a modern bridge across the Daugave River in Riga

Earlier I mentioned a third area of interest, beyond Central Riga and Old Riga, and this is the area south of the Old Town. Here is the Central Market, a sprawling complex covering five huge German-built halls to store the infamous WWI zeppelins. When the market was moved to its current location in 1930, the government decided to bring in those hangars from elsewhere in Latvia, which now form the heart of what is claimed to be the biggest market in Europe; it may well be, with each hangar being dedicated to one or two categories, which easily spill over to stalls outside, in between the buildings. Colourful, and mostly smelling great. All those mushrooms we have seen in the forests are being sold here, but also enormous quantities of fish, smoked in all different ways or just raw. Vegetables, and especially berries, it is the season; red and orange raspberries. And the widest selection possible, I think, of vicious sweets, in the most vicious colours.

inside one of the zeppelin halls of the large Central Market in Riga

some of the merchandise spoilling over to the streets in between the halls

raspberries in two colours, red and orange

those were some of the mushrooms we have seen in the forest!

and it is eqially the nuts season, including nut crackers

viciously coloured sweets, I told you

and fish, attractively presented!

one of the bridges over the Daugave river, modern buildings on the other side

the entire city lies open, it looks

the Academy of Sciences tower, with a next door church for scale

Behind the market is the Academy of Science tower, mostly relevant because from the balcony of its tower you have another fabulous view over the city, albeit only at 65 meters, less than the church tower in the Old Town. The building itself, the first high-rise in Latvia, with a total of 21 floors and 107 meters high, was completed in 1961. The view also includes the TV tower, claimed to be the third-highest building in Europe with its 367 meters, and the National Library, on the other side of the Daugave River, an attractive modern building.

this is the church for scale, from above

the bridge again, with the attractive National Library building behind, from the viewing platform

not necessarily nice, but impressively tall: the TV Tower

and a view back onto the Central Market buildings

the wooden Lutheran Church of Jesus

and inside, an unusual round structure

Just behind the tower is the Lutheran Church of Jesus, the largest wooden church in Latvia and one of the largest wooden churches in Europe. As wooden buildings go, they tend to burn down from time to time, but this one has lasted from 1822, and looks in prime condition. Unusually, the inside church area is round, and has a fabulous acoustic in the middle.

the Lastadija artist collective, also from above; note the fox on the wall on the side

garden full of flowers, and colourful murals

scrap metal sculpture

and another one, less scrap metal, more tin sheets

We also run into the Lastadija artist collective, or so I think. We were looking for a big fox on the wall, which we actually spotted from atop the tower (!), and when we arrived in the courtyard with the fox, this turned out to be a sculpture garden cum coffee bar. And at around 1 pm they also serve lunch, great vegan curry and rice, for a donation. Absolutely wonderful place, very nice people, and great art beyond the fox. See, these are the surprises Riga offers, also outside the Old Town.

and the fox in full glory

The one thing you don’t read in the tourist guides or websites is that Riga is also a vibrant city. There are people in the street, walking, or on terraces and in restaurants. The city is alive – admittedly, it is very pleasant autumn weather, but this was also the case in Tallinn and Tartu, and in Helsinki, yet these were comparatively sterile places, without much atmosphere. Riga is buzzing, even on a weekday evening.

Riga is a vibrant city….

On one of those evenings we met up with an old Latvian acquaintance, from long ago. He explained that this split between locals and ethnic Russians, also evident in Estonia earlier, is actually much more complex than it looks. Nationalists like to focus on language, if you speak Latvian, you are one of them, but our friend has a Russian mother – who is very critical of what happens in Russia and feels more connected to Latvia -, and a Latvian father, who more and more leans towards Russia, because everything was so much better in the past, in his eyes, and Russian empire resurrection could bring that back. He also points out that Latvian nationalism is a fairy recent thing, which, however, is being complicated by the fact in the in the Middle Ages, before Russian domination from about 1800 onwards, the north of Latvia was mostly associated with Swedish power in Estonia – staunchly Lutheran protestant -, and the southeast with the Lithuanian-Polish entity of that time. Staunchly Catholic. Only the southwest was a somewhat autonomous region, called Courland, which, incidentally, is still proud of its past colonies, an island in the Gambia River in West Africa and Tobago Island in the Caribbean. I told you, I am learning my European history as we go.

Next: a little more on the Baltics history. Or just continue the journe, to the bog.

This work, presumably African because it hangs in the Afrika Museum, but without reference to artist or title, is actually not part of the exposition, but part of the permanent collection.

By the time you read this is, it is probably too late not only to go and see this exhibition, but also to go and see the Afrika Museum in Berg en Dal, near Nijmegen in The Netherlands. Through an unfortunate conflict between the owners of the museum and the organisation that exploits it, the museum will close by the end of November 2023.

