Having lived 15 years at its shores, I can state that you don’t even have to enter the sea. It is enough just to have a look, to see that it is not the same, it has changed, it is already another.
It was new, when tribes of Ugro-Finns finally reached its shores after centuries of roaming, looking for home, called Viru.
It was expansionism, when the new kingdoms of Europe, fed up of conflicts with their neighbours, headed their boats east and brought new technologies in exchange for local treasures, called fur and honey.
It was courage, when a young ruler decided to enter the circle of the greatest of his time and built on its shores a city, called St. Petersburg.
It was future, when it allowed Lenin to cross its frozen waters, escaping to Finland from Tsarist police, which followed him for ideas that later built a brand new system of relations, called Soviet Republics.
It was beginning, when it became a part of a flag which a few young people raised on the ruins of war, giving birth to a new country, called Republic of Estonia.
It was scared, when the battleships of the Second World War cruised its waters and engineers filled it with explosives so hard, that decades later there are still places on the surface of the sea, which are not suitable for navigation.
It was news, when on a September night in 1994 its storms gave peace to passengers of a ship, called Estonia.
Rivers unite two banks, or two sides, or two countries. With seas it is different, as they unite cultures, nations, histories, geographical parts. Especially, when it is the Baltic Sea.