All the Estonia links are here, in one place.

All the Estonia links are here, in one place. The photo was taken on the Baltic beach in Tallinn. I just looked outside, and it appears to be New Albany. This apparently means vacation is over, and with it the coffee break.

We're back on our heads.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day One, and the joys of steerage class.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Two, and an orientation walk through Tallinn's Old Town.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Three, with a thrift store visit and the Museum of the Occupations.

Let's have a look at "The Singing Revolution" and Estonia's historical experience.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Four ... the old and the new; the beach and the beer.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Five (1 of 2) ... a fish market and the exceedingly bizarre Linnahall.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Five (2 of 2), featuring a bus ride to the 'burbs and two Old Town pubs.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Six, and a big surprise in Helsinki.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Seven -- odds, ends, kelders and kvass.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Eight, and home, though not before a few reflections.

Old and new in Tallinn, Estonia, 2016.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Eight, and home, though not before a few reflections.

(As is my custom when posting trip summaries, I'm backdating them to the actual day of occurrence. Previously: Day Seven)

You know the drill: Cram the suitcase extra full, flag a taxi to the airport, and relish a day filled with shoe, belts and sanity removed for scrutiny. We were on a KLM flight from Amsterdam to Atlanta. The cans of Heineken were free, and so I drank way too many. In other words, in spite of airBaltic on the opening leg, it was routine.

So, Estonia.

Perhaps an offbeat choice for a trip -- neither Cancun nor Disney World, just daily reality in a nation of relatively recent vintage, filled with people who've been speaking that "devilishly difficult" language for thousands of years.

"Their biggest problem," says Mailis Sutiste, "is the letter 'Õ.'" " Õ" as in " Õun" (apple). " Õ" like "Õde" (sister), or "Õnn" (happiness). In fact, Sutiste's profession - " Õpetaja" (teacher) is even a difficulty for her students to pronounce in a way that is mutually understood amon Estonians to be the true "Õ ."Sure her Estonian class at Tallinna Keeltekool can reshape their "O's" - cut them down, swallow them whole - but they still can't get that "Õ" sound - though they get very close.

Regardless of the " "s - for Sutiste, as well as for other teachers of Estonian, the fact that people are trying to learn their language - and not only Russian-speakers studying to pass the state examination to get full citizenship - is a bit flattering. There is an interest in learning Estonian in Estonia that has never really existed before.

The Baltic Germans spoke German, the Soviets Russian. Estonian was always a "native" or "peasant" tongue. Now it stands alone as the official language of Estonia, and that has created an interest in learning it, an interest that Sutiste says is increasing as Estonia gets closer to becoming an official language of Europe - that is, a European Union language.

Never mind that English is the de facto second tongue, and Estonians tend to speak our language better than we do. The history of the country is aptly summarized by these three paragraphs, highlighting Estonians, Baltic Germans, Russians -- and now, Europeans.

In 1991, Estonia regained its independence, only to be presented with a thorny problem. Exactly how does one recover from 50 years of Sovietization? In broad terms, Estonia's answer was avoid shortcuts and endure whatever pain was necessary in the short term in order to gain a long-term objective of inclusion in the European project. Consequently, it took only 13 years to gain membership in the EU.

In contrast, it's been ten years of recovery in New Albany, and the streets still run one way.

The usual disclaimers apply: But of course Estonia could achieve this. Emerging from communism, the country remained culturally and linguistically homogeneous in spite of an alien (read: Russian) minority. Estonia's cousins in Finland stood by, ready to invest. It was in the EU's (and NATO's) best interest to transform Estonia into a buffer against bordering Russia. And so on.

But the ditches still need to be dug and fiber optic lines buried. Speaking for myself, this American saw something in Estonia rarely witnessed back home: A remote semblance of shared values and purpose. If we're the most powerful country in the world, can't we have an encrypted on-line passport?

Perhaps the memory of oppression remains sufficiently fresh, and by oppression I mean the genuine article, not the ludicrous suffocation purely imagined by so many of my fellow white males in the States.

