For 50 years after the Second World War Soviet muscle - both
military and political - dominated the Baltic States.
But in 1991 they gained their independence.
Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania were now free to live their lives, revive their culture and clear up the mess.
This is Tallinn, capital of Estonia.
From here I'll be travelling through the Baltics south to Kaliningrad.
When I was last here,
16 years ago, it was an unwelcoming Soviet republic.
Left to its own devices Tallinn has boomed.
Estonia has a population not much more than Birmingham,
and everyone is doing rather nicely.
I'm driving along the coast to meet some of these newly-affluent
Estonians who are trying to come to terms with it all.
The days of Communist conformity are long gone.
Our hosts, Margus and Evelin and their family, live in a pyramid.
What's it like,
living inside a pyramid?
It helps to find
the way to do things and the way you find and feel the power inside you that, er, that's
like the...like God.
It helps to find God in you.
God or good? God.
God in you. God is everything.
God is like the basic energy and if you find this God you can, er,
you can create whatever.
Are Estonians particularly interested in spiritual things?
Many people are searching for spiritual enlightenment and
looking for different practices, how
to get their life
getting...er,
flowing easier, and to be happier.
Living in a pyramid is clearly not the only way to make your life happier,
and tonight friends and neighbours are here to try another approach.
At the moment it mainly involves staring.
The sun is at last beginning to set,
and Margus, our host, is making final preparations.
It looks like any summer barbeque but the only difference is that
what's going on this barbeque, are the guests.
DRUMMING
Margus leads off.
Intrepid ladies follow him.
Some of the men are not so sure.
Why do you think people do this, Margus?
I think they do it because the same reason why I do that.
It gives me good feeling
and, um...
..my heart will be open.
I know who I am better.
Is it about conquering fear?
Yes, yes.
To understand that fear, how it can
be without fear, we have to bring fear so close, if we can to look, what is fear?
I feel, I scared at the moment more than... Really?
Really. Really!
It's so funny. Really.
I feel pfff - "What I need to say, how can I say?"
You did very well. Very well. Very good.
It's a curiously emotional evening.
But I'm afraid the only things I'll be putting on fires are chestnuts.
Further up the coast are 100 concrete suitcases.
They symbolise the plight of all those Estonians
who fled abroad when the Red Army marched into their country in 1944.
They're part of an art collection assembled by Jaan Manitski who,
as a babe in arms, was caught up in it all.
Just from this coastline here many small fishing boats
left over the Finnish Gulf to Finland or the Baltics to Sweden.
And most people could only bring with them
a suitcase. And many times when the small boats were crowded they even had to leave them on the shore here.
So this is some kind of...
..a reminder of what has happened on these shores.
Having made his money as business manger of the pop group Abba, Manitski came back home
and offered his expertise to Estonia's new free-market economy.
Now all his energies are going into this arts centre.
'His paintings by Estonian artists are a bit of everything.
'The good, the bad and the ugly.'
As my mother would say, I don't think I could live with that!
I would neither put it in my living room. Exactly.
Perhaps in the bathroom.
'Jaan shows me his latest acquisition, and very topical it is.
This is the painter's view of the organised -
by individuals - demolishing of the monster.
The monster being...?
The monster - this is the Soviet system.
We started up in a very difficult situation.
The Estonian economy and the whole society was so integrated in the Soviet system.
For example, to illustrate it, a big shoe-making factory in Tallinn
produced... Yeah.
..Left foot shoes number 44.
The right foot shoes were made in Irkutzk, or Murmansk, or somewhere.
Back in Tallinn the incoming ferries are
full as yet more people discover the unhurried appeal of the old town.
BELL TOLLS
Across the Gothic roof-tops rises the new Estonia,
a mini Manhattan, with a state-of-the-art electronic economy.
But in Old Town Square
I discover there are limits to the Estonian dream.
Businessman Peter Knoll tells me that for the Russians
who stayed on here, the government has devised an exquisite torture.
Russians are obliged to learn Estonian, aren't they?
That's correct. In order to become an Estonian citizen,
you must pass a test in Estonian, which comprises about 3,000 characters.
That's why we have still, I think it's around 10,000 or just slightly below,
of residents in Estonia without nationality.
So they're not citizens of Estonia but they're not Russians anymore
because they've given up their Russian citizenship.
So what rights do they have?
They have the right to live here.
They're mainly elderly people that are not learning the language
any more, but the family are taking care of them.
However this has been discussed by the European Union as well because you cannot have it that somebody
is a resident in your country, who has been living all his life, and cannot have citizenship.
