A fairytale trip to Soviet state, Tallinn

Be it fairytale-like charm or a rich Soviet lineage, surrender to Tallinn's magic and lose track of time. Estonia had never featured on my 'must-see countries' list. Why then, would I go to this far-flung, erstwhile Soviet state? Well, my aunt had a conference in Tallinn and she asked me if I would like to free-load. So I said yes. Shamelessly. Never mind the fact that I wasn't expecting much from the city. I mean, how different could it be from the cliche of a struggling Soviet offshoot, fraught by the shadows of its past? But a free ride is a free ride. And so, in Tallinn, I promptly landed. I slowly scanned the view of the city from our hotel window. Grey skies. Grey buildings. Desolate streets. So far, the city was living up to my preconceived notions. Then suddenly, as my gaze shifted to the right, a burst of colour dotted my view. I could see vibrant, red-tiled spires soaring in stark contrast to the rest of the city's modern landscape. I was told later that I had been staring at the city's Old Town. The old town The next morning, while my aunt toiled away at the conference, I set out on foot to explore Tallinn's fairytale like Old Town, one of the most well preserved gothic towns in the world. As I passed between a pair of imposing, ivy-covered towers at the beginning of Viru Street - the main archway into Old Town, I got the distinct impression that I had dived from the 21st century straight into the heart of a bygone era. I ambled through winding cobbled streets towards the Town Hall, which was flanked by a large market square and many charming open-air cafes. I shuffled within earshot of a tourist guide and overheard him tell his group that the site had witnessed a memorable execution centuries ago. "A priest was beheaded here for killing a waitress in the late 1600s," the guide bellowed. "What was his crime?" he was asked. "She brought him a really bad omelette," he said solemnly. I decided that I liked this guide, with his penchant for drama. So I discreetly hot-footed after him, as he shepherded his group through the heady cocktail of spire-crowned architecture and twisting alleys to the Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevski Cathedral. "The classic onion-domed 19th-century Church has become the city's tourist symbol," the guide rumbled. "But nationalist Estonians are not happy because they regard it as a symbol of Soviet oppression." The group fervently nodded. So did I. Minutes later, he turned around and huffed towards a church with a soaring spire. I trailed him as he chattered to his group that the 13th-century Olaf's church was the tallest building in the world till a couple of centuries ago. Over the centuries, unfortunately, its poor spire had been repeatedly ambushed by lightning, thereby reducing its original height. I panted all the way up to the top of the spire on the heels of the heaving group. The view was magnificent, but with vertigo lurking around the corner, I quickly wobbled down and waited for the drama king and his subjects. Our next stop was the ex-KGB Estonian headquarters outside the Old Town. I suddenly felt as if I were at large in a Robert Ludlum novel, as I shadowed the guide round the spooky building like a shifty spy. "This," he boomed dramatically, "Is where the KGB tortured suspected rebels." He then theatrically wagged a finger towards the basement windows. "They are covered up with concrete to suppress the sound of screams," he said, his eyes goggling. I shuddered. So did the rest of the group. Minutes later, the guide, the group and the budding stalker stood outside the gigantic Hotel Viru. "This was a notorious den of Cold War intrigue," I heard him say. "Every room was tapped and monitored by the KGB." The singing revolution Later that evening, I visited the Song Festival Grounds with my sight-seeing averse aunt. While she grumpily stood shivering in a corner, I hung on to the words of a local who mentioned that the grounds had been host to over 30,000 music artistes from all over the world and that it was here that the Singing Revolution or the patriotic, night-singing demonstrations took place in the late 1980's, fuelling Estonia's liberation from Russia. The next day, I went back to Tallinn's roots, the Old Town Square and sat in a cafe, sipping wine and soaking in the sun, which had, for a few brief minutes managed to burst through the clouds. The waiter brought me the menu, with a pamphlet stuck in between its pages. Culture Calls, the pamphlet screamed. Below was a list of more than 250 cultural events, dotting Tallinn's epochmaking annual calendar. The city, clearly had a new reason to celebrate, as Europe's Cultural Capital for the year. I realised two things then - that first impressions aren't necessarily lasting and that it wasn't just me enjoying a moment in thesun; it was all of Tallinn. Highlights Museum of Occupations: Brings alive life under Soviet and Nazi regimes. Kadriorg Palace: The majestic summer palace of the Tsar. A portion of it is closed to the public and is occupied by the Office of the President. Open Air Museum: An open complex of Estonian rural architecture from the Tsarist era. Getting around: Tallinn is a well connected city - you can avail of its trams, trolleybuses or taxis.