Weekend to remember

DAILY TELEGRAPH (UK) -

My heart sank. On our 9.30am flight to Tallinn a dozen or more shaven-headed loudmouths, who had already kicked off their weekend at the airport bar, were motoring through the drinks trolley. Preconceptions are there to be disproved, but this is exactly what I'd heard about Estonia's capital: a magnet for British stag parties, drawn by the cheap flights, cheap beer and strip joints, all in a Disney setting.

Tallinn's Old Town is a jumble of old fortifications and cobbled streets lined by colourful merchants' houses, but this is not some heritage theme park. Though small, Tallinn is a dynamic, Western-looking city determined to make up for lost time trapped, until 1991, behind the Iron Curtain.

Many government ministers and entrepreneurs are under 30, fashionable new bars and restaurants open every week, and the number of hotel beds has doubled in the past year.

The flight may have been grim, but my hotel, the Schlossle , was both elegant and snug and the cobbled streets around it looked instantly appealing. But they had to wait. Instead, I obeyed the advice of a friend to "understand the past and see where I was" and took a 15-minute taxi ride out of town.

We raced past the port, crossed a river, plunged into thick pine forest and pulled up in a clearing at Tallinn's TV Tower, at once beautiful and ugly, where Soviet tanks had come to a halt and Estonia's peaceful struggle for independence was finally won. Built by the Russians to coincide with the yachting event at the 1980 Olympics, the spire soars 1,030 feet.

Once grandiose, now neglected, there are two compelling reasons for going to this Communist icon: the sweep of propagandist but beautiful stained glass windows on the ground floor and the circular observation deck at the top.

First, though, you must negotiate the boot-faced Russian woman, as much of a throwback as the tower itself, who sourly doles out the entrance tickets. Once inside, sipping rather good meat soup in the restaurant on the observation deck, I had an astronaut's view of Tallinn. On a clear day I'd be able to see as far as Finland.

There was the hilltop Old Town, bristling with spires and onion domes; cargo ships and cruise liners in the harbour; grim housing blocks in the suburbs; Pirita beach, Tallinn's summer playground, almost at my feet; and the pine forest that covers much of Estonia stretching away to the distance.

I could see, too, on a slope overlooking the sea, the Song Festival grounds, where in 1988 300,000 Estonians first vocalised their right to independence in what became known as the Singing Revolution.

It was time to come in from the cold. After my brush with Soviet Estonia, exploring Tallinn was like eating cake instead of stale bread. The Town Hall Square is the hub: chocolate-box pretty in daylight, ravishing by night. Here, and in nearby streets, are countless tempting cafes and restaurants, cake shops, galleries and museums. Walk along Vene and you'll find the delightfully ramshackle Master's Courtyard hiding Chocolaterie, the cosiest, most bohemian cafe in town.

Next door is Katariina kaik, a charming alley alongside the Dominican monastery lined with artisans' workshops and galleries, and, farther on, the Orthodox church of St Nicholas, where everything in the burnished gold interior is spoken and sung in Russian for the benefit of Tallinn's considerable Russian population.

After that, slip into Niguliste, a church-turned-art-gallery, to see Bernt Notke's creepy but compelling 15th-century painting Dance Macabre. On a short trip, skip the 30-odd museums and wander round the town instead to take in its many details ­- a drainpipe in the shape of a boot, the spire of St Olaf's (one of the medieval world's tallest buildings), a cobbled side street run to grass.

From the Town Hall Square, Pikk jalg (Long leg) leads to the upper town, Toompea, filled with the aristocratic residences of Baltic barons and crowned by the Russian Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. Estonia's parliament and the country's oldest church are here, too, plus a far-reaching view across a jumble of red roofs.

Pick the right place and you will eat well in Tallinn. Homely and intimate, dotted with antiques, Vanaema Juures (Grandma's Place) was opened in 1992 but feels decades older, with comforting Estonian home cooking served by smiling waitresses in long aprons.

In contrast, O, serving sushi and fusion food, is a scintillating warehouse conversion that makes the plain appear glamorous and the local girls, famous for their beauty, look like supermodels.

As for our lads, I never saw them again. The Estonians, a reserved people, are peeved and puzzled by British stag parties. "The Finns have been coming here for years to drink, but they just fall asleep," one told me. "The British are different - they get loud and then they want to take their trousers off. We can't understand it."