Postcard: Unpacking a suitcase full of Estonian summer 💙

Tere sõbrad, dear friends!

Greetings from a chilly +10°C day in Melbourne, where I’m currently wrapped in what might be the cosiest, ugliest thing ever invented — my brand new Mõnnakas, gifted by my mum as I left Estonia this week. It’s warm, ridiculous, oversized, and exactly what I need in a country that builds houses like insulation is a conspiracy theory. Thanks, Estonia — your bear hug lingers.

As someone freshly returned from her annual dopamine dose of Estonian summer, I confess: I’m still raw around the edges. Half my heart is still over there — with family, friends, those magical midsummer forests, and the distant aftertaste of Kalevi chocolate. I’m still mentally processing the full-body goosebumps that came with Laulu- ja Tantsupidu, and I haven’t stopped missing all the events or people I didn’t manage to squeeze in.

This time around, Estonia really tested me. It kept the warm beach weather hostage until the very last day of my trip — rude! No proper beach bumming for me, though I did brave some early morning strolls by the sea where the rain politely made room for a rainbow. Magical? Yes. Bikini weather? Not quite.

One memorable moment was a walk along Pirita pier with my childhood friend — Estonian soul talk, the sea wind in our hair, and me enthusiastically recounting a recent mind-blowing festival in the middle of the woods near Haapsalu (cold, rainy, unforgettable). That’s also when I was introduced to the aforementioned Mõnnakas — a brilliant Estonian invention that looks like a cross between a monk’s robe and a Kmart onesie, and apparently makes you look deeply unsexy but feel gloriously snug.

Between family dinners and festival hopping, there were everyday gems: a horrifying (yet weirdly fascinating) conversation with a friend who now collects snails from his garden in a saucepan and… well, let’s just say they don’t live to see the next morning. He swore it’s the most humane method — apparently there’s a full-blown snail epidemic in Estonia. I swore I’d never eat escargot.

There were the beach jokes — as always. A mate messaged me from Pärnu: “Went for a swim. Well, a paddle. The water’s 1.5 feet deep.” I replied, “Estonians consider it swimming once all ten toes are wet.” 😂 And we both knew — in Estonia, lying on your stomach in knee-deep water absolutely qualifies as swimming.

This trip included morning coffees with my mum (a cherished ritual), wild garden weeding with friends in Haabneeme (who says catch-ups have to happen in cafés?), epic meetups with global Estonians doing brilliant things, three graduations in my family (yes, three!), forest lake swims with my sister and her kids (a non-negotiable summer favourite), and very Estonian moments — like trying to dodge an old flame at a crowded festival while pretending to admire the handicrafts.

Oh, and saunas. Obviously. One particularly freezing festival day ended in a mixed sauna situation — my friend and I in swimsuits, three completely naked Estonian blokes next to us, chatting like they were at a bus stop. No one bats an eyelid. Classic Estonia.

What else? There was that magical swing in the middle of Raekoja plats (try it with a friend or someone you feel a spark with — trust me), late-night writing marathons, and the kind of jam-packed schedule that only Estonian summer can deliver. One weekend alone tried to lure me simultaneously to keskajapäevad, merepäevad, hansapäevad, and two other festivals — all within driving distance. It’s like Estonia dares you to try and attend everything at once.

But here’s the truth — for those of us living abroad, visiting Estonia is not a holiday. It’s a mission. A reunion. A whirlwind of hugs, concerts, catch-ups, and chasing sunshine. It’s intense. It’s beautiful. It’s soul medicine.

Next time, I promise myself a bit more leisure and a bit less cramming. But until then, I carry Estonia with me — in WhatsApp chats, in Mõnnakas warmth, in mum’s handmade dresses hanging in my cupboard, and in my heart.

So here I am, back in Melbourne, sending you this postcard with much gratitude and longing.

Estonia, you were wild, emotional, unpredictable and unforgettable. As always. See you again soon — maybe with sunnier beach weather next time?

With hugs from the Southern Hemisphere,

Kristel 💙

Read also: Postcard from Tallinn, 4 July 2025 💙 | HEIA