“Here in Lithuania, everybody forages for mushrooms and berries,” said our guide Benas, as we walked through the cobbled streets of Vilnius old town, towards Amandus restaurant for lunch. “We always say that you can eat all mushrooms – just that some of them (the poisonous ones!) you can eat only once in your life.”

As the last Pagan nation in Europe to convert to Christianity and, with 33% of the country covered in forest, it is unsurprising that foraging remains a big part of daily life in Lithuania.

A Lithuanian friend of mine once told me, proudly, of how when he was younger he would spend all day searching the woodlands behind his grandmother’s house for mushrooms to sell. “One bag to pay for a ride at the fun fair, one bag to pay for a girl to ride with me,” said Povi. “And another bag to buy a couple of beers!”

On arrival at Amandus I was given the chance to get my hands on some mushrooms of my own. Luckily, these were porcini mushrooms – meaning it was not a once in a lifetime opportunity – however these foraged fungi did look completely different to any mushrooms I had seen before. Through some feat of gastronomic sorcery they had been turned into thin discs with a similar texture to meringue. I was tasked with breaking these mushroom discs into smaller shapes and pressing them together with goat cheese into fancy sandwiches.

…these foraged fungi did look completely different to any mushrooms I had seen before. Through some feat of gastronomic sorcery they had been turned into thin discs with a similar texture to meringue.

The theme of fresh, local and foraged food continued with a tasting menu of reimagined traditional dishes, such as: hazelnut and apple crackling, beetroot bread, whipped smoked eel, sharp arctic cod ceviche with grapefruit and dill, melt-in-your-mouth beef cheek with seasonal pickle and liquid nitrogen raspberry purée.

Užupis: A Country Within a City 

“I’d like to show you shabby corners of Vilnius. Mess, mess, it’s a mess where you can find everything,” said Benas as we crossed the bridge from Vilnius old town into the made-up self-declared Republic of Užupis.

“Look! Look! A sculpture of an alcoholic,” said Benas before turning around and pointing at a homeless person with a bottle of spirit.

“And there’s one in real life.” 

Užupis was originally a sanctuary for marginalised elements of society during Soviet rule, and quite rundown. However, for the most part, the district has more of a bohemian vibe these days. Buildings are brightened by the pastel colours of local street artists, installations line the riverbank and speciality coffee shops neighbour craft beer houses opposite the famous Angel of Užupis statue.

The foreign ambassador [of Uzupis] is a notoriously fat cat named Ponulis that spends most of its time in Keistoteka Bookstore.

The ‘Republic’ has its own flag, currency, mayor, constitution and cabinet members. The constitution, which features important assertions such as: “Every dog has the right to be a dog,” and “Everyone has the right to appreciate their unimportance,” can be found translated into over a dozen languages on Paupio Street. The foreign ambassador is a notoriously fat cat named Ponulis that spends most of its time in Keistoteka Bookstore.

Back in the old town Benas took us to an Amber Museum, where we downed shots of amber dissolved into 999 (a strong Lithuanian spirit made from 9 roots, 9 barks and 9 herbs… The Editor is familiar with it already). And then we visited Literatu Street (a beautiful collection of over 100 artworks dedicated to Lithuanian literature) en-route to the 45-metre high ancient bell tower.

From the top of the cathedral belfry we gazed at gorgeous panoramic views of Vilnius’ cityscape of Baroque red roofs, domes and spires stretching towards the green forests on the fringe of the capital.

From the top of the cathedral belfry we gazed at gorgeous panoramic views of Vilnius’ cityscape of Baroque red roofs, domes and spires stretching towards the green forests on the fringe of the capital.

“Here in Vilnius we don’t need city parks,” said Benas. “Because we are surrounded by greenery and lakes. It only takes 30 minutes to escape into the countryside.”

Boats & Balloons at Trakai Island Castle

True to Benas’ word, it took just over half an hour to arrive in Trakai, the ancient capital of Lithuania and a popular daytrip from Vilnius.

The scenic archipelago is made up of over 200 lakes and its crowning glory is the 14th century Trakai Island Castle, a majestic Medieval palace standing in the middle of Lake Galvė.

Our examination of the castle began with a relaxing lap of its burnt orange turrets in a boat. Then we drove to a nearby field, where things really started to heat up.

A frighteningly loud flame bellowed a few inches above my head in the disconcertingly small basket, as our pilot prepared for take-off.

A frighteningly loud flame bellowed a few inches above my head in the disconcertingly small basket, as our pilot prepared for take-off.

It was a surreal, heart in mouth moment when our hot air balloon finally started to rise. Weightlessly, we floated higher and watched the people, trees and cars beneath us dissolve into tiny inconsequential shapes.

