My journey to Sweden began at Tallinn’s Bussijaam, where I boarded Bus No. 2 to the airport. True to Estonia’s reputation for efficiency, it departed and arrived exactly on schedule. Buying a ticket was a small adventure in itself. There were no ticket offices or machines in sight, so I simply tapped my credit card on the bus, received a reassuring green light, and took a seat, trusting that the system somehow knew I had paid despite providing no ticket or receipt.

Twenty minutes later I was at the Tallinn airport, and within another fifteen minutes, cleared security and settled into the lounge with a cappuccino in hand. Soon I was airborne, crossing the Gulf of Finland in little more than fifteen minutes before making a brief connection in Helsinki for my flight to Gothenburg.

Waiting for me at arrivals was my Swedish daughter, Maria. In 1987–88, Maria came to live with me in Bakersfield as an exchange student. I suspect the California heat that greeted her was at least 40 degrees warmer than anything she had left behind in Sweden.

We shared a wonderful year filled with adventures, and over the decades since, we have remained close, visiting one another in both the United States and Sweden. Arriving in Gothenburg felt less like the start of a new journey and more like the continuation of a friendship that has lasted nearly forty years.

I last saw Maria in 2019 when I stopped over in Gothenburg on my way back from Finland. During that visit, I explored some of the city. This time, we’ll embark on more adventures in this beautiful part of Sweden.  

Muddy Paws Among Gardens and Lakes

Just a short walk from home takes us to , Gunnebo Slott och Trädgårdar, one of Sweden’s most elegant 18th-century manor estates, set in a carefully restored landscape of neoclassical gardens, orchards, and woodland paths.

The wooden palace sits on a rise above manicured lawns, while the surrounding gardens are managed using traditional organic methods, often with heritage vegetables, herbs, and seasonal flowers.

A short walk away, the atmosphere shifts into quieter nature. The area around Stensjön offers winding forest trails and lakeside paths that are ideal for a relaxed Sunday walk with our little white and fluffy dog Molly. The lake itself is calm and reflective, edged by pine forest and rocky outcrops, with openings where one can pause and look across the water. Some brave souls are swimming, but then this is summer in Sweden. Molly takes it all in stride as she rushes belly-deep into the cool waters.

The Creativity of Cars and More Cars

It feels appropriate to visit The World of Volvo. Volvo is not just a car brand in Gothenburg, but a huge part of the city’s identity, woven into its industrial history and its present-day confidence in design, safety, and engineering. The gorgeous building, inside and out, has a sculptural presence, all clean lines and sweeping forms that suggest motion even when one stands still.

Inside, the experience becomes less like a conventional automotive museum and more like an exhibition about how mobility shapes everyday life. Displays blend storytelling with design. Early Volvo models feel almost quaint in their simplicity, compared with the smooth, minimalistic interiors of newer electric vehicles.

There are interactive sections where I can explore how safety systems evolved, such as seatbelts, crash structures, and the quietly obsessive engineering behind protecting human bodies in motion.

One can climb aboard to operate a giant ditch digger, dirt replaced by colorful plastic balls.

Not just the cars stand out, but how they are presented as responses to human needs: winter roads, family travel, and urban congestion. There’s many interactive displays and, of course, many shiny and spotless vintage cars, experimental prototypes, and modern luxury models. Makes me covet the newest model – in only I had $80k to invest in a car.

Dinner Amongst West Coast Archipelago

We are the very last to board our dinner cruise aboard Strömma’s Carl Michael Bellman Kanalbolaget which gracefully navigates through Gothenburg’s southern archipelago.

Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale

a tale of a lovely trip,

that started from this Swedish port,

aboard this Strömma ship.

The mate was a mighty sailin’ man,

the Skipper brave and sure,

two passengers set sail that day,

for a three hour tour,

a three hour tour.

Gothenburg is located on the west coast of Sweden and is known for its granite shores, beautiful archipelago, and rich variety of fish and seafood. This makes it the perfect city to enjoy a 3-hour dining cruise in around the small islands of the  archipelago. And Maria makes the perfect host as she explains what we pass and bits of history about our surroundings.

We sailed out the long canal past what used to be a thriving shipping and dry dock industry and now includes the gentrification and development of this part of the city. We circle popular islands like Brännö, Styrsö, and Asperö. It would be exceptional if we could witness a sunset here,  however, even if 3-hours long, the sun is high and hidden in a gray sky until 10.07 tonight. 

The Southern Archipelago represents a spectacular combination of sandy coves, private homes and boats, rugged granite cliffs, natural trails and endless sea views. This coastal region consists of around thirty islands, several of which are protected nature reserves. On the inhabited islands, charming turn-of-the-century homes stand alongside contemporary buildings, creating a blend of tradition and modern life.

Scattered along the shorelines, rows of bright red fishing huts add a splash of color and a reminder of the archipelago’s maritime heritage. Together, the islands offer a uniquely Swedish landscape where natural beauty and coastal culture exist in perfect harmony. 

The seafood, champagne and wine and especially the company make it a special night to remember. 

Along the Wet Cobblestones of Haga 

With umbrellas unfurled as protection from rain, Maria and I walk toward an older rhythm in the city: Haga. This represents one of Gothenburg’s oldest neighborhoods. Streets narrow, wooden houses lean slightly into one another. Cobblestones, wet from rain, replace modern paving, and the scale of everything drops whether it be doors, windows, or storefronts. It creates a sense that the city has folded inward here rather than expanded outward.

Haga is not a place for rushing. Wandering becomes the point. It’s quiet, most people seem to be either at work or just staying out of the rain. I pass cafés with oversized cinnamon buns, called hagabulle. Small shops sell crafts, books, antiques, and objects that feel chosen rather than stocked. I check for a Made in China label and see few. The pace of life here seems deliberately slower, as if the neighborhood has decided not to participate fully in modern acceleration.

