Tallin: what do I have against pants?!?

My first trip abroad (if you don't count a 9-day honeymoon to Bermuda attached to a basically equally short marriage, which I don't) was with my now dear friend, then boyfriend, Matthew.  We were backpacking across Switzerland for a month.  You have to pack light.

I packed one long-sleeved shirt and one pair of jeans.

He urges me to reconsider.  It's Switzerland.  Mountains and shit.  I, in my infinite wisdom, refuse.  "It's summer!"  I do not wear pants in the summer.

Well, you know I wore that pair of pants and that long sleeved shirt EVERY DAY.  For a month.  Cause I'm a moron.

The first three weeks of this summer's adventure is Stockholm-Estonia-Latvia-Lithuania.  I read that the Baltic states have a reputation for being "cloudy" in the summer.  Average temperature between 60 and 70 degrees during the day, 50s at night.  None of the places I've booked has air conditioning, and people don't seem to really have or need it.  I thought this would be a nice change of pace from sweating my goddamn balls off for most of the trip.  Justin hates being hot as much as I hate being cold, so I thought this would be nice.

Our flight from Stockholm to Estonia was at 8am, and I figured we should leave at about 5:30 to get to the airport.  Unfortunately, we were still really jet-lagged and neither of us slept one minute the night before.  So we leave early for the airport, because what else were doing.

We go to buy some coffee at the 7-11 type place.  He rings us up.  I have a coffee and Justin has a red bull.  I take out the money to pay, and the guy says "oh wait, is that regular coffee?"  Yes, and he corrects the price because he charged me for a $2 more latte.  How nice.  We go to pay, and because we're sleepy and well, stupid, we do that thing where we're looking at a pile of foreign coins and we have no idea what each coin is worth.  We have to get rid of coins, because we're leaving the country, and we'd only be able to change bills.  We just became that old lady who starts writing the check out when all her shit is rung up at the cash register.

So the guy smiles, looks into Justin's hand and coin pile and helps, reaching into Justin's hand and helping himself to some coins.

We're embarrassed and confused and tired and Justin is now convinced that the guy took the equivalent of $1 from us, because maybe we thought the 1 kroner coin was worth a tenth of what it was.  Because it's smaller than the rest of the coins.

We are beyond confused.  Haven't we treated the kroner like a dollar this whole time?  Or were we wrong for days?  Was it only worth 10 cents?  Is there even a subdivision of  a kroner?  Why would someone go out of their way to steal a DOLLAR from us?  Especially after he was so kind as to correct the overcharge without us even asking?  Oh shit!  What a scam he's running!  He overcharges people on purpose, then keeps the change!  That shit adds up!

We must have thought about this for a solid 20 minutes before realizing that he was doing that thing where you ask for extra money so you don't have to give back a stack of pennies.  Morons.

We're flying Adria air, a discount airline I have never even heard of and in the month since I've bought the ticket, it's already changing its name to Nordica.  Discount airlines, predictably, suck ass and you basically feel like cattle the whole time.

There's basically no line to get into the airport, because it's so early.  We have to self-check in to this kiosk and then get on a REALLY long line to bag drop.  I'm trying to check in at this kiosk, and there's an old, confused man right up my fucking ass while I'm doing it.  I hate that shit.  Airports are rough as it is, and I really can't stand people who stand as close as humanly possibly to you to make you do whatever you're doing faster.

Someone did that shit to me at the copier at work once, and I told her off and she still doesn't come near me, and it's been a good 5 years.  Back the fuck off when I'm fucking with machinery.

Anyway, I take a deep breath and brush off my New Yorker brusqueness and help the old guy.  We can't seem to check in for some stupid reason.  So we get on the "check in assistance" line, a very short one thank god, and The guy at the counter says that kiosk wouldn't check me in because we hadn't said what sex we were when we bought the tickets.  I bat my eyelashes and say as cutely as possible "oh, do we have to wait on THAT line when we're done here?" And he says no and that's it.  We're done.  I love getting rewarded for not following directions.