So it's an issue on the European Union agenda.
In Soviet times the Baltic States were seen as something of a bracing seaside sanatorium.
I've been recommended a clinic outside Tallinn where all sorts
of traditional treatments await the tired traveller.
The lady I've come to see is one of those Russians who stayed on.
Her name is Lyudmilla Agajeva and she's an hirudotherapist.
Next. Hello. Ooh! Hello, how are you?
Very bad.
Oh, I'll help you. Let's go with me.
I'm very bad because I've come here!
What do you want me to take off? Shirt?
Everything. Small striptease.
Small striptease? Yes.
OK.
Right. There we go.
It's here.
What? And go behind the screens?
There we go.
Small, not very good striptease, is that OK? Enough?
Is that OK? Enough?
Very nice, very nice.
Please? On back or front?
No... Back. OK.
You see, I've never done this before.
This is the first time so I don't know what happens.
Comfort? Do you have comfort? Yes, I'm comfortable, very comfortable.
Yes, yes. My heart's beating rather fast.
Isn't it?
Quickly, quickly! Yes, I'm nervous. I've never had small creatures...
You can see.... Yeah.
Oh, right!
Ooh, yes, that doesn't make me feel any better.
Better, very better. But they work?
They do work, to make me feel stronger?
Yes. Translator?
I've been doing so much travelling.
It's just, is that on my body now?
So it is. Ooh.
I experienced a slight sting, nothing more than...
..having an injection.
So it's, it's sucking out bad blood? Or...? How...?
Yes, yes.
Bad blood. It's stuck to you now, isn't it?
Ah! Ooh! Oh! Jesus!
Definitely like a little electric charge. Mm-hm.
These special leeches? Leeches that...
Yes, yes, special. It's not so bad.
It's just...
You start thinking about what is going on.
Little black things with their heads into your body.
It's like a series of quite sharp electric shocks. Oof!
It's quite, um...
It's quite a...
strong stinging sensation.
Put it this way, I won't be doing it again for a bit!
Ah, I feel better.
How much blood do they take?
One glass vodka.
One glass of vodka?
Yes please!
200, maybe 300 millilitres.
Are you enjoying it? Look, they're getting quite engorged.
Is that growing? Full of blood?
I stimulation.
You're stimulating the leech? Yes.
Oh Gosh. That's something I thought
I'd never see in my lifetime, someone stimulating a leech.
There's a first time for everything.
Do they have teeth?
Yes, teeth. I understand.
Ah, 300 teeth. 300 teeth?
Each of these little fellows?
Yes, and three jaws.
Three j...?
Jaws. Jaws, oh jaws! Yes.
Three jaws.
That must give them some power.
Three jaws?
I mean, that's great!
Breakfast, lunch and dinner!
At the same time!
After they finish taking the blood, then what? What happens then?
Do you kill them?
I kill they.
I kill. Yes, why?
Because... I'm very fond of them.
They're my friends! Yes, yes.
Well, I don't want you to kill them.
No... Can they go somewhere to retire?
Sit quietly in an armchair?
It's surprise for you? Yes, yes.
You're a hard woman.
When they are hungry... Yes.
..You apart second.
OK.
Ah! They're still sucking away, those, aren't they?
Imagine that - halfway through a nice little steak,
and someone comes and pulls your chair away.
Don't want! OK.
Is that blood in them? Yes.
Can I just touch them?
Very nice blood! Yes, there you are, thank you very much.
Thank you, Frank, thank you, Arthur.
They're hermaphrodites?
Thank you, Frank and Diana.
Thank you Arthur and Elizabeth.
Done a good job.
There they go.
Yes. They no alcoholics.
Aw! Now that hurt!
I don't want to watch them...
Vodka, very strong vodka.
That's what it is.
You're right.
Can I have some of that vodka?
Do you want vodka? Now?
Yeah, lovely. No. Don't want.
They've had the vodka.
I have vodka.
Ooh. Ow! Ooh! Ow!
SHE LAUGHS
Now that is something - that is something else. Ooh!
Ooh! Four breasts!
See?
Your friends. Gonna kill them? I don't want to watch that.
All finish!
Thank you. Thank you.
They die like that. Yes.
No long, drawn out suffering?
No, I was mafioso. You were? You're a caring person.
But when the moment comes you can...
..turn into a killer.
Natasha!
This is Ape. My idea of the perfect border post.
First time? First time, yes.
'No queues, no metal detectors, just a man in a hut.'