The Haga neighborhood represents a pleasurable contrast to the modern city. The quaintness and quiet of Haga resists the sharper, modern and expanding edges of Gothenburg.

We pause for lunch. Found along the charming cobblestone street of Haga Nygata, the Sjöbaren restaurant offers traditional Gothenburg seafood.

The weather was gray and wet so rather than a table outside in their backyard, we opted for the cozy second floor area. 

We serve ourselves at the salad bar and enjoy a wonderful bowl of seafood soup. Adding a glass of white wine from Espana, the wet afternoon was spent talking and enjoying each others company.

Trädgårdsföreningen – Amid Blooms & Scents

With Maria as my guide, we stroll through Gothenburg’s Trädgårdsföreningen (Garden Society), founded in 1842 by King Carl XIV. The rain had stopped so we wandered through the tropical garden houses and along winding paths that led through beautifully arranged gardens, blooming flowers and budding rose bushes.

Maria shared stories and pointed out details I might otherwise have missed, bringing the garden to life. The air carried the scent of summer blooms, while local feathered inhabitants provided a nice soundtrack to our stroll. We paused often to admire the carefully designed landscapes and the remarkable variety of plants gathered from around the world. Colorful photos were required. 

Champagne and the Dorsia

The Dorsia Hotel, at first, appears a decadent blend of Belle Époque and modern comfort. For me, it appears to transport one back to the opulent era of the Great Gatsby or encourages visions of Monet in Montmartre. 

From around 1871, after the Napoleonic era and the subsequent peace in Europe, a period known as the Beautiful Age emerged before the Great War of 1914. This era was characterized by a prosperous and carefree life for the upper and middle classes. There was significant growth in private possessions and in consumption, particularly of food and alcohol. For those who had money and experienced this era, it was seen as a glorious Gilded Age.

From the lobby to the multiple dining areas, the timely music, original paintings, statues of nudes, antique furnishings, and luxurious brocades and silks create an immersive experience. The roof terrace, offering panoramic views of the historic city center, is too wet for us. Instead, we settle into an upper lounge, surrounded by the opulence of luxury.

As we sip champagne, we belles of Sweden unwind and enjoy a relaxing afternoon. 

Among Sheep, Sculptures, and Standing Stones

We loaded up the Volvo and set off north to explore a unique part of Sweden. Neither of us had been there before, so a bit of rain didn’t deter us. However, the weathergods cooperated. As we stepped from the car, intermittent rain transitioned to blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Mother Nature, and her sheep, smiled green and happy.

Skulptur i Pilane in Tjörn, some 45 north of Gothenburg, may be one of Sweden’s most unusual cultural sites. It combines archaeology, nature, and contemporary art in a single landscape.

The story of Pilane stretches back more than a thousand years. The area was an important settlement and burial ground during the Iron Age, roughly from 500 BC to AD 600.

Walking  its green rolling hills, we pass ancient stone circles, standing stones, and grave fields that reveal how people lived and commemorated their dead long before the Viking Age. Archaeologists have found evidence of extensive habitation, making Pilane one of the most significant ancient sites in this Bohuslän region.

In 2007, the site took on a new dimension when it became an outdoor sculpture park. Each year, large-scale contemporary artworks are placed among the ancient monuments and grazing sheep. The most famous is Anna, the towering serene head created by Jaume Plensa, which gazes across the landscape and has become the iconic symbol of Pilane.

What makes Pilane special is the contrast: we can stand among grazing sheep, beside a 1,500-year-old burial monument while looking at world-class modern sculpture – all set amid windswept hills overlooking the North Sea. It results in a feeling of ancient struggles by long-gone Viking mariners. Ancient history and contemporary creativity share this same rugged landscape.

Get Thee to Gothenburg-Landvetter Airport

After a wonderful lunch at Salt & Sea in Koholmen, Maria dropped me off at the airport’s Scandic Hotel. The night seems short before it is time to rise and shine. From the hotel, it becomes a simple walk into Gothenburg’s airport, thru security and into the lounge for coffee and breakfast. Boarding at the ungodly hour of 5:35 am, I depart on-time for Frankfurt and ultimately home to California.

All travelers reach that moment when faced with going home. All trips draw to a close. Sadly, so too for my adventure. I face a very early flight in the morning so my plan is to stay overnight at the Scandic. I never want to ask someone to get up in the dark of night and drive me to an airport. Of course, in Sweden, it would already be after sunrise, even if at 4 am.

As I depart Gothenburg, I carry with me so many memories of my Swedish family. And I can’t help but think of possibilities of a return.

What an amazing exploration as I traveled through the Baltic countries of Lithuania (Vilnius, Kaunas, Siauliai) Latvia (Riga) and Estonia (Tallinn). Some experiences a repeat performance from my 2009 trip, other stops were new. Eleven days crammed with history, culture, cuisine and tasty ales. 

My Memorable Moments:

As a Californian, I must see the whites of a driver’s eyes before stepping into any crosswalk.  In the Baltic States, it took some getting accustomed to and a lot of trust, but at pedestrian crossings, just my approach brought cars and buses to a screeching halt. No matter how busy the street or traffic. No exceptions!

If not in a crosswalk, I felt I was fair game. 

Without a doubt, these states empathize with and totally support Ukrainians. Flags and posters are everywhere. The Baltic States remember what it was like under the Russian boot of oppression. They achieved their independence just 25 years ago. It isn’t history, for them – it happened yesterday. 

In fact, the Ukrainian flag was almost as prevalent as the country’s flag. It seemed as if I traveled through two countries at once.

Reasons for travel is to expanding one’s understanding  of what it is to be a Global citizen. While I never saw or felt anything anti-American, I did not see our flag flying as it once shared space with other world flags. We have been replaced as the shining star. Zelenskyy has become a Man of the Masses. 

I witnessed very little smoking! Perhaps a bit more in Estonia than in Latvia. I don’t believe I saw one smoker in Lithuania. And the streets were noticeably absent of cigarette butts. In fact, everything is very clean. 

