Grab yourself a taste of Eastern Bloc culture with an iconic drive around the sights of Berlin in an authentic two-stroke Trabi

It’s almost twenty-one years since the historic fall of the Berlin wall, that most iconic of all symbols of the iron curtain, liberated the long-oppressed citizens of the German Democratic Republic. The official reunification of east and west Germany on October 3rd, 1990, saw a clashing of cultures, none so conspicuous as that cursory measure of personal success and wealth – the car we drive.

While affluent, capitalistic westerners flounced round in their Mercedes, BMWs, Volkswagens and – if they’d really made it – Porsches, the downtrodden denizens of the ghettoed east end had to make do with Wartburgs and Trabants.

Outside of the GDR, nobody ever really took the Trabant seriously. Come to think of it, neither did anyone inside it, but for a cash-strapped society under communist rule, it meant transport. It may not have been the last word in luxury, but the faithful little Trabi gave wheels to the people, albeit not very fast or stylish ones.

Of all the Eastern Bloc cars that made up the staple of cheap motoring throughout the last decades of the 20th century, the humble Trabant seemed the least likely to survive. Yet while populations of ancient Skodas, Ladas and Moskviches gradually rusted from the face of the earth, the smoky little two-stroke gained itself a cult following that immortalised it as the very essence of the division of Berlin, carving itself a nostalgic niche in the hearts and minds of car enthusiasts throughout the world; not many visitors to Berlin leave without the obligatory model Trabi in their suitcase.

Well now you can go a stage further. Trabi Safari, based in the German capital, actually give you the chance to take the wheel of the minxish motor yourself, as you take an indulgent drive along the site where the infamous wall once stood, absorbing the sights of both east and west Berlin along the way, with a quirky commentary provided via a radio link.

If you just fancy having a stab at driving one, you can opt for a straight-forward twenty minute spin following a driver in a lead Trabi who’ll give you tips and hints along the way. This will set you back €15 per person, but if you fancy venturing €40 each, you’ll get the full-on safari experience, being part of a convoy of six brightly liveried cars all following a leader. This tour lasts an hour, and you can fit up to four people in each car – I’ll stop short of saying ‘in comfort’.

If it’s a gorgeous summer’s day, you might want to select one of the specially modified convertibles. Me, I like my Trabi organic, the way nature intended, so I chose one in Bolshevik beige complete with roof and hubcaps. It’s a feisty little beast to tame, especially with its ‘revolver’ gearshift, and I wouldn’t want to take one very far, but it was great fun and very rewarding.

And when you return your trusty little Trabi? What better souvenir than an ‘authentic’ Trabant driving licence! All part of the service, of course.

Trabi Safari
BallonGarten (at WELT-Ballon)
Zimmerstrasse 97 / corner Wilhelmstrasse
10117 Berlin-Mitte

Visit www.trabi-safari.de

Tel.: +49 3027 592273

Email berlin@trabi-safari.de

In the sleepy little village of Torret on the Spanish island of Menorca, you’ll find a culinary experience to surpass all others

Imagine the perfect night out; you arrive at your restaurant against the purply orange glow of a soft, mediterranean summer evening, deep in the countryside of a lazy Spanish isle. Your head waiter then leads you into a rambling courtyard, seating you at a candlelit table for two as he takes your aperitif order, and you sigh that most wondrous of sighs, as you realise that something very special is about to take place.

The location is the sleepy little village of Torret, at Sant Lluis on the Balearic island of Menorca, and the establishment one Sa Pedrera d’es Pujol, lovingly presided over by head chef Daniel Mora and his partner Nuria García. The couple, both from Northern Spain, bought the house in 2003 and then set about the major task of turning it into their dream restaurant. But I actually hesitate to call this just a restaurant because, in my opinion, this is probably the best restaurant in the world. A profound and sweeping statement, you may think, and you’d be right. But the thing is, I’ve sampled the cuisine of many restaurants all over the world and there have been some pretty fantastic ones, I can tell you. But if you take the best of the best, and then look at what each of them individually does best, Sa Pedrera simply does it all that little bit better. In fact, to perfection.

