This article appeared
in Volume 19: No. 4 of the Orient
Express magazine.
The land of the Baltic Barons
HRH Princess Michael of Kent discovers the medieval beauty of Estonia.
Until recently I had no idea of the exact location of Estonia, nor
of the name of its capital. All I knew was that it was situated opposite
Finland and that it was very cold. All that changed when my husband
went there on a sponsored vintage car rally to raise money for the
British-based Children’s Fire and Burns Trust, of which he
is patron. Moved by the plight of children scalded and burnt in (primarily)
domestic accidents, the trust was attempting to set up a special
unit at the large hospital outside Estonia’s capital, Tallinn,
and I was there to meet the fire brigade and tour the hospital.
Arriving in the dark and rain, our car bumping over the winding,
narrow, cobbled streets to my hotel in the old town, I was unprepared
for the staggering beauty of medieval Tallinn. Welcoming faces and
a blazing fire in the entrance hall brought warmth to a charmingly
converted 13th-century building, which, like its neighbours, was
flat-fronted with a steeply pitched roof and painted in pastel tones.
The street had the same feeling as medieval towns in Austria, Bohemia
or Germany—only the Pied Piper was missing.
Upstairs, I opened my wardrobe to the scent of cloves and instantly
felt at home. Dinner in the vaulted cellar was a five-star, two-kilo
revelation. The population of this country (which is larger than
Holland, Denmark or Switzerland) may only be 1.5 million, but already
I could see that their standard of dining was on an international
par. My next four days were to prove it.
One of my first considerations whenever I arrive anywhere, is can
I go online? I had just left Moscow, where I was forced to use a
server via Prague as there are none in Russia. Estonia, by contrast,
has more people with degrees in technology than any other qualification.
Going online was instant. I also discovered that Estonia has the
best website of any country I have looked up (www.visitestonia.com).
If you want to know more, try it.
It’s said that a sure sign of middle age is when policemen
look too young to be taken seriously. I found the same with the Tallinn
fire officers. Wrong again. Tall, blond and charming, they went through
their drill with lightning precision, touchingly proud of their new
Austrian fire engine and scorning the old Russian model that it replaced.
Rapid treatment of burns on the spot by the fire brigade can substantially
increase the chances of recovery for the injured, so the Trust provides
training at ground level for the fire fighters. In our group was
Peter Woodman, a sterling chap oozing strength and confidence, who
had been with the London Fire Brigade for 32 years and now works
for the Trust. Although only one of the Estonian fire officers spoke
a little English, the language of fire and burns is the same the
world over, and Peter’s communication skills were very apparent.
As in Russia, there is always a reason for a toast: at 11am, vodka
was offered in glass bottles containing a red fire ladder and tiny
axe, and we drank to success.
A large hospital was built outside Tallinn during the Soviet times
in case the capital was bombed. We learnt that most burns in the
city are due to scalding in primitive kitchens. Estonians cook outside
in the summer months, which are very dry, and fires are frequent.
The hospitals there need artificial skin machines and a skin bank.
To help raise money, we are holding a fund-raising ball in Tallinn,
in a baroque palace built by the Baltic barons and painted white
and raspberry pink. Estonia was known for centuries as Livornia,
one of the countries making up the Hanseatic League, a formidable
trading bloc dating from the 12th century. The Baltic barons—descendants
of the aristocratic Danes and Germans who colonised the territory—built
magnificent country houses on their estates, many of them like small
palaces. Most have now been abandoned, but I did see three that had
been beautifully restored and another that was undergoing renovation.
Although there is no shortage of skilled craftsmen in Estonia, water,
electricity and telephone wires must often be brought from afar.
There is wildlife in abundance too, including bears, elk, red deer
with enormous antlers, wild boar, wolves and foxes. I thought the
Scots might like to move their foxhounds over to Estonia—similar
climate and terrain—but I learnt it was against the law to
hunt with dogs there, too. It seems the Baltic barons hunted on horseback
with dogs, and anything they did is viewed with complete disdain.
The plentiful game birds, such as the capacaille and blackcock, are
also protected in Estonia.
And so, I fear, the romantic villas in pale pink, light yellow,
sky blue and celadon green, their baroque flourishes around windows
and doors flounced like cream on a Viennese gateau, will continue
to crumble into disrepair. The once splendid buildings, which would
have been the centre of a grand estate, now sit like forlorn dowagers
in the middle of Soviet-era collective farms, fading and disapproving
of the ugliness mushrooming around them.
On the way to the airport, I was given a bag containing a pot of
caviar and a bottle of vodka, a gift from a beaming man in his 60s
attached to our Moscow sponsors. It seems he had told my husband
he would be issued with his first passport next year, and his first
trip would be to visit New York. He had been the captain of a Russian
nuclear submarine, and the Big Apple had been his intended target.
Food for thought.
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For more information on the Children's Fire and Burn Trust, tel:
+44 (0)20 7802 8464; email: info@cfbt.demon.org.uk; www.childrensfireandburntrust.org.uk.
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