TALLINN - In the calm woods of suburban Tallinn the forest floor is invisible. It is carpeted by household garbage, dumped by careless residents in an attempt to avoid paying a small trash-collection fee. This all outrages Airi Tonison, who observes the mounting mess during weekend bicycle rides with her children. "Beautiful, isn't it?" says Tonison, her voice thick with sarcasm, as she casts an eye across the rubbish landscape. "People don't want to pay to have their garbage removed, so they take it here and forget about it."
Until recently, about one fifth of all Tallinn householders did not have a contract for garbage removal. Anyone who bothered to stroll through wooded suburbs such as Pirita, knew what they did with their trash. The banks of the Pirita River are coated in litter, a virtual plastic lining spoiling an otherwise pleasant view.
Of course, the Baltics have weathered far worse environmental degradation than this. With a history of land poisoning, oil spills and industrial pollution, a little trash on the roadside could almost be forgiven.
But now that Tallinn is attempting to position itself as an environmental leader, a more critical inspection of its green credentials may be in order.
Tallinn's mayor, the young and idealistic Juri Ratas, has a vision to create a European Green Capital award.
Under Ratas' vision, cities would compete to be named the Green Capital of Europe. Such an honor would increase environmental awareness and would spur cities to improve their way of life.
His concept is based on the European Cultural Capital award, which will be bestowed on Tallinn in 2011.
Teaching green
As Tallinn's mayor attempts to convince the European Commission of his concept, environmental groups within the city are rumbling for attention.
They believe it is hypocritical for Tallinn to raise a green flag while the flagpole remains footed in trash.
"A lot more needs to be done," says Maret Merisaar, project leader of the Estonian Green Movement group.
"This is just the start of people's education. We still cannot take this title. We should work towards it, but it is too early to take this title."
Rubbish in the forest is just one of dozens of impediments between Tallinn and its dreamed Green Capital title, Merisaar says.
She adds that the capital could take a lesson from smaller surrounding towns which have installed many prominent public recycling bins.
"They have made waste collection points so people can give it away for free. You can sort all of your waste into organic, paper, plastics and metals. There are very good examples in smaller towns. We have some of these collection points in Tallinn also, but it should be more systematic."
The Estonian Green Movement is more focused on stopping the flow of rubbish before it even leaves the supermarket. With better packaging and less plastic bags, the tide of household rubbish could be abated.
Already they have introduced an accreditation system for Estonian retailers and manufacturers who adhere to eco-friendly practices. Such businesses earn a sticker of approval which lets customers know they are buying eco-friendly goods.
"We are also introducing signs in supermarkets to encourage people to use less plastic bags, or to recycle their bags," Merisaar said.
On Merisaar's report card, Tallinn's public transport system scores low. While those in the inner-city can choose between a variety of bus, tram and trolleybus routes, the system is far less friendly for those on the outskirts of the city. It might not be so bad if those who did use the system paid their fair share, Merisaar says.
"Too many people don't buy tickets. This makes the ticket price too high, and doesn't provide enough money to improve the system. The best way would be for people to buy tickets at the front door, as (it is done in other cities)."
Merisaar says Tallinnites don't like bicycles. They are unwilling to abandon their cars, and are determined to make life hell for those who do.
But the city's biggest problem isn't rubbish, or bus fare-dodgers, or bicycle-unfriendly roads 's it's apathy. Too many residents don't care enough to change.
One volunteer who spent days helping collect litter from a roadside recalled with exasperation the reaction of passing motorists.
"They thought it was such a joke. They would laugh at us and throw more rubbish out of their windows. I gave up because I realized that no matter how much rubbish I picked up, it wouldn't make a difference to the way people behaved. What is the point?"
Mayoral plans
Ratas doesn't shy away from the problems. The city mayor speaks honestly of Tallinn's current state. "Of course we could do a lot, but I think we have a very good foundation."
He says it was never his intention to portray Tallinn as Europe's greenest city.
"We definitely didn't come up with this idea so that Tallinn could get it. At the moment this is definitely not my goal. This is a challenge for the whole of Europe, and at some point in the future, Tallinn could run for this title."
He sets a goal of 12 years for the city. In 2018, Tallinn's historic Kadriorg Park will celebrate its 300th anniversary, and Ratas envisages that the date could coincide with a Green Capital award.
There are also solutions on the horizon for rubbish collection problems. Starting this month, each household and business will be required to pay for their trash removal 's up until now it has been a voluntary service.
In 2005, the city began employing park guards to police the forests, and this year will increase their number from four to 10.
There's also hope for cyclists. Ratas believes that 50 percent of the city's roadways, instead of the current 15 percent, will one day be suitable for bikes.
"This year we will build 500 kilometers of independent cycling roads. In the center of the city we plan to open two cyclist parking lots, free of charge and guarded," Ratas said.
He also outlined plans for a free public bicycle loan system, similar to one currently operating in the French city of Lyons, which could be running in Tallinn as early as next year.
A day on a bike
Just how safe are Tallinn's roads? I decided to take up Ratas' challenge and become a cyclist for a day.
The attendant at the bike hire shop didn't help ease my concerns.
"Drivers here don't want to hit you, they just don't know to look for you," she said. "Bus drivers are the worst. They never look for bikes. It's getting better each year, but there are still problems."
She handed me a mountain bike. "Would you like a helmet?" After that spiel, who would say no?
She also kindly provided a lock, warning that bikes often rode away by themselves if not properly secured. A locked bicycle was once famously pinched from in front of the Tallinn City Council building during a press conference held to encourage more citizens to ride.
I timidly ventured onto Parnu Mnt, Tallinn's busy main road, and soon found myself competing with cars and trucks for curbside space. Several car drivers failed to notice my presence, most of them nattering into mobile phones.
But as I was warned, buses proved the most frightening adversary on the road. How ironic, I thought, as a giant green and white coach breezed past my tiny frame. We're on the same team, yet there seems to be no camaraderie between the two green-friendly methods of transport.
I was pleasantly surprised to discover a bike lane marked out for several hundred meters, but my surprise turned to confusion when the lane simply disappeared at an intersection. Where was I to go?
I fixed the bike against a post near my office, against the advice of friends who assured me it would be stolen, locked or otherwise. But it was still there when I finished work for the day. Both the bike and I survived our day on the road without injury or incident. My cycling adventure wasn't as tortuous as I had been warned, but it could have been friendlier.
Like the entire city's attitude to the environment: It's not green, but it's getting there.