Serenely, we drifted to heights of around 1,000 metres for awesome panoramic views of Trakai’s green spiky pine forests and squiggly cloud-shaped islands. Then, as we approached the Island Castle, our pilot let us drop to what felt like touching distance of the medieval orange turrets.

After the breathtaking, truly memorable and highly recommended hot air balloon experience, we stopped by Ertlio Namas for a delectable tasting menu of centuries-old Lithuanian dishes: Medieval, Renaissance and Baroque recipes found in old manor houses and monasteries, playfully reinterpreted for the modern age.

Accomplished plates of sturgeon and eel terrine, parsnip soup with saffron and veal, pheasant breast with cranberry sauce and chocolate plum dessert were matched with tasty cider, wine and port. 

Big Stones & Eerie Crosses

After recharging at the comfortable city centre Congress Avenue hotel, we set off for Anyksciai forest, home of a very important boulder.

“Every child in Lithuania has heard of Puntukas Stone,” said our new guide Linas as we breathed in the crisp forest air, scented with pine resin and thyme. “It is the second biggest stone in Lithuania and features in a famous poem ‘The Forest of Anyksciai.’”

Walking through the forest of Anyksciai, through scores of pine, birch, maple, ash and poplar trees, we stopped to hear the rhythmic thuds of a woodpecker against a tall trunk.

Walking through the forest of Anyksciai, through scores of pine, birch, maple, ash and poplar trees, we stopped to hear the rhythmic thuds of a woodpecker against a tall trunk.

“Another interesting thing,” said Linas, pointing to a green patch of wild sorrel on the forest floor. “Is the second longest word in Lithuanian, which roughly translates to ‘those of masculine gender, who are no longer foraging for wood sorrel leaves by themselves.’”

“However, this year,” added Linas as we entered a metal treetop walkway with tremendous views of the forest. “They came up with a new word, which means ‘those who are no longer fed up by blogging.’” 

Later, not in the slightest bit fed up by blogging, we pulled up alongside a convoy of trucks filled with orchard apples for a delicious and hearty lunch at Perinos Gastrobaras. I started with a cold, creamy, pink saltibarsciai beetroot soup and a local apple wine. “I’ve had hundreds of these beetroot soups in my life and almost every one is different,” said Linas, dipping a hot potato chip into the thick soup. 

“I’ve had hundreds of these beetroot soups in my life and almost every one is different,” said Linas.

After a huge bowl of spinach, cheese and zucchini fusilli, we headed to Kalita Hill Alpine Coaster for an exhilarating toboggan ride. Three goes careening around the corners later we drove to the famous Hill of Crosses.

The landmark tells a story of rebellion. It is thought that the crosses first appeared in 1864 after a massacre carried out by the Russian Tsar. Although the Russians demolished the shrines, the local Lithuanian population endeavoured to replace them.

History began repeating itself during the Soviet era, when the hill was demolished with bulldozers at least three times. Each time the local population risked the wrath of the Soviet powers and replaced the crosses on the very same night.

History began repeating itself during the Soviet era, when the hill was demolished with bulldozers at least three times. Each time the local population risked the wrath of the Soviet powers and replaced the crosses on the very same night.

During our visit there were over 100,000 crosses laid by people from all over the world at this eerie yet compelling symbol of Lithuanian unity and rebellion.

Grilled Game, Boozy Saunas & Late Night Lake Swims

“The owner is a little obsessed with hunting,” said Linas as we arrived at Villa Dubgiris, a complex of luxury wooden cabins in a secluded lake-side location in the Mazeikiai region. “There should be some tasty meats on the menu tonight.”

We spent some time sitting on the jetty, admiring the silent blue surface of the lake before settling into our respective animal-themed rooms to get ready for dinner.

In the ‘Banquet Hall,’ a warm, rotund two-storey building with large windows, natural wooden columns and rustic fittings designed by local blacksmiths, I feasted on a succulent pink-in-the-middle roe deer steak. We also shared a plate of cured game: thin slices of salami made from venison, roe deer and wild boar.

After dinner Linas and I each took a pint of ice-cold Svyturys Ekstra Lithuanian lager into the plush Dubgiris spa. The bathhouse was kitted out with water fountains, beige sculptures and Roman mosaics.

“You know, saunas were, and still are, a massive part of Lithuanian culture,” said Linas as we sweltered in the Siberian fir-scented sauna. “They were originally created with the function of washing in mind, but they evolved to be very important socially as well.”

