Töuring Tällinn

Well, I made it to Tallinn with time to spare (if you don't count me losing 24 hours). It's small, but nicely formed. It has the tatty, run-down charm of most second world cities; it's impossible to tell where roads end and paths begin, which is a danger to an unroadworthy moron like me. The cars are a contradiction of modernity and clapped-out bangers, we passed one on the way from the airport spewing steam at an undeserving tram. The young Estonians are fashionable and you can often only tell the local girls from the visitors by their Slavic profiles and unwelcoming sneers.

My little cottage has been reallocated to more punctual guests, but I can use the next-door neighbour's sauna or ask the new residents to make way for me. The hostel is some random man's house, he's just decided to let out the downstairs' rooms. It would seem odd if he didn't look so much like Julian, which I find unreasonably reassuring, as was the empty cat's bowl. If it's very hungry, I may entice it into my room later with offers of Estonian meats. Also, on a positive note, the internet connection is set up just outside my room, so there is no excuse for inefficient blogging, however, I can't work out how to use the 'at' key, so emails are currently beyond me.

Decided to walk into central Tallinn to discover the place and nearly got lost. The city combines the mediaeval architecture of places like Stockholm and Venice (it even smells the same in parts) with grim Communist prefabs: kind of like a neglected fairytale. However, you can't accuse Estonians of being behind the times. All the kiosks boast the latest craze: sudoku. At least I know I needn't get bored...

After a few hours checking out the Old Town's exteriors (and joyiously discovering a 99 EEK store), I finally managed to brave a bar and was confronted by a menu set out exclsively in Estonia, something I hadn't bargained on. The only remotely guessable dish involved mushrooms, which I consider a mild form of poison and won't eat. Just as I was welling up the courage to order something in stuttering Estonian, an Australian stood next to me brazenly ordered a pint of Beamish in English. I suddenly realised, the bar's entire patronry spoke English. I ordered an enormous cheese and salami pancake and a pint. The food was amazing; the pancake was crammed with dill pickles and came with a fabulously creamy Dijon-ish sauce to smother it with. I will come home looking like Blunderwoman if this is how the Estonians eat.

I strolled around some cathedrals and churches (the Orthodox put the Catholics to shame when it comes to lush baroque interiors) and while stopping to admire a view of the port, I spotted a young guy who spoke English, so pretended I had no map to spark a conversation. He was a San Franscican called Adrian who is spending his summer touring Europe and has seen more of it in two months than I have in a lifetime. We quickly parted and I stopped for a coffee, but had to leave when I started gagging on the sickly sweet smoke from someone's waterpipe: a big hit with the local young 'uns. I decided to find the bus stop home so I could then plan how drunk I might get (I've already spotted a few English stag dos that I could wile away some time with, and the Oirish pubs to find them in, should I get desperately lonely) and ran into Adrian again.

This time I was more sensible and asked if he'd like to go for a drink, he did and we enjoyed speaking in English (of a kind) over coffee and beer. He had to go off to the port to try to sell a free ticket he'd been given for a ferry to Helsinki and then came back to meet me in an African bar nearby. While I was waiting for him I got seig heiled by some neo-Nazis and chatted up by the Nigerian chef. We spent another pint together before parting company. As we had little more than geography and a desire for company in common, we left it at that, although as I ran into him so many times today, I can quite imagine, of all the people in the world, he'll be the one on the other bunk when I finally make it onto the Trans-Siberian Express. I am not sure if I would be pleased or not; he had a lovely face, but was dull and over-privileged.

Got home and found the brazen Australians are staying in my hostel. Tried to say hello, but am being ignored. Bang goes the idea of making friends over breakfast. They are constantly checking my typing to see if the dining area/internet cafe is free: it's not yet.

Have just noticed that I might be able to get a transfer to Russia for 14 euros. Am going to look into it, not that I would use any Russian. I've forgotten most of what I once knew and have spent most of today sharking out cute English-speaking boys and asking Estonians if they understand my native tongue.