I'm also aware of that 20-odd percent of Estonians who are Russian. It's sometimes hard to separate national characteristics of Russia from the lives of ordinary Russians, who are warm, passionate and welcoming people. In fact, the same might be said of Americans, which is why I persist in thinking that Russians and Americans have much in common if their governments might only leave the room and allow us to communicate with each other.

In Estonia, it's more complicated, although arguably less so for the young. In the Estonian context, reasons for Russian immigration differ markedly from those bringing Mexicans to the United States, because the Soviet Union shifted its own people from place to place for cynical political reasons, not in response to market forces.

I'm not sure any of it matters. Whether Russian or Mexican, if you've lived in a place long enough to consider it home and follow the rules, isn't it home?

Yes, I know. The devil resides in the details. It's why we have barrooms.

Next up for the Confidentials: A touch of Sicily in the fall. Mt. Etna's on my bucket list, and the eating and drinking ...

"On July 1, the entire country of Estonia will create the largest 24/7 free public transit zone in the world."

Tallinn, 2016.

During the three decades I've traveled in Europe, it has been understood that $8-per-gallon petrol discourages excessive auto use, and that subsidies for public transportation achieve more than one purpose.

"Like roads, mass transit is not self-sustaining: both roads and mass transit require a combination of user fees and other government funding to pay for operations, maintenance, and expansion," The Hamilton Project authors wrote in a May 2015 paper titled, "Racing Ahead or Falling Behind: Six Economic Facts About Transportation Infrastructure in the United States."

Dare we mention quality of life?

Liberating all transit would cost the Paris region an extra €6 billion annually, according to one estimate. But the potential upsides are equally enormous: cleaner air, reduced healthcare costs, plummeting carbon emissions. There’s also the possibility that free-transit-for-all would make Paris so pleasant and easy to live in that it becomes irresistible to investors.

As usual, Estonia explores the periphery of the sensible. If it weren't for the complexity of the language, we'd retire there. Are tutors available?

Estonia Will Roll Out Free Public Transit Nationwide, by Feargus O'Sullivan (CityLab)

... On July 1, the entire country of Estonia will create the largest 24/7 free public transit zone in the world, one that will stretch across its entire territory. That will make it feasibly possible (if complicated) to travel by bus from one end of this 1.3 million-strong Baltic nation to the other without paying a cent.

snip

The implications of such a model are vast. Free buses for all could lead to a massive democratization of mobility for Estonians, meaning that travel costs paid at point of use need no longer be factored into many people’s monthly budgeting. And while outsiders might assume the government’s costs to be prohibitive, it won’t actually be that expensive to implement.

That’s because Estonia’s public transit already gets extremely generous subsidies. The state-owned railway operator Elron, for example, will get a €31 million boost from taxpayers next year. The rural bus routes due to go free, meanwhile, are already subsidized to up to 80 percent of cost as it is. Making them entirely fare-less should only cost around €12.9 million ($15.2 million) more—not a vast amount for even a small country such as Estonia.

Getting rid of ticket sales and inspections, meanwhile, will eliminate some overhead—and also cut down on delays. I couldn’t turn up any figures on the actual cost of charging for Estonian bus travel, but on larger, more complex networks such as New York’s MTA, it can reach 6 percent of all budget. When only 20 percent of the bus network’s costs are being recouped from fares, it’s easy to see how maintaining a ticket sale and inspection system can come to seem like a burden worth shedding.

But why is Estonia going so big on free transit now? At its root, this is a form of fiscal redistribution. Rural Estonians, who comprise 32.5 percent of the country’s total population, are generally older and less affluent than their urban counterparts; younger country-born Estonians have increasingly moved to cities and to other countries. The rural parts of this former Soviet state, which joined the E.U. in 2003, thus rely heavily on decent functioning public buses. Making this system free to use for all might help slow this rural population drain.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Three, with a thrift store visit and the Museum of the Occupations.