The Afrika Museum is best known because of its unique collection of African masks and sculptures, collected by generations of missionary priests of the Congregation of the Holy Spirit, which brought back these pieces from their various posts in Africa. However, during recent years the museum has also collected a number of modern African art works, and together with works borrowed from other institutions, it has now put together a small exhibition, called ‘In Brilliant Light’. Fascinating art, a struggle between what is African, and what has been influenced by Western art norms. A pity it is so small, and a pity it mostly found works of Nigerian, South African and Cuban artists (‘African’ includes its diaspora), but very interesting and calling for more, nevertheless.

‘Awakening’ (1961, bronze) Perhaps for historical reasons – this sculpture was the first contemporary art purchase of the museum – a small replica of the Igbo earth goddess Ani is included, by Nigerian Ben Enwonwu (1917-1994). Much larger versions of this sculpture are inside the UN building in new York, and in front of the national Museum in Lagos.

‘L’offrande’ (1966-1974, oil on canvas) This painting Senegalese Bocar Pethe Diong (1946-1989) was donated to the museum by the Senegalese president Senghor, when he visited the museum, who strongly believed in Negritude, the art movement promoting the African way in the arts, free of the traditions of the colonial powers. Which, however, in fact seems to reinforce European stereotypes, as in this painting and the next – which is why this earliest African movement isn’t very popular anymore amongst present-day artists.

‘La femme qui crie’ (1961-1966, oil on canvas) This painting, from Senegalese Iba N’Diaye (1928-2008), is obviously inspired by Edvard Munch’s famous ‘The Cry’.

‘Sphinx II’ (1999, charcoal, pastels and watercolour on paper) This is an early work by Deborah Bell, one of the more famous contemporary artists from South Africa.

‘L’offrande des Couleurs’ (2013, textile) This work, a wall hanging by Abdoulaye Konate from Mali, is inspired on a hunter’s tunic – a body an arms widespread – which refers to divination and the use of oracles, an important element in the preparation for the hunt. The colours red, white and black are those of the offerings: cola nuts, milk and the ox.

‘Niloro’ (1991, ink on paper) One of the most impressive works, this collagraphy (a printing technique) of female artist Belkis Ayon from Cuba is inspired by the Abakua, a Cuban secret society similar to those in many African communities. The Abakua is all-male, and based on secret rules that cannot be shared with outsiders, which is why most of the figures have no mouth. The white person on the floor is Princess Silkan, the only woman in the religion, who was killed – white is the colour of death – after she had broken the rule of silence. Ayon’s work is obviously an indictment of male-dominated society.

‘A Flutist with a Strange, Unseen Ghost’ (paint on triplex) and ‘Rainbow Goddess II’ (paint, linen, triplex)These two works by Olaniya Osuntoki, better known as Twins Seven Seven (Nigeria, 1944-2011) are deeply rooted in Yoruba imagery. Apparently, the artist, who was also a dancer, musician, poet, writer and sculptor, was the one surviving child of no less than seven twins his parents had. Especially the ‘flutist’ is so quintessential African, in my view, representing images, carvings, ancestor ceremonies and myths.

‘Rainbow Goddess II’ (paint, linen, triplex)

‘Pushing the Edge’ (2022)

‘Pushing the Edge’ (2022, handcarved MDF panel, paint and varnish) and ‘Soulful’ (2022, id) Both works show headless, but colourful figures – the left one has in fact a whole range of small faces painted inside the body. They represent the artist’s ancestors, headless ‘because we may not know the identities of our ancestors’. The artist is Sthenjwa Luthuli, from Aouth Africa.

‘iSbonakaliso’ (2022, acrylic on canvas) This is South Africa artist Wonder Buhle Mbambo’s grandmother, covered in golden flowers, which refers to the native flowers used in ancestor ceremonies in Mbambo’s village. Also note the empty background, a range of dark hills under a pale blue sky, that higher up turns into a piece of cloth pinned in the canvas.

‘Transformation of the Devil’ (1997, wood, paint, glass and metal) And I love this one, by South African Masaego Johannes Segogela. Which shows the deep penetration of European beliefs in Africa. We see, in three steps, the devil (black, with horns, in the upper box), his transformation (being operated on by white angles, who have removed his horns, see the scars on his head, and are now working on the tail, middle box), and his reintegration (dressed in a suit, next to a priest, lower box). Whether this is the best example of art rooted in the African continent, is debatable, of course!