While no smokers, I did see many Prius. Cars were new, shiny and cared for here. It seems, in general, the economy was doing well in the cities I visited. 

Pleasurably memorable experiences included the students in Šiauliai’s Presidential Palace who practiced their English by explaining the exhibits to me. I was so impressed with their eagerness to share and command of English. I could speak not a word of their own language. 

Everyone I met was friendly and welcoming. All seemed cautious but interested about the current status on of the USA. Never openly hostile but definitely disappointed in current political rhetoric of US. 

Thank heavens, almost everyone spoke English, and most signs were also translated into English. I experienced few problems being understood. Also, national pride caused the Baltic States to replace Russian with English as their second language

Even my translation apps failed most of the time. And it would have helped a lot in the stores so I would have avoided Sweet cream with raspberry flavor, a dessert, thinking it was yogurt! Tasty, but not a breakfast food group.

I discovered two great artists while traveling: Cuirlionis in Šiauliai Lithuania and Adamson-Eric in Tallinn Estonia. Both produced an array of extraordinary works. 

I love cities with medieval walls but even more those with dedicated pedestrian streets. Kaunas has one of the best I have walked. One could spend their entire day on the Laisvės al.

Cats. I saw none! In my entire time in the Baltic States, and days in Berlin, I saw not one stray cat. I don’t count the stuffed tiger in the natural history museum in Riga. In fact, if I  hadn’t visited the Cat House in Siauliai, Lithuania, I would have surmised that this region of the world held no knowledge of domesticated felines.

What this does tell me is that these countries have taken responsibility to prevent strays. The Cat House explained their efforts to spay and neuter and shelter their animals. Both dogs, always seen on leash, and cats. Wonderful to know. 

When a day hands you lemons, then turn it into lemonade. Weather was mostly comfortable but I am glad I packed a sweater at the last moment. I think I wore in at least 10 out of 17 days on this trip, so far. Still have Sweden. 

It may have misted but that created no problems, which was good as the brutal wind would have ripped the guts out of any umbrella opened for shelter. It did pour rain for a short time in Tallinn. Thanks to the weather app, I knew the timing and found a restaurant with large umbrellas and enjoyed lunch until the storm passed. Then the sun came out. 

Another oddity was experienced in Tallinn. There are no places to buy bus tickets at the Bussijaam (bus station). Even the three policeman working there could not locate anything and just told me to buy it on the bus. So,  I have to hope my credit card works as it will not work in the transit app. I tapped my card, machine beeped with green lights, and sit hoping somehow there is an indication I’ve paid as I get no proof whatsoever to show if asked. The receipt for payment was received the next day. The Vilnius buses worked the same. 

And I’m still musing about that Frank Zappa bust in Vilnius.

I’m traveling far north. It never gets truly dark here. If I wake at 2 am, I still see a dark blue sky with ambient light. Sunset is after 10:30 and Sunrise is around 4 am. All this takes some adjustment. 

The local food and beer – I never tired of it. The cuisine in these countries consists of a lot of pork, potatoes, sauerkraut, sausages, and coleslaw. Thankfully, I like it all. I enjoyed sampling the local beer in each region. Drinking mostly light beers and the occasional wheat beer, I found them all refreshing and tasty. 

Because of the cruise port, Tallinn was incredibly crowded. It became easier to avoid the street jams by walking in the smaller lanes and going to the museums. Sadly, while hoards clogged the streets, few entered any of the museums. 

After 7 pm, the streets returned to the locals. Then was the time to stroll, enjoy the cobblestone attractions, and rest in the cafes. 

After two weeks of travel from Berlin and through the three Baltic States, I admitted to myself that I felt drained.

I had explored countless history, occupation, holocaust, and war museums. While each told its region’s individual experiences, the commonality of cruelty and oppression rang the same. For many, the citizens traded the evil Nazis for the barbaric Russians. 

Their stories and struggles for independence are heroic. 

The propaganda reached unbelievable exaggeration, cynicism, and derision. It worked on the citizens who believed or wanted to believe for whatever reasons. Did it only take a persistent propaganda campaign to turn the tide – from reasonable to barbaric, accepting to choosing and brutalizing a scapegoat?

I cannot count the number of times I felt I was listening to a history of my own country at this time. Lessons stared me in the face. Lessons that Americans seem to have overlooked and are now paying a price for this ignorance. 

Exploring the Baltic States was a journey through history, resilience, and charm. From medieval old towns to quiet forests and creative neighborhoods, each country offered its own character while sharing a deep sense of national pride and identity.

 I came to explore more of the Baltic States and left with a genuine affection for them. Their stories, landscapes, and people made every day an adventure. It became a goal to become pleasantly lost in countless old towns, sample local specialties and brews.

In the end, I ended up falling in love with the Baltic States. It was a journey that left me wanting more.

Tallinn has a way of blending centuries together. On this cool June day, the heavy scent of lilacs drifted through the parks and streets while Old Town seemed transformed into a medieval fair, with costumed performers, market stalls, and crowds gathering beneath ancient towers and walls. 

Yet beyond the fairytale setting lay stories from many different eras. It was a day that revealed Tallinn not as a city frozen in the Middle Ages, but as a place where medieval legends, imperial history, Soviet memories, and modern independence all coexist within a few fascinating streets.

My wanderings would take me from a plaque commemorating Boris Yeltsin and Estonia’s struggle for freedom, to elegant works of art, secret rooms once used by the KGB, a museum filled with orders of knighthood, and paths past Dutch garlic and fragrant lilacs in Toompea Park.

From Freedom to Oppression

I leave the fortifications, walk through Freedom Square with its monument to the War of Independence Victory, and visit Hotel Viru. Inside is the KGB Museum.

Seems odd that artifacts from the era of Soviet occupation are exhibited here. However, Hotel Viru became one of the most revealing relics of the Soviet-era in Tallinn not because of how it looks, but because of what went on behind its doors.

