Three hours. That’s all it takes on a bus between Riga and Tallinn. Three hours to cross between two countries that couldn’t feel more different if they tried. Latvia hit me with it’s brooding Soviet ghosts and Art Nouveau curves. Estonia? Like stepping into a medieval fairy tale that learned how to code.
I’d planned two weeks for both countries. Should’ve planned a month.
When Winter Won’t Let Go: Riga’s Frozen Soul
Landed in Riga in March. Why March? Flights were €40 from Berlin and I’m an idiot who thought “spring in the Baltics” was a real thing. The churches – those red brick Gothic monsters – looked like they were huddling together for warmth. Snow piled against their walls like the city was trying to bury it’s own history.
First morning, -8°C. My phone died within ten minutes of leaving the hotel. But here’s the thing about Riga in winter – it’s honest. No crowds hiding the bullet holes in buildings. No summer tourists drowning out the Russian being spoken in Central Market. Just you, the locals and a city that doesn’t pretend it hasn’t seen some shit.
The Daugava’s Ice Highway
The river was frozen solid. Locals were literally walking across it to get to work. One guy was ice fishing with a bottle of something clear that definitely wasn’t water. Offered me a sip at 9 AM.
When in Riga…
Burned like hell. Made a friend for life. His name was Viktors and he taught me the only Latvian phrase I remember: “vēl vienu, lūdzu” (one more, please).
Vilnius Detour: Because Geography is Flexible
Technically Lithuania, but it’s four hours from Riga and the bus costs €12. You’d be stupid not to go.
Vilnius Old Town at dawn? Empty. Just me, my camera and this massive cathedral square that Napoleon apparently loved so much he wanted to take St. Anne’s Church back to Paris in his palm. Can’t blame him. The Gothic brick work is so intricate it looks like lace made of fire.
Tartu: Estonia’s Rebel Heart
Two hours south of Tallinn. Everyone skips it for the islands. Everyone’s wrong.
That yellow frame in the main square? “Kissing Students” installation. Been there since some design student in 2000-something decided the square needed more romance. Now everyone takes the exact same photo. Including me. I’m not proud.
University town through and through. The bars don’t close, they just… continue. Ended up discussing Estonian independence with philosophy students until 4 AM in a basement bar called Möku. They kept buying rounds every time I admitted Americans can’t point to Estonia on a map.
Tallinn: Where Medieval Meets Digital
Then you hit Tallinn. And everything changes.
The old town looks fake. Too perfect. Like Disney built a medieval theme park but forgot to add the gift shops. Those orange roofs? Actually from the 14th century. That city wall? Still has 26 towers standing.
But walk ten minutes in any direction and you’re in Europe’s most digital society. They vote online. Do taxes in three minutes. Have robots delivering groceries. The contrast is insane – monks in robes walking past startup offices in 800-year-old buildings.
The Secret Tallinn After Dark
Forget the tourist circuit. After 10 PM, when the cruise shippers leave, the old town becomes something else. These narrow streets turn golden under the gas lamps (yes, actual gas lamps). Found this alley behind St. Catherine’s Passage where artists still work in medieval guild houses. One guy was making stained glass at midnight, using the same techniques they used in 1400.
The real magic? Winter nights when it’s -15°C and nobody else is stupid enough to be outside. Had the entire old town to myself at 2 AM. Just me, the snow and centuries of ghosts.
The Food Situation: Heavier Than Your Soul
Let me be real about Baltic food.
| What I Expected | What I Got | Damage to Wallet |
| Bland potatoes | Black bread that changed my life | €0.80 |
| Mystery meat | Elk carpaccio in Tallinn | €18 |
| Sad Soviet cuisine | Latvian grey peas with bacon | €6 |
| Boring fish | Smoked eel that haunts my dreams | €12 |
| No vegetables | Pickled everything (actually good) | €4 |
That grey pea situation? Sounds disgusting. Looks worse. Tastes like heaven had a baby with bacon. Every Latvian grandmother makes it different. Found the best version at Lido (yeah, the chain restaurant, fight me) at 1 AM after too much Riga Black Balsam.
The Ceremony Nobody Watches
Freedom Monument, Riga. Every hour, these guards change. Full ceremonial march. In March, it was just me, two Japanese tourists and a drunk local who saluted every time they turned.
The monument itself? Built in 1935, survived the Soviets who wanted to tear it down, now it’s where everyone meets before protests. Or first dates. Or both. Latvians are efficient like that.
Art Nouveau District: Riga’s Architectural Acid Trip
Alberta iela. Remember that name. One street. Over 800 Art Nouveau buildings. More than any other city in Europe.
Walked it hungover on day three. Bad idea. These buildings don’t just have faces – they have expressions. Screaming masks, melting women, sphinxes judging your life choices. The architect Mikhail Eisenstein (yeah, the filmmaker’s dad) was clearly working through some stuff.
Found myself staring at one building for twenty minutes. The facade had these twisted figures that seemed to move when clouds passed over. Local woman stopped, looked at me, looked at the building. “First time?” she asked. Apparently everyone does this.