I’m a huge believer in the fact that dinner out should not be hurried; I don’t ever want to feel that I’m being processed quickly so they can squeeze another cover into my table as soon as I’m out the door. From the moment head waiter Matthew (from Surrey) shows you to your table, the evening is your own. You can take as long as you like over ordering, eating and, well, just sitting and chatting if that’s what you want to do. The food is an exquisite blend of gourmet excellence from the island itself, where Daniel’s mother was born, and Asturias, the home of his father. With such resplendent starters as home-made duck foie paté with green pistachios and figs cream or white Mahón cheese breaded into sesame with tomato and cardamom chutney, you can only await the drama of your main course with mouthwatering anticipation. Oh, and you might get a beautifully presented quail’s egg while you’re waiting, between trips to the perfectly kept wine cellar in the middle of the restaurant. And then the magic continues, mine with an unbelievably good beef Wellington with gravi sauce and my partner’s with the superb Menorcan lamb, slowly cooked in oil and accompanied by velvety oven-done potatoes. All, of course, washed down with an extremely palatable Rioja. Just when you think things couldn’t possibly get any better, you’re faced with Daniel’s heavenly desserts, my favourite being his very own apple pie, served with home-made apple ice-cream and a majestic apple ‘crisp’.

A post-gastro Xoriguer Menorcan gin, either with tonic, or local-style with Fanta lemon, makes the perfect nightcap as you drift into the garden to soak up the last of the tranquil decadence while awaiting your carriage.

Dinner at Sa Pedrera d’es Pujol is so outstandingly good, not just in terms of the superb food cooked to perfection, but also the unfussy, unobtrusive service and sheer delight of the surroundings. There’s a danger, in fact, that your evening is so blissful that you decide not to return; you know, that silly thing we do when we don’t want to spoil perfection by trying to repeat it. Well relax, because I’ve been back every year since 2004, and believe me when I say that it just keeps getting better.

Daniel and Nuria, I salute you both – and thank you for some of my most special memories. Nos vemos!

For more details, visit: www.sapedreradespujol.com

Sa Pedrera d’es Pujol
Caserío Torret
23 – Sant Lluís
Menorca
Tel: (34) 971 150 717
Email: sapedreradespujol@hotmail.com

main image © Sa Pedrera d’es Pujol

Built as a model Soviet city after the Second World War, the Minsk of today is a stunning example of a grand Stalinist metropolis

As I stood at the top of the abandoned apartment block, ankle deep in the detritus of people’s lives, the brilliant afternoon sunshine cut like a laser into my line of sight. It almost obscured the towering, rusty ferris wheel, long forsaken bumper cars and – further into the distance – the crumbling, dormant monster of an omnipotent nuclear reactor.

It was September, 2008, and I was ‘lucky’ enough to find myself on a journalistic photo assignment to Pripyat, the long deserted graveyard of everyday life in this devastated area of northern Ukraine. Founded in 1970, this once thriving metropolis was home to the thousands of workers and their families who eked out their living at the nearby Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. Then, in the early hours of one ordinary day in April, 1986, it all ended. An unnecessary ‘experiment’ breached the infrastructure of reactor number four, and the wrath of hell was released on an unsuspecting world, with none to suffer more than the innocent inhabitants of the immediate area of Ukraine and south-east Belarus, where most of the deadly radiation cloud decided to lay its hat.

And here was I, photographing the remains of human beings’ lives, some twenty-two and a bit years on. Suddenly, it didn’t seem altogether right; in many ways it was a great, if maybe a little foolhardy, undertaking. But under the excitement of challenge and opportunity, I couldn’t escape one grim fact: I was only able to do this because so many had suffered and died. I can detach myself enough to appreciate the importance of documenting the area and its notorious recent history, but somehow – call it a need for good karma – something had to be given back; at that stage, I just wasn’t sure what.

Fast forward to 2009, and my discovery of the Gomel Children’s Hospital just over the Ukrainian-Belarusian border, and their need for help to save the lives of desperately ill and dying children, many from the after effects of the 1986 disaster and the still hopelessly contaminated corner of the world they were forced to inhabit. The hospital, under the dedicated auspices of Dr Oleg Zimelihin, is woefully underfunded and so, to risk killing a long story with brutal brevity, my partner and I set up our own charity, Chernobyl Heart, in the hope of raising funds to buy equipment which will allow early diagnosis and, ultimately, life-saving treatment.

And it’s this twisty, convoluted path which led us to our first trip to Minsk, which we made our Belarusian base while we awaited our cross-country train trip to Gomel, and the hospital itself.

Hailed as a modern Soviet city, you could be forgiven for thinking Minsk would be full of grey tower blocks and concrete wasteland but, in reality, nothing could be further from the truth. Nestling around the banks of the Svislach river, this bustling conurbation still lingers in the vaguest grasp of communism, but the hold on its people is more like a lank limpet than an iron fist.

In the Second World War, Minsk was the centre of the German resistance to the Soviet advance, and saw huge military activity in the first half of 1944. The resulting devastation all but razed the city to the ground, and its population was annihilated to the brink of 50,000. The peacetime rebuilding was a brave new planogram of Stalinist architecture with bold, grand buildings, broad avenues and burgeoning boulevards. The inevitable industrial growth this brought about saw one of the most impressive regenerations of post-war Europe, with Minsk’s dwindling demographics mushrooming to a million by 1972, and then a further half million by the mid eighties.