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Pausing only to correct my pronunciation to Ar-pay, not Ape,
my courteous guard shows me into Latvia.
Half as big again as Estonia,
its population is little more than two million.
Is this why their trains are so short?
Something's missing.
This is supposed to be the 7:50.
Maybe it's a national holiday.
Maybe they've heard about the leeches.
Eventually an engine
arrives and we become, officially, the 7.50 from Aluksne to Gulbene.
INDISTINCT
Our progress through this sylvan countryside seems unreal.
Almost dreamlike. Which seems entirely suitable.
For this is Midsummer's Eve and a big night for Latvians, as people
up and down the country gather for the pagan festival of Jani.
The Latvians converted to Christianity much later than most of Europe.
So resolutely pagan were the local tribes
that in 1198 the Pope launched a crusade against them.
Here in the heart of the countryside, the pre-Christian
traditions of Jani are being painstakingly revived.
The women wear Garlands, which must contain at least 27 different flowers.
THEY SING IN LATVIAN
New arrivals at the celebration are ritually insulted, and then expected to reply.
THEY SING IN LATVIAN
Once you've shown you can hold your own, you're allowed to hug the host.
HE SPEAKS LATVIAN
Jani is a celebration of birth, growth and fecundity.
And they do it in style.
The Latvians have preserved
1,200 - 1,200 melodies for this one night.
To sing on this one night.
SHE SPEAKS LATVIAN
And 28,000, um, texts - little song lyrics.
Are these written down? Or just handed down.
Ja. Written down. Yeah, they're written down. There's a book.
SHE SPEAKS LATVIAN
Yeah. At the moment the sad thing is that people just get drunk.
And they think that tradition's not necessary,
and they don't know what to do on Jani, so that's all they do.
WOMAN SPEAKS LATVIAN
In the evening we say goodbye to the sun, in the morning we welcome the sun again.
And you can't sleep tonight.
I don't think we're going to. No! Are you staying here?
Dancers circle the oak tree, symbol of strength and virility.
Single women are entreated to find partners.
The food consists of cheese and bread.
A little severe, but bread and cheese were all that was left to eat before the new harvest.
Mind you, there's plenty of home-brew to wash it down.
I hear my name called out, and fear the worst.
WOMAN SINGS, ALL JOIN IN.
Thank you.
What were they saying?
They were saying to you that you are now Michelis, not Michael,
which is the Latvian version and the oak
is always the symbol of strength and virility
and on Midsummer Night, in the circle,
it's concentrated on your head.
So, you are crowned with strength, virility,
and their singing, and wishing that you will see everything well.
You will hear everything well,
and you will film everything well.
And the filming part is part of the tradition.
Do I have to wear this throughout the rest of the filming?
Of course!
And the rest of the night. The rest of the night.
SINGING IN LOCAL LANGUAGE
Believe me, it's not easy to dance with half a national park on your head.
The setting of the Midsummer Night's sun is the most important moment of the evening.
Just before 11 o'clock we process up the nearest hill to watch and to celebrate.
BAGPIPES PLAY
This is developing into quite a test of stamina.
And I've lost my National Park.
As darkness falls, last years' Jani wreath is ceremonially burnt.
And a symbolic new fire is lit.
A blazing wheel of hopes and fears and thanks bowls down the hill.
And we all cheer.
Riga, the Latvian capital, rich in buildings from Stalinist grandeur to Medieval Gothic,
has recently acquired a reputation as a safe place for summit meetings.
To find out more about Riga's status as a world host,
I'm on my way to meet one of the Baltic's top chefs, Martin Ritins.
A Latvian who learnt his trade in Canada and Corby, Northants, he now cooks for the world's most powerful.
This is a starter that we did for George Bush when he was here.
Crayfish.
It is very traditional.
Did he ask for this? No, he didn't.
But we talked to his, to his...
Look - I mustn't get too fond of it.
You can take this home with you. Lovely.
So, Baltic crayfish?
It's a freshwater.
It's a team work. And Bush has a team, so do we here.
So, the sauce...
it's onions... With Latvian produce.
..carrots, onions, tomatoes, garlic and Cognac.
Cognac? Cognac.
Now, I want to see how can you...
Oh, right!
Up, up, up, up, higher!
When George came he only had an hour and a half. Well...
Now, can I show you the trick?
Like tennis.
You don't shake the pan, you shake the wrist.
It's so heavy, oops...
It's incredibly heavy.
Now, how do you think... Wow, that is heavy.
Respect to you guys who do that.