Actually, we saw very few scenes like this. 

(As is my custom when posting trip summaries, I'm backdating them to the actual day of occurrence. Previously: Day Two)

THURSDAY

My wife is a devotee of thrift stores.

As you might imagine, a thrift store constitutes a sociological fusion culture. People shop there because they have very little disposable income, and also because they have too much. There is an aspect of subculture appreciation to the genre. It can be thought-provoking, indeed, and with an occasional fabulous bargain, too.

What do the items on offer at thrift store say about the economy? Which ones come and go as times are better, or worse? Which of us are voyeurs (my hand is raised) and why?

On Thursday morning in Tallinn, we set off on foot to find Paavli Kaltsukas, a thrift store located in the district of Põhja-Tallinn, which lies northwest of the city center and includes the neighborhood of Kalamaja, once Tallinn's fishing harbor, now gentrifying according to the familiar urban arts incubator (dare we say hipster) model.

The gateway to Põhja-Tallinn is Balti jaam, Tallinn's central train station. When rail service to St. Petersburg began in 1870, the immediate vicinity was transformed virtually overnight, with factories being built near the rail yards. Between these and the fishing harbor, many wooden apartment buildings and residences were constructed to house the workers. A surprising number have survived.

Later, during Estonia's postwar Soviet period, areas west of this industrial belt were filled with prefabricated housing blocks made of concrete, arranged along broad avenues.

These are fascinating juxtapositions for a visitor, and we experienced them all. My knees haven't yet recovered.

It took roughly 40 minutes to find the Paavli Kaltsukas thrift store, which is located on a non-through street amid industrial structures being subdivided and repurposed by small business owners. It's in the center of the Google street view.

We'd left the hotel quite early, and so the thrift store hadn't opened for business. Fortunately, there was a small eatery on the corner of Paavli and Kopli, just up the way.

The cakes and coffee were sublime. Returning to Paavli Kaltsukas, there was shopping and attendant frivolity. I refrained from taking photos for the same reason that I dislike photos being taken of me when I shop.

Next came another forty minute stroll, taking us to water's edge, then back through Kalamaja to the northern extremity of the Old Town. In need of a restorative, we stopped into an establishment called Brewery Õlleklubi, which means Brewery Beer Club. Supposedly five of the taps pour house-brewed beer, though I had my doubts, and RateBeer helpfully indicates that they're actually relabeled selections from other breweries.

No matter. It was time for a serious museum visit: The Museum of Occupations, and its heavy suitcases.

The Museum of Occupations provides a comprehensive overview of Estonian society during three periods of occupation: the first Soviet occupation 1940–1941, the German occupation 1941–1944, and the second Soviet occupation 1944–1991. Audio-visual displays and photos highlight the events of the era, repression and national resistance, as well as showing how people coped with the day-to-day realities of this difficult period.

Almost 40% of Tallinn's population is Russian. In the country as a whole, it's about 25%. In itself, this tells us little. However, given that key elements of Estonia's national narrative involve subjugation by its neighbors, cultural and linguistic perseverance and a relatively recent, phoenix-like rise from degradation, it's probably safe to suggest that the presence of so many speakers of Russian, a language regarded by Estonians as imperialistic, generates a degree of cognitive dissonance.

Granted, Stalin deported Estonians to the gulag, too many never to return. The Soviets seized their properties, used them to house ethnic Russians brought to Estonia from the USSR, and in general, acted to "dilute" Estonia.

At the same time, it's worth remembering that an equal number of Russians died in the fight against Nazi Germany as were killed at the behest of their own government, via forced labor, purges and famine. The number in each instance is 20 million.

As for Russians in Estonia: If you've lived somewhere for 65 years ... do you belong there yet?

It seems that as time has passed, and with a reconstituted Estonia in the EU and NATO, the old insecurities have abated, and the path for citizenship on the part of the Russian minority has been relaxed. From the start, Estonian citizenship was predicated on fluency in the Estonian language -- and it isn't an easy one to learn. Today, 25 years after independence was peacefully regained, less than 10% of the Russians in Estonia are, in effect, resident aliens. It's a lot. It's also an improvement.