Life in the Belarusian capital today is peaceful and reasonably contented, despite president Alexander Lukashenko’s pervasive rule. Minsk remains pleasingly tranquil, and with its favourable summer climate, an undiscovered little haven for a cultural city break. Few other destinations can offer such value, particularly to the British tourist, and oftentimes it feels as if the pound in your pocket is intoxicatingly high on speed, making it difficult to actually spend a fortune, no matter what your indulgence. Hotel standards are high, our choice being the externally austere tower block of the Hotel Belarus, a facade which belies the establishment’s blissfully charming interior. Bedecked with bars, cafes and a stunning panorama restaurant affording you breathtaking views of the city in all its glory, the Belarus beautifully fuses the quaint and quirky with the modern and magnificent. From its vantage point overlooking the majestic Svislach, it’s a short walk to the poignant Island of Tears, with its recently constructed memorial monument to the Belarusian soldiers who perished in the USSR’s disastrous nine year campaign in Afghanistan. The small chapel at the centre of the island is home to figures of grieving mothers, sisters and widows, while a nearby angel weeps at his failure to protect his charges.

Dotted around the riverside walk is a plethora of bars and eateries, making for a very agreeable summer evening stroll, during which one can avidly consume the victuals and the view whilst contemplating the soft, setting sun. The atmosphere is vibrant yet never vociferous; revellers in Minsk seem instinctively to know where to draw the line.

With many highlights achievable within a leisurely traipse, most of the city can be covered in a few days. Don’t miss the Maxim Bogdanovich Literary Museum on the outskirts of Traetskae Prodmestse (the much-photographed Old Town, representing an authentic suburb of pre-Soviet Belarus) or the beautiful Holy Spirit Cathedral. Other fine churches, well worth a look, include that of Saint Maria Magdalena, St Peter and Paul (Katherine) Church, the Saint Maria Arch-Cathedral, Saint Simeon and Saint Elena Church and the ghostly, decaying beauty of Saint Roche. Independence and Victory Squares are a must, as is the wonderfully preserved little green wooden house which forms the Museum of the First Congress of the Russian Social Democratic Workers’ Party – Russia’s original Marxist party – which held its illegal founding congress there in 1898.

A city of culture and change, modern day Minsk offers the traveller a rare taste of something that little bit extraordinary; a glimpse into a truly different world, yet one which – in many ways – is just another example of a fine European city. It’s that difference you can’t always put your finger on, but one that leaves you with the unmistakable feeling that you’re altogether richer for having experienced it. As far as former USSR destinations go, Minsk is without doubt one of the most rewarding to visit.

Tour the Czech capital in cheeky style – in a 1950s Škoda cabrio

The domes and spires providing the romantic backdrop to one of Europe’s most breathtakingly beautiful cities have inspired poetry, literature and music for centuries. The very air around Prague, the magical Czech capital, seems filled with monsters and ghosts; even the name conjures images of fantasy and intrigue, Bohemian hagiographies and bargains with Satan.

And each visit to this thriving, ancient metropolis, situated in the very central basin of old Bohemia, only seems to enhance its ethereal charms; intensify its mysterious aura.

One of the first of the central and eastern European countries to reinvent itself as it emerged from the iron grip of communism, Prague has embraced the vagaries of change stoically, celebrating the good and bad within its rich cultural heritage with a fatalistic flair.

One of the iconic legacies from the country’s post war austerity was the suffocation of its car industry. Emil Škoda’s luxury marque was reduced to churning out modest little jalopies, usually rear-engined, as an economical way of mobilising the people. A shining, modern day example of survival, albeit with a massive injection of Teutonic cash, Škoda always retained its own quirky designs even during its darkest days. Obsolete square boxes no longer fashionable with stylish Italians were not going to be resurrected under licence in this Soviet suburb. Offerings from the proud little factory in Mladá Boleslav would at least be original, if a little utilitarian.

But Škoda remained strong, with an army of western devotees who demanded cheap, reliable motoring bolstering sales throughout the Eastern Bloc, and with a business model strong enough to attract Volkswagen interest. Nobody really jokes about the sophisticated Škodas on today’s roads, but one can’t help feeling that, good as they are, the raft of Octavias, Fabias, Roomsters and Yetis are all rather sterile, along with their German stablemates.