‘Ulin-Noifo, the lineage that never dies’ (2022, rosary beads, thread with stones, lace) Another wall hanging, this one from Nigerian artist Victor Ehikhamenor. The work combines symbols of Catholicism, like the rosaries, and those of the Kingdom of Benin: note the outline of a Nigerian king in the middle of the cloth.

the king in detail

‘Alagba in Limbo’ (1996, iron, feathers, mirror and wood) This impressive sculpture, from Nigerian Sokari Douglas Kemp, shows a group of who carry the body of a masked dancer, supposed to be the goddess Alagba, but in fact a man, a normal person. It illustrates the idea that the gods have abandoned the Nigerian delta, and have left the people with characters who play god. The link to the environmental damage in the Niger delta, caused by multinational oil companies, is obvious. The sculpture is actually not part of the exposition ‘In Brilliant Light’, but powerful enough not to be omitted from this entry. It is part of the permanent collection of the museum

the front of the sculpture

and the back

 

 

Riga Art Nouveau mirrored in a modern facade

Riga being called the capital of Art Nouveau, there are lots of buildings that deserve to be included in this blog, beyond the main Riga entry. However, even I know some limitations, so I try to curtail the number of photos to what is just about manageable. A mix of facades, decorations, windows, balconies, all that makes Art Nouveau so special – for us, at least.

Like I did for Helsinki, a small additional selection, then.

Next: more Riga.

another facade, with the focus on the vertical lines

in this case, colour is a way of distinction

and more intricately than you would see from a distance

I love this type of robust buildings, also note the doorways

another more humble facade, almost functional

fabulous door, and I love the autoped detail

this is the type of classical decoration found on many of the Art Nouveau houses in Riga

why would you make windows square, indeed?

another window, elaborately decorated – but here the gass is sqaure, at least

a beautiful house, with multiple window forms and lots of decoration

one of the windows, oval-shaped

and the last Art Nouveau building of this entry

and lovely balcony

again, great window decoration

almost forgotten: decoration in between the windows, too

huge Art Nouveau building on a corner

detail of the little tower under the roof

and another detial, of the triangular facade and the tall windows

 

 

the Orthodox Nativity Catheral of Riga, just after midday

There are two parts of Riga that are of interest to the casual visitor, or three, actually. The big two are Central Riga, with its long, straight streets lined with Art Nouveau buildings, and Old Riga, the old town with its cobbled, twisted and turning alleys, and chaotic mix of architectural styles.

facade of an expansively decorated Art Nouveau house

Although we intended to start in Old Riga, our hotel is actually outside the old town, in the diplomatic quarter, which also happens to be the main area for Art Nouveau buildings. And of course we cannot resist, so for the next few hours we wander the streets, with oohs and ahhs at each and every discovery of yet another fabulous building, quirky balcony, imposing door or ostentatious decoration. Especially the latter is a recurring factor, more than in Helsinki, or in earlier Art Nouveau encounters we had; the buildings have a multitude of stucco faces, or sculptures (I will put together an architectural porn collection), or other external decorations, that take the focus away from the modernist design style of the houses, the facades. I can tell you all about this, but the photos are probably a more efficient way to show – and otherwise there are lots of far more scholarly books you could check out. Point is, we are just enthusiastic amateurs. But boy, did we enjoy this part of Riga, dubbed the Art Nouveau capital of the world.  Oh, and like any town in this part of the world, the wooden houses are just in between the rest of the buildings; even in the Art Nouveau quarter, there are, admittedly upmarket, wooden houses to be found, too. More Riga Art Nouveau here.

this is the type I like most, with the art of design in the building itself, not the decorations

and this is the type of construction that appeals so much to me

another Art Nouveau facade, which stretches even beyond the top of the roof

top of the facade, incredible detail, mostly lost on those on the ground without a telelens

windows of the same building

stairs inside the Art Nouveau museum; the museum itself less interesting

this is the type of ostentatious decoration that comes with Riga Art Nouveau

some of the decoration is more subtle

in the middle of the Art Nouveau neighbourhood, once again a wooden house

and also nice, a wooden window

Of course, not all buildings are Art Nouveau, but some are equally impressive, in their own way.

this is not Art Nouveau, of course, but an equally impressive building

and I love balconies

did I say balconies?

the House of the Blackheads, originally 14th Century, bombed during WWII, demolished by the Soviets, and meticulously rebuilt at the end of the 20th C

the liberty monument, remembering those who fell in 1918-1920, for independence

great sculpture, the memorial for the Latvian archers

Old Riga then. Established as a major city at the beginning of the 13th century, by one bishop Albert, who came with the Brothers of the Sword, it went on to become a major trading centre throughout the Middle Ages, no matter who controlled the territory. The city itself was largely controlled by the Baltic Germans, who dominated commerce – until 1939, when many of them were resettled in Germany and Poland as part of a Nazi repopulation initiative, and 1940, when the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact brought the then independent Baltic states under Soviet influence, which made the remaining Germans flee (and the ones who didn’t, subsequently disappeared into Soviet camps). After which the Germans returned in 1941 – but not the Baltic Germans – and were kicked out again by the Russians in 1944, the vagaries of WWII. All of this damaged not only the infrastructure of Riga, which got badly bombed during the war, but also the minds of the Latvians, some of whom fought initially with the Nazis against the occupying Russians, others subsequently against the occupying Nazis. (In all this it is actually easy to forget that the Liberty Monument, at the intersection between Central Riga and the Old Town, remembers those fallen during the fight in 1918-1920, for the establishment of the first independent Latvia.)

