Way Out East

We’re at the border with Russia, quite literally. It’s just a few hundred metres away from our hotel. An endless stream of cars, lorries and pedestrians make their way in both directions across the so-called friendship bridge.

On this, the Estonian side, of the Narva River, Narva Castle stares defiantly across the water at Russia. On the other side, the fortress of neighbouring Ивангород (Ivangorod) stands in proud opposition.

Narva is a funny old place, more Russian than Estonian. 97% of the population is Russian-speaking and it’s no coincidence that English is a virtually unknown language here.

This is apparently the most easterly point of Europe and we’re now closer to St. Petersburg than to Tallinn. As we watch people crossing the border checkpoint with the accurate yet understated text, Россия, embellishing the portal, the proximity of this gateway teases and taunts us with the lure of the unexplored.

Narva is a bit of a relic. Signs of the Soviet era still abound here, including modern architecture so hideous that causing revulsion in the beholder must surely have topped a list of anti-aesthetic objectives.

That’s not to say that the town is without charm, however. The castle is a lot of fun to visit and the grounds provide gorgeous views across the river to Ivangorod. There’s also a small beach, popular with the locals, and people stand on both sides of the river, angling for fish. Although the beach itself would win few prizes, the sand is fine and golden, and the backdrop of Ivangorod fortress on the Russian side just can’t be beaten. Where else in the world is there a castle located directly in front of a beach?

The close proximity of the Estonian and Russian castles to one another is also unique in the world. They are literally just an arrow’s flight apart, now a photogenic delight, but at one time surely an extremely unnerving fact of life, to have one’s foe so close at hand.

Once again, we’ve run out of clean clothes, so we had to find a laundrette and drop off about a dozen kilos of sweaty underpants and T-shirts. Yes, it’s not only delicious repasts and soaking up the sun when you’re out on the road. The laundry needs to get done, too.

The castle was the one absolutely essential attraction here, so tomorrow will be a lazier day, probably beginning at the beach, after which we’ll venture further afield in town.

By the way, spare a thought for the lot of the lowly lorry driver. While we were still about 5 km outside of Narva, we noticed lots of lorries parked at the side of the road. After a few hundred metres of this stationary convoy, I realised that this was the back of the queue for lorries wanting to cross the border into Russia. You could lose 24 hours sitting in that queue. It’s an emphatic reminder, as if any were needed, of the stupidity of political borders.

By land, we’re now about 2300 km from home, which is by far the furthest from home we’ve ever been in our own car. Indeed, it’s odd to think that we’ve driven the same car from the west coast of Ireland last year to the Estonian border with Russia this year. I think we’ve driven our car in about 20 countries in the three and a half years that we’ve had it, a fact that surprises me immensely, as the number has quietly accumulated without my being aware of it.

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