Snow, serious snow

When Estonia appears, finally, through thinning cloud beneath us, it’s like a negative of itself… or do I mean an X-ray, with its underlying structure showing through? Then again, there’s nothing new about snow here. As we land, Tallinn airport is white, with planes taxiing gingerly past massive snow-dumps — small mountains of the stuff shovelled aside, gone grey, half thawed, re-frozen and now sprinkle-snowed again. No one seems fazed.

I come wearing boots, several layers of thermal, and a serious hat, because there is a government warning out about the danger of falling icicles from the medieval eaves of the Old Town. Now I feel slightly foolish as young women skitter across the frozen cobblestones in high heels, with no sense of crisis. I smile at myself, and just the force of that does something to my balance, and I slip…

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