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	<title>Jeremy Hildreth &#187; Estonia</title>
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	<link>http://www.jeremyhildreth.com</link>
	<description>The world&#039;s most curious man contemplates writing, branding and travelling with an insane degree of nuance.</description>
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		<title>My night as an Estonian celebrity</title>
		<link>http://www.jeremyhildreth.com/2009/01/my-night-as-an-estonian-celebrity/#utm_source=feed&amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;utm_campaign=feed</link>
		<comments>http://www.jeremyhildreth.com/2009/01/my-night-as-an-estonian-celebrity/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Jan 2009 02:28:43 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jeremy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Travel writing: the fun stuff]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Estonia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tallinn]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[I missed my plane to Vilnius Friday evening because of a waaaaaaaay delayed train to the airport. To go home would have been an admission of defeat and a waste of a good, spontaneous night abroad, so I flew to Tallinn instead with a plan to carry on to Lithuania at daylight. Anyway, I quite [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I missed my plane to Vilnius Friday evening because of a waaaaaaaay delayed train to the airport. To go home would have been an admission of defeat and a waste of a good, spontaneous night abroad, so I flew to Tallinn instead with a plan to carry on to Lithuania at daylight.</p>
<p>Anyway, I quite fancied a long stopover in the Estonian capital since my last visit was two years ago. (Although, I do remember it well. It was days after the riots, when they moved that Russian statue. And it was Julija&#8217;s and my first &#8216;date&#8217;, which lasted 40 hours).</p>
<p>Sauntering through Gatwick, I call my college friend Oliver: &#8220;Guess where I&#8217;ll be in 3 hours?&#8221;</p>
<p>He&#8217;s waiting for me at Tallinn&#8217;s airport. We dump my bags at a cheap hotel (I&#8217;m not planning on sleeping anyway), and walk up into the medieval city, talking about what&#8217;s new. I&#8217;m energized, feeling my first embrace of a proper winter this year. It&#8217;s cold. The cobblestones feel extra dense.</p>
<p>Ordering beers at the bar at <a href="http://www.hellhunt.ee/" target="_blank">Hell Hunt</a>, my favourite casual watering hole here, I&#8217;m mistaken (by two attractive blondes, naturally) for a children&#8217;s show host called Ivo Eensalu. Apparently I look <em>now</em> like he did <em>then</em>, when they were young and adored him. Lucky me.</p>
<p>Oliver and I join them at their table.</p>
<p>Discussion takes place. Laughter happens. Time passes.</p>
<p>Oliver and I leave with them, on to the next bar. And the next. And the next.</p>
<p>The sun comes up and I board my plane.</p>
<p>I love northeastern Europe.</p>
<p>PS In the old town there&#8217;s a theatre with a smashed-up lightbox containing the poster of its current play (the iPhone did its best in the low light):</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<div id="attachment_332" class="wp-caption aligncenter" style="width: 550px"><a href="http://www.jeremyhildreth.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/Neologism.png#utm_source=feed&amp;utm_medium=feed&amp;utm_campaign=feed"><img class="size-large wp-image-332" title="Neologism" src="http://www.jeremyhildreth.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/Neologism-1024x771.png" alt="There's two sides to every story, you see...." width="540" height="407" /></a><p class="wp-caption-text">There&#39;s two sides to every story, you see....</p></div>
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