The hotel represented openness to the world on the surface, but represented constant observation just out of sight. Built in 1972, Soviet authorities constructed it to serve foreign visitors like tourists, journalists, and especially business travelers from the West. The Soviets needed a place that felt modern and comfortable enough to impress foreigners. They also wanted the cash.

Officially, it was a showcase hotel, bright, relatively luxurious by Soviet standards, with restaurants, bars and showgirls that were positively lively compared to most of the USSR. Unofficially, however, it was a surveillance hub.

The top floor, floor 23, mysteriously considered as nonexistent by the elevator, actually served the KGB. From there, agents monitored guests through an extensive network of bugs and listening devices hidden in rooms, phones, and even walls. 

This wasn’t unusual for the Soviets, but Hotel Viru became particularly known for it because of the volume and type of guests it hosted. Foreign currency flowed through the hotel. With it came influence, ideas, and potential dissent, things the authorities were determined to control. Even Estonian employees faced close scrutiny.

There exists stories, some confirmed, about microphones hidden in ashtrays, conversations overheard in multiple languages, and guests who suspected they were never truly alone. Whether every tale is true or not, the broader reality is not in doubt: the hotel functioned as a controlled interface between the Soviet world and the outside.

Surprisingly, most of the KGB equipment remained behind when they left Estonia. The very informative tour and the excellent views over the city made this a must stop in Tallinn, especially for this history buff. 

Three Museums – Three Purposes

Tallinn Museum of Orders of Knighthood

This museum presents a different view of history. It displays decorations, medals, and insignia from royal and state orders across Europe and beyond. This includes ornate badges linked to monarchies like Napoleon Bonaparte and other imperial courts from around the world, alongside explanations of what each honor represented be it loyalty, service, or power. 

It’s compact but beautifully curated, giving a glimpse into elite history through craftsmanship and symbolism. I enjoyed the exhibits and it represented a quick stop that felt different from the usual medieval and war-heavy sights.

Adamson-Eric Art Museum

Dedicated to Estonian artist Adamson-Eric, this museum blends modernism with decorative arts. Born Erik Adamson in 1902, he became known for his versatility, working as a painter, designer, ceramicist, metalworker, and creator of decorative arts. As an artist, he adopted the name Adamson-Eric.

Rather than focusing on a single style, Adamson-Eric embraced everything from portraits and landscapes to furniture, textiles, ceramics, and applied arts. His colorful, elegant works helped shape Estonia’s modern artistic identity. His creative versatility is amazing.

Displays include paintings, ceramics, textiles, and furniture, all designed by Adamson-Eric. The museum sits in a charming historic house, which adds to its intimate feel. It gives a nice break from medieval history with a look at Estonia’s 20th-century creativity, its design, color, and the intersection of fine art and functional objects.

Tallinn City Museum

Beyond its fun interactive displays, the Tallinn City Museum excels at bringing everyday life to the forefront. Housed in a beautifully preserved medieval merchant’s house, it showcases centuries of objects ranging from guild treasures and household items to wartime artefacts and photographs.

The museum’s historic interiors, including ancient cellars and timbered rooms, help one experience Tallinn’s past in an authentic setting rather than simply reading about it. And the excellent 1825 city model shows the Old Town of Tallinn with its medieval fortifications, red-roofed buildings, and distinct bastion tunnels.

The museum effectively and humorously uses role-based historical characters in vignettes, particularly those associated with the Hanseatic merchants and Brotherhood of the Blackheads (young, unmarried merchant guild members) to recreate a period of city history.

Giving Some Love to a Russian?

Oddly, there is a Plaque to Boris Yeltsin in Toompea Park along Nunne Street across from the train station. The bas-relief acts as a commemoration to the Soviet ruler “… to honor his role in the peaceful restoration of Estonia’s independence in 1990–1991.” 

Yeltsin is the only democratically-elected leader in Russia. As Soviet tanks rolled to action to crush pro-independence, Boris Yeltsin, then speaker of Parliament of the Russian Federation, came to Tallinn. In open defiance of the Kremlin, Yeltsin signed a treaty with Estonia recognizing her “inalienable right to national independence.” (He later did the same for Latvia and Lithuania. Gorbachev played an accidental role because his reforms of glasnost lit the fuse that ultimately led to Yeltsin’s success. Gorby opposed independence.)

Not one representative of the current Russian authorities participated in the plaque ceremony in 2013. The memory of Yeltsin, nor Gorbachev, are not welcomed by the Putin regime. “When some rogue in the Duma once again raises his voice about the Baltics’ ‘disrespect’ for Russia … I will remember that shameful scene,” wrote Sergei Parkhomenko, a prominent Russian journalist. “… a large crowd of Estonians who came to express gratitude and respect to Russia and her president, and the cowardly absence of Russian politicians and diplomats.”  Unfortunately, this sounds horrifyingly familiar in today’s U.S. politics.

A Conversation with a Russian

During dinner, I enjoyed one of the more interesting moments in Tallinn during a conversation with a Russian-born man who had moved to Estonia. We compared the advantages and disadvantages of living in our respective countries.

He spoke positively about safety in Russia and some aspects of its social system, while also making it clear he preferred living in Estonia.

I asked whether he worried about Putin one day trying to reclaim parts of the old Russian Empire, like Estonia. His response was simple: if things ever became that serious, he would move elsewhere. A practical view, especially given Russia’s history of military conscription.

We talked about everyday costs. He noted that fuel in Russia was only a fraction of the price in Estonia. Still, the question lingered: is cheaper petrol worth the trade-offs?

Politics inevitably came up. He was not particularly impressed by Trump, and while discussing America he pointed to the country’s violence and social problems. On that point, I had to concede he had a valid argument.

By the end, we seemed to reach a common conclusion. Neither of us had much faith in our current political leaders. He was content living outside Russia, and I was content being away from the United States for a while. Two people from very different backgrounds finding some unexpected common ground in Tallinn.

