WORLD OF WILL

We have entered Poland and we have found it to be an unexpectedly picturesque and charming country so far. And fun. Just for a warm up, we went to a town called Elk and gate-crashed a policeman's wedding. Then we camped nearby and decided to go for a cycle ride. There was a sudden downfall so we made a dash for this little village called Rozynsk and took shelt er in a barn. Once the rain had cleared, all the villagers emerged from their c ottages dressed in weird costumes and started chanting – this really was like a scene from The Wicker Man (original Edward Woodward version, not that Nicolas Cage nonsense). They formed a sort of parade and walked around the lanes playing odd music, banging d rums and singing. Some wore garlands, some traditional dress, some had strange make-up, some were on stilts. One lad was even running around spinning blazing sticks and breathing fire but that might just be what he did of a Saturday night. It was a bizarre evening to have stumbled across a

After we left Riga we headed for a town called Ogre because I'm a sucker for an amusing place name. It turned out to be aptly named, in that it was big and ugly. I'd had enough of Latvia's impossible roads by now so we decided to head for the border but even that proved traumatic. Every road we went down ended up being a dirt track. They even have a special sign to tell you that tarmac is coming to an end! At one point we were driving down a gravel track in a forest for an hour – on the map, this was a main road t o a not insubstantial town. We crossed the border into Lithuania in a little town called Skaistkalne. The second we entered Lithuania the roads improve d ten-fold and driving the van became enjoyable ag ain. Now, we weren't sure what the unit of currency was for Lithuania but it turns out it's a Lita, pronounced exactly the same as litre. Of course, the first time we found this out was trying to buy fuel just over the border. The confused conversation wit

We went canoeing down the River Gauja this week. It's no t an activity that either Claire or I have much experience of or, as it turns out, any natural aptitude for. Makar, the Latvian guy whose canoe we were hiring, had driven us 25km "up river" from our campsite, the idea being that we'd simply canoe back to where the van was. Our entire instruction and safety briefing consisted of Makar asking Claire what colour paddles she'd like. She chose yellow. He then chucked the boat in the river and dr ove off. Luckily there w as a German couple in a kayak who were going the same way as us who very kindly gave us some pointers – like which way along the river we were supposed to go. We'd also been furnished with life jackets which seemed a bit pointless because judging by the number of times we "bottomed out " (I know all the lingo) the river can only have been knee-deep for the most part. Either that or we were very good at finding all the shallow bits. W

After our hedonistic weekend in Kuressaare we, and our hangovers, headed off to the ferry to leave the island of Saaremaa, but not before visiting some old wooden windmills and a meteorite crater which was an unexpected diversion. Back on the mainland we headed to Pärnu, which is a bit of a rundown beach resort that had had its hey day somewhere in the mid 1930s – lots of crumbling, white-washed, art deco buildings and an enormous, yet deserted, beach complete with o ld wooden Baywatch towers. It felt a bit of a sad end to our stay in Estonia – the country that invented Skype, has wifi available to all and gave the music world Ultima Thule . We headed down to Valga on the border with Latvia to camp, yet again, in someone's back garden (must be an Estonian thing). The town straddles the border (on the Estonian side it's called Valga, on the Latvian side it's called Valka) and the unmanned border crossing is half way down the high street. We visited a half-hearted military

What a brilliant few days we've had in Kuressarre. We were only planning on being in the Estonain chap's back garden for one night but we've ended up being here three. Why? Well... Kuressaare is a lovely town with a lovely big castle, a beach, a harbour, busy bars and really nice cafés. We were in town having lunch at one such café (wild boar burger, highly recommended), when our ever-so-friendly waitress told us that there was a new nightclu b opening that night and there would be free champagne… that was enough for us, we were staying an extra night. We went into town around 9pm that night and had drinks at a couple of bars before ending up back in the place we'd had lunch in. There we got talking to two Estonian guys from Tallinn, called Davi and Madis, who were basically on a jolly with Davi's company and were already quite drunk when we met them. They bought us drinks and were really good fun so we told them about the new club and the four of us (and Davi'

The last couple of days have been different. We found an extraordinary art ga llery on the coast in a little village called Viinistu. As you arrive there are about 100 concrete suitcases by the quay (they represent the locals who fled the occupying Russians in 1944) which is a bit eerie. Just to up the weirdness factor, the art museum was set up by the ex business manager of Abba. True story. When we were planning this trip (I say planning – "let's go travelling" was about the sum of it) we had in our fluffy little heads that we'd just drive across Finland and maybe just pop over to St Petersburg to see a bit of Russia on our way to Estonia. Of course, what with the two of us being so useless and Russian bureaucracy being so impenetrable, we never got our act together to organise visas – plus, you may have noticed, we've completely bypassed Finland altogether. Anyway, while we happen to be in Estonia, we thought we'd trundle over to the Russian border for

For some reason I'd been expecting Estonia to be full of crumbling, Soviet-era, concrete monoliths but so far I've been very wrong. Tallinn is just beautiful. The old town is a cobbled labyrinth of little alleyways, courtyards, quaint old buildings, towers and churches. And restaurant after restaurant. Some are chic and modern, some are traditional and old, some have the waiting staff dressed as peasants from the middle ages. But the food is amazing – I can recommend elk steak! The newer part of town is modern and bustling with trams and shoppers. Everywhere you go there is the cla sh of modern life trying to wrestle its way out of the old and traditional. You can sit in a quaint little courtyard in the old town, drinking at a twee little café, and everyone will be on wifi. Little souvenir shops sit side by side with chic, high-end fashion outlets. Thi s isn't the backwater city I was expecting at all. This is the 2011 European Capital of Culture (mind you, didn't Liver

After an unimpressive start, Sweden has won us over and it seems a shame to leave – and I certainly didn't expect to leave with a tan! Our last couple of days have been really nice. We drove up the side of Lake Vättern, Sweden's second largest lake and the sixth largest lake in Europe (it's the taking part that counts), to see yet another rune stone. This one was from the 8th century and has the longest runic inscription on record – so how do they protect and care for this priceless slice of history? They build a gazebo over it and paint in all the runes with Hammerite. Sacrilege. We also saw our first Ikea store in its natural habitat. Still no moose though. We caught a train in to Stockholm which, I have to say, is a stunning city. It's literally dazzling – there are just so many things to look at and the architecture is amazing. It has been especi ally beautiful because of the glorious sunshine. The sudden heatwave has brought all the youn g , blonde Swedes out fr

We are in the middle of a mini heatwave here in Sweden. It went from grey, windy and drizzly to a Mediterranean-style scorcher, literally overnight, and we are currently on day two of cloudless sunshine. We are enjoying Sweden a lot more now! We visited Vimmerby yesterday which is the home of Astrid Lindgren who wrote Pippi Longstocking. They even had "Astrid Lindgren's World" which I guess is like Swed en's equivalent of Disneyland. Being a heterosexual male, Pippi Longstocking has never really c ropped up on my literary radar. So instead I went and got a haircut from a charming Yugoslavian c ha p called Denis. Denis speaks eight language s, cuts your hair using his own patented method involving two pairs of scissors at the same time (see pic) and then gives you a massage when he's finished. Nice. Sweden is an odd country with some odd ways (haircuts aside). It is one of those countries where it is the law to have your headlights on in the day. This is in a coun