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We docked in Helsinki at 8am, where disembarkation and
passport control preceded crossing the city to the Viking Line to depart at
11am. It was somewhat rushed, especially
since it took almost an hour in the queue to be stamped back into the Schengen
Area. Having crossed back across the
Gulf of Finland into Estonia, I had some time in Tallinn to return to the
Center Hotel to drop my other bag. I was
to spend the night in Kuressaare, a town on the Estonian island of Saaremaa,
where I'd booked to see Verdi's Don Carlo at an outdoor venue among the ruins
of a castle. As I was only spending one
night, I carried all I needed in my backpack.
I did a little sightseeing and then made my way to the airport.
At the airport for the third time, something happened that
made security staff close the area between the boarding gates and the check-in
desks. I heard nothing, but soon I saw a
fire truck pull up outside. It remained
there, stationary for a while, and I did not see the firemen bring out the
hoses. Then it left and the security
check and passport control area was reopened.
Crisis averted, I guess. My flight
was called, and I exited through the gate to a waiting bus, which took us to
the smallest plane I ever remember getting on.
When I was just a tiny tot, I remember flying on a plane that belonged
to the mining company for which my father worked, and it must have been this
small, but I was young and inexperienced, so it must have seemed huge to
me. There were 21 seats on this one, and
the cockpit was separated from the passenger area by a curtain that might have
been drawn but was left open.
I watched as the pilot and copilot went through their
checks. Then we started to taxi. We made some left turns and some right turns,
and then we returned to the parking spot and were told to alight. There was some technical difficulty, and we'd
have to wait for another plane. The
pilot said it might take 20 minutes, but he could not be sure, and we were
bused back to the terminal building. My
schedule was such that a punctual arrival afforded me only one hour to find my
hotel, shower and make it to the opera. The
prospect of missing the first act, the second also, or perhaps the whole opera
was not at all appealing. In addition, I
was only staying in Kuressaare for the night, returning with the same airline
at 8 o'clock the next morning. There was
therefore no attraction other than the opera.
I thanked the pilot for putting our safety first, but said I would
unfortunately need to cancel. Fortunately, the fare was refunded to me.
(Later, the hotel at which I was meant to stay also waived my cancellation
fee; I hadn't even asked. Stay at Staadioni Hotel if you are ever in
Kuressaare!!)
There was an Estonian couple in the exact same situation as
me, and they were not at all happy. They
were polite to me when we spoke, but (playfully, I hope) accused me of
obviously not loving opera. They seemed
livid. Although I was unequivocally
devastated about missing the show, I try never to allow myself to get angry or
reactionary when things don't go my way.
It is what it is, and I would certainly much rather miss the opera than
become permanently oblivious, splattered on the ground after a wreck.
I returned to Center Hotel and was lucky to get the last room
available, although it was a room without a bathroom and I'd once again have to
share. It was boiling hot again in the
room, and this window, too, had no handle.
I finally went down to ask how to open the window. What transpired next defied
comprehension. The receptionist opened
his drawer, yanked out a handle and said, "You need one of
these." On what planet does a hotel
treat its guests this way? It is
unimaginable and intolerable. Worse yet,
window now open, the Russian-speaking couple from the room next door had access
to a balcony in front of my window, and there they sat and smoked and talked
frequently through the night. To add to
this infamy, the receptionists (all except the first one when I arrived in
Tallinn from Pärnu ten days earlier) were sullen, disinterested and
disagreeable. Whatever, I had only tonight
and tomorrow night, and then I'd be back to Taiwan.
The next morning I was moved to a room with a private
bathroom, by virtue of having booked that night well in advance. I withheld the window handle, packing it into
my bags, which had to be kept at reception while they cleaned the room. Then I went into Old Town for the last
time. I needed to buy one more gift, for
Lourens, and I had previously seen the right thing here in Tallinn.
Gift bought, I returned to Raekoja plats, to the same
restaurant where I'd had the pork, mushroom and beetroot dish. I needed breakfast as last night's room did
not include the morning meal. I sat down
on the plaza at first, but I was too hot and decided to move inside. There I took out my notebook and wrote while
dabbing myself with paper napkins to dry off the sweat. It was then that I received the best service
of the whole journey. The waitress had
obviously seen my combustible hell, and she brought me an electric fan. For this, she earned a tip larger than the
one I'd given lovely Alexei.
It was
also just then that I registered something I'd noticed before but not really
fully comprehended. If you ever want to
get better service in a restaurant, take out pen and paper and write - anything
you like. I expect it seems that you are
writing a critique of the establishment because, each time I did this (and I
was merely recording events along my journey), service became immediately more
attentive.
After
breakfast, I made my way around parts of Old Town I had not yet seen. What a truly lovely environment. There were buskers, horse-drawn carriages,
costumed staff and clean streets.
Hear ye! Hear ye!
A Wander
Arriving back at Center Hotel in the afternoon to take my room,
there was no fridge in it - there had been one in the room I'd stayed in two
weeks earlier. I politely asked the
receptionist if it would be possible to get a room with a fridge. When she didn't understand me, I used a trick
I learned as a student from a roommate's Dutch mother. Rather than repeating herself, she would
reword the question. I said, "I had
a fridge the last time I was here."
The antagonistic response was, "Well, I can do nothing about
that."
There is in fact only one nice thing I can say about this
hotel. They were gracious about allowing
me to leave my bags there on three separate occasions. I'd asked at another hotel and they'd wanted
to charge me. Otherwise, there is
nothing good about it. Even the next
morning's breakfast was the worst I'd had.
Do not stay there if you are ever
in Tallinn.
At long last I was at journey's end. On Friday morning I made my way to Tallinn
Airport for the fourth time. As I'd now
become unaccustomed to getting my passport stamped, I left it very late to go
through passport control and started a mild panic, but I made it through. Moscow - Hong Kong - Taoyuan - and my story
is done.