The Instagram Lie
Every travel blog shows the same five buildings on Alberta iela. Clean shots. Perfect light. What they don’t show:
- The sketchy casino in the basement of the most photographed building
- Babushkas selling mushrooms from plastic bags at the corner
- That half the buildings are actively crumbling
- The weird cat museum nobody talks about (seriously, it’s on the second floor of #13)
The decay is part of it though. These aren’t museum pieces. People live here. Saw a guy in a Metallica shirt smoking out of a window framed by stone goddesses. That’s Riga.
The Soviet Ghosts
St. Catherine’s Church. Or what’s left of it.
The Soviets didn’t blow it up. Just… let it rot. Now it’s this skeletal brick monument to neglect. In winter, snow fills the arches where the roof should be. Looks post-apocalyptic. Feels worse.
But here’s what kills me – they built a playground next to it. Kids playing on swings while this 800-year-old corpse watches. That’s the Baltic mindset: trauma and normal life, existing in the same space, neither one winning.
Cēsis Castle: Where Nobody Goes
Ninety minutes from Riga. €4 bus ride. Medieval castle ruins. Handed a lantern at the entrance. Actual lantern. With a candle.
The towers are pitch black inside. Just you, the flame and stairs worn smooth by 800 years of feet. At the top? View over forests that haven’t changed since the Livonian Order owned this place.
Met exactly three other people there. In four hours. One was the ticket lady.
Estonian Islands: The Baltic Nobody Sees
Wrong photo but whatever – you need to see the scale of these places from above to understand.
Two hours by ferry from Tallinn to Saaremaa. In February. Ferry was me, five locals and trucks carrying mysterious cargo. Seas rough enough that the coffee machine broke loose and slid across the deck.
Saaremaa in winter is… empty. Not quiet. Empty. The main town, Kuressaare, has a castle surrounded by a moat that freezes solid. Locals ice skate on it. The castle dates from 1380 and has never been conquered. Probably because attackers took one look at the weather and went home.
Hiiumaa: Even More Nowhere
If Saaremaa is nowhere, Hiiumaa is nowhere’s nowhere. Population: 8,000. Lighthouses: 3. Soviets who stayed after independence: surprisingly many.
Rented a bike. In February. Because I’m an optimist. Made it two kilometers before accepting defeat. Local guy in a Lada picked me up, drove me to Kõpu lighthouse (built in 1531, still working), shared his flask of something that tasted like Christmas trees on fire.
His grandfather was deported to Siberia in 1949. Came back in 1965. His take: “At least Siberia was warmer than Hiiumaa in February.”
The Sauna Situation
Estonians don’t do saunas. They do SAUNAS.
| Type | Temperature | Weird Factor | My Survival Rate |
| Hotel sauna | 80°C | Normal humans | Lived |
| Public sauna | 90°C | Naked strangers | Survived |
| Island sauna | 100°C | Birch beatings | Questionable |
| Smoke sauna | ??? | No chimney, just smoke | Almost died |
| Ice hole combo | -2°C water | Actual insanity | Am I alive? |
That souvenir shop pretty much sums up Estonian culture: wool socks, wooden crafts and sauna whisks for beating yourself. That’s it. That’s the country.
The smoke sauna on Saaremaa changed me. No thermometer because “if you need numbers, you’re not ready.” Old Estonian woman threw water on rocks that looked like they came from hell’s own quarry. The steam hit like a physical wall. Then she started hitting people with birch branches.
“Good for circulation,” she said, in English, specifically at me, the obvious tourist dying in the corner.
Twenty minutes later I was rolling in snow, wondering how I got here. Life choices were questioned. Vodka was involved. Survived somehow.
Where to Actually Stay
Forget everything TripAdvisor tells you.
Riga:
- Old Town hotels are tourist traps with thin walls
- Stay in the Quiet Centre (actual neighborhood name)
- Airbnb in Art Nouveau buildings costs the same as shit hotels
- That hostel everyone recommends? Bedbugs. Trust me.
Tallinn:
- Kalamaja district. Former fishermen’s houses, now hipster central
- Ten-minute walk to Old Town, half the price
- Telliskivi Creative City nearby (abandoned factory turned culture hub)
- Actual Estonians live here
The Islands:
- Everything closes October to May except one hotel
- That one hotel knows they’re the only option
- Locals rent rooms for €20, breakfast included
- The breakfast will be black bread and fish. Accept it.
Getting Around
Baltic public transport is either perfect or nonexistent. No middle ground.
- Tallinn: Free public transport for residents. Tourists pay €2. Worth it to watch locals argue with inspectors about what counts as “residence”.
- Riga: Trams from 1901 still running. Sometimes they don’t stop. Just keep going. Wave goodbye.
- Between cities: Lux Express buses have WiFi better than my apartment.
- The islands: “There’s a bus on Tuesdays”.
Rented a car once. Latvian GPS kept trying to send me to Russia. Estonian speed cameras flash even when you’re under the limit, just to keep you nervous.
The Nightlife Reality Check
Baltic nightlife isn’t Prague. It’s weirder.
