I turned twenty-five the year I was finally allowed to visit Estonia. By permission, I mean from my father, not the Soviet government. My father had been a metsavend during the war and he knew he could never return to Estonia while the Russians were in charge. For political principles, he was against others from the diaspora visiting our homeland. He viewed such travel as legitimizing the criminally occupying regime.
Nevertheless, by June 1991, the Berlin Wall had fallen and the Soviets had loosened controls enough that my parents believed I would be safe to finally pay a visit to Eesti. I would stay with my cousin’s family in Tallinn and there were other relatives to meet for the first time.
This was a remarkable period in history. I departed Estonia on August 3rd, seventeen days before the Estonian leadership declared the country an independent, democratic republic once again.
My impressions were mixed. I was enchanted by the medieval architecture of Old Tallinn. I spent most nights and any downtime I had at my cousin’s Randvere cottage, just outside Tallinn. His family had a small, pretty property with lots of lilacs and summer flowers in bloom. The song of the nightingale and cuckoo was amazing to listen to. Summer seems more special in Eesti than here, perhaps due to the longer daylight hours. Moments such as these, and exploring around Vana Tallinn (old Tallinn) felt fairy tale-like. I also took saun regularly in Randvere, which was a welcome remedy for my tired body and mind after full days of sightseeing and meeting new people all the time.
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