a square in the Old Town, all types of houses, terraces and a mural

another Old Town view

and one of the streets, with pastel-coloured houses

not the city gate, just a passage inside the Old Town

a door, part of an impressive brick building, the history museum of Riga

view over Riga, from the viewing platform of the Saint Peter’s church

from where you can also look into people’s living rooms!

behind the Dom is a courtyard loosely resembling a museum

and the organ, same Dom

the pupit inside the old Dom cathedral

All of this has left an Old Town with a huge variety of older and newer buildings, from the old Dom cathedral originally from 1211, but frequently added to since, and the gothic Saint Peter’s church, with its viewing platform – fabulous views! – at 72 meters above the town, to individual houses from all times. Some 16th century, 17th century, but also further Art Nouveau examples. I read somewhere that in each and every street of Riga’s Old Town you may find an unexpected surprise, and we did, in the form of a window, a statue, or just a sculpture of a young man reading a book, draped in a Ukrainian flag (support for Ukraine, in Riga but also earlier in Estonia and Finland is quite universal, and clearly expressed).

Next: more Riga.

the so called Three Brothers, 16th and 17th Century houses

one of the many church towers, I cannot remember which one this is

just a window, one of those surprises

the national opera and ballet theatre, but even more: a very elegant sculpture of Maris Liepa, a Latvian ballet dancer

support for Ukraine is widespread

a glass building, now restaurant, at the edge of the Old Town

Art Nouveau decoration

imposing tower of the Cecis Castle, on the way to Riga

An hour or so after we leave Tartu we enter Latvia, through the border town of Valga. And it shows, the difference is striking. Not so much in the countryside before and after, which is flat, lots of woods, the occasional farmland, and not very attractive. But the roads deteriorate notably, the towns we pass through look a lot poorer, and the roadside café’s are no longer slick affairs with uniformed waitresses, but – the one we stopped at – a small wooden building in a yard, with a couple selling not only coffee and homemade cakes, but also their own catch of lake fish, smoked, their own salamis and cured hams, and a whole lot of other unrelated products. A few tables on the veranda, a pregnant dog, all very local indeed, and so much nicer than formica furniture.

Cicis is also an attractive town in its own right

We had lots of ideas for stops on the way to Riga, but in the end we limited ourselves to the castle at Cecis and to what is called the White Dune, Balta Kapa, north of Riga. Somehow, we tend to take much more time than our original planning enthusiasm allows, which means skipping a thing or two, three.

full view of the Cecis castle

canon balls, stacked and ready for use

the castle windows

the stairs up the tower

and the top room, vaulted roof

Cecis castle, thankfully, we didn’t skip. Whatever you have ever imagined when thinking about a medieval castle, Cecis has it. The castle is surrounded by a moat, now dry. Many of the walls are in ruins, of course – that is how you imagine a castle – but the outline of the building is still clear. Two of the towers are proudly standing – perhaps a bit patched up over time -, and what is more, you can climb all the way to the top, along narrow, circular stairs. These are dark, so at the entrance you are given a candle light. Really! And it works!

We spent an hour wandering the castle grounds, climbing the towers, enjoying the view from the top floor. And we were the only ones, we had the whole place for ourselves. Fabulous. A boy’s dream.

Like the Vijandi castle in Estonia, the Cecis castle was built during the Livonian Crusade of the 13th century, initially in 1213 by the Brothers of the Sword – you remember? -, but the basis of the building of today stems largely from reconstruction by the Teutonic Order in which the Brothers had been absorbed, after a Prussian design. At the beginning of the 16th century the castle was further reinforced, with extra towers, only to be badly damaged in 1577, after having been besieged by Ivan the Terrible during the Livonian War (1558-1583), one of those wars between an emerging and expanding Russia and the Swedes. Further Russian demolition had to wait until the Great Northern War (1700-1735), again between Russia and Sweden, at the start of the 18th century (the war that firmly established Russia as the dominant, occupying power in the Baltics, at the expense of Sweden).

outside the castle of Sigulda we found a collection of knights (artist Juris Gagainis)

very original sculptures indeed

 

the castle itself it pretty much restored, besides, the main buildings were closed – for even further renovation