Despite limited funds, classics still emerged. The little Felicia cabriolet manufactured in the late 1950s and early 60s was a prime example, and still sported a front-mounted engine. And bringing the quaint and quirky together in one fell swoop is Czech native Ondrej Rejzek. Introducing himself simply as Andrew, this budding young entrepreneur has teamed up with business partner John to offer tourists a Škoda-eye view of Prague. But here you’ll not find the elegant old thoroughbreds of the 1920s and 30s that make up the staple of vintage car sightseeing in the city, but a cheeky 1959 Felicia convertible in deliciously hot and thoroughly shocking pink.

You can’t help but smile as Andrew spirits the little beast up a blind alley here and a curious ginnel there, attracting looks of mirth and astonishment from onlookers as you take in the sights of old Praha, feeling the wind in your hair like a true Bohemian. The forty-five minute tour is over all too quickly, but the novelty of your conveyance remains with you, creating one of those special memories that slip easily into trip-culture, and are fondly recalled as a highlight for years to come. You’ll get round all the favourites, including Castle Hill, Wenceslas Square and the stunning Charles Bridge (although you can’t, of course, actually drive over it) but the star of this little show remains the Škoda. Think of it as ancient splendour meets retro pop art meets theme park ride, and you’ll get something of an idea as to why this is the only way to see the Czech capital.

To book your tour, contact Andrew on +420 723 377 758

Situated in northwest Russia, Murmansk is the largest city north of the Arctic Circle, and midway between Moscow and the North Pole.

Murmansk, nestling high up in the Kola Inlet and half way between Moscow and the North Pole, is not usually high on the priority list of those who want to visit the mighty expanse of Russia. It’s true to say that, for those whose experience of the country is going to be limited, St Petersburg or Moscow offer a cornucopia of all things accepted to be Russian, but straying off the beaten track in this huge melting pot of culture, nature, politics and people delivers sparkling rewards for those brave enough to embrace the adventure.

The largest city north of the Arctic Circle, Murmansk feels like real Russia. No particular airs and graces are put on for relatively infrequent tourists; this is a working city, stoical and resourceful, and proud to be emerging from its bleak, wilderness years of the 1990s, when its population plummeted sharply. But thanks to a very profitable fishing industry and a little help from its Scandinavian and western European friends, this bustling metropolis, with its busy shopping and social scene, feels contented, calm and relaxed. Far from being the grey, Soviet wasteland that some reports would suggest, Murmansk offers a peaceful if unremarkable little haven, and provides an excellent base from which to explore the stunning Kola Peninsula.

As with many of the more unusual undertakings featured on World Travel Blog, the devil is in the detail, and planning a trip to Murmansk will likely be met with a glazed stare or furrowed brow from your regular travel agent. Even Expedia, although able to furnish you with an excellent hotel in the city, will struggle to actually get you there. It’s not that easy a journey, but it is simple. However, the combination of plane and train adds unnecessary confusion and quite often, sadly, computer says ‘no’.

If you want to turn this around in about a week, our advice would be to head for St Petersburg. No real problems there as flights are readily available, and if you give yourself a couple of nights here you’ll get a great opportunity to explore this wonderful imperial city, which is treat enough in itself. The Petro Palace Hotel, situated on Malaya Morskaya Ulitsa, is both comfortable and affordable, and is a beautifully placed hub from which to access many of the city’s highlights, including the Winter Palace, the Hermitage, the Admiralty and Nevskiy prospekt, St Petersburg’s main commercial thoroughfare.

Your onward journey to Murmansk is best undertaken by overnight train, and a Monday afternoon departure from Ladozhskiy Vokzal (this is not the Moscow station, St Petersburg’s main railway terminus, so beware) will get you into Murmansk (Му́рманск) at around 8.30pm Tuesday. Remember, if you don’t want to share your overnight cabin, you need to book a first class twin berth (SV – pronounced ‘es veh’), for which you’ll need to pay an extra supplement if you’re travelling alone. Sharing a sleeping compartment with unknown counterparts can certainly add to the adventure, but is not everybody’s cup of chai. Booking trains in Russia is straightforward if you know how and have a little language at your disposal, but if not you’d be well advised to book in advance (www.russiantrains.com are great for the US and UK, or www.regent-holidays.co.uk offer an excellent service from the UK).

On arrival in Murmansk, remember the tourist is not common place, so don’t be too daunted if the local police stop you and ask to see your passport. You’ll have to let them, but under no circumstances surrender it. If you’re offered a taxi by the local police official, you should be ok to take it, but bear in mind you’ll probably pay two or three times as much as if you flag down your own. It always pays to use a properly signed, official taxi for an uncomplicated service that won’t try to fleece you. The little old Russian man with the flat cap and the unmarked, orange Lada may seem genial enough, but could well have his child locks on and, inexplicably, no change.

