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My shadow was so long, it span across eight parking lots. I had just arrived in the country of snowy beaches, freedom songs and forest brothers. Two swords and two fish are on the emblem of the village after the Russian border: Narva. 218 km to Tallin ahead of us. I listen to Russian music as we continue the drive, 30% of Estonians are Russians, after all. The clouds in the sky remind me of baby lamb wool embedded in a sugar candy sunset. To my surprise tears of joy roll down my eyes, subconsciously I had longed to come here for years. It seems. Seventeen windmills mark the horizon, black and white cows dot the endless fields, birch tree forests engulf the landscape. We are driving West, the road straight ahead, covered by an ever-changing horizon: an orange silk scarf like canopy on one end and an `lavender field of the Provence`-canopy at the other end, clouds like Alps aglow during summer solstice night, linking both. I wrap myself in that orange silk scarf and feel embraced by Estonia. This is the beginning of a love affair.