We briefly stopped at Sigulda, but after Cesis, no castle was going to match that, and in any case, Sigulda castle was closed for repairs. So we continued to Balta Kapa, heralded as ‘striking pine-covered cliffs that loom above a pristine white-sand beach dissected by a glistening stream and affording sweeping views of the Gulf of Rīga’. Hmmm. The dunes here, and dunes are no cliffs, have been formed long ago, and have since been stabilised by vegetation, mostly pines, to the extent that they are hardly recognisable as dunes anymore. The views are nice, not necessarily sweeping, and the infrastructure makes this a walk in the park: wooden walkway on top of the dunes, the occasional look-out platform, and in several places comfortable stairs down to the beach. Providing for a nice-enough and pleasant late afternoon activity, helped by beautiful weather. But not exactly overwhelmingly spectacular.

So, to Riga. Where we arrive early evening, for the next few days.

the view from Balta Kapa, the white dune

stairs down from the dune to the beach

and the beach itself, nice enough, and deserted

Elmar Kits is well represented in the Tartu Art Museum, this is ‘Conversaion between Idiots’ (1968, tempera on paper)

In comparison to the other museums we have visited this trip, the Serlachius in Finland and the KUMU in Tallinn, the Tartu Art Museum is small beer. Established in 1940 at the initiative of the local art school, it has over the years built up an impressive collection, of some 23,000 works, of which – necessarily – only a small sample is being exhibited. I say ‘necessarily’, because the museum is located in the historical building known as the Leaning House (also Falling House), a small but suitable building in the town centre.

Quite a lot of the exhibition I saw (and probably also the collection?) was of local artists, presumably part of the Pallas group linked to the local art school, and mostly of the 1950s and 1960s. Not exactly top notch, but interesting enough to spend an hour wandering around.

A selection: (or back to Tartu) (or, if you have been there already: into Latvia)

another Elmar Kits, ‘Composition with Blue’ (1968, oil on canvas)

beautiful watercolour, ‘Composition’ (1956) from Ado Vabbe, a representative of the Pallas Group

‘Artists and Model’ (1963, oil on cardboard), by Silvia Jogever

‘Half-nude’ (1963, oil on canvas), by Efraim Allsalu

‘Motif from Lithuania’ (1962, oil on plywood), by Aleksander Suuman

this painting, from Albert Anni (1969, oil on canvas) had no title

‘Ten Men’ (1966, oil on canvas), from Artur Lok

‘Flower Sellers’ (1966), another watercolour, from Arnold Simson

the stylish Turusild footbridge in Tartu

All the way to Tartu, towards the east and quite close to the Russian border, the weather remains miserable. We bypass Parnu, a fairly important town at the Gulf of Riga, part of the Baltic Sea, and reputedly also a popular local tourist destination; we couldn’t find much of interest to us, here.

We briefly stop at Vijandi, and in the rain we walk up to the local castle ruins. The castle was established in 1225 by the Livonian Brothers of the Sword, a German Catholic military order that was instrumental in the Livonian Crusade of the early 13th century, a Grman initiative to convert the Baltic tribes to Christianity. This created Livonia, a fairly short-lived political entity that covered most parts of present-day Estonia and Latvia. It also established Germans as the ruling class in the Estonia and Latvia, a situation that, despite subsequent power struggles involving Russians and Swedes, continued to far into the 20th century, as the so-called Baltic Germans. Livonia collapsed again in the 16th century, between competing Russian, Danish and Swedish interests. The castle collapsed a little later, in the 17th century, as a result of the Polish-Swedish wars – just to indicate that there is so much European history that I have no knowledge of, whatsoever (well, a little, since today). Nowadays, the ruins are part of a nice public park, and form the décor of an open-air stage.

the church in Vijandi, next to the castle ruins

the stage of the open-air theatre in the castle park

there is not much left of the castle

except for part of the entrance gate

an interesting building in Tartu, now a restaurant

Tartu itself is a cute little town, even though – with almost 100,000 inhabitants – it is Estonia’s second largest. It is Sunday, the weather has improved again, but the town looks abandoned. Even in the big Saint John’s Church, where morning service is in progress, there are fewer than 15 people. And wherever we go, it doesn’t get much busier, despite this being home to the oldest and most renowned university of the country.