Elagu vaba Ukraina “Long live free Ukraine”

Across Tallinn, displays of Ukrainian flags, posters, and handwritten messages of solidarity reflect a strong public response to Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Walls covered in blue and yellow speak not only to political alignment but also to shared memories of occupation and the value Estonia places on independence and sovereignty. 

Many Estonians see Ukraine’s struggle as echoing their own 20th-century experience under Soviet rule. Civic institutions, museums, and public spaces have contributed to these expressions, reinforcing a sense of moral support and regional unity. The displays also serve as reminders of ongoing humanitarian aid, refugees, and Europe’s interconnected security concerns today.

Conversation with a Hongkonger

I anticipated encountering people from Russia, Ukraine, or Finland in Estonia. However, I met a young man from Hong Kong who managed one of the tower museums.

Since I was the only person there, I asked him why he had chosen to live in Estonia. His mother had suggested it, he said, but he couldn’t explain why she had insisted. “She dreamed it,” he replied. He could have gone to the UK, but his mother had a strong desire for him to live in Estonia, a country she had never visited.

It seems that a few Hongkongers have settled in Tallinn. This may not be solely due to a dream, but rather because of the emigration from Hong Kong that began in 2020. Political changes and concerns about civil liberties have led many Hongkongers to seek new opportunities elsewhere. While most of them have chosen the UK, Canada, or Australia, a few have also considered smaller European countries, including Estonia.

Despite the challenges, the young man remained optimistic and seemed content with his mother’s decision. He mentioned the abundance of Chinese restaurants in Tallinn and even mentioned a few girls living there. And, of course, the flight home is only 14 hours. 

A City of Steeples and Domes

Always a moment for churches, a look at what faith once built and what tourism now helps sustain. Tallinn offered a remarkable variety. 

St. Mary’s Cathedral (Lutheran) at left, known as the Dome Church or Toomkirik, is simple yet dignified, with centuries of noble coats of arms and tombs. St. Nicholas’ Church (Lutheran) is a compact medieval survivor, now housing religious art treasures. 

The Orthodox Church of St. Nicholas (Eastern Orthodox) is richly decorated, its golden iconostasis contrasting with the restrained Lutheran interiors.

The Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, a prominent Russian Orthodox cathedral, was completed in 1900. Situated in Toompea, the upper town of Tallinn’s Old Town. Renowned for its Russian Revival architecture, the cathedral boasts gleaming white walls, ogee arches, and imposing black domes. 

Finally, St. Olav’s Church (Lutheran) rises skyward with its towering spire, once believed to be the tallest building in the world and still one of Tallinn’s most striking landmarks.

History is Fascinating But All  Cobbled Streets Lead to Beer – Eventually

I end each day like the locals, relaxing in a street-side restaurant. My cuisine ranges from salads to pork ribs, fish and chips to a massive serving of French fries. 

And of course, there’s always the kohalik külm õlu or cold local beer. I can’t pronounce the name, but I can point to my choice. I prefer the restaurant with the umbrella because they advertise their pour in this way. 

In Tallinn, the most popular beer is A. Le Coq, Estonia’s oldest brewery (1807). Their Premium and Alexander lagers are delicious. A close second would be Saku Brewery, which has been pouring beer in pubs in Tallinn since 1820. Saku Origina becomes my preference. 

To the spirit of an independent Estonia, and to a free Ukraine—may both stand strong and unbroken.

Pinky swear: it seems the hardest part of visiting the Baltic states involves remembering that Riga sits in Latvia and Tallinn sits in Estonia. Don’t know why this becomes such a challenge for me. Previously, I traveled to both cities – I should know this geographical fact by now.

2 September 2009 

I walk to the bus depot and catch my comfortable Eurobus to Tallinn, Estonia. It is interesting to be passing through the forests, passing old Soviet check points, and so easily leave one country into another. Both these countries were terrorized by the Nazis just to be controlled by the Russians. I am not sure which they should dislike more. However, that is not the feeling I get. They have their museums of occupation and they educate their people, but they seem to have moved on.

Arriving at the Tallinn ferry terminal, it is a short walk into old town to my room at the Hostel Alur. I then strolled the streets of this walled city, climbed onto the fortifications and up the towers. Not sure I like the touristy feel of town; it is like an open-air living history museum. 

I spend two days visiting the Occupation Museum, History Museum, wonderful streets, busy town square, churches, Bear House, and take a bus out to Peter the Greats Palace and Cottage. There I walk the gardens and visit the new KUMU Art Museum. I walk back along the waterfront to meander the streets. Rain at night but days are blue and gorgeous. I eat my dinners in the busy square and people watch. I have to climb the tower of St Olaf as it is highest in the city and gives a magnificent view of Tallinn and the piers nearby. For my final evening, I splurge on Boar served by a wench at one of those tourist places, but the food is good as it rains lightly in the square. I have decided I like Tallinn very much. 

Seventeen Years Later and The Challenge of Transport

I do my research and learn of transportation options, including a rumor that a direct train has begun. I resort to seeking information from online travel groups. Buses travel the route in about 5 hours but bus stations are not convenient to Tallinn’s Old Town. A train may run Riga Pasažieru to Tallin Balti Jaama Turg station taking almost 6 hours.

Weighing pros and cons, I opt for a comfortable Lux Express to Terminal D at the port. From there, it is a moderate walk to my hotel, the Shnelli, next to the train and bus station. Convenience wins as the bus to the airport stops right outside.

I checked in, left my bags, and immediately went seeking the walls and towers of Tallinn. My eagerness reminds me of of Stanley Tucci’s Nigel character in Devil Wears Prada: “Well, you know me. Give me a full ballerina skirt and a hint of saloon and I’m on board.” 

Give me a medieval wall and towers and a hint of history and I’m on board.

Pat Bunyard

Climbing the Baltic’s Best-Preserved Fortifications

Tallinn’s medieval walls with its 26 towers travel more than a mile hugging Old Town. Originally built during the 14th-century, they tell a story of trade, wealth, fear, and constant readiness.

