Estonia's happy new year

WHEN Estonians woke up on January 1st they found themselves shaking off their hangovers in the glare of the European spotlight. The new year marked the beginning of Tallinn's stint as Europe's capital of culture (ECC) as well as Estonia's entry into the euro zone.

You won't hear much about it from the reticent Estonians, but the country has a lot riding on 2011. Some fear that their capital faces the same fate as Vilnius, the only other post-Soviet city to serve as European capital of culture, in 2009. That year was marked by slashed budgets, a lean programme of events and political in-fighting; most Lithuanians would rather forget about it.

The fear is that Tallinn is headed for the same problems. A public-spending squeeze has seen some programme budgets cut and unseemly squabbling between local and national government over who will pick up the cheque. Another distressing sign was the recent ouster of Mikko Fritze, the director of Tallinn's successful ECC bid, when rumours emerged he was paid more than Estonia's president.

But Tallinn can point to major-league experience in hosting international events. The city has just pulled off another successful edition of its annual Black Nights film festival, and the Art Museum of Estonia, which will host many ECC events, is the envy of the region. Back in 2002 the country even managed to host a Eurovision song contest.

The organisers are certainly not short of ambition. At the drop of midnight on January 1st, events kicked into gear all over Tallinn. But you'll have to wait until late March for the real showstopper: Tallinn Music Week. It's little surprise that the country that defied Soviet rule with a "singing revolution" takes immense pride in an event that draws a wildly eclectic group of acts from all over the world. The celebration takes place at Lauluvljak, a massive seaside Soviet-era amphitheatre, where in 1988 thousands of protestors squared off against communism by courageously singing the outlawed national anthem.

Something many visitors to the new capital of culture won't have to worry about is an annoying trip to the currency counter. Estonia's timing in entering the troubled euro zone could perhaps be better, but the switch is a genuine achievement for a country that achieved independence less than 20 years ago.

The kroon has been pegged to the euro ever since the single currency's creation, so economically the move will make little difference. Psychologically, too, the changeover hasn't been as traumatic for Estonians as for some of their western European neighbours. Although it will be sad to say goodbye to the chess champions, poets, castles and swallows that adorn the outgoing kroon notes, Estonians are used to such farewells: they have seen their currency change five times in the past 83 years. An elderly Estonian could have bought her first toy with marks, paid for a wedding dress with kroons, received a pension in roubles, purchased her first modem in kroons (again) and will now buy tickets to ECC events with the euro.

The country flirted with multiple design ideas for its new euro coins. Most proposals featured various crests and symbols that meant much to Estonians but little to the rest of the world. One idea was simply to feature a collection of words from the baffling (to outsiders) Estonian language.

Ultimately simplicity won out: in a publi! c vote i n 2004, Estonians chose a geographic outline of the country, designed by artist Lembit Lhmus, to adorn their coins. But when Russia is your neighbour, nothing border-related is simple. According to the British Daily Telegraph, a local lawyer who advocates on behalf of Estonia's Russian diaspora claims that the outline includes a section of western Russia that belonged to Estonia before 1944. Estonian authorities maintain that the coins feature an "artist's impression" of the country. Happily, the Russian ambassador is not rising to the bait, stating that the design might be "a millimetre out here and there," but that the shape is more or less correct.

The 1 and 2 Estonian coins do have one bold feature: raised relief maps of the country with a slight incline in the south. The ridges represent Suur Munamgi (Big Egg Mountain), the highest peak in the Baltics. The European Central Bank's official press kit [PDF] on the Estonian euro claims: "If all Estonian euro coins were stacked one on top of another, each of the countrys 15 counties would have 81 towers of coins 318 metres highthe height of Suur Munamgi."