You could do a lot worse than to choose the Park Inn Poliarnie Zori, on Knipovicha Street, for your accommodation. Again, it’s ideally situated and feels quite western in its approach to guests, something which cannot always be taken for granted in Russia.

Three nights is a reasonable time to spend in Murmansk, but to get the most out of your trip we’d definitely recommend a guide. An hour’s walk around the city, particularly when its rush hour roads are thronged with smokey traffic, is enough to make you realise that the attractions it has are quite far flung. A tourism office is situated on the ground floor of the hotel, and the staff speak very good English. You pay for your guide by the hour, and the driver separately, but the combined price does not amount to a fortune, and it’s a great way to get the local knowledge you’ll require to discover the city. Our guide, Olga Kuzovleva, was superb, allowing us ample time to digest all we saw with an accompanying explanation and plenty of anecdotes. Make sure you see the majestic statue of Alyosha, towering above the city and harbour, together with the former Hotel Arktika, soaring up from pl Pyat Uglov (Five Corners Square), Murmansk’s main hub. Also not to be missed are the beautiful Church of the Saviour on the Waters, with its pure white stonework and golden domes, the nearby Lighthouse Monument and the Memorial to the Kursk submarine disaster, which is actually made from part of the salvaged vessel. The Anatoly Bredov Monument and Regional Palace of Culture are both worth a look plus, of course, the impressive and hugely important harbour leading out into the Barents Sea, from which in the summer months you can cruise to the North Pole on Russian icebreakers.

Murmansk is also a great base for exploring the breathtaking Kola Peninsula, and whether you fancy a snow-mobile tour or a spot of skidooing, trips can be arranged which will take you into the heart of the frozen north. At the very least, you should consider a drive out to Lovozero (the tour office will hire you a driver and a car, also charged by the hour), a remote Sami settlement, which gives you a real flavour of the harsh life endured in an Arctic climate.

At the end of your week, another overnight train will deliver you safely back to St Petersburg, where you can either chill for a while longer or make your onward journey home. Either way, the Murmansk experience is one which is a little out of the ordinary; one which leaves you feeling you’ve been somewhere a bit special.

If you’re thinking of booking a Christmas break, you could do a lot worse than sample the Yuletide charm of the Estonian capital

We’d been wanting to visit a Christmas Market for some time, and our first thought was to book a trip to a ‘traditional’ German one. A little research telling us that one of the finest in Europe was to be found in the Estonian capital of Tallinn, combined with our earnest mission to visit as many of the countries that once belonged to the former Soviet Union as I could, helped us choose this gem of a city.

Flights to Tallinn were straightforward enough, our carrier of choice being Finnair who took us first to Helsinki, and then the half an hour or so on to Tallinn itself, courtesy of what seemed like a bus with wings. This great little turbo prop hovers precariously over the Gulf of Finland and, on a clear, daytime flight, affords some wonderful views.

Arrival at the hotel in Estonia was simple enough, despite being completely ripped off by a roguish taxi driver who quadrupled the fare; we ended up paying 200 Estonian kroons instead of the suggested 50. If this happens to you, do take his registration number as our hotel did try to take this up for us but, sadly, we were unable to identify the driver.

English is spoken readily throughout Tallinn, which makes for a very easy trip. The half hour walk from our hotel, the excellent Uniquestay Mihkli Hotel, was indeed a pleasant one, albeit undertaken in temperatures at times as low as -17 °C.

Night had fallen on Town Hall Square and the Christmas market had closed for the day, but the shuttered stalls and booths, set against the backdrop of the Town Hall itself and an enormous, beautifully lit tree, offered a tantalising glimpse of what tomorrow might bring. We crossed the square and after a few minutes’ deliberation, not to mention a little gentle harassment from the front-of-house staff at various restaurants, headed to an inviting establishment called Basso which lies just a couple of streets away at Pikk 13 (see below to find out more).

As we worked our way down a most agreeable bottle of red, we reflected on the day’s events and anticipated those of the next in equal measure. We’d been hoping for a festive break and even only a few hours into our stay, Tallinn was delivering the goods in spades.

The rest of our time in the Estonian capital was equally pleasing. A light dusting of snow added the perfect Christmas charm to the wonderful market which, with its array of local goodies and St Nicholas nicknacks, presented itself charmingly against a backdrop of green, blue and golden winter-wonderland sunsets. Warm, aromatic Glögi – the local mulled red (or indeed, white) wine, provided that warm, fuzzy feeling which enhanced the whole experience, while sausages and fried cabbage and potatoes provided sustenance against the plummeting temperatures.

The city is awash with superb restaurants and bars and, whilst the poor exchange rate (the kroon is pegged against the euro) can give your wallet a bit of a spanking, you should find on the whole that food and drink are no more expensive than in England.

