When Sydney-based CEO Mathew Thompson – a Brit by birth, Aussie by culture – lands in Estonia, he finds himself in a land of robotic lawnmowers, national sauna races, and near-obsessive digital efficiency. Over three weeks of exploring Tallinn, Hiiumaa and beyond, he reflects (often hilariously) on the culture shocks, charming quirks and tech wizardry of a country where even the post is delivered by robots.
For the past month, my wife Triin – a bona fide Hiiumaa-born beauty – and I, along with our six-year-old daughter, Elora, have been bouncing around Tallinn, Hiiumaa, Pärnu and various scenic corners of Estonia, doing what every good expat-in-law does: catching up with family, awkwardly trying to pronounce the letter “õ”, and pretending I understand how saunas fit into absolutely everything.
As a Brit now marinated in Aussie culture, landing in Estonia always feels like stepping into some Nordic tech-fantasy forest where robots mow your lawn, scooters threaten your ankles, and every second building has a hidden steam room.
Attack of the robot mowers
I swear, every Estonian with a square metre of lawn has a robotic lawnmower. These little contraptions shuffle silently around like polite, blind drunks at a dinner party, somehow managing to manicure entire gardens with unsettling precision. They’ve even got names. It’s like Tamagotchis had babies with Roombas and got obsessed with landscaping – it’s genuinely enjoyable just to sit and watch them.
Guess the waiter’s nationality (spoiler: it’s a game)
In Tallinn, my wife never orders food without first doing a quick background check on the waiter. “Are they actually Estonian?” she whispers, before switching to full native fluency. With Finns, Latvians, Ukrainians and Russians all in the mix, blonde hair and blue eyes are apparently the Estonian equivalent of flashing ID.
If your Estonian is “rusty”, though, don’t worry – you’re in the same company as 99.99% of the global population. Estonians, particularly the younger generation, are fantastic English speakers, so you’ll rarely be lost.
Bolt vs Uber: the Baltic beatdown
While Uber is busy world-dominating, Estonia said “nah” and crowned Bolt king. Why? Because for €3 you can travel from Tallinn to what feels like Kyiv. For patriotic Estonians, there’s even an option to choose a driver who’s a reservist in the Estonian military! Honestly, Uber didn’t stand a chance. They probably took one look, mumbled something about commercial viability, and quietly backed out.
And don’t get me started on Bolt scooters. These things are everywhere. If Vladimir ever decides to push west, Estonia could just wheel its army of electric scooters to the border. Good luck rolling a tank over 147,000 neon green trip hazards!
Population: 1.3 million. Saunas: 2.6 million?
Saunas are to Estonians what tea is to Brits and passive-aggressive apologies are to Australians. They’re everywhere: in apartments, sheds, forests, and probably under your seat at the cinema. It’s a national obsession.
Honestly, if everyone just cranked theirs up to max in January, Estonia could single-handedly reverse climate change. Let’s also not ignore the fact that we all secretly have “Sauna Races” – pick an opponent (or the entire group) and see who’s last to bail out. I did it often!
Fine dining, pricey timing
Dining out in Estonia is delicious – seriously great food – but your wallet might need CPR. A fancy night out in Tallinn costs about the same as one in Sydney, which is… bold. Considering average incomes here are lower, I assume Estonians either eat out very rarely or have mastered some kind of underground barter system involving mushrooms and black bread.
Oh look, a bear
Sure, in Australia we have great white sharks waiting to nibble your ankles, but Estonia isn’t about to lose the battle of native killers. Apparently, there are around 1,000 proper bears living in Estonia’s forests. Not those weird fluffy mascot things other countries claim – real bears. This gives Estonia one of the highest bear-to-human ratios in the world. Forget Yogi, think Baloo with a Baltic chip on his shoulder. Pack your picnic with caution, or you may get a permanent mark of your time in Estonia. Grrrrr!
Laulupidu: Estonia’s Coachella, but with national pride and real singing
Laulupidu is a massive song festival in Tallinn that was on during our visit – it unites about 100,000 people, roughly eight per cent of the Estonian population. That’s like two million Australians showing up to sing in unison at the Opera House.
My wife advised me not to go. “Too many people,” she said. Which I now realise, in Estonian terms, is any gathering over 12 – absolute mayhem. Best watched at home, where the drones capture the choreography. It’s actually beautiful.
Digital everything: Estonia is the future
This place is so digitised it makes Silicon Valley look like a dusty filing cabinet. Parking, voting, ordering a new passport – if it takes more than 90 seconds and doesn’t involve an app, it simply isn’t done. Estonia is like that one overachieving cousin who got two degrees, a six-pack, and a tech start-up while you were still Googling how to poach an egg – p.s. it’s not three minutes if you store your eggs in the fridge, maybe five!
They even have little robot couriers that deliver food. Literal R2D2s scooting around with your pizza. It’s the future – but quieter and with fewer lightsabers. Just do the right thing if you see one stuck on a kerb or upside down, and put it back on course.
Everyone’s name is… Teele?
For years I thought every shop assistant in Estonia was named Teele. Turns out my wife wasn’t giving personal shout-outs – she was saying “Aitäh Teile,” which means “thank you” (polite version). So no, there isn’t a secret Estonian naming convention for retail workers. Just my hearing being as bad as my Estonian – but I’m learning every day.
Night safety bling
Estonian law says you must wear a reflector if you’re walking at night. On a previous visit I was stopped by a police officer on Hiiumaa and, rather than cart me off to jail, he issued a small sparkly pendant for my jeans. I didn’t see a single car the whole walk home, but I did feel like the disco ball king of the second-largest island in Estonia. Glitzy!
Love without rings
In Estonia, wedding rings are optional and often skipped altogether. People live together, raise kids, and only occasionally remember to legally marry sometime before retirement. If you’re looking for love, don’t check for jewellery – check if they’ve added you to their sauna guest list. That’s true love!
Jaanipäev: a cultural eye-opener where the Sun (almost) never sets!
While winter provides Estonians with as much sun as a deep-mine coal worker, midsummer is the polar opposite. Don’t bother asking when it gets dark – seriously – as it’s just ever so slightly dim at 2am and the birds are chirping for sunrise what feels like minutes later. It must be truly exhausting to be a bird in summer!
At Hiiumaa, we enjoyed a local band with “well-known” folk songs. I say well-known, but to me everything sounded like “Oyyy Oyyy Oyyy” with some catchy beats. For this annual celebration, expect everyone to light a fire, possibly jump over it, and provide an amazing spread of food no matter the weather – heads up, when we were there, it was 16 degrees, windy, and everyone had puffer jackets on.
Conclusion: Estonia is a wonderland (with better wi-fi)
This was my sixth trip to Estonia, and somehow, it gets more interesting each time. Between the bears, the robots, the steam rooms, and the silent efficiency, I feel like I’ve stumbled into a beautiful, cold, slightly sarcastic utopia.
Would I live here? Possibly. As long as I get to name my robot lawnmower Sir Mows-a-Lot and no one minds my Anglo/Aussie accent when I ask where the nearest sauna is.
How to get to Estonia
For my home country of the UK, direct flights to Tallinn are available from Birmingham, Edinburgh, London Gatwick, London Luton (April–October), London Stansted and Manchester.
From Sydney, please take your pick, but we did it via Amsterdam. All European flights range from 2.5 to 3 hours at reasonable prices.
Tere tulemast Eestisse, my friends.