Encouragingly, Tartu will be European Cultural Capital in 2024.

and the whole square, in the back the town hall being refurbished ahead of Taru becoming European Cultural Capital in 2024

one side of the main Townhall square in Tartu

the Tartu Art Museum, more tilted than the Tower of Pisa

although the door looks pretty straight to me

In anticipation of 2024, the Town Hall is being patched up, and the most famous sculpture, that of kissing students, has been temporarily removed. Saint John’s Church is in good shape, a red-brick church has been rebuilt after several wars, the latest being WWII. The church is remarkable because of the handmade terracotta figures that have been incorporated, originally more than 1000, although now only some 200 are left – and most, especially on the outside, are copies.

the massive, brick Saint John’s church

and some of the terracotta figures, all copies in this case

inside, too, lots of terracotta, and brick

and who knows, is this still an authentic figure

graffiti on a house wall in the Supilinn neighbourhood

an artist’s colony in Supilinn

with original wall decorations

some of the colourful wooden houses now have a corrugated iron roof

more wooden houses

We are drawn to Supilinn, which means Soup Town, an originally working-class neighbourhood just beyond the old city, which is famous for its wooden houses – there they are again. But like Kalamaja in Tallinn, the houses have mostly been patched up, look well maintained, solidly upper-middle class by now. Perhaps with the exception of the occasional arty courtyard, or graffiti wall, which gives the area a slightly more bohemian feeling, bit only very locally. For the rest it needs to come from the different colours in which the houses have been painted.

and a whole street-full of them, but neat and well maintained

the ruins of the Tartu Cathedral, on Toome Hill

another view of the cathedral ruins

the observatory, also on Toome Hill

the corrugated iron roofs of the market, not very busy on a Sunday

some market buildings decorated with graffiti, again

The highest point in town is Toome Hill, where the remains of another 13th century cathedral create a dramatic sight in an otherwise pleasant park – the people here know how to create nice parks. There is an old observatory, a nice building, there are some likable sculptures, another art museum (see here for a selection of works) – proudly housed in a building that is more skewed that the Tower of Pisa, or so the brochure tells us -, a strikingly modern museum, and the old gunpowder cellars, turned into a restaurant-pub. Plenty to entertain ourselves for a day, although even the pub remains mostly empty in the evening.

Next: into Latvia.

the starkly modern design of the Estonian National Museum in Tartu

 

and the interior of the old gunpowder cellar, not turned into a restaurant

one of the towers of the castle in Kuressaara, on Saaremaa, Estonia’s largest island

Apparently, nobody knows how many islands Estonia has, exactly. There is a list counting 2355, but I imagine that many are small and uninhabited. Saaremaa is the largest, and to get to Saaremaa, you have to go through another island, Muhu. A good start.

the ruins of a church, along the way to Vitshu

Somehow, I had not taken into account that to get to an island, you need to take a ferry again. In Vitshu the road stopped, we bought yet another ferry ticket, and drove onto a remarkably big ship again, which was remarkably efficiently being filled up with cars, and off we went, even before we had the chance to get out of the car and onto the sunny passenger desk. Ideal place for our picnic, which was vastly superior in quality over the selection of hotdogs and burgers available from the counter. And half an hour later we arrived in Muhu.

one of the large ferries that service the line to the island of Muhu

one of the best preserved houses of the Muhu museum of wooden houses

and this is just another house, outside the museum, but equally wooden

and a barn, also in everyday use

and one more wooden house, currently inhabited

cart wheel as decoration of a museum house

the room full of puppets – not the most exciting museum we have visited so far

Being obsessed with wooden houses, we had to see the Muhu museum, another collection of traditional houses. Less of the town house variety we had seen in Finland, more of the rural type, thatched roofs, very low doorways, small rooms. To be honest, clearly different from what we have seen so far, but also as a museum perhaps a little underwhelming. They try to make up with a puppet collection, and with traditional cloths, but overall it was rather a lot of effort for not such a great reward. Actually, the houses around the museum, those where people are still living, were perhaps even more interesting than the demonstration ones. And the windmill, of course, a similar version to the ones we have seen in Finland.

but they do have this jewel, called a Christmas goat

the windmill outside the museum

and another windmill, across the causeway on Saaremaa island

the large, square castle of Kuressaara

the door of the castle, closed in our face at exactly 17.30

Saaremaa, the next island, is – thankfully – reached by a causeway, no need for another ferry. And Saaremaa is much better organised, clearly a touristic destination, at least for many of the locals. The main town on the island, Kuressaara, is a nice little place, with a cute centre, more wooden houses, and an impressive castle. Which was going to close at 6, last admissions 5.30 pm, so we rushed to be in time. Only to find the caretaker to refuse entry, “museum is closed”. Arguing that it was only 5.25, officially still open, and we would be quick, had no effect, he just stared another five minutes onto his watch, and then said triumphantically, “museum is closed, tomorrow 11 am again”, and closed the door in our face. The first unfriendly, unhelpful Estonian we have met so far – and we would meet no others like him, on the contrary.