How do you think Fanny Cradock did this?
I think she must've had a few pints beforehand or something stronger.
And a bit of colour.
When you have someone like the President of the United States,
or whatever, well, not whatever, but your friend George and Laura to cook for, is it a big palaver?
Have you got security people coming around?
It's very much so.
We do all the state dinners but never anything has been like this.
We had three days with their security people, their chefs.
Three days for one meal? For one meal.
Yes, I was with their chefs for three days.
We discussed the menu, we went through it in very much detail and
I had to show them where everything came from.
Have you any juicy details? Absolutely no, no.
Personal habits? Don't give him apricot jam cos his leg starts to wobble...
Now, here we'll try again. Your tennis.
No, it's in the wrist.
It's not shaking...
That's embarrassing.
Let me see your wrists.
Look at that - that is a wrist!
It's the tennis, it's the tennis.
I'll work on it, I'll work on it.
The whole lot?
Not the whole lot. As you...
We nearly had a Molotov cocktail.
You were telling me in the kitchen that the process is, he vets, his chefs are with you for three days.
Three days. We cook for 22.
And I couldn't say this, I usually say the nicest one,
that's for our President, or that's for that Prime Minister.
But we weren't allowed this time.
I had to keep my mouth shut,
which is difficult for me!
And they said, that's the one,
even if it's the most horrible one.
Because this is, we're under stress,
very quick, it was all cooked in the last minute.
It wasn't pre-cooked.
And that was the one that he had.
Another one I had to taste,
and another one, one of his security people tasted.
Really? Yes.
So it was very exciting.
It was like a movie.
And that's the way they do it. That's it.
On Latvia's Baltic coast stands an abandoned cluster of concrete housing blocks,
the remains of a once substantial Soviet presence.
Once they spoke of pride, achievement and a better future.
Now they're turning to dust.
And this is the reason why they were here.
This was one of the Soviet Union's most important ears on the outside world.
So here we are.
In the belly of the beast.
It was so important that, when the Cold War ended, the people who built it tried to destroy it.
But they reckoned without world opinion.
In the old control room Yuris Zagars, a Latvian astronomer,
explains how they saved the Ventspils Radio Telescope in the nick of time.
It was like in a fairytale,
some 15 minutes before execution,
the order of destroying was changed, for some kind of
electrical immolation but not touching the important parts of it.
It was because the world's radio astronomical societies was making
some protestations, as well as Russian Academy of Science.
That to destroy the best radio telescope in Northern Europe,
only on political reasons, it's some kind of vandalism.
Instead they sent in a wrecking team to make it impossible to use.
This is one of the examples of electric sabotage,
because all these connections has been dismounted and disconnected.
And no paper, no diagram, how to connect them.
So, it was some scientific puzzle for our engineers, some challenge to put them to,
and this is not the only box.
We have at least four such boxes, eight panels, but how to connect it was a hard job.
And this demolition work was performed during one week.
We worked four years to put them back.
How does this compare in size and scale to other radio telescopes?
From the point of the scale, it's not the biggest one in Europe.
Three to five is bigger, radio telescopes of the scale of 70 metres.
As in Jodrell Bank, and in Spain, and in Effelsberg in Germany
but the value of the telescope is not only the size but
also the accuracy of the surface, and the accuracy of the surface is very high for this telescope.
It's the best radio telescope of Northern Europe.
Let's come. OK.
It's like a submarine in the sky.
And now the next level.
And here's our submarine.
Looks like a submarine and it's tilting when we are working.
This chamber tilts, does it?
Yes. You can walk on the left hand as well, so it is...
How far does it tilt? How many degrees?
About 100. More than 90 degrees.
Must be a weird sensation.
Be careful. You could have got a lift!
Wow!
Fantastic!
Pointing at the heavens.
I really feel,
well done to you and your team, you have saved this thing.
Yes, we have saved the thing, saved it for, there is not so many beautiful radio telescopes
in the world, and this is one of the top instruments.
So it's to be used for extra-galactic radio astronomy.
It's the best application we can hope.
And it's a wonderful sun trap.
Yes, as well as for...
You could have a few loungers round here,
you could make all the money you need.
But this surface is the most valuable part of the telescope.
Its accuracy is better than one millimetre.
Saving the telescope was a rare victory for common sense.
Across the border is the largest of the Baltic Republics - Lithuania.
Influenced more by Poland than Sweden, it's staunchly Catholic,
and in the middle of its green and pleasant countryside is a remarkable religious site.
