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I get to the bus station near the central market early, I probably could have hung around that Soviet bunker longer but saw little point since they were still only shooting pistols. I had decided that it was best to visit the Soviet bunker, but to opt out of the actualy shooting since the cost was a little steep and it didn't fit into my schedule. So I followed the group of 20 or so from the hostel to the bunker. The group is almost entirely Irish and Brits, probably straight from the ryanair and easyjet flights. The entrance to the bunker is a small little door in a concrete shelter not much bigger than an outhouse. We step past the iron door and see the dark cold staircase leading into the ground, its easily 8 degrees colder in here than it was outside. We walk down the dimly lit stairs and enter past 2 heavy vault doors and into main counter area. Up on the walls are countless rifles and posters of rifles (usually being held by some babe in a bikini), along with camo hats, holsters, knives, fireworks, and all sorts of stuff you could probably never take on a
flight. The hostel kids read the safety policy, but the receive no training or instruction at all. We walk into the long corridor of the firing range where 10 targets have been setup, they are called up one at a time to shoot some pistol, a glock I think. They run out of earmuff covers but I don't worry about it, I'm pretty far back. I hear the first shot and the crack of the pistol echoes in the concrete hall causing a distinct pain on my eardrums, luckily some extra covers come up after the first shooter. After watching the first 10 blast their paper targets I head off to catch my bus.
Sitting in my bay is the crappiest looking bus ever and my gut sinks as I think I'm going to get stuck on a crowded junker that will break down halfway. Luckily now it pulls away and a sleek new eurolines bus comes in and I hope aboard marking a couple seats for myself. The ride is long, nearly 5 hours. However arriving late at the Tallinn terminal Tatevik is waiting for me sporting a brand new hairdo and a family friend is offering a ride in his BMW. I glance a few views of the city from the car windows but are soon at Tatevik's flat where I promptly crash for the night.
I get to the bus station near the central market early, I probably could have hung around that Soviet bunker longer but saw little point since they were still only shooting pistols. I had decided that it was best to visit the Soviet bunker, but to opt out of the actualy shooting since the cost was a little steep and it didn't fit into my schedule. So I followed the group of 20 or so from the hostel to the bunker. The group is almost entirely Irish and Brits, probably straight from the ryanair and easyjet flights. The entrance to the bunker is a small little door in a concrete shelter not much bigger than an outhouse. We step past the iron door and see the dark cold staircase leading into the ground, its easily 8 degrees colder in here than it was outside. We walk down the dimly lit stairs and enter past 2 heavy vault doors and into main counter area. Up on the walls are countless rifles and posters of rifles (usually being held by some babe in a bikini), along with camo hats, holsters, knives, fireworks, and all sorts of stuff you could probably never take on a 
flight. The hostel kids read the safety policy, but the receive no training or instruction at all. We walk into the long corridor of the firing range where 10 targets have been setup, they are called up one at a time to shoot some pistol, a glock I think. They run out of earmuff covers but I don't worry about it, I'm pretty far back. I hear the first shot and the crack of the pistol echoes in the concrete hall causing a distinct pain on my eardrums, luckily some extra covers come up after the first shooter. After watching the first 10 blast their paper targets I head off to catch my bus.
Sitting in my bay is the crappiest looking bus ever and my gut sinks as I think I'm going to get stuck on a crowded junker that will break down halfway. Luckily now it pulls away and a sleek new eurolines bus comes in and I hope aboard marking a couple seats for myself. The ride is long, nearly 5 hours. However arriving late at the Tallinn terminal Tatevik is waiting for me sporting a brand new hairdo and a family friend is offering a ride in his BMW. I glance a few views of the city from the car windows but are soon at Tatevik's flat where I promptly crash for the night.
1 comment:
Stereotyping Brits on easyjet flights? - Steady on, I've not long been back from Barca. Sounds like a nice trip!
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