close up of part of the castle, still pretty square

So we just admired the castle, and the accompanying grounds, from the outside, in the late afternoon sunlight. The castle is from the 14th century and apparently the only Baltic castle that has not been heavily reconstructed since. After which we settled in our hotel, and explored the town a little further. Including a disastrous visit at the wool shop.

the centre of Kuressaara, a cute little town

with a totally different architecture then what we have seen so far

and another architectural rarety, now a restaurant

the wool shop

the fountain on the village square

the Poide hill fort, the inside of it, surrounded by earthen walls

a single stone in the middle of the Muhu hill fort

One could easily spend a few days on Saaremaa – locals spend a week here, or more, on their holidays – but the weather turned nasty once again. We managed to fit in a few ancient sites, like the two ancient hill forts, defensive structures, of Poide and Muhu. It is quite amazing that these sites date from the 8th century, were still being reinforced in the 12th century, with sand walls and wooden fortifications, and at least the Poide one lasted to well into the 14th century, whilst at the same time a stone throw away a far more advanced castle was being built in Kuressaara – the impressive one we saw yesterday.

Just before reaching the ferry back to the mainland we encountered the Mala burial site, much older than the hill forts, and dating back to probably 500 BC. Another pile of rocks, one could say, but at least recognisable as a cemetery.

On the ferry, in miserable weather this time, we were reduced to lunch with dubious hotdogs.

Next: Tartu.

several graves in the Mala cemetery, the oldest ones dating back to 500 BC

the Self Portrait (1923) of Jaan Vahtra, one of the many Estonian painters in the KUMU Art Museum

The KUMU, short for Kunsti Museum (which is Estonian for Museum of Art) in Tallinn, is one of Estonia’s largest museums, and as far as we were concerned – subjectively, I know – its most appealing. It starts with the strikingly modern building, opened in 2006. This is for the most filled with paintings, and some other works, of Estonian artists – a few from the more classical mid-19th century, but mostly more modern painters, late 19th and right through the 20th century. The main exhibition is subdivided in the period from before the WWII, and that afterwards, trying to illustrate how the artists responded to the change of circumstances. Perhaps most telling, there isn’t a lot of protest art, with some notable exceptions during the German occupation and immediately afterwards. And yet, the collection contains a whole range of enjoyable, high quality paintings – again, subjectively, I know – of artists I have never heard of. A bit like the experience in the Finnish museum. Really nice!

the modern architecture KUMU museum, fabulous building

The first series of paintings are from the pre-WWII collection, but also include works of Olga Terri up to 1949, one of the few artists who captured the anxiety and the fear of terror of those days, both Nazi and Soviet. She was duly expelled from the Artist Association for it.

‘Mother’s Portrait’ (1909), by Paul Raud

‘An Old Man from Muhu Island’ (1898), by Paul Raud

‘Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ a pastel by Erich Kugelgen

‘Head’ (1920), a watercolour by Alexander Mulber

‘House and Towrs’ (1930), by Aleksander Krims

‘Fear’ (1949), by Olga Terri

‘Grievers’ (1945), also Olga Terri

 

the inside of the museum is equally spectacular

The second series of paintings are Soviet-era works, and seem to comply with what was acceptable at the time: rural scenes, factories and the lot. However, later on there is also room for abstract works, of which I have also included some nice examples.

Next: to the islands.

a more abstract painting from Henn Roode, ‘Violet and Grey’ (1965)

‘Before the Snow’ (1962), pretty rural scene by Lepo Mikko

‘Reinforced Concrete’ (1965), another good Soviet subject, by Nikolai Kormasov

‘Flower Market’ (1961), by Henn Roode

‘Snow gathers by the fence, pain in my heart’ (1946), by Johannes Saal

fabulous sculpture in bronze, ‘Shadow’ (1974-77), from Jaak Soans

Juri Arrak’s ‘objects with the number seven’ (1967)

and another Juri Arrak, ‘objects with insects’ (1967)

‘Cyclists’ (1972), by Malle Leis

‘Alone’ (1987), by Peter Pere

‘Travellers’ (1985), a bronze by Tamara Ditman

a street lamp in the Old Town of Tallinn

Already on the ferry the differences between Finland and Estonia became clear. Chatty Estonians strike up a conversation, offer help where we have language difficulties, and are generally extrovert and friendly – which is not to say that Finns are unfriendly, but they would never get involved in any talk with a stranger. Even in the sauna in Porvoo, they only reluctantly answered my questions about, for instance, sauna customs in Finland, and would not voluntarily continue the conversation.

Once off the boat, the second difference became clear. Here in Tallinn, people have no qualms running through orange traffic light, not even if they have just turned red. And there are quite a few drivers who have little respect for maximum speed, and are happy to overtake at the first opportunity. Driving, then, is going to be a lot less relaxed than in Finland.