“You know, saunas were, and still are, a massive part of Lithuanian culture,” said Linas as we sweltered in the Siberian fir-scented sauna. “They were originally created with the function of washing in mind, but they evolved to be very important socially as well.”

Freezing winter temperatures in Medieval Lithuania meant that it was impossible for families to store water for washing. Instead they built outhouses with fire pits to bathe and cleanse. Traditionally, men would enter first, when the sauna is hottest, followed by the women and children. “These weekly gatherings are still very important for many communities,” said Linas. “This is where issues get settled.”

To cool off, we left the ancient bathing hut and tiptoed across the grass to the lake, where the swirling sparkles of the Milky Way reflected off its glassy black surface. The vastness of the icy water pulled me in and I left feeling refreshed, and slightly euphoric.

Towards Russia with Love

The next day we headed to the nearby Cold War Museum in Plokstyne. Set in an underground bunker, the museum exhibits include a timeline of the Cold War, old generator rooms and a collection of Soviet and Western propaganda.

Built in secret from the Lithuanian people during the 1960s, the Soviet nuclear missile base had enough firepower to wipe out most of Europe.

Built in secret from the Lithuanian people during the 1960s, the Soviet nuclear missile base had enough firepower to wipe out most of Europe.

When we re-emerged from the gloomy subterranean tunnel we set off for the Curonian Spit – a 98km long sand-dune strip of land that separates the Curonian Lagoon from the Baltic Sea, and connects Lithuania to the Russian territory of Kaliningrad.

Luckily, all fears of a nuclear apocalypse were cast away when we arrived at the stylish Monai restaurant in Klaipeda for a delicious lunch of autumnal seedy soup with artisan muffins and a plate of velvety cod loin in white wine sauce with al dente parsnips, potatoes and radishes.

After crossing the ferry from Klaipeda to the Spit, we drove along a forested road until we reached the Hill of Witches. “Most of these pagan wooden sculptures were built by Lithuanian artists in the summer of 1979,” said Linas as we strolled past dark wood dragons, bearded men and princesses. “The Soviets allowed them to honour Lithuania’s Pagan heritage because this area was closed off to the public. The civilian population was not able to see the transgressive sculptures.”

One particular sculpture that stood out was a black ghoul-encrusted archway with an extremely intricate and distressing devil behind it. It’s said that if you walk beneath the arch you will never return.

“Are you going under?” I asked a passer-by.

“Under that? God no!” The conviction in his reply was enough to keep me away too.

After gazing across the Curonian Lagoon at another border (the Lithuanian border with Russian Kaliningrad), we rented bicycles and explored the resort town of Nida. I worked up a hefty appetite during the scenic bike ride (and Baltic Sea swim), which was promptly satisfied by a three-course dinner of tomato and red pepper soup, bacon-wrapped chicken breast with girasole mushrooms and a pot of Eton mess at Skalva Hotel.

Street Art in Kaunas

Kaunas, Lithuania’s second city, is home to a thriving street art scene. It all started in 2013 with a bespectacled, cosmic pipe smoking fella located on the facade of an abandoned shoe factory.

It all started in 2013 with a bespectacled, cosmic pipe smoking fella located on the facade of an abandoned shoe factory.

‘The Wise Old Man’ mural kick-started a wave of street art across the city, breathing life into everything from sketchy tunnels to residential courtyards and university campuses.

“That’s actually the artist who created this gallery,” said Linas, pointing towards a man painting a black and white woman onto a lilac wall. “He began the Courtyard Gallery by painting portraits of all the residents of this block.”

The space, known as the only gallery open 24/7 in Kaunas, now features everything from colourful murals and mirrored mosaics to suspended chairs and lofty installations. Apart from becoming an important section of Kanuas’ cultural tapestry, the inventive artwork has helped foster a sense of community among the residents.

“For example, these bins are always clean now,” said Linas. “At least since that yellow cat has been watching over them.”

On the way to lunch we stopped by a gigantic pastel pink elephant, which was drawn to represent the love proclaimed in a small piece of graffiti reading: ‘Deima + Arwnas,’ plus a beautiful Leonardo da Vinci chessboard mural.

Vista Puode is another top class restaurant specialising in fresh, seasonal interpretations of traditional Lithuanian cuisine, a fitting place for my last supper in the country. I tried another portion of cold saltibarsciai soup – this one thinner and more vinegary than the last – with a tower of fried potato pancakes with sharp garlic curd and a craft IPA from Klaipeda brewery Bocmano Usai. Not a bad way to say goodbye to Lithuania.

Josh was invited on this trip as a guest of the Lithuanian Tourist Board. All opinions are his own. Don’t forget to check out all our Lithuania travel tips and stories here.

