Tram-spotting ... a tram in Tallinn.Credit:Photolibrary.com
A dreadnought fan from childhood,Steven Herrick takes to the city trams to explore Tallinn and Riga.
I'M STANDING on a street corner in Tallinn,Estonia,waiting for the No.2 tram to take me into the mediaeval old town on a hill overlooking the Baltic Sea. Beside me in the queue is an old woman,wearing a scarf and wielding her shopping trolley like a threat. She holds a bouquet of flowers wrapped in black cellophane - a celebration or a funeral?
The fire-engine-red tram clangs down the street and I'm transported back to suburban Brisbane in the'60s. Mum would hold my hand as we clambered aboard a dreadnought tram to the city. I preferred the dreadnoughts to the sleek silver bullets and drop-centre carriages. What child doesn't want to ride on a dreadnought?
Gallantly,I offer the Estonian woman my hand to board. She ignores me and trundles to the one remaining seat. I stand on the floorboards,gripping the overhead strap and once again feel the sway and rattle of a child's toy made large. I lean forward to see if the driver is wearing a peaked cap. I'm tempted to reach across and open the window,like my mother would on the Brisbane tram,to feel the exhilarating breeze of childhood. But it's a cold April,with the wind whipping off the Baltic.
Tallinn's trams began as horse-drawn vehicles in 1888. Today,much of the rolling stock is new and sterile but some relics remain from Soviet times,a tram-spotter's playground.
The old town can be easily walked in a morning and the three-metre thick citadel walls enclose a jumble of mediaeval buildings and cobblestone lanes. Locals sit at outdoor cafes,sipping kefir (a fermented milk drink). In the park beside the domed Alexander Nevsky Cathedral,a young woman offers me a bow and arrow. For a small change,I can attempt to pierce the circular target five metres away. After failing dismally at my three attempts,I buy a packet of cinnamon-roasted almonds in consolation and watch teenage Robin Hoods hit the target with nonchalant precision.
My favourite building is St Olaf's Church,erected in the 12th century,with a distinctive steeple added three centuries later,which made it,briefly,the tallest building in the world before it was struck by lightning and burnt to the ground. Since then it has been completely rebuilt twice more and suffered repeated lightning strikes.
Back to the trams. My wife and I take the No.4 line to Pirita Beach and stroll along the deserted sand,watching the ferries departing for Helsinki and Stockholm. Rotund men wheeze and sweat on workout equipment among the trees. We share apple cake and excellent coffee in a cafe beside the ruins of St Bridget's Convent - which was ransacked by Ivan the Terrible in 1575 - before hopping on the red rattler tram back to the city.
A more serious tram-spotter town is Riga,Latvia. The network opened in 1882 and now extends to 11 routes with 123 kilometres of track. When we arrive on a dark night threatening sleet,I tell my wife I plan to ride them all. She shudders. I imagine it's because of the cold.