Recommended eateries…

Basso
Pikk 13
Definitely our favourite, and a far cry from the dated austerity one expects of former Soviet countries. Bistro-cum-jazz-bar Basso serves as a shining example of chic consumerism and style. Near the entrance, a chalkboard advertised upcoming live music nights; reassuring Christmas classics played in the background as we perused the menu, and the entire place was wonderfully lit with tasteful festive lights. It was the most Christmassy we’d felt in a long time. The extensive menu left us spoilt for choice; the gourmet burgers we opted for were beyond reproach, while the level of service and presentation left us confident that any selection would have been a good one.

Hell Hunt
Pikk 39
No, not as grim a name as it sounds, it simply means “Gentle Wolf”. It’s a vibrant, thriving establishment serving up some of the finest food in Tallinn at reasonable prices, and is frequented by locals and tourists alike. As dining subsides, it turns more into a traditional Estonian pub, with a great atmosphere and an eclectic musical platter. Highly recommended.

Ipanema Rodizio
UniqueStay Mihkli Hotel, Endla 23
Located in the basement of the UniqueStay Mihkli Hotel, the funky Argentinian-themed Ipanema Rodizio is an Atkins dietitian’s delight, its signature dish being a non-stop and richly varied feast of freshly-cooked meat (we’re talking different cuts of beef, chicken, lamb, pork, the list goes on…) brought to your table on skewers. For a fixed price, the chefs will bring you as many chunks of succulent flesh as you can manage; we bowed out after the eighth. The menu as a whole isn’t the most diverse in the city, but when the centrepiece is so varied, who’s complaining?

O’Malley’s
Viru 24
Tallinn has no shortage of Irish bars, and O’Malley’s represents a relatively non-kitsch take on the theme. Easily spotted on one of the Old Town’s main roads, it boasts a relaxed atmosphere and great drinks menu. If Jack Frost is nipping at your nose, try a coffee with a shot of Old Tallinn liqueur to put the colour back into your cheeks…

St Patrick’s
Vana-Posti 7
One of four St Patrick’s pub-restaurants, this branch – housed in a medieval merchant’s house – has impressively high ceilings and nicely rendered faux-ancient tapestries. High standards and a fabulous menu are the order of the day: the excellent menu was unexpectedly affordable. There’s even a fantastic range of indie and rock music playing in the background.

Raekoda – Town Hall Cafe
Raekoja plats
Tucked away in the corner of Tallinn’s impressive Town Hall building is this wonderful little cafe. Its original flagstones and windows give it real Gothic charm but it’s warm and cosy even in the depths of winter. Snuggle up by one of the windows and watch the bustling market while you enjoy a glass of mulled wine and a cake. Well, you need to keep your energy levels up when it’s so cold out there…

It doesn’t matter where you are, a fritten’s never far away

Wherever you go in the world, you can usually spot a fritten – the World Travel Blog word for a cat or a kitten – within minutes.

They’re usually quite friendly little examples, although in countries where there’s the slightest risk of rabies, petting is not recommended. Frittens are mostly friendly, as we know, but if one of them is that way out, they’ll just as soon take a side swipe at you as look at you.

The choir of furry felines here have been spotted as far afield as Chernobyl in Ukraine to Listvyanka in the depths of Siberia. Each is as fiercely independent as the next one, but equally possesses the unique fritten ability to make a saucer-eyed demand for a fillet of fresh Hake, lightly poached in some milk.

If you’ve managed to capture your own shot of a precocious Persian, a treacherous tabby or an adorable angora, why not send it in to us for inclusion in the gallery.

Email your image (no more than 1 meg please) to:

frittens@worldtravelblog.co.uk

Miaow.

Zurich, Switzerland’s second city, is – for me – the perfect destination

Zurich had long been on my list of European destinations to visit, but it was by no means up there at the top. A chance pint with a fellow worker at a hotel in Slough – “I’m Daniel, from Zurich,” – opened up a conversation which served to whet my appetite a little more, and it was on my return from Russia in March of 2007 that I actively decided to make it my next trip.

I chose once again to book it through BA. Adding the shuttle at either end of a flight from Manchester can admittedly be a bit of a ball ache (British Airways have yet to realise that we northerners also want to travel to out of the ordinary destinations, be it for work or pleasure), but connections weren’t too bad and, yet again, the trip came in well under budget including yet another amazing hotel.

The Senator Hotel was actually situated on the outskirts of this beautiful city, more in the modern quarter, but Zurich’s excellent tram system means that for around four quid you can travel pretty much anywhere, door to door, for twenty-four hours. Well, at least until the last tram goes to bed.