Construction began in the 13th century, when the city, then called Reval, came under the control of the Danish Crown. At first, defenses were simple: wooden palisades marking borders more than to repel attack. But Tallinn’s importance grew thanks to its position on Baltic trade routes, especially after it joined the powerful Hanseatic League. With merchants bringing in great wealth, the need for serious protection became mandatory.

By the 14th and 15th centuries, the city replaced wood with thick limestone walls, some reaching up to 52 feet high and several feet thick. These walls stretched roughly 1.5 miles around the old town. Along them rose 46 defensive towers each designed for surveillance and combat. Guards could move along the wall, watching for threats from land or sea, while archers and later gunners used narrow openings to defend the city.

Each tower had its own purpose. Some were squat and sturdy for artillery, others tall and narrow for lookout posts. One of the most famous is Kiek in de Kök; another notable tower is Fat Margaret, a massive, round structure built in the early 16th century to defend the harbor entrance and intimidate approaching ships.

Tallinn’s fortifications were constantly upgraded as warfare evolved. When firearms became more common, towers were thickened and reshaped to withstand cannon fire. During periods of control by the Teutonic Order and later Swedish rulers, additional reinforcements were added, including bastions.

Despite their strength, the walls were never truly invincible. Control of Tallinn shifted multiple times between Danish, German, Swedish, and eventually Russian powers often through political agreements or sieges rather than outright destruction. By the 18th and 19th centuries, as modern warfare made medieval walls less useful, parts of the fortifications were dismantled.

I love walking along these walls. They are not just relics of defense. The towers, once filled with soldiers and weapons, now house museums and viewpoints, offering a quieter, modern-day kind of view over the red rooftops and kitchens of Tallinn.

More Walls, More Fortifications

Walking through beautiful Toompark, I enjoy the sweet scent of the flowering lilacs, happy birdlife and the Snelli River which meanders through its center. It’s a pleasant path, but my destination is older and more historical.

The Kiek in de Kök Fortifications Museum complex ranges for about a third of a mile on the southern edge of Old Town. It encompasses four medieval towers: Kiek in de Kök cannon tower, the Maiden Tower, the Marstall Tower, and the Short Leg Gate Tower. The story of Kiek in de Kök is really a story of Tallinn adapting to gunpowder warfare and then later, wisely adapting to peace and tourism.

The tower was built in 1475, when cannons were changing how cities defended themselves. Unlike earlier narrow towers meant for archers, Kiek in de Kök’s design reflected its purpose as an artillery tower with 13-foot-thick limestone walls and a commanding height of roughly 125-feet.

This made it one of the most formidable defensive structures along the Baltic. Its slightly humorous Low German name of peek into the kitchen came from its height, as guards could supposedly see into nearby homes and check what fräulein was cooking for dinner. 

Adapting from Threats to Tourists

In the 16th and 17th centuries, as warfare evolved, the tower’s structure adapted. Lower levels were buried within earthworks for extra protection, and new gun openings were added for improved artillery. I can still see cannonballs embedded in its walls.

By the 18th century, having outlived its military usefulness, it was repurposed and used for storage, archives, even apartments. Today, it remains the domain of tourists.

Entering the Kiek in de Kök Fortifications Museum, I explore the long, connected complex of four towers and walk a section of the old wall.

The tower has multiple floors of exhibits about Tallinn’s defensive history. Dsplays include armor, cannons, and everyday military objects. One of the most distinctive parts lies underground, the 17th-century bastion passages. The tunnels were dug when star-shaped bastions replaced medieval walls. These deep and long passages hold a long history including bomb shelters and Soviet propaganda printing presses.

Above ground, great views encompass Tallinn’s red rooftops. One finds glimpses of how towers were reused by artists and residents, and even a café for morning expresso. 

Odds and Ends of Old Town

I spend my time wandering the streets within the walls of Old Town. Monuments here and there, museums to explore, squares for lingering. Points of interest? I’m not one to pass a monument or statue without finding its purpose or who it represents. 

One excellent monument is known as The Broken Line. This modern granite structure sits close to the Maritime Museum. It commemorates the 852 victims of the 1994 sinking of the MS Estonia ferry.

The MS Estonia sank in September 1994 as it crossed the Baltic from Tallinn to Stockholm. Of the 989 souls on board, only 138 survived. The monument takes the form of a broken line or arches, its two halves directed towards each other, but never meeting. A large memorial stone with the names of all the victims engraved is part of the artwork. 

The KGB Prison Cells along with their former headquarters are located in a the center of Tallinn. The small museum features interrogation rooms, documented stories of repression, and of course, a look at the cells.

Soviets collected stacks of documents on residents. Here, citizens were jailed, tortured and disposed of. The Soviet presence became one of cruelty, oppression and murder.

Along the Streets

If one visits the site of the Three Brothers in Riga, one should visit its sister site, here. The Three Sisters. Architecture is an integral part of Tallinn. But in Tallinn, every street contains beautiful buildings. Just wandering around is a fulfilling experience in itself.

In fact, the charming quiet street of Pikkjalg leads along a wonderful cobblestone path below the defensive walls. But then, having wandered over a lot of Tallinn, I didn’t experience much that was not charming.

Because of a large cruise ship docked at Tallinn’s port, the streets are very busy with tourists. Large groups of them stand in the middle of the streets, listening to narrated speeches about the architecture and history. Sadly, they seem to go no further; most museums I visit are empty.

I find my peaceful escape in the smaller lanes, gardens and delightful paths.

Watching Tallinn Go By, One Beer at a Time

As I step into Raekoja Plats, or Town Hall Square, I enter the historic heart of Tallinn’s Old Town, a square that has been the city’s main gathering place since medieval times.

It opens up suddenly, framed by pastel guild houses and anchored by the Gothic Tallinn Town Hall, one of the oldest town halls in Northern Europe. Street performers, market stalls and cafés spill into the square.