This is the Hill Of Crosses - a symbol of Lithuanian defiance for over 150 years.
The Communists bulldozed it three times and once even flooded the area with sewage before a Papal visit.
Which only served to make it even more popular.
The skyline of the capital, Vilnius, shows Lithuania's mixed fortunes.
One of the most enlightened empires of medieval Europe, it's since
fallen under the sway of Poland, Sweden, Germany and Tsarist Russia.
In the Second World War alone it was occupied three times,
by the Soviet Union,
then by the Germans, then again by Soviet troops.
These are the names of Lithuanians who tried to resist.
In this building in the heart of Vilnius, once a courthouse,
once even a boys' school, the occupiers dealt, brutally, with that resistance.
The basement where prisoners were kept and often tortured is now open to the public.
I put on a headset to let me know what I am about to see.
VOICEOVER: Welcome to the Genocide Victims Museum.
Housed in the former KGB headquarters,
the museum is the only one of its kind in the Baltic States.
Object number one,
the padded cell.
This is one of the grimmest places in the prison.
The walls are padded and soundproofed,
with a straitjacket on the wall used for those who resisted or who were deranged with torture.
The walls absorbed their cries and shouts for help.
This cell was fitted out in 1973, though there were similar cells before that.
Object number two.
This is a guard post.
From the far end of this room, the guards watched the outside window of the cells round the clock.
In 1964 when the prison premises were reduced,
four guard booths remained, three inside and one in the courtyard.
There were telephones and alarm systems in the booths for armed guards.
It was a high security prison.
Only one escape is known.
Object number three.
The next room contains two cells with concrete pools in the floors, fitted out in about 1945.
Witnesses say that they had to either stand in ice cold water and
ice in winter, or on a small stand.
When they dosed off they fell into the water.
A political prisoner recalled,
"I did everything not to freeze to death.
"Though I was weak with illness, I would walk, run or try to stand.
"But I kept slipping off onto the ice.
"Eventually I curled up, exhausted, on the bloodstained ice floor."
Some prisoners were kept there for five days and nights.
The television tower above Vilnius has become a shrine to Baltic liberation.
In 1991, 13 unarmed Lithuanians were killed by by the Red Army
as they tried to protect the freedom to broadcast Lithuania's independence vote.
It was the climax of three years of protest.
Two years earlier an estimated two million men, women and children
from all the Baltic Republics joined hands in a human chain
which stretched over 300 miles from Tallinn to Vilnius.
The chain marked 50 years of smouldering resentment.
ONE SINGER BEGINS, CROWD JOINS IN
Song Festivals, which were permitted, provided an outlet
for anti-Russian feeling.
The protest, which became known as the Singing Revolution,
was something quite unique in politics, and it led to the freedom of the Baltic States.
We are a singing nation. I've heard a lot about this...
'Algis Greitai is a Lithuanian TV star.'
I want to see how it works.
Can you just get people to sing?
Well, it's very easy.
HE SPEAKS LITHUANIAN
Convincing? Very good.
Beautiful, I'm convinced, yes.
Maybe they could stay and we could get some other people.
Have a sit down and we'll find...
That's very good. If you get a little choir to do that I'd be very impressed.
Not that one. No?
Do you know this man?
Do you know him?
Yes. Yes. Wasn't very enthused - "ye-es."
They will sing together the same song?
HE SPEAKS LITHUANIAN
Enough? Maybe another song? We don't know the words. Very good. You've made the point.
I think that's excellent. Charge $50! Very good.
Eurovision Song contest next year!
This is Nida in southern Lithuania.
The chunky boat taking me out of the harbour
is an old Baltic fishing barque.
We're heading towards one of Europe's most intriguing landscapes,
a 60-mile long, two-mile wide sandbank they call the Curonian Spit.
This formidable wall of sand is one of the most extraordinary
and fragile environments on the continent.
Now protected as a National Park,
these still-shifting sands curve away to the south and west
with the Baltic waves on one side and lazy lagoons on the other.
Forests have been planted to help hold this young and delicate strip of land together.
As I follow the paths and roads that lead through them,
I find that the curiosities of nature
are matched by a few political surprises.
In one of the odder twists of post-War politics,
this part of East Prussia was ceded to the victorious Russians.
They kicked out the Germans and re-named the ancient city of Konigsberg, Kaliningrad.
But now their neighbours have won independence,
Kaliningrad is marooned.
A Russian island in a European sea.
But today the mood in Kaliningrad is resolutely optimistic.