Riga has this basement bar culture that nobody warns you about. Street level? Dead by 11 PM. But those unmarked doors leading down? Different universe. Found myself in Folkklubs Ala Pagrabs at 3 AM watching a Latvian folk band while tech workers in hoodies slammed craft beer next to 70-year-old couples doing traditional dances.
The bouncer spoke four languages. None of them helped when I tried to order. Pointed at what the guy next to me had. Turned out to be hemp beer. Tasted like liquid rope. Drank three.
Tallinn’s Digital Druggies
F-hoone. Remember that name. It’s in Telliskivi, inside what used to be a submarine factory. Now it’s where Estonia’s startup crowd goes to pretend they’re still 22.
The weird part? Everyone’s on their phones. Not texting. Working. Literally coding at 1 AM with a gin and tonic. Watched a guy close a funding round on the dance floor. The DJ was playing techno. Nobody cared.
Then there’s HALL. Looks abandoned from outside. Because it basically is. Inside? Three floors of Baltic weirdness. Top floor is cocktails that cost €15 and require a chemistry degree to understand. Basement is techno so aggressive it feels like punishment. Middle floor? Inexplicably, jazz.
Met a Russian-Estonian girl who explained the entire Soviet occupation through drinking games. Every time Estonia got invaded, we drank. I don’t remember getting home.
Winter is the Only Season That Matters
Everyone visits the Baltics in summer. Everyone’s wrong.
Summer Tallinn is a cruise ship nightmare. Thousands of Scandinavians buying amber they’ll never wear. Restaurants with picture menus. Walking tours with flags.
Winter Tallinn? Locals outnumber tourists 50:1. That restaurant charging €30 for soup in July? Same soup, €8 in February. Plus they actually talk to you.
The cold does something to these cities. Strips away the pretense. In Riga, the Art Nouveau district looks properly Gothic under snow. Those screaming faces on buildings? Ice gives them tears.
The Light Situation
| Month | Daylight Hours | Mental State | Alcohol Consumed |
| December | 6 | Questioning existence | All of it |
| January | 7 | Accepting darkness | Slightly less |
| February | 9 | Hope? Maybe? | Moderate |
| March | 11 | Actual human again | Social amounts |
The darkness is part of the experience. Bars open at noon because what’s the point of waiting? Everyone’s vitamin D deficient and honest about it. Conversations get real fast when the sun sets at 3:30 PM.
The Estonia vs Latvia Truth
Time to piss everyone off.
Estonia wins. But not for the reasons you think.
It’s not the digital stuff (though e-residency is cool). It’s not the prettier old town (though it is). It’s not even the better food (debatable).
It’s the attitude.
Latvians carry their history like a weight. Every conversation eventually leads to occupation, deportation or some uncle who disappeared in 1941. The trauma is in the walls. Beautiful, necessary, exhausting.
Estonians? They’ve weaponized their weird. Occupied for 800 years? Fine, we’ll become so digitally advanced you need us. Language nobody understands? Great, we’ll conduct business in perfect English while talking shit about you in Estonian. Small population? Whatever, we invented Skype.
But Here’s the Thing
You need both. Latvia first, to understand what survival looks like. Estonia second, to see what comes after.
Two weeks, split evenly. Riga breaks you down, Tallinn builds you different.
Practical Shit Nobody Tells You
- Both countries use Euro but hate being called “Eastern Europe” (they’re Northern Europe, apparently)
- Everyone under 40 speaks perfect English
- Everyone over 40 speaks Russian
- Uber works but taxi drivers will fight them. Physically. Saw it happen.
- That “traditional” restaurant the hotel recommended? It’s for tourists. Real traditional food is at the market. Look for the longest line of old people.
- Don’t mention the Soviet thing unless they do first
- They will, after the second drink
The Money Reality
Baltic prices are schizophrenic.
- Local beer: €2-3
- Craft beer: €6-8
- Hostel bed: €10
- Decent hotel: €150
- Airbnb run by babushka: €25 with breakfast
- Michelin restaurant: €60 tasting menu
- Market lunch: €4
- Tourist trap meal: €40 for microwaved sadness
I spent €1,200 for two weeks, including flights from Berlin. Could’ve done it for €800 if I’d skipped the stupid tourist restaurants on day one.
The Truth About Baltic Travel
These aren’t bucket list countries. They’re not “must-see before you die” destinations. Nobody’s dreaming about their honeymoon in Tartu.
But they get under your skin in ways that pretty places don’t. They’re difficult and weird and sometimes actively hostile to tourists. They make you work for every moment of beauty. And when you find it – in a hidden courtyard in Tallinn, in the eyes of an old woman selling mushrooms in Riga, in the silence of an empty island sauna – it feels earned.
The Baltics taught me that travel isn’t about collecting beautiful places. It’s about finding the places that make you uncomfortable enough to pay attention. That force you to abandon your assumptions. That leave you slightly different than you arrived.
Two weeks. Two countries. Twenty pounds of rye bread consumed. Zero regrets.
Except maybe that hemp beer. But even that’s growing on me in memory.
Last thing: if you go, and you end up in that basement bar in Riga at 3 AM, listening to folk music you don’t understand while drinking something you can’t pronounce – that’s not a mistake. That’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.