For the beer of choice, I check the umbrellas – they advertise what the pub pours. So, for my beer and a front-row seat to the scene, I eschew the Goofy Wiener Dog Bench and settle into the Raekoja Pubi which sits right on the square and ideally situated for lingering over a drink. It serves simple medieval-style Baltic fare. Alongside a cold A. LeCoq draft, I let Tallinn come to me. The square becomes one of those places where the city feels most alive just by sitting still and watching.

Riga invites one to walk without much of a plan, guided less by a map than by whatever catches the eye above street level or just around the corner. Architecture alone would be reason enough – it’s centuries stacked in stone, brick, and ornament.

Statues appear in the middle of squares as if mid-conversation, walls quietly host bursts of modern color and commentary, and rooftops sprout cats with attitude. Strolling becomes a slow drift through styles, stories, and small surprises, best enjoyed slowly.

From Brothers to Cats

The Three Brothers stand like a condensed history of domestic life, each building slightly different, each leaning comfortably into the next. Nearby, Riga Cathedral anchors the city with its mix of Romanesque, Gothic, and Baroque elements, while Dom Square opens up in a lively contrast of space and movement. A short walk leads to House of the Blackheads in Town Hall Square, where ornament and symmetry reflect a merchant past that once connected Riga to the wider Baltic world.

Riga’s personality shows in details: the mischievous rooftop figures of the Cat House, the quiet passage of the Swedish Gate, and the statues that give pause.

Pause to understand the significance of the medieval symbolism of the Roland Statue, the tall figures of the Latvian Riflemen, and the playful familiarity of the Bremen Town Musicians Statue based on a Brothers Grimm story.

The original Latvian Riflemen were elite units of the Imperial Russian Army during World War I, fighting against Germany on Latvian soil. After the Russian Revolution of 1917, the Riflemen split politically. Some former Riflemen helped create and defend Soviet power, while others fought to establish an independent Latvia. 

Not far beyond, the Freedom Monument rises above Bastejkalna Park with a different tone, less decorative and more reflective, a reminder of the country’s harder-won moments.

Bremen Town Musicians statue (left) unchanged except for 17 additional years of rubbing noses for good luck. A rub assures one will return – which I have.

Crossing toward the canal, the elegance of the Latvian National Opera introduces a more formal rhythm, a beautiful 19th-century neo-classical building advertising its opening night of La Bohème. Staid, iconic architecture then gives way to the exuberance of the Art Nouveau district along Alberta iela. 

Alberta iela – Wonderfully Different

If Old Town shows Riga’s medieval and mercantile past, Alberta iela shows its moment of artistic confidence. Built mostly in the early 1900s, during a boom when Riga was one of the wealthiest cities in the Russian Empire, this short street (iela) became a kind of architectural showcase for the then-new style of Art Nouveau. Here, façades become theatrical, filled with faces, symbols, and flourishes. 

Art Nouveau is a decorative and architectural style that flourished roughly from the 1890s to the start of World War I (around 1910–1914). It emerged across Europe almost simultaneously, but it didn’t have a single founder. Instead, it was a shared international movement that took on local flavors in places like France, Belgium, Austria, Germany, and especially Riga.

At its core, Art Nouveau was an attempt to create a new modern style for a new modern age. It rejected copying old historical styles (like Gothic or Classical revival). Instead it embraced flowing, natural lines, asymmetry and natural movement. Inspired from nature, from plants and flowers to insects and rippling waves, art nouveau brought a decorative unity to buildings which were meant as total works of art. 

What makes it special isn’t just that the buildings are decorative. It’s that they’re bold, theatrical, and a little excessive, as if the architects were competing for attention. 

Architect of Art Nouveau

Mikhail Eisenstein (1867–1920), a Russian architect and civil engineer, designed many of the most dramatic façades on Alberta iela. His ornamental style helped define Riga’s reputation as one of Europe’s richest centers of Art Nouveau architecture. His works at addresses 4, 6, and 13 are outstanding. Windows, railings, doors and façades flow together like a single piece. Vines curl, flowers blossom into window frames and buildings seem they could come alive. (Hopefully not – that would make for a creepy midnight movie.)

In short, Art Nouveau was Europe’s attempt, at the turn of the 20th century, to invent a modern artistic language. A style based on nature, movement, and imagination – before the world turned toward industrial minimalism.

A Pause in Līvu Square and a Moment to Watch It All

People come and go – history does not.

I return to a much livelier Līvu Square after 17 years. Here, activity and a high concentration of cafés abound. The large and beautiful square acts as a lively pocket in Old Town that exists for atmosphere more than monuments. It is a place where I pause, people-watch, and let the city swirl past. 

More social and café-driven, the decorative façades frame the square in a mix of medieval and modern. Entertainment ranges from decorative ironwork and vibrant gardens, to art installations and street performers. It’s essentially Riga’s social crossroads disguised as a square. 

Museums Not to Miss

Riga Ghetto and Holocaust Museum

Just beyond the color, noise and smells of the Spikeri Quarter and its Center Market Pavilions, located on the edge of the former Riga Ghetto, one may experience the Jewish experience during Nazi occupation. This museum represents a site everyone should visit – listen and learn.

I have visited many museums, camps and sites dealing with the holocaust. Riga, perhaps, organized one of the most moving historical sites to present the reality and horrors of the Holocaust and honor its victims.

The Latvian Ghetto served as a place of concentration for Jews deported from Western Europe. The majority were from Germany, Austria, the Czech Republic and other European countries. The victims of the Holocaust included these deportees and almost the entire Latvian Jewish community, including women, children and the elderly, as well as about 20,000 Jews from other European countries.

Rather than focusing solely on military events, it tells the human story of Latvia’s Jewish community before, during, and after the Holocaust. The museum stands in the area where tens of thousands of Jews were confined after the German occupation of Latvia in 1941, and many exhibits explore the destruction of a vibrant Jewish culture that had flourished in Riga for centuries.  