I'm in no position to judge any of this, merely to observe it's a curious thing to maintain a Museum of the Occupations in a city where a sizable portion of the occupiers never left. Not bad or good, just weird.

Soviet-era radios and audio equipment are among the many artifacts at the museum. Video presentations in English make it easy to understand what happened.

I first encountered this model of Soviet fizzy water vending machine in Leningrad in 1985. Yes, it's a communal cup made of glass. Sometimes there was more than one cup, often not. You used it, or you stayed thirsty.

In the end, the Museum of the Occupations probably exists so that future generations won't forget. It's hard for me to find fault with that.

Next: Friday (Day Four), as we take a walk on the beach and have lunch with a view.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day One, and the joys of steerage class.

(As is my custom when posting trip summaries, I'm backdating them to the actual day of occurrence)

TUESDAY

Given that we haven't traveled as often in recent years, perhaps I failed to appreciate the duration of the commute from Louisville to Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. For more on the contemporary thrill of flying: Just been there and done that: "The Consequences of Airplane Classism."

Tuesday, April 26

Delta 2490
Depart Louisville, Kentucky 2:12 pm
Arrive Atlanta, Georgia 3:45 pm

Delta 72
Deaprt Atlanta, Georgia 5:40 pm
Arrive Amsterdam Netherlands 8:30 am on April 27

KLM Royal Dutch Airlines 2843 (Operated by Air Baltic Corporation AS)
Depart Amsterdam 10:00 am
Arrive Tallinn 1:20 pm

It's the extra leg that drains. The time difference between Louisville and Tallinn is seven hours, so the three flights (with brief layovers) took about 16.5 hours, allowing for the last flight being a bit late.

Short version: Estonia is quite far away from here.

Estonia (Estonian: Eesti [ˈeːsti]), officially the Republic of Estonia (Estonian: Eesti Vabariik), is a country in the Baltic region of Northern Europe. It is bordered to the north by the Gulf of Finland, to the west by the Baltic Sea, to the south by Latvia (343 km), and to the east by Lake Peipus and Russia (338.6 km). Across the Baltic Sea lies Sweden in the west and Finland in the north. The territory of Estonia consists of a mainland and 2,222 islands and islets in the Baltic Sea, covering 45,339 km2 (17,505 sq mi) of land, and is influenced by a humid continental climate.

Steerage class occupants have few tricks at their disposal, but here's one: To avoid being fed last on flights where meals as yet are included, make a special dietary request in advance. Our lactose-free vegetarian curry was good, and those making special requests usually get food before the carts make their rounds.

Tomorrow (Day Two), I'll pick up the thread in Tallinn, with an orientation walk through the Old Town.

Sense and sensibility: "Free public transport in Estonia."

Estonia is mentioned fairly often in these pages. Our trip there in 2016 was a profound experience, and there'll be a return visit some day. We found Tallinn's trams and buses exemplary. Next time, I hope we make it into the countryside. As tourists, we'll be paying to ride, but the advantages of Estonians having free transit options are clear, and discussed herein.

In myriad ways, America subsidizes cars. It doesn't have to be this way.

In the fast lane: Free public transport in Estonia, at The Economist

Expensive, but worth it

The buses are on time, the trams are shiny and new, and passengers usually get a seat. In many cities that would be remarkable enough. But in Tallinn locals are also not required to buy a ticket. In 2013 it became the world’s first capital city to offer residents free public transport. Estonia as a whole has been following suit, and last year set the ambition of becoming the first country with free public transport nationwide. Buses are now free of charge in 11 of its 15 counties.

If the objective is curtailing ultimately unsustainable car-centrism, then a few eggs are required to be broken.

