26 August - Mondo Beaurocratico
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Four o'clock in the morning. Four in the morning. 4 a.m. Fouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur.
'Kin' 'ell, it's early.
Ade got lost on the way to my house to pick me up. That doesn't bode well. Still, we made it to the airport (BHX) with plenty of time, so naturally the 'plane was delayed.
We were flying with Lufthansa, who seem to have subcontracted SAS, who seem to have subcontracted British Midland. In other words we were flying British Midland, with their no-nonsense stewardesses with too much make-up. The food had little Lufthansa logos all over the packaging, though. And it was actually quite good!
I was initially impressed with the airline. The journey was split into two parts with a changeover in Munich. At the check-in desk we were presented with two boarding cards, both with exactly the same seat numbers. "Efficient", I thought.
Off we popped in the little BAe 146, half an hour late (not so efficient). It's a commuter aircraft, so no movies, tv, radio or nintendo (bummer). Nevertheless it was a pleasant enough flight, and we arrived in Munchen it seemed in no time
The changeover, however, certainly caused me to raise an eyebrow and makes in on to my top ten list of beaurocratic moments quite easily. We got off the plane, into the waiting bus, which took us to the terminal building. Walked into Transit and waved our passports at some rectangular-looking guys in uniform and walked about half a mile along a raised walkway over to the Departures block. Presenting our boarding cards at the gate we got on the bus for the flight to Helsinki. It was the same plane. It was the same airline. It was the same crew. IT WAS THE SAME DAMN PLANE!. Is this sane?
Finland was bright, warm, clean and generally quite Scandinavian. We did a preliminary check of the architecture (Ade's do ing a Masters Degree in something architecturally related - there'll be a lot more of that, you mark my words), we got dropped off outside the railway station - a spectacular building that screamed Art Deco, although it was built in 1916.
Conveniently, inside the station was the "Hotel Booking Centre". Here we experienced what can only be described as a "Bill Bryson moment" as the helpful young lady behind the desk phoned a list of hotels that got more and more expensive. "This week is fashion festival" she explained in embarassingly good English. Thankfully Hotel Olympia was able to squeeze us in at a bargain 370 Markka (42 quid). Ouch.
Ade shot a quick roll of film and we jumped on to Tram 3B. This was the greeting that awaited (on the tv!):
It had been bright, so far, all day and the sea voyage was uneventful and a little dull, as only the business class passengers were allowed to see out of the front window. Scum. I was a tad worried (as is my wont) when there was a large influx of cyclists on to the boat. I suddenly wondered whether they were all likely to descend on the guest houses and hostels of Tallin. There was hundreds of the buggers. I experienced a similar feeling of homelessness to when I found out about the Tina Turner concert, further amplified because we'd practically arrived in the place.
I consulted the guidebook (yes I took it with me, and yes I know I said I wouldn't). "Booking Ahead is Advisable". Bollocks. We hadn't.
The railway station - Helsinki. My spectacular inability to capture the grandeur of this impressive building
We took a stroll round the town in the Evening - there was plenty going on and a festival atmosphere with live bands and general art happening all around. The overall feel was on the whole somewhat restrained - no one was really, and I mean really going for it. This may have had something to do with the prohibitive cost of the alcohol/food/everything else that makes this life bearable.
Me and Ade found a bit of a folk music fest going on down at the harbour with some boyo and his accordion singing away with a backing band. Sounded like an Irish country and western band, only foreign. We chugged a couple of Koff beers (50 Markka for 2 x 400ml glasses) and plucked up the courage to have some fried herring. They were fishy.
Checked out a few more bands that were peppered around the town. Not all folk. Soaked up a few more Koffs. Helsinki is refreshingly free of Hard Rock Cafes.
27 August - Booking Ahead is Advisable
Just made it under the wire in time for EC standard meat, cheese and bread breakfast, then went back into Helsinki, to see what we could find.
The Finlandia concert hall that Ade wanted to check out for architectural reasons (something to do with waves) wasn't very wavey. So we wandered back to the Station and bought tickets for the fast boat across to Tallin. We were unable to make the 3.00 sailing (big discount), so we had to plump for the 5.45 (full price). 170 Markka a pop - got me credit card out - I fear not for the first time.
Central Helsinki. Not bad...
Piled off the boat and had the first real contact with customs, now we're outside of the EU. Got a smashing lovely stamp in my passport (oh, yes).
A train of thought clatters through my head and comes to a halt at anxiety station. It's seven o'clock on Sunday evening. I'm on the dockside in a very foreign country, It looks very bleak. All I can see is crumbling Soviet style architecture. It's getting dark. I've got no local currency. Booking ahead was advisable. Oh dear.
A short stroll (that's all the speed you can manage with my backpack) away from the harbour, however was old town Tallin, a eclectic collection of winding cobbled streets, and northern European buildings from the 16th 17th 18th and 19th centuries, all sited fairly randomly with no real discenable purpose or plan. The town planner in Ade was in paroxysms - he was loving it. "Nice" I thought "I hope we can find somewhere to stay".
We found the central square soon after and consulted the black book and the guide book that Ade brought as well "Rough Guide to Everywhere". I think it had one paragraph on Estonia.
Reluctant as I was to trust the black book, we took the recommendation of the Rough Guide which was "a few yards from the square, on the third storey, above an excellent restaurant". We knocked, we spoke in broken English (no John Waite references please - I ain't missing him at all) and asked the lady who answered if there was a room available. She looked at us as if we were morons, or at least not the sort of folks who stay in her guest house. Scruffy oiks.
We beat a hasty retreat from the mad lady. The second, successful choice was the Hostel below the strip joint (now you're talking!) It wasn't as seedy as it sounded. In the old town, nothing was as seedy as it sounded.
Ade, Helsinki. Somewhere or other...
Plently of time to mooch around a bit and for Ade to shhot another couple of rolls of film. See photograph above for evidence of general arsing around.
Checked out the hotel and headed for "Nordic Jet Line" (tram 3T if you must know).