European Frontier: Helsinki, Moscow, Tallinn by John Weich

Even Central Europe, the most recent crossroads of peripatetic cool, has in the last half decade become colonized by European and American expats, who have brought with them their products and their branding. It’s enough to make a grown man cry.

Since moving to Europe in the early 1990s, I have spent my springs and summers crisscrossing the continents many capitals, abiding to what seems to be a natural human predilection for grouping things in three. There’s the London-Paris-Amsterdam corridor in the north, and Italy’s well-trodden Venice-Florence-Rome in the south. In the early 1990s the Vienna-Prague-Budapest troika was a serene journey, but it has since become too crowded. I’ve done Barcelona-Madrid-Lisbon, but that’s more a line than a triangle, and the well-maintained monocultures of Oslo-Stockholm-Copenhagen left much too little to chance.

So this spring, to shake things up, I decided to head way north and create a urban troika of a my own by shuttling between Helsinki, Tallinn and Moscow. As it turns out, Helsinki is riding on the tail of a Nordic renaissance that in the mid-1990s to date has turned virtually anything slapped with a Made in Scandinavia label into sought-after merchandize. Tallinn, an even less obvious choice, turned out to be the most forward-thinking Baltic state capital and boasts all the bars, restaurants and atmosphere of Stockholm and Copenhagen across the Sea. And then there’s Moscow, a 21st-century protocapitalist metropolis on par with the wild, quasi-anarchic cow towns of 19th century Texas. Stereotype? Certainly. But, few cities have robbed me of so many rubles but left me with so satisfying an aftertaste.

Moscow

After 15 years of free-market freefall riddled with post-Cold War tales of no-goodniks outsmarting the long arm of the law, Moscow finally seems to be settling down. Today, the Russian capital is a heady mix of emerging market capitalism, Soviet kitsch and Russifyed western values. It is also a city on the move with a rapid turnover of restaurants and bars both upscale and raunchy. Only a few years ago a frothy cappuccino, much less an amicable place to drink it in, was a chimera; now the city is chock-full of Starbucks-style coffee shops with prosaic names like Zen Coffee, Coffee House and Coffee Mania and prices too prohibitive for your average Igor.

Moscow, however, has yet to shake off its bad reputation, but for this it has got only itself to blame. In its history, Moscow has entertained some of the most charismatic egoists of our time (i.e. Stalin & Co.), but few can compare with the kingpins and rogue traders that emerged from the potbelly of communism in the early 1990s. Their extravagant spending and shooting sprees spurred nearly a decade of robber capitalism and transparent corruption. Under the watchful gaze of President Putin, the number of cigarette riots and sauna raids has in the last few years been toned down, which is not to say the city is entirely safe – just a few weeks ago another Parliament member was assassinated, the third political death in eight months, and the ninth Parliament member to go down in 12 years.

While it is possible to see all of Moscow’s cultural treasures from the cozy and safe confines of a tour bus, the city truly is genteel enough to go it alone, and the metro’s tentacles extensive enough to get you where you want to go, though it may take some inventive Cyrillic transcription. Public transportation and saunas are cheap, but the rest is expensive. Moscow is still unprepared to accommodate budget tourists, and there is a discouraging lack of two- and three-star hotels. The reason for this is simple: Moscow is an economic capital that caters to a young tycoon class and biznesmeny traveling on expense accounts. Similarly, the government has also yet to live up to its incessant promises to unveil an easy-to-obtain three-day tourism visa. Once they do, the demand for such venues will coerce a supply.

Without exception, the tour busses beeline it for the Red Square and the rebuilt Cathedral of Christ the Savior, but the city’s real traffic hub is down the bustling eight-lane-wide Tverskaya Boulevard at Pushkin Square, where Lenin’s granite profile etched into the façade of the former CP voice Izvestia now shares space with neon KIA Motors and Martini ads. The most interesting cluster of cafes, restaurants and clubs can be found in the relatively compact (for Moscow) area Kuznetsky Most, just a short walk from the Red Square. Moscow has only a few pedestrian walkways, and Kuznetsky Most’s sidewalk terraces are a cosmopolitan mélange of New Russians and westerners in the summer time, and the prices, while not cheap, are worse elsewhere.

The juxtaposition between old and new is what makes Moscow so exciting. Save for the statues of former KGB bosses, many of the stoic monuments built in Soviet times are still standing. And a stroll through the Central Museum of the Great Patriotic War offers a fascinating glance at the Second World War from Russia’s perspective. But for a look at New Russia swing by the neon casino chintz of Novy Arbat, and for a peak at New Russians loiter in the shadows of Prada, Armani and Tod’s outside the outrageously expensive Tretyakovsky Proyezd. Both have helped transform the city into one of the world’s foremost capitals of showy affluence and maldistribution. Moscow is no longer a destination of lousy options, but is a kinetic, 24/7 metropolis.

Tallinn

Back in 1993, when traveling by train from St. Petersburg, Russia, to Tallinn, Estonia, my Dutch traveling companions looked out the window and said, ‘It’s looks like home.’ Since the 1939 Molotov-Ribbentrop pact between the USSR and Nazi Germany that divided up Europe between the two nascent powers, Estonia has been claimed by Stalin, then Hitler, then Stalin again. But, since Estonia’s independence in 1991, the country, with the help of Scandinavian cash, has made great leaps forward. The first Baltic country to be invited into the Euro club, Estonia officially introduced its creative genius to the West by winning the European Song Festival in 1991, a modest but deeply nationalistic sing-along held annually in Europe.