Free public transport on its own is not enough to stop people driving, though the evidence is that it helps. In Tallinn higher parking fees and reduced space for cars also played a part in cutting city-centre traffic: on-street parking now costs €6 an hour, and some parking spaces and car lanes have been replaced by bus lanes. Officials say providing a free alternative allowed them to avoid a backlash when driving in the capital was made more expensive and less convenient.

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Five (1 of 2) ... a fish market and the exceedingly bizarre Linnahall.

(As is my custom when posting trip summaries, I'm backdating them to the actual day of occurrence. Previously: Day Four)

Saturday, April 30 was such a sensory overload that I've split the narrative into two halves.

A beautiful spring day began with the olfactory enrichment of Tallinn's fish market, located astride a small harbor on the north side of the Old Town.

Around the corner is the Contemporary Art Museum of Estonia. We were too early, and it wasn't yet open.

Next to the museum is the Linnahall, which for me quickly became the latest in a long series of "dilapidated buildings Roger quickly becomes obsessed with during a foreign trip."

It was made worse by having no ready source of information to answer the pertinent question: "What the hell is/was this thing?"

A dizzying YouTube video provides aerial views of the Linnahall and vicinity.

We clambered all over the massive cement pile, which has been likened to a quasi-Mayan monument rising from the Tallinn docklands and is being used only in tiny bits and pieces -- a disheveled nightclub and helipad on the Baltic side, and an automotive repair shop tucked into one corner.

First, the scattershot photos -- then an explanation, with links for further exploration.

Lonely Planet offers an overview.

Built for the 1980 Moscow Olympics and originally christened the Lenin Palace of Culture and Sport, Linnahall contains a vast concert arena within its crumbling, much-graffitied concrete hulk. It’s fair to say that the city doesn’t know quite what to do with it. The temple-like structure has heritage protection but it has decayed considerably since closing its doors in 2009 and it acts as a colossal barricade, cutting off the Old Town from the harbour. Recently there's been talk of converting Linnahall into a conference centre. In the meantime, baffled tourists continue to wander its rooftop walkways and take endless photos to show their friends back home their brush with post-Soviet decay.

The previously mentioned yachting center in Pirita also was part of this construction program for the 1980 Olympiad, when Estonia still firmly was absorbed within the leaden Soviet orbit.

The massive, 5,000 seat amphitheater was commissioned by the Soviet Union to show the world their mastery over concrete-pouring. While the squat cement building certainly showed the world that such a feat was possible, Estonia could not fill the thousands of seats after the Olympic crowds returned home -- Atlas Obscura

The ongoing decay makes it hard to see that there actually was a sensible architectural rationale for the Linnahall.

Linnahall is a symetrical monumental slab concrete structure which looks like a pointer from the city to sea. It is designed in a way that the building top which has a very low elevation for an entertainment venue is accessible from the exterior through several staircases. The architect wanted to create a link between the city and the sea without obstructing the view on the silhouette of the medieval old town.

With no better idea how to proceed, the Linnahall has become a "failed architecture" seminar in itself.

Fading appreciation, changing values and demands, associations with troubled pasts, structural decay, rampant property development and other trends can lead to the abandonment, neglect and disappearance of architectural legacy, even that of an entire era. Such was the starting point of the 2012 Estonian contribution to the Venice Architectural Biennale, asking the question ‘How Long is the Life of a Building?’

But crazily, in spite of the exterior's neglect, this photo from the preceding article shows a pristine interior no longer accessible to the public.

Next: It's still Saturday (Day Five) and we're ready for a bus ride and some beers.

"Cheap stick framing has led to a proliferation of blocky, forgettable mid-rises—and more than a few construction fires."

In a moment we'll learn why America’s new apartment buildings all look the same.

First, an aside.

One of our most indelible travel experiences in recent years came in 2016 when we visited Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. Only 30 years ago Estonia was a bedraggled Soviet republic, and once freed to pursue its own post-communist destiny the country has caught up to the times by thinking and acting ahead of the curve.

