By Eric Jansson, published at The Financial Times
For real estate developers who think big, central Tallinn has become a claustrophobic place. The property boom that energised the Baltic country after it joined the European Union in 2004 also made the centre of this city of 400,000 a more cramped place for developers to work.
Space was already scarce before the boom. Now it is scarcer. In a market where most developers prefer to start from scratch rather than renovating old buildings, strong demand for plots has sent the Estonian capital sprawling into the surrounding carrot and potato fields, where fledging suburbs now rise from the soil.
And still there is Kopli, an expansive district situated on a peninsula that points away from the Old Town into the chilly, choppy waters of the Gulf of Finland.
The area arguably represents the last great chance for real estate development near the city centre. Though it is blessed with open space like almost no other part of the capital, the district has seen little in the way of development, yet it lies minutes away from the heart of Tallinn by car, bus or tram.
“In 10 years, this will probably be one of the most valuable areas of Tallinn,” says Endel Siff, a businessman living in the city who has made much of his wealth in Russian oil transit.
To understand why a growing number of Estonian real estate experts think he is right after steering clear of Kopli for years, consider the district’s peculiar history of isolation. It spent a half century as a restricted zone during Estonia’s occupation by the Soviet Union, when the military deemed the peninsula’s port a top-secret asset.
When the country regained independence in 1991, Russian sailors quartered there stayed on for many more years. When they finally left, they stripped many of the war boats in the harbour of copper pipes to sell as scrap, causing them to capsize. They left behind an almighty mess in the water and on the land.
Yet much of what was built here under Soviet rule, residential and commercial property, remains usable and inhabited. Many of the buildings that predate 1940 have been preserved, perversely, because underinvestment has been so severe that, until recently, people somehow kept them in working shape even as they sagged and sank.
Read more: The Financial Times “A Baltic boom“