The last leg of the trip began with an early ferry across the Gulf of Finland on a sunny and cool morning, queuing up with a few hundred others to lug ourselves onto a fairly posh ship. While the level of finish was high, similar to a newer BC Ferries ride, there was far more than just a White Spot and a gift shop in terms of commercial offerings. In truth, the boat was nearly entirely devoted to commercial space, and a polite enough attendant told us innocent Canadians that there is no real general seating area. This after climbing up and down several decks. Instead the weary and wary traveler is obligated to purchase something to sit in the boat – your fare is I suppose only for the transport. This led to use settling for a far earlier than expected morning beer and an otherwise uneventful arrival a few hours later to Tallinn, the seaside capital of tiny Estonia. The city is small enough, and laid out so simply, that we were only a ten minute walk from our hotel in the centre. Once settled, we promptly got to exploring.

Tallinn for tourists is headlined by its extremely well-preserved city centre, a historic district of plastered walls, winding lanes, and steeply pitched red-tiled roofs. The state of preservation is such that it is very nearly a caricature of a place, the shopkeepers and restaurateurs having the bearing of Disney cast members in an idealized setting missing only the warm churros and wandering cartoon character. As a Baltic theme park, it succeeds resoundingly, with lively streets and a pleasant enough cafe culture. Despite the crowds, it rarely feels overcrowded, generally seeming to hit a balance that works, at least for me. This vibe is further reinforced by the sheer ubiquity of English. It is rare, especially in the old town, to catch an Estonian flat-footed and unable to help. That Estonians make this look so easy doesn’t make it any less impressive.

The more interesting and contemporary parts of Tallinn seem to be found on the fringes of the old town, where a middle ground between the outer edges of the city walls and the outer suburban edge exists. This area seems to be in the churn of reinvention, with presumably older and derelict sites reinvigorated in various ways. East of old town is the newer commercial core of the city, a medley of nondescript post-Communist commercial space and newer, more avant garde designs reflective of the designs of global capital turning its sight on the town, affection expressed in clean modernism with warm surfaces and paver-filled plazas framing centerpieces of cafe tables and umbrellas. This triumph of globalism is pleasant, if a bit sterile. West of the city walls, a more organic (but no less capital intensive) scene plays out in old factory zones, with small pop-up stores and converted shipping containers serving up a low-scale, walkable bevy of options for tech workers needing a coffee or tourists seeking an afternoon spritz. A small city, Tallinn is easy to digest at a surface level, as the walk to all these districts takes no more than an hour on foot.

The clear highlight of Tallinn, and one of the highlights of the entire trip, was a visit with an old classmate from my German study abroad, a fellow Oregonian now married to a Tallinn local. I’d initially suggested a coffee or beer, but in a warm display of hospitality we were instead invited to their home for a home-cooked meal. After 15 years, it was great to catch up on life, on the state of the world, and to revisit old memories that in some cases feel (and are) like a different lifetime. Their two-year son, initially shy and keeping a suspicious eye on me and Hannah, eventually warmed up and spent the last hour before his bedtime insisting upon having all of Hannah’s attention. Our bottle of wine led to a vodka, which led to some whiskey, leading to a long morning as we made our way to the airport and back to Vancouver, but one that was well worth it for the pleasure of good conversation with quality people.

Tallinn was a lovely end to the trip, and with the exception of our last night, a pleasant gear down ahead of the many hours ahead of us squeezed into a flying tin can. It was also the last chapter of travel for three years, and that absence of travel has reinforced for me the value and good fortune to have had ample opportunities over the years to do so. I’m looking forward to being out in the world again – for many, many reasons – and the silver lining of the forced hiatus these past few years will hopefully mean that that appreciation remains honed and these types of experiences never taken for granted.