The old town has a baroque character all of its own, and sprawls at leisure either side of the River Limmat, twisting and turning up quaint avenues and alleyways. The promenade, which runs parallel with the river itself, plays host to an eclectic collection of bars and restaurants which cater for even the most discerning palate.

There seems to be a notion among those who’ve never experienced the delights of this Swiss city that it will be expensive; perhaps it’s because of its obvious financial connections. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised, with food and drink coming in at prices comparable to, if not a touch below, Spain and Greece.

I realised I was thoroughly enjoying my stay as the week wore on, but I have to say that Zurich emerged – and has remained – as one of the destinations I would most want to go back to. It’s clean, friendly, beautiful, charming and easy – in fact, I can’t really fault it.

I’ve covered elements here in more detail, but I really hope this simple overview whets your appetite as much as it should; if you dismiss Zurich for a romantic city break, a pleasant few days away, or even a summer holiday with a difference, you risk missing out on a wonderful soujourn into one of western Europe’s most elegant and beguiling cities.

Happisburgh – a magical corner of the north Norfolk coast

Ever fancied staying overnight in a 1901 signal box built for a railway that never came? Not the sort of question you get asked every day, I know, but if you like your adventures a little different and want to meander off that well-worn beaten track, you could do a lot worse than fetch up at the Hill House pub at Happisburgh (pronounced Haysborough) on a remote stretch of the north Norfolk coast.

Lovingly run by Clive and Sue Stockton, this exceptional hostelry is one of the very few that make it onto my list of establishments which are actually run for the benefit of the patrons. My first taste of this homely welcome was during the drive down to Norfolk, some six hours from my home in Lancashire, on a Friday evening. Knowing full well that we’d be lucky to arrive in time for last orders, we phoned on ahead and advised Sue of our slow progress.

“Have you eaten?” she inquired, completely unfazed.

“No,” we replied, rather sheepishly.

“Don’t worry – you must be starving. I’ll make you something nice when you get here.” You could feel the smile on her face even over the phone.

And sure enough, on our eventual arrival we were shown straight to our quarters where we quickly dumped our bags, and within ten minutes were enjoying a glass of real ale while anticipating a culinary treat from Sue’s kitchen.

The signal box itself was superb. Still almost completely original, it is situated in the pub grounds, making it a real hideaway. For the thirty quid or so per night tariff, the accommodation was bountiful, but it would be a sin to make cheap bed and board your main reason for being here; this is a chance to stay somewhere beyond your wildest imaginings, and in a location which is both remote and stunningly beautiful. The signal box’s spooky, nostalgic charm makes it one of the most exciting places I’ve ever stayed, although at times I was convinced I’d been caught up in the creepy drama of the forties film The Ghost Train, half expecting Arthur Askey to pop out at any moment with his immortal “Hello playmates!”. Apart from two ample rooms over the pub itself, there’s also an original coach house which has been converted into a stylish, ground level apartment. Deliciously quirky, the bar has a more important claim to fame: it was a holiday favourite of Sherlock Holmes creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and it is thought he actually penned The Dancing Men whilst on holiday in the village. Happisburgh itself actually doubled as Aldeburgh (although called Seaburgh) for the 1972 BBC film version of M R James’s classic ghost story, A Warning to the Curious.

After a comfortable night, a day of exploring was heralded by one of Sue’s mean fry-ups over at the pub – a true touch of breakfast heaven! Replete, we made for the nearby sea front, with its raw and rugged cliffs. The battered skeleton of 1950s ‘Hold the Line’ defences which snake up and down the beach is now almost completely impotent in the war against coastal erosion; little Happisburgh doesn’t seem to matter anymore to the powers that be, and the village has been consigned to its fate. As the great north sea pounds its way inexorably landwards, it devours a few more metres of land every month, and with it go livelihoods, homes and heritage.

At nearby Cliff House, a bed and breakfast establishment literally holding on by the skin of its teeth, Diana Wrightson has no choice but to sit and watch her home and her business slip away as disaster edges closer by the day. “We’ll stay open as long as we can,” she told me, “but we may not see another season. We lost eight metres in one night during a particularly nasty storm a few weeks ago.

“I used to offer guests either a view of the lighthouse or a sea view – now I can offer them both!”

And when, along with many others, Cliff House finally topples into the advancing ocean, there won’t be one shred of compensation for devastated residents. The 15th century church of St Mary is only a stone’s throw away, as is the striking red and white striped lighthouse, built in 1790; there is presently nothing in place to protect either of these historical edifices.

But despite their fierce battle, villagers remain proud and focused, always with a warm smile and hearty welcome for the visitor. Waiting for us back at Hill House was a delicious meal and more of that beautifully kept ale – something for which the venue has quite a reputation, especially at Clive’s summer beer festival every June.

