Estonia

 Cold, Grey, and Perfect: Why I Love Miserable Estonia

Life in Estonia is not for the faint of heart. The winters feel endless, a stretch of frozen silence where the sun barely bothers to rise. The wind from the Baltic slices through coats like it has a personal grudge. The streets in February look like black-and-white photographs: ice, bare branches, tired faces waiting for a bus that may or may not arrive on time.

And yet—I love it.

There’s a certain honesty in Estonia’s misery. The cold doesn’t pretend to be anything other than cold. The grey skies don’t apologize. Here, life strips itself down to the essentials: you, your resilience, and maybe a cup of scalding hot kohv to remind you that warmth still exists. The silence of an Estonian forest in January is deeper than any meditation retreat. The quiet streets, the reserved people, the absence of endless noise and false cheer—it all feels strangely liberating.

Estonia teaches you to endure. It teaches you that comfort is overrated, that beauty doesn’t need to be obvious, and that warmth—when it finally comes in spring—feels like a miracle precisely because you suffered for it.

So yes, Estonia is miserable. Cold, dark, and stubbornly indifferent to your feelings. But that’s exactly why I love it. It reminds me that life isn’t supposed to be easy—and that there’s a kind of fierce joy in surviving the chill.