Today Estonia is a juxtaposition of history and modernity, no more so than in Tallinn, where citizens ride public transportation for free and vote on-line, and also can enjoy dinner atop a glass & steel skyscraper then walk a few blocks to the 14th-century old town for a nightcap.

We spent much of our time in the historic city center, marveling at structures still hale and hearty at age 700, then arrived back home to find construction underway atop the concrete foundations at the Breakwater amid mounds of pre-fab stick/toothpick/matchstick framing.

I'd known for a very long time that construction techniques in America differ from those glimpsed in Europe, fundamentally in the dichotomy of wood versus concrete, masonry and steel. In Tallinn there are numerous example of Soviet-built prefab apartment blocks, but instead of wooden "sticks," the standardized sections were made of concrete.

This time the visual evidence was right down the street from our house, deployed for a project obviously intended to last only a few decades -- or around the time the city's TIF subsidy bonds finally get paid off.

All the while I just kept thinking about those venerable buildings in Tallinn. I've heard good things about the living experience in Breakwater, and here in Anchor City that ship has sailed.

It is as it was intended. Must it be this way? I don't know.

Breakwater fire revisited: Exactly what are the potential dangers of "Toothpick Construction" techniques?

Breakwater, Break Wind: "We got to move these refrigerators, we gotta move these color TV's," or else we'll miss the thrill of public housing demolitions.

Fact-checking Deaf Gahan: He hasn't spent one penny of his own money to welcome another business to New Albany. Taxpayer-financed subsidies? Those are another matter entirely.

Awed throngs gather their headgear as the Toothpick Colossus of Duggins rises again, right there, across from the fire station.

This piece explains it all.

Why America’s New Apartment Buildings All Look the Same, by Justin Fox (Bloomberg)

Cheap stick framing has led to a proliferation of blocky, forgettable mid-rises—and more than a few construction fires.

These buildings are in almost every U.S. city. They range from three to seven stories tall and can stretch for blocks. They’re usually full of rental apartments, but they can also house college dorms, condominiums, hotels, or assisted-living facilities. Close to city centers, they tend toward a blocky, often colorful modernism; out in the suburbs, their architecture is more likely to feature peaked roofs and historical motifs. Their outer walls are covered with fiber cement, metal, stucco, or bricks.

They really are everywhere, I discovered on a cross-country drive last fall, and they’re going up fast. In 2017, 187,000 new housing units were completed in buildings of 50 units or more in the U.S., the most since the Census Bureau started keeping track in 1972. By my informal massaging of the data, well over half of those were in blocky mid-rises.

These structures’ proliferation is one of the most dramatic changes to the country’s built environment in decades. Yet when I started asking around about them, they didn’t seem to have a name. I encountered someone calling them “stumpies” in a website comment, but that sadly hasn’t caught on. It was only after a developer described the style to me as five-over-one—five stories of apartments over a ground-floor “podium” of parking and/or retail—that I was able to find some online discussion of the phenomenon.

The number of floors and the presence of a podium varies; the key unifying element, it turns out, is under the skin. They’re almost always made of softwood two-by-fours, or “stick,” in construction parlance, that have been nailed together in frames like those in suburban tract houses.

The method traces to 1830s Chicago, a boomtown with vast forests nearby ...

"The Tallinn experiment: what happens when a city makes public transport free?"

Waiting for the bus in Tallinn, April 2016.

Plenty of pros, and a few cons, too. During our spring break getaway in Tallinn ...

All the Estonia links are here, in one place.

... we used inexpensive public transportation day passes, and adored them.

The Tallinn experiment: what happens when a city makes public transport free? by Maeve Shearlaw (The Guardian)

Since Estonia’s capital started providing free public transport for residents in 2013, it claims to have turned a €20m a year profit each year. But has the scheme achieved its ambitions of reducing traffic and saving people money?

In London a monthly travel card for the whole city costs almost £200. In Copenhagen, a city a fraction of the size, you’ll pay £160. So when you ask the residents of Tallinn about the benefits of free travel across the city, it’s a surprise to be met with a roll of the eyes or a sarcastic smile.