The museum combines indoor and outdoor displays. I walk along pathways lined with original cobblestones from the ghetto streets and encounter photographs, personal stories, documents, and memorial installations. One of the most striking features is the memorial wall listing the names of tens of thousands of Holocaust victims from Latvia and across Europe!

What makes the museum especially powerful is its focus on individual lives rather than statistics. Restored buildings, survivor testimonies, and exhibits about the nearby Rumbula neighborhood massacres help one understand the reality of daily life under Nazi occupation.

It is less a traditional museum but more a place of remembrance and reflection. For anyone seeking to understand Latvia’s wartime history and the devastating impact of the Holocaust, this is without doubt one of the most important and emotionally affecting museums on the subject.

Latvian War Museum

The first thing to catch my eye is bullet-riddled Twitter Convoy Car at the entrance of the Latvian War Museum. As part of Latvia’s Twitter Convoy initiative, citizens donated more than 850 vehicles and humanitarian supplies to support Ukraine’s defense against Russia’s attack.

One of these vehicles, nicknamed Orlik or The Eagle by soldiers of Ukraine’s 93rd Mechanized Brigade, served in combat before being returned to Latvia.

Now displayed as an exhibit, the battle-damaged vehicle serves as a powerful reminder of the realities and brutality of war. The exhibition emphasizes that Ukraine’s struggle is also connected to the security and freedom of Latvia.

Housed beside Riga’s medieval Powder Tower in the heart of Old Town, the Latvian War Museum is the country’s largest museum dedicated to military history. Founded in 1916 during the First World War, it was originally created to preserve the legacy of the Latvian Riflemen, whose service became an important part of Latvia’s national identity.  

The museum’s exhibitions cover more than seven centuries of warfare, but its greatest strength lies in its treatment of Latvia’s turbulent twentieth century. Displays examine the struggle for independence after World War I, the interwar republic, the Soviet and Nazi occupations, World War II, and the restoration of independence in 1991. Visitors encounter weapons, uniforms, medals, photographs, documents, and personal belongings that help bring these events to life.  

One of the museum’s most interesting themes is how Latvia found itself caught between larger powers. Rather than presenting war solely through battles and military equipment, the exhibits explore how ordinary Latvians experienced occupation, resistance, and political upheaval. The historic Powder Tower itself adds atmosphere, with cannonballs still embedded in its walls. For travelers interested in Baltic history, this museum provides one of the clearest introductions to Latvia’s complicated path through the twentieth century.  

Latvian Museum of Natural History

Founded in 1845, the Latvian National Museum of Natural History is one of the oldest natural history museums in the Baltics and houses Latvia’s large collection of natural specimens. It offers a welcome change of pace by focusing on the natural world rather than politics and war.  

My family raised mink. I remember them as bigger with very sharp teeth.

The museum occupies several floors and explores geology, paleontology, zoology, botany, and environmental science. Visitors can examine fossils, minerals, animal skeletons, insects, birds, and mammals from Latvia and around the world. Particular emphasis is placed on Latvia’s own ecosystems.  

One of the museum’s strengths is that it balances traditional displays—such as taxidermy animals and geological collections—with modern educational exhibits that explain ecological processes and conservation issues while promoting environmental awareness and understanding of humanity’s relationship with nature.  

And a Couple Churches

Beer, alus, has been deeply embedded in Latvian culture going back centuries. A craft beer industry of IPAs and experimental brews thrives. I look for the Mežpils Gaišais, a light, crisp lager, Baltic porter, or any unfiltered beer as I do like the wheat beers.

Riga Nativity of Christ Orthodox Cathedral is the largest Orthodox church in the Baltic states and one of Riga’s most recognizable landmarks. Built between 1876 and 1883 during the Russian Empire, it features striking golden domes, richly decorated interiors, and beautiful iconography. During the Soviet era it was used for secular purposes, including as a planetarium, before being restored as a cathedral after Latvia regained independence.

St. Peter’s Church represents one of Riga’s most famous medieval landmarks, with origins dating to the 13th century.

Rebuilt several times after fires and war damage, it is known for its soaring 400-foot tower and steeple, which offers spectacular panoramic views over the Old Town and the Daugava River.

Inside, a vast Gothic interior is characterized by soaring rib-vaulted ceilings, pointed arches, and slender columns. The bright, uncluttered nave emphasizes the church’s immense scale and creates a sense of openness.The central nave rises approximately 98 feet, making it one of the tallest church interiors in Latvia. The result is an interior that feels both elegant and monumental, with the vaulted ceiling serving as one of the church’s most impressive features.

Latvian Dining and Drinking

Latvian cuisine is rustic, seasonal, and built around pork, potatoes, rye bread, and cabbage. Possibly their national comfort food is Pelēkie zirņi ar speķi. This is a smoky pork sautéed with peas. Temperatures are a little warm for cabbage soup (Kāpostu zupa). However, a good choice, if a fish lover, is sprats, a smoked Baltic fish usually served with bread and onions. I do enjoy them but I’m more of a pork with potatoes and sauerkraut sort of girl. Flavors are savory, not spicy, and meals are filling, it not a little heavy. 

For dessert, I had to try probably the most unusual – the rupjmaizes kārtojums which is a dessert made of rye bread with cream, fruit and spices. It really tastes a lot better than rye bread sounds. 

A Beer in the Middle of History

Sitting in Līvu Square with my cold beer, Riga feels both familiar and new at the same time. The outlines haven’t changed since 2009 when I wrote “Riga is a fantastic city.” The same spires, the same layered stone, the cats still atop the turrets.

Riga doesn’t demand admiration; it earns it. Some places I return to and measure against memory. I feel this visit to Riga does not represent a rediscovery or even a feeling of old-times-sake, but a deepening of understanding and admiration. 

So, with my order of Mežpils Gaišais draft on the table and the sun warming the cobblestones, I relax and reflect.  

Cheers!

Priekā!