward the main hub, Raekoja plats, or Town Hall Square. Public executions were once the centre of attention here (72 of them took place in one day in 1806), but it’s now where Finnish day-trippers and stag weekenders get, erm, slaughtered in the many bars around the plaza.

Just to the west of the square, steep, cobbled Pikk jalg (Long Leg Street) feels like a horror movie set; it climbs up to Toompea, the rocky mass at the heart of the Old Town. This is the strange setting for the seat of government, a 20th-century building with a pink art nouveau façade and, at the rear, a tall, thin corner tower (known as Pikk Hermann), the city’s oldest structure. Local lore holds that whoever’s flag flies atop this tower rules Estonia. Happily, at this time, the flag is blue, black and white.

Directly facing parliament is the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a Muscovite-styled church built on the orders of Tsar Alexander in 1894. The Estonians would love to see it go, but don’t dare risk it. Instead they get their own back at the excellent Museum of Occupation (Toompea 8, 668 0250, closed Mon), which sticks it to both the Russians and the Germans with high-tech audio-visual displays and art installations.