The capital of Estonia introduced free public transport at the beginning of 2013 after their populist mayor Edgar Savisaar called a referendum on the decision, dismissed by critics at the time as a political stunt that the city couldn’t afford.

Three years on Savisaar has been suspended amid allegations of corruption, but the city remains committed to the programme – claiming that instead of it costing them money, they are turning a profit of €20m a year.

To enjoy Tallinn’s buses, trams, trolley buses and trains for free you must be registered as a resident, which means that the municipality gets a €1,000 share of your income tax every year, explains Dr Oded Cats, an expert who has conducted a year long study on the project. Residents only need to pay €2 for a “green card” and then all their trips are free.

Since the scheme launched, an additional 25,000 people have registered in the city that previously had a population of 416,000, but this is where the tension lies. The more money for the city of Tallinn, the less there is for the places they leave behind, explains Cats, “so it’s not hard to see why the government and the mayor’s office might see things differently”.

How did Estonia become a leader in technology? "By ditching legacy technology and betting on education."

It's been a year. Can we go back?

It's one of the few instances where being so very far behind turns out to be an advantage.

The Economist explains: How did Estonia become a leader in technology?

By ditching legacy technology and betting on education

WHEN Estonia regained its independence in 1991, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, less than half its population had a telephone line and its only independent link to the outside world was a Finnish mobile phone concealed in the foreign minister's garden. Two decades later, it is a world leader in technology. Estonian geeks developed the code behind Skype and Kazaa (an early file-sharing network). In 2007 it became the first country to allow online voting in a general election. It has among the world’s zippiest broadband speeds and holds the record for start-ups per person. Its 1.3m citizens pay for parking spaces with their mobile phones and have their health records stored in the digital cloud. Filing an annual tax return online, as 95% of Estonians do, takes about five minutes. How did the smallest Baltic state develop such a strong tech culture?

Estonia's Lennart Meri cleaned house in the foreign ministry, and that's why brooms will be so important for New Albany on January 1, 2020.

It's been just shy of three years since we visited Estonia, and I think about it all the time.

All the Estonia links are here, in one place.

Since our trip I've been following Estonian World on Facebook, finding something fascinating on an almost weekly basis. This story about Lennart Meri offers lots of chewable thought morsels.

Lennart Meri, the president many loved, and everybody respected, by Sten Hankewitz (Estonian World)

... “When he became foreign minister, the most important thing he did, which was something that other countries didn’t do, was get rid of all the commies,” Toomas Hendrik Ilves, who himself was foreign minister when Lennart Meri was president, explains. “Because the so-called ESSR (the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic – editor), the ministry of foreign affairs was just a KGB outfit. That was a policy later followed by other Estonian ministries. Not all of them, but the ones who were successful, (cleaned) house.”

I found myself thinking about the transition soon to come here in New Albany. One of the first things mayoral candidate David White did when announcing his campaign was to assure rank and file city employees that they needn't fear losing their jobs -- but ranking Gahanite appointees and a department heads might be wise to peruse the want ads at our captive "local" newspaper.

That's as it should be. As Meri did with the Estonian foreign ministry, those currently helping Gahan to administer his system of pay-to-play political patronage need to be swept clean. What's more, we all know a Mayor Seabrook or Mayor Coffey would do exactly the same. I can think of one, maybe two potential exceptions, but starting from scratch remains the optimum result.

There is no more reason to defend the current occupants of the third floor in New Albany than Meri had to condone former Communist seat holders. To cite just one example, the flood control department's workers already know how to do the job. The point of a clean sweep is to de-politicize the $60k-yearly job of managing the department.

There are plenty of talented people in this community, and many of them have spent the past eight years stifled by Gahan's control-first insularity. Give them an opportunity to step forward and participate -- and listen to them, this being something White is particularly adept at doing -- then get out of the way and watch the results.

