Ten days in Estonia: Day six

There was a lot of excitement while researching yesterday’s post about the Linnahall when I learned the Eesti Arhitektuurikeskus were offering a tour of the interior of the building today.

I ummed and erred a little this morning but then came to the conclusion, with Host’s help, that I wasn’t going to get another chance to look inside this building and so booked the tour, even though it was given in Estonian. I’ve never encountered an online booking system so efficient.

The tour was at 1.30pm and I booked online at about midday, immediately received a booking confirmation and QR code and then that was it. I replied to the email asking where to meet and got a response in just a few minutes, then turned up at the Linnahall about twenty minutes before we were due to leave, and got very excited.

I’m not sure why the prospect of this tour was so exciting. I’ve never previously considered that I might have an inkling for urban exploration but there’s something quite enthralling about the prospect of visiting something that’s not actively maintained as a tourist attraction or being in a concrete behemoth with only a handful of other lucky explorers. If this is what urban exploration is, I like it.

But I digress.

The nice man who was our guide had an app on his phone that allowed him to check our tickets and Covid passes, and then off we went. I knew in advance that the tour was in Estonian — this was my only chance to get inside the building — but he took the time to chat to me in perfect English before we set off to make sure I understood this and to give me some safety advice. At the end he came up to me wondering how I’d managed to end up touring Soviet brutalism.

We grouped at the bottom of the steps at the front (south) of the building and I duly followed over the roof to the harbour side, taking photos and watching people going for their Sunday strolls. Some kids were sliding around on the iced roof. The sea breeze tried to remake our acquaintance, but I felt no shame in putting a hat on and covering my ears given I didn’t understand anything that was being said.

We continued round the side of the building and through a little side gate which took us to the entrance to some offices. It seems that Linnahall is not as abandoned as some parts of the Interwebs suggest. Certainly, as we went into the building through the administration door there were working offices that were lit and heated and people walking about doing things.

There was an introductory chat, we walked through some corridors and then popped out in the wings. It was cold and the heavy air was musty as we walked onto the stage with 4,200 empty seats all around. This part of the building was definitely not heated! I can’t imagine how they would.

There is electricity in the building but the lighting in the auditorium was sufficient only to ensure that we didn’t break our necks falling off the stage or down stairs or over things. The locals weren’t taking any notice of the “no photography” signs, so I felt it best to do as when in Rome and ignored them too. My phone struggled a little in the light.

An advantage of not understanding a word of what was going on was that I didn’t feel particularly obliged to stay too close to our guide and instead was able to walk around a bit as told the other visitors at what, exactly, he was pointing his Maglite. He might’ve been talking about the acoustics for all I know; I wandered up into the gods and could still hear him perfectly. There were some control panels and mixing desks in various places. The seats were comfy — some people sat for a bit.

We left the auditorium down some stairs that took us through some underbelly corridors to the foyer and vast cloakroom area. My phone struggled less at taking photos here because the walls were white and light was s coming in through the windows and glass doors, but it was still quite eerily low-light. I’m sure our guide explained how people kept track of the coats and the like for thousands of people — there was certainly provision for all of them and it looked as if there had been some kind of method.

More walking, and we found ourselves at the front desk in a reception area which actually looked less down at heel than some of the outside of the building. Nonetheless, there were reminders everywhere that the place has not really seen much use in the last ten years, and that the elements have clearly been winning the battle as there were puddles and buckets in all sorts of places. Paint was peeling. Some places had some makeshift cabling and security cameras present.

A nice man told me (in perfect English) about having lost his phone here twenty years ago during a school trip, and reported that he had even remembered which seat he was in and went to have a look. We chatted some more, took some photos at the front desk and then that was it; a narrow spiral staircase took us down from reception to the admin part of the building, and then we left through the door by which we’d entered to once again say hello to the wind.

The tour lasted about an hour and a half and was utterly brilliant.

Host and I met for coffee in Cafe Maiasmokk, the oldest café in Tallinn, which also happens to be outside the Russian embassy. Someone was calmly holding a protest and I chatted with some French tourists who seemed surprised when I excused myself in French for being in their way. The coffee was lovely, and there were cakes.

In the Martsipanigalerii Marzipan Gallery (because of course such a thing exists) I was slightly disturbed by various marzipan sculptures. Some walking to have a look at the Ukrainian church helped burn off the cake calories, even more so given that it was closed.

We took some time wandering around little not-as-touristy backstreets parallel with Pikk, had a quick up-and-down of the short leg and then settled down for wine and nibbly things in a Georgian tavern.