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Tying in relatively well time-wise with my last post (H is the church in which Bogislaus von Rosen was buried), this is Tallinn (known as Revalia or Revel in official use until Estonian independence 1918 when they settled for Tallinn as the authorities liked that the best) from the sea in the late sixteenth century. It looks a well fortified city, but then again that was fairly essential and it was attacked time after time with the Livonian Wars (1558-1583), the Polish-Swedish War (1600-1629) and the Russo-Swedish War (1656-1658) to name just a few. This engraving was done in the 1640s by Matthäus Merian the Elder (1593-1650) but based on imagery from the 1590s. Although many have had to be repaired on numerous occasions, a surprising number of these buildings are still standing given all the conflicts that have taken place in the region.

They didn’t have to move this very far for the museum as it’s the decorative screen and entrance doors of the memorial chapel of Bogislaus von Rosen (1572-1658), located on the northern side of this building when it was St. Nicholas’s Church. It dates from around 1655 and is an interesting Gothic style piece, designed by Franz Hoppenstätt.

I find these private chapels quite intriguing, they were effectively a status symbol so a family could show off their wealth, influence and piety all at the same time. God forbid that the common folk might go near these private chapels which were fitted out with all this bling. Bogislaus, a wealthy merchant, got this chapel finished in time though, he died in 1658 and was buried in his rather decadent chapel in early 1659. He had two wives during his lifetime and they’re also both buried here, along with their children, an arrangement which strikes me as challenging to work out in heaven. Most was lost in the Second World War bombing of the building, but at least this screen remains.

I’ve rather muddled up the order of our few days in Tallinn with these blog posts, but this was the first place that we visited with our shiny new Tallinn Cards. It’s a museum in a former church (St. Nicholas’s Church) and it also has a rather decadent viewing platform to add to the mix.

We lost Ross early on, he was very excited by the rather futuristic looking lift to the viewing platform, but Susanna wasn’t far behind.

My middle name is brave, but even I wasn’t climbing these and I thought I’d use the lift. Bev and Susanna climbed them and realised that they didn’t go anywhere, so they traipsed back down. I was pleased with my decision if I’m being honest.

Steve also discovered that they weren’t entirely functional stairs from a visitor’s point of view. Bev kept trying to ring all the bells, but they’d taken the clappers out (or whatever they’re called) because of people like Bev. I didn’t say anything of course.

We walked up and got the lift down, which is probably a sub-optimal way of going about these things.

The view was worth it….

This is the museum that we were heading to next, Kiek in de Kök.

They were better views than we had when we visited the TV tower a couple of days later when we surrounded by fog.

The corporate heart of Tallinn.

It’s not a big city for a capital, but this was a useful way of orientating ourselves a little. I decided at this point that it was far too hot and I read several reviews commenting on this issue about how warm it got in the summer months. I accept that we visited in October, but I’m quite sensitive to heat and much prefer snowstorms and cold winds. Susanna, who is always sympathetic, didn’t have the same problem, but given half a chance she’d be wearing furs in the Sahara as her ideal temperature.

More on this in a later post, but this is the Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and its demolition has been mooted, although I suspect highly unlikely.

We then got the lift back down, ready to explore the rest of the building. There’s something quite atmospheric about museums in former churches, I’ve been to a few and this transpired to be a particularly good one.

It looks like a lump of rock, but fortunately there was information by it to give a little more background about this arrangement. It’s what is left from the monument to Lutke van Oyten which stood at 4 Kaura Street before the Second World War. Then the top fell off, which feels slightly sub-optimal, but the museum has what is left. I mean, it’s not exactly the Rosetta Stone, but it’s something. Lutke van Oyten was born in Germany in the early sixteenth century and he became a member of the Brotherhood of Blackheads in 1528 and then a citizen of Tallinn in 1533. From 1554 until 1557 he became an Alderman of the Great Guild and he was a Town Councillor for Tallinn from 1557.

The Blackheads in Estonia weren’t dermatological blemishes, but rather a fascinating and influential brotherhood that played a significant role in the country’s history. The Brotherhood of Blackheads was a medieval association of unmarried merchants, ship owners, and foreigners that flourished in Livonia (present-day Estonia and Latvia) from the 14th century until 1940. Their intriguing and slightly humorous name is linked to their patron saint, St. Maurice, who was a North African Roman legionnaire. Often depicted in art with dark skin, St. Maurice became associated with the group, leading to the name ‘Blackheads’.

The Brotherhood was more than just a social club or group such as the BNI. They were a powerful force in the economic and social life of medieval Tallinn and Riga who held considerable wealth and influence, owning property, conducting trade, and even participating in local governance. Their headquarters, the magnificent House of the Blackheads in Tallinn, still stands as a testament to their prominence. We did want to visit the Museum of Blackheads in the city as it was free with the Tallinn Card, but it was shut and so we didn’t. Susanna was most disappointed, but Steve and I distracted her by going to the pub. We’re good like that.

The Blackheads were renowned for their vibrant social life, they hosted lavish feasts and celebrations, so it’s a bit like Hike Norfolk was. The Brotherhood’s influence waned with the rise of nation-states and changing economic conditions. The Soviet occupation of the Baltic states in 1940 forced the Blackheads to flee to Germany, where they continue to exist in Hamburg. So this bit of rock is a bit of their story, perhaps not the most important part, but enough for me to witter on in this blog post about.

This museum isn’t one that we would have likely considered paying for, but as it was included in the Tallinn Card it seemed worthwhile popping in. Located in a former submarine factory, it’s something of a blend of history and hands-on technology with a fair chunk of virtual reality. Now, we were already experts on this given the previous day’s experiences, so we were full of confidence. The reviews of the venue were also very positive, although it’s fair to say that we were really not sure what to expect at all.

Ross and Steve having a go at virtual reality teamwork. There were plenty of staff around to offer assistance in times of need, which was handy as I am often in times of need at places such as this.

Susanna having a lovely time in a balloon. There were something like twelve different concepts to try, some were more complex than others. This particular one was making a few people just a little dizzy and Steve and I couldn’t work out the carriage one at all. And if Steve, a car expert, can’t work it out then I had no hope. I took remarkably few photos here, although there are a couple of videos that I have when I finally wrap up these series of posts about Tallinn. And yes, to my two loyal blog readers, I know that this feels as though it is going on forever and I’m now about eight trips behind, but I’ll get there eventually.

As an experience, it was really quite exciting and showed what is possible with virtual reality in a museum type environment. Actually, there’s not much museum here really, but there’s a lot of potential in the whole educational element. I rather enjoyed the immersive experience of the whole arrangement and we tried several of the different activities, my favourites were the joint shooting of something underwater and the car one. Excuse my lack of precision here in terms of the details, I wasn’t quite sure if there was some educational logic behind them, but I was just trying to work out what I was doing. The first part of the experience, where you put on headsets and try and construct things with your hands, was a complete non-starter for me and I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I suspect my friend Liam, a civil engineer, would have been able to understand the whole thing.

I’m all for expanding horizons and all that, so this was a fun experience and one that I will remember (not least as I can read it back on this riveting blog). Bev and Susanna, who threw themselves into the various bits of kit, were unharmed but exhausted at times, whereas Steve, Ross and I were more sedate. There was a bit of childlike wonder here and the beginning of perhaps not a revolution in museums, but certainly it’s going to be a new way of telling historic stories. We had to work our way around the children who were very much enjoying themselves and this is something that the museum will potentially have to work at, as I initially had the impression that it was aimed at children and it actually wasn’t at all, it had aspirations to appeal to all.