I recommend a vote for White in the Democratic Party primary. We can take back this thing, and put New Albany's people first, as opposed to an engineering company from Indianapolis.

#FireGahan2019

Estonia Spring Break 2016: Day Four ... the old and the new; the beach and the beer.

(As is my custom when posting trip summaries, I'm backdating them to the actual day of occurrence. Previously: Day Three)

FRIDAY

We were reminded that Tallinn is situated well to the north. During our stay in late April, the sun was up at 4:00 a.m. and stayed in the sky until well past 9 p.m. Advance weather forecasts were wet, leading us to pack for the upper 40s F. as a daytime high, with plenty of rain.

But apart from Thursday, when it was overcast, all of our days in Tallinn were sunny, with temperatures twice approaching 60 F. The one time it rained was at night. It's nice to catch a (weather) break every now and then.

Following Thursday's 12-mile hike, it was decided to invest in a public transportation pass, good for five days of unlimited travel on trams and buses for 10 Euros per person (circa $11.50). At the R Kiosk, payment information was loaded onto a debit card, to be scanned when stepping onto the ride.

As a side note, residents of Tallinn ride for free. There also is nationwide WiFi.

Our first destination was the beach in the Pirita district, to the east of center. For the sake of sightseeing, we remained on bus 34A as it looped through this more sparsely populated area, where there are many single family dwellings and vacation houses. There also is a yachting complex built by the Soviets for the 1980 Olympics (more on this later), as well as a huge "forest cemetery" dating from the 1930s, with as many trees as grave markers.

When the bus headed back in the direction of the city, we debarked at Pirita Beach.

The Rotermann Quarter is tucked into a nook adjacent to Tallinn's Old Town, cruise ship docks and glass 'n' steel commercial district. It's an old factory building and salt storage warehouse that has been converted into a museum, apartments, offices and a small inner square, with the expected food, drink and shopping amenities. Think of it as a place where Tallinn's youthful "Euro Class" can go to escape the tourists, who seldom venture past the Old Town's walls.

It was time for lunch, to be introduced with an old Soviet Bloc anecdote.

In Warsaw after WWII, the Soviets fraternally "gifted" the Poles with a tremendously ugly Stalinist skyscraper called the Palace of Culture. In the years that followed, the local joke held that the best view of Warsaw was from the Palace of Culture, precisely because it was the only view of Warsaw that didn't include the Palace of Culture.

However, I honestly find Tallinn's modern buildings to be architecturally stimulating, and not at all unappealing. The overall vibe in downtown is one of movement, and whatever one's taste in decor, it's there somewhere.

The tall building in this Google street view is the Radisson Hotel, and at the very top of it is Lounge 24. We dined there, on the 24th floor.

The nibbles and drinks were both good and reasonably priced, and the view simply without compare in Tallinn.

Have I mentioned my latent fear of heights? I managed to keep it at bay.

Lunch was followed by a stroll through the older neighborhood just to the south of Hotell St. Barbara, with a serendipitous discovery of the American embassy and yet another thrift store. Early evening snacks and beers came at the excellent specialty beer cellar called Põrgu, in the Old Town in the shadow of Toompea.

Diana had pear cider and a plate of delicious pork ribs. I chose salted herring salad, including beets, potatoes and capers. accompanied by Õllenaut Suitsu (Smoked) Porter. A bit later, a bottle of Põhjala Pime Öö (Dark Night) functioned as dessert, and it was one of the better Imperial Stouts I've experienced lately.

A final note: When the elevator at your hotel offers direct access to a suitably appointed Bavarian-style eatery in the building's basement, nightcaps are obligatory. It may have been Estonia, and Estonia's craft beer scene may be ascendant, but with crisp, fresh Paulaner (Helles, Oktoberfest, Hefeweizen and Salvator) on tap, the Baieri Kelder makes it hard to say no. 

Next: Saturday (Day Five), featuring a panoply of old Soviet things and a glimpse of the NBA playoffs.