It's exactly 60 years ago today that the old Prussian city of Konigsberg
was consigned to history and Kaliningrad,
named after a Stalinist president of the USSR, took its place.
Today it's the red, white and blues of the Russian Federation that are the colours of celebration.
As a result of the ethnic cleansing of the Germans,
everyone gathered here can trace themselves back to Mother Russia.
The opening ceremony in front of the new Victory monument
owes more to Eurovision than any memories of Red Square.
Note the brand new Orthodox cathedral in the background,
of which the old communist regime would certainly not have approved.
SINGING
SINGING CONTINUES
Now it's the turn of the suits,
followed by a press circus hanging on every word.
The Mayor of Kaliningrad welcomes, amongst others,
President Putin's man from Moscow. Putin's wife, by the way, is a Kaliningrad girl.
Also on parade is a Russian Orthodox priest,
and a much be-medalled veteran of the great patriotic war.
Representing Russian power today is the Admiral of the Baltic Fleet,
whose nuclear submarines lie just up the coast.
Then it's time for the Russian national anthem.
Old tune, new words.
RUSSIAN NATIONAL ANTHEM PLAYS
The rest of the celebrations are delightfully un-solemn.
A Bride's Bus cruises the streets, disgorging a dozen young girls
all with one cry "Prazdnikom!" - happy holiday.
CHEERING AND SHOUTING Prazdnikom!
What is there not to like about Kaliningrad?
I ask my guide Olga Danilova whether Kaliningraders feel Russian or European.
Erm, we feel Russian.
This goes without saying.
But maybe special Russian, different from Russians living in the mainland Russia.
Due to this geographical location we found ourselves in.
In what way would you say you feel different from the others in what you call "mainland" Russia?
Because we are so close to Europe. We are a geographical part of Europe and we travel more
to Poland and to Lithuania, further to Europe than we travel to Russia.
And some of children living here,
they have never been to Russia.
But to go to Poland or Lithuania is quite a common thing.
Is there any appetite here for independence from Russia? No. No way.
We don't even have this idea in our minds.
It's not possible - we are Russians.
Though we travel to Russia, not very often, most of us, but we are Russians.
BAND PLAYS MELANCHOLY WALTZ
So, is this open air singing, dancing, a big thing?
Yes, yes it is. It is very popular, especially among older generations.
Or just, enjoying themselves.
And women, women a lot, see the women.
Thank you. Is that because of the...
lack of men?
Correct, correct.
The war - legacy of the war, is it? Yes, yes. Well spotted.
I shall be leaving from this dockside early next morning.
Very hospitably, the captain of this venerable old banana boat, Vityaz,
has agreed to let me use his cabin as a temporary base.
Famous ship?
Ah! Hello! Captain - how are you?
Thank you very much indeed for letting us come here.
Very kind of you.
After its banana boat days the Vityaz evacuated 20,000 Germans from here in 1945.
It was given to the British who in turn gave her to the Russians,
for whom she ended up mapping the world's deepest sea-bed, the Mariana Trench in the Pacific.
This is quite a tour, isn't it, to get to the captain's cabin? The bridge...
'It's now the centrepiece of Kaliningrad's Museum Of The World Ocean.'
Look, it's your room. Oh, thank you.
Where you will be sleeping, it's your bed.
Fantastic. Captains' cabin, thank you very much.
'Not wanting my last night to be an anti-climax, Olga's laid on a cultural visit.'
SWORDS CLANG
ROCK MUSIC PLAYS
Part historical re-enactment, part general punch-up,
this homage to the Teutonic Knights ends in group hugs and a huge bonfire.
It may be European rather than Russian history they're celebrating,
but tonight in Kaliningrad nobody really cares.
It seems strange to be marking in such flamboyant style a city named after Michael Kalinin,
a Soviet bureaucrat who no-one remembers.
Hi, hello there. Poland, I gather.
Let me give you that. That's great, thanks.
Thank you... OK.
I'd hoped to sail down the River Pregel
and across the Bay of Gdansk to my next destination and 17th country, Poland,
but a sudden maritime tiff between the Russians and the Poles
has resulted in a resounding "Nyet" to my plan.
While I think of what else to do,
I settle for a farewell cruise with Max and Sergei along the Kaliningrad waterfront.
Past disused wharves and idle cranes,
past my old friend, Vityaz.
Remnants of the Baltic Fleet are in for refits
but on the whole this is a ghost port.
Kaliningrad, more than anywhere else I've seen,
is a victim of its history.
Physically European,
but emotionally, spiritually and politically clinging to the Kremlin.