Alexander Nevsky cathedral in the Upper Town

and the inside of the cathedral, pretty new icons mostly

Saint Mary’s cathedral, the oldest church in Estonia

and inside this cathedral, Lutheran and mostly bare

except for a huge collections of coats of arms

with reference to the originally Danish origin of the church

individual shield, impressively detailed

and another one, with multiple elements surrounding the shield

But in Tallinn that is not an issue, we park the car at our temporary apartment, and explore the city on foot, or with public transport; the tram works perfectly well for us. Most of what is of interest in Tallinn is in the old, walled city, anyhow, which is a pedestrian zone. There is the Upper Town, and the Lower Town, and both have their attractions. As far as we are concerned, we are perfectly happy to wander around, admire the fortifications, and the various churches in the Upper Town – the Alexander Nevsky Orthodox church from 1894, complete with onion-dome towers, is not particularly interesting inside, but the Saint Mary’s cathedral has a fascinating interior, with over a hundred coats of arms representing the Estonian nobility, who also had themselves buried inside the church. Apparently, this is the oldest church in Estonia, originally established by the Danish immigrants in 1219, although the current, rather Gothic outside dates from the 16th century, and the inside was rebuilt after a fire in 1684. One curious aspect inside are the closed pews.

with church pews closed so you cannot escape during service

the view from Upper Town to Lower town

more views

also of the houses below

there are several passage ways from Upper to Lower Town

view towards the Town Hall square

nice little closed-in balcony

colourful houses along the Town Hall square

the doors and pully of a former warehouse

more warehouse doors

From various viewing terraces around the walls of the Upper Town one has great views over the rest of Tallinn, which in case of the Lower Town is indeed spectacular, with excellent panoramas of the lower fortifications, but for the rest Tallinn in the distance doesn’t appear to be very interesting: a bit of high-rise, and large swaths of palatis, the ubiquitous Soviet style apartment buildings, in the outskirts.

The Lower Town is where most of the activity is, in the form of restaurants and terraces, to cater for the tourists. Even though the official tourist season is over – we cannot enter the magnificent 14th century town hall building anymore, only open to the public from June to August – we have to content with lots of tourists again, from large groups to individuals, something that was mostly absent in Finland. But the other side of the coin is that, especially as the weather was great, the atmosphere in town was actually very lively.

Busiest was the square in front of the Town Hall, and the surrounding few streets. Well-kept houses, facades, windows and doors, the occasional city gate, cobbled streets, all those things you expect from a medieval city. No disappointment here.

funny that they sell Rusian dolls in the tourist shops

wall decorations next to the window

and one of many impressive doors

not as prominent, but there is also Art Nouveau around, here

the Patarei, former fortress and prison, forever associated with Nazi and Soviet terror, in the Kalamaja district of Tallinn

A little further along, towards the coast, is another interesting neighbourhood of Tallinn, called Kalamaja. This used to be a working-class district, but has been revamped in the past years. Several streets still support the old wooden houses, but then mostly patched up, well maintained and clearly not so working-class anymore. The coastal strip has been redone entirely, and is made up of multiple modern-design, quite attractive apartment buildings, three of four floors only, many with balconies – except that they have been built rather closely on top of each other, and most balconies provide views only of the balconies of the neighbours opposite. But architecturally, an interesting mix of buildings.

a street of wooden houses in the Kalamaja quarter

one of the older wooden houses, not yet fully patched up

four windows, in need of maintenance

a wooden window frame

the Seaplane Harbour Museum, originally a hangar for seaplanes

At the far end of Kalamaja is the harbour, and the spectacular maritime museum, houses in a 1916 hangar for seaplanes, as part of the tsarist naval infrastructure. The building was revolutionary at the time, an enormous column-less concrete structure with a roof made up of several thin-concrete domes. Now the hangar houses a variety of floating vessels, from water- and ice-sailing boats to the pride of the museum, a 1930s submarine, open to the public. And even doable for a mildly claustrophobic me, who had never been in a submarine before.

inside the Seaplane museum, the for the time revolutionary roof structure

there is even a sea plane inside!

the pride of the museum, the 1930s Lembit submarine

inside the submarine, the launching tubes

and multiple quarters, one after the other

the northern city gate

Outside, in the harbour, are a series of naval ships lined up, but here the show is stolen by the Suur Toll, an icebreaker from 1914, which initially ran on coal. This one, too, is open to the public, and really nicely done – although in places it is even more claustrophobic than a submarine!

And that was it, for Tallinn. There are hundreds of museums more, of the bastions, of underground tunnels, of history, of natural history, of history of Tallinn, also of photography and of an apothecary, of energy, of the KGB. But we couldn’t be bothered. Well, except the KUMU, of course.

lots of inviting mirrors in the streets