“We started the event in quite a small way,” he told me, “but each year it gets more popular – we’ll be running out of space soon!”

But with the boundless hospitality of these wonderful hosts, you just get the feeling that they’d always squeeze you in somewhere.

What a breath of fresh air.

Cardiff Bay’s redevelopment makes it the flagship of the Welsh capital

My memories of Cardiff were not that good. I had worked there briefly in the mid 1980s and it had not been a particularly happy time, largely down to my employer rather than the city but, you know how it goes – if a time spent in a place is a negative experience, you tend to associate those feelings with the place itself.

Being a self-confessed Dr Who and Torchwood fan (no, not the geeky type – I just appreciate the finer qualities of Russell T Davies’ art as a writer and producer of superb television programmes) my interest in the place was re-awakened, so I endeavoured to go back there, give Cardiff another chance and dispel all those nasty memories.

And am I glad I did – what a fantastic experience the Cardiff of today is, from vibrant, cosmopolitan bay to thriving, exciting city centre, the Welsh capital exudes enthusiasm and feels so alive and full of adventure.

I had been staying in Gloucester for a couple of nights, and was relieved to discover that Cardiff was much more accessible than I had remembered. An hour in the car and I was at the bay – famously known before a massive cash injection as Tiger Bay – and easily parked up (free on a Sunday). The first impressive landmark is the Norwegian Church, now sadly no longer a place of worship but a cafe and kind of exhibition hall. Built by Norwegian fishermen as a place of get-together and worship, the church also boasts the fact that Roald Dahl was baptised here.

This is actually Europe’s largest waterfront development, and it certainly feels like it. The chic, cosmopolitan feel, stunning modern architecture and beautifully developed marine area – complete with Wetlands and bird sanctuary – belies its UK location, and you could be forgiven for thinking you were in Bilbao, or somewhere of that ilk, which has also benefited greatly from extensive regeneration.

It’s hard to imagine the past, when Cardiff Docks as it was then called was the world’s largest coal exporting port. There’s now a fantastic balance of working port, high-end leisure complex and playground and area of incredible natural beauty.

The bay itself has been turned into a vast freshwater lake thanks to the introduction of a barrage. A number of boat tours operate from Mermaid Quay, which allow you to gain an understanding of the history and fauna of this exciting area. There’s also a convenient new water taxi service which operates throughout the year from the bay to the city centre and Penarth. If you take the organised boat trip (it’ll cost you just a fiver) it’s well worth getting out at Penarth and having a walk along the barrage. Enjoy a refreshing pint at the old Custom House, now a chic restaurant and wine bar, before catching the waterbus back to Mermaid Quay. The return boat on the hour takes you straight back, whereas the one at quarter past the hour will take you on the tour again, this time in reverse.

Cardiff Bay is also home to a number of attractions such as Techniquest Science Discovery Centre – ideal for all the family, Craft in the Bay, The Welsh Assembly at the Pierhead, Butetown History and Arts Centre, Goleulong 2000 Lightship, the previously mentioned Norwegian Church Arts Centre and the brand new Wales Millennium Centre, a stunning and international arts centre. The Atlantic Wharf Leisure Village provides further options for family entertainment.

The harbour at Cardiff Bay experiences one of the world’s greatest tidal ranges of up to 14m. This has meant that at low tide, it has been inaccessible for up to 14 hours a day. The new barrage has eliminated the effect of the tide, which has acted as an inhibitor to development, releasing the potential of the capital city’s greatest asset – its waterfront.

The construction of the barrage was one of the largest engineering projects in Europe. Completed in 1999, it has created a 500 acre freshwater lake with 8 miles of waterfront and it is already stimulating the future development of the bay as a tourist and leisure destination

The Cardiff Bay Development Corporation was set up in April 1987 to regenerate the 1,100 hectares of old derelict docklands of Cardiff and Penarth. It was part of the British Government’s Urban Development Programme to regenerate particularly deprived and run-down areas of British inner cities. In recent years, Cardiff has become home to a new generation Dr Who, and its spin-off series Torchwood, and BBC Wales can often be found filming in the city and its environs. In fact, Dr Who writer and producer Russell T Davies occupies one of the luxury apartments overlooking the waterfront, next to the five star St David’s Hotel and Spa.

The Wales Millennium Centre, Cardiff – fictional home to Torchwood

If you plan to visit, you’ll find a great selection of places to stay (pretty much to suit your budget) and you certainly won’t be stuck for somewhere to eat or drink. But if you want to do the new Cardiff justice, make sure you go for at least a long weekend, or you haven’t a hope in hell of squeezing everything in.