My Dutch friends were right; Estonia, and Tallinn in particular, looks and feels like Europe, both in terms of architecture and style. Tallinn’s Old Town survived all the Soviet and Nazi pillaging and is today the city’s de facto meeting point, living up to even the most whimsical stereotypes of idyllic medieval European squares. But what makes Tallinn feel so much like Scandinavia is its Nordic-looking citizens, the city’s bustling leisure lifestyle and the proliferation of svelte cafes and nightclubs.

Estonians have shed their Soviet shapkas with fervent enthusiasm, and quite frankly its shows. Much more than Moscow, Tallinn is teeming with a young, enthusiastic – and very attractive – population. While young Muscovites unabashedly gorge themselves with the spoils of materialism, Estonians prefer a more pared-down approach much more in tune with the Nordic mentality. The city center is too cute and most of its venues are within walking distance of each other. Even its main department store, De La Gardie, with its metal, glass and wood, has a distinctly Scandinavian feel to it. A similar store in Moscow or St. Petersburg would have been all gilt and chintz.

What all former Soviet republics have in common is the lingering presence of retro Soviet chic. Tallinn is no different. One of the most authentic Soviet throwbacks in the city is Café Narva. The service isn’t as bad as its surly Soviet reputation, but they simply refuse (at least at the time) to purchase an espresso machine, and the décor is virtually unchanged since the 1970s. A more profound monument of Russian presence is the beautifully landscaped Maarjamäe Memorial Complex, a Russian complex built in 1975 to commemorate the ‘Fighters for Soviet Power’ in the Second World War. However, the most ubiquitous leftover is pre-Soviet: the Alexander Nevski Cathedral. Built in 1900 and kitted almost exclusively with Tsarist icons, the Cathedral’s onion domes dominate Tallinn’s skyline even today.

Most people come to Tallinn for its cheap liquor, its strip joints and its techno clubs, but the city is much more. There are the haute chic bars like Pegasus, quirky East European theme restaurants like Gorodok and opulent, upscale eateries like Egoist, all offering food and services at cheaper prices than across the Baltic Sea. And if the weather’s fair, there’s a plethora of forests just outside of town. Alternatively, Pirita beach is only 10 minutes away And when you’ve have your fill of Eastern Europe, there’s a helicopter shuttle than can get you back to Helsinki in twenty minutes flat.

Helsinki

As a destination, Helsinki – together with Oslo – is a seldom-visited peculiarity between Scandinavian grand dames Copenhagen and Stockholm. The Finnish capital’s winters are so dark and bitter cold that the only viable leisure options include drinking profusely, sauna going and ice fishing, in that order. But in the summer Helsinki, with its long, long days and tepid weather, emerges as Scandinavia’s most interesting destination.

Helsinki is a city without landmarks, unless you count the Temppeliaukion Kirkko, a holed out church made of bedrock whose interior walls trickle with melting snow. In Helsinki, you’re left to your own devices, which often means shopping. While most Fins go to Stockholm for their apparel, they stay at home for their furniture, glass- and tableware. Bring an extra suitcase with you, because a visit to Helsinki quickly turns into a shopping tour.

More than twenty-five years after his death, the city still revolves around prodigal son, architect and Artek-founder Alvar Aalto, whose presence is still very much felt in the Finnish capital. Pay tribute by sipping coffee in the Aalto-designed café and bookstore Akateeminen Kirjakauppa, one of Scandinavia’s largest bookshops with a great collection of English-language reads. For vintage Aalto, head to the Artek shop. Other great shops for all Finnish design are Aero, Bisarri and Arabia Factory Shop. Don’t let the suburban location of the latter deter you; its museum is a sort of Finnish ‘best of’ and its prices are a fraction of those elsewhere in Europe. Trust me.

Helsinki is flat, relatively small and thus easy to navigate. The best way to see the city is by bike, and if you have the chance head out of town to the myriad lakes in the countryside, do so. There’s a reason Finnish saunas and products are made primarily out of wood, and the forests are Tolkeinian. If you’re too caught up in second hand book and design shops, at least take the time to ferry out to Valkosaari Island for a bit of reindeer at NJK, a nautical restaurant with mediocre food but a great old school atmosphere that is situated at the ferry dock.

So close to the Russian border, Helsinki’s culinary scene is scarily similar to Tallinn with its mix of Scandi chic and retro Soviet. In fact, Helsinki has gone to great pains as of late to make itself more accommodating to the jetset crowd. Apparently, this is what they want. In town, there’s the well-designed Pravda with its Artek chairs and modern dishes and the Tsarist Saslick, which serves bear meat and entertains guests with troubadours. The most authentic venue is the campy Moskova, a dusky bar that lives up to its name with an atmosphere that is oh so Moscow.

Because you can’t escape Helsinki without indulging in a sauna, bypass the oft-recommended gym at Hotel Kamp for the top-floor steam room atop the Scandic Hotel Continental. Less opulent, but with a massive glass wall that offers views of the city’s rooftops.