The flight is easy and we get to Tallin in no time.  It's pouring.  And it's colder than I want it to be.  We can't even check in to the hostel for a couple of hours, so we decide to relax in the very small, very comfortable, free wifi airport for a good couple of hours.  Justin hates being in the rain; I hate being cold.  We'll wait it out.

We're at Old Tallin1 hostel.  I'm a little too old for hostel bullshit, but Tallinn was otherwise pretty expensive.  For 53€ a night, we got a spotlessly clean private room with twin beds (very Desi and Luci, but whatever) and large windows with a very pretty view of the opera house.  We're right smack on the edge of the Old Town, and even though I just said how much I hate old towns, it's very centrally located and only a 10€ ride from the airport.  There's a fridge you can use, and a kitchen if you want to cook (best benefit of staying at a hostel.).  The shower is  amazing... Choice of strong waterfall, regular shower head, and jets coming at you.  You really can't ask for much more than that.

Justin immediately passes out.  For hours.  I should have as well, but I couldn't.

Forget everything I said about Old Towns.  This one is amazing.

There's old, and then there's OLD.  Stockholms old town dates to the late 1700s.  Tallinn's old town is a UNESCO heritage site, and the buildings are from the 1400's.  Medieval old town shit.  And just to prove its point, i walk right out of the hostel and walk into A FUCKING 3-DAY MEDIEVAL FESTIVAL.

I have never been to a renaissance faire and I'm sure I will never go to one, but when the faire comes to you... That's something.  One woman is knitting (Estonians are famous for their fair-isle style knitting), one is cooking soup in a cauldron, someone is carving a spit-roasted blog pig for fuck's sake, and unsupervised children are jousting each other with miniature wooden swords.  Spectacular.

I am also beyond relieved to not be paying Stockholm prices for shit anymore.  We went to a really nice place for dinner, and mains were about €15, good wine about 4€.  So we got drunk and ate local moose for dinner.  MOOSE!  I was on top of the world!

Back to the pants.  The forecast for the next, well, 2 weeks looks like rain.  I have been wearing the same pair of pants and long sleeved shirt for the last two days.  Matthew, I've learned nothing.  I booked two days in Parnu, Estonia's beach resort, at about $90 a night and uncancellable, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be wearing these pants and long sleeved shirt for the next two days, too.  On the beach.

But Tallin is so nice.  It's small so you can walk everywhere.  The old town, although I was sick of it after a day and a half, is really pretty and charming.  Everyone speaks English.  Or Russian.  I'm clearly not Estonian, and in some places I've gotten more than a few "spasibas" instead of "thank you's."  Three nights is more than enough, and it would have been too much if it weren't for the fact that Justin's and my sleep schedules are still completely fucked.  He won't sleep at night, and then take a 5 hour nap in the middle of the day.  I do the same, but not at the same time.  So a lot of time has been spent reading in the hostel, waiting for the other person to wake up.  Between jet-lag, being really upset and obsessed with the shooting of two more black men by cops (followed by a sniper attack on cops in Dallas,) and the fact that the double Windows don't block out the sounds of the trams and busses right outside our room, I just can't get a good night's sleep.

The only night I have slept well was when I gave myself a one-two combination of Georgian food (lamb soup dumplings and a cheese bread bowl that had a pat of butter and a raw egg on top) and an ambien.  Like eating a bucket of ribs.  I was out at 10 pm.

We did make it to the small but really interesting museum of occupation, which chronicles the history of Soviet and German occupation in Estonia.  Basically, everyone was dying to get the hell out of here...some literally, like all the Jews.  It's easy to think, "oh, how could people just sit by and let the nazis just come in and tear shit up?"  But if your choice is between the nazis and the soviets, is there really a good choice?

We're off to parnu tomorrow.  I was excited about a beach day.  Now I am not.  There's no way it is going to be nice enough to be on a beach and I'm starting to worry that I will be totally sick of the Baltic in a week.  We've got about 5 days unplanned, and instead of my original plan of going to the Latvian and Lithuanian coast for a while, I have spent the last couple of nights obsessively researching alternatives like Warsaw or Berlin.  I'm not really good at "playing things by ear," or "Going with the flow" or "relaxing."  I'm having a good time, but I'm really looking forward to a slightly warmer and less sleepy town.