About Josh Ferry Woodard

Josh Ferry Woodard is a freelance travel writer based in London. You can find his work on sites such as Reader's Digest, Huffington Post, Roads & Kingdoms, Slate, Paste, Spotted By Locals & many more.

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The post Lithuania: Hot Air Balloons & Haute Cuisine appeared first on Urban Travel Blog.

Main Attractions	Getting Here
Hipsters Guide	More Info
Events & More	Read This
Hotels & Beds	Watch This
Food & Restaurants	Listen To This
Bars & Clubs	City Map

Vilnius was founded by Grand Duke Gediminas in the 14th century supposedly after camping out in the hills above the bend in the river Neris and dreaming of an Iron Wolf (one of the better origins for a medieval city). A mere 700 years later, if Gediminas was to gaze down on his city he would see a gorgeous city wrought with character, a city which is looking to the future just as it builds on its long past.

North of the river has become synonymous with the new: skyscrapers reach towards the heavens, high rise apartments are stacking up and big Baltic business is beginning to boom. In the South it’s the sight of ancient steeples jutting into the air which reminds us that this is a city rich in history and tradition. Ever since Gediminas laid the first stone, the old town, with its abundance of churches, has been the throbbing heart of the Vilnius. Not much has changed in that regard; the meandering cobbled streets bustle and buzz with students and twenty-somethings who bring this ancient city to life every day – and put it to bed every night. Besides being a big University town, Vilnius is increasingly attracting the young and upwardly mobile from all around Lithuania not to mention a steady influx of foreign investors, ex-pats and (yes, dear reader) tourists.

Despite being the lesser known of the three Baltic capitals (Riga and Tallinn being the others), Vilnius is by far the most welcoming, arguably the most beautiful and, befittingly, the hardest to get to. The relative difficulty of actually getting here has proven to be one of the city’s most precious qualities as it has been spared the onslaught of British stag dos and American fanny-packers that other Central and Eastern European cities have been flooded with in the last decade. Vilnius isn’t an obvious city and it won’t knock you out immediately, but its mysterious charm slowly draws you in. The capital encapsulates the carefree (and sometimes clumsy) innocence of an up-and-coming city that is growing, expanding and moving at an eccentric pace.

Best of the Beaten Track

One of Vilnius’ pet names is the City of a 100 Churches and undoubtedly one of the first things you’ll notice is the austere beauty and amazing diversity of these structures of religious worship. Like other cities on the Amber belt (not an actual clothing accessory), numerous nations have planted their flag and staked their claim to this city over the last 1,000 years or so.

This sometimes volatile history is best represented by the diversity of churches. The place to start is the Gates of Dawn (aka the Sharp Gate) which doubles as both the southernmost gate to the old city (5 mins from train and bus stations) and the keeper of one of the most sacred religious icons in all of Europe. The icon in question is a painting of The Holy Virgin which was immortalized by Polish/Lithuanian (not necessarily in this order) poet Adam Mickiewicz (Adomas Bernardas Mickevičius in Lithuanian). The illustrious lady alone is worth taking a peak inside the Gate’s chapel.

The entire old town is jam-packed with churches. If it is in fact your bag to wander, gaze at and ponder beautiful religious monuments then you are, almost literally, in heaven… or at least on your way. Some must sees are The Church of Saint Peter and Paul (more the interior than the exterior), the Holy Spirit Russian Orthodox Church, St Anne’s and the Bernadine Church (which are both guarded by a modernist statue of old Adas himself) and finally the Main Cathedral and Belltower in the Cathedral Square.

The best way to take in the whole of the Vilnius cityscape is to climb the “Hill of Three Crosses” (must have taken them ages to come up with that one). The origins of the Three Crosses monument are somewhat controversial to say the least (if you ask around you’re likely to hear several tragic accounts), but this does not belie the fact that they safeguard the best panoramic view of all of Vilnius. If you are still wondering how many churches there actually are in this town, this spot is your best bet for steeple counting.

Hipster’s Guide

Vilnius is a small enough city that, as long as you can keep off the alus before noon, you can traverse most of the centre in a single day. One district however that you can easily overlook (but shouldn’t) is across the river Vilnelė in the East part of town. Well, district is actually an insult as Užupis is in fact its own independent Republic, complete with its own passports, currency and even a constitution (in the running for most poignant ever). The first official act of the Republic was to build a statue to revered humanitarian and chin puppet enthusiast Frank Zappa (a random but worthwhile treasure hunt).

Whether you or even locals take Užupis (and the endearingly insane artists that inhabit it) seriously is entirely besides the point. The best thing to do is just go with the flow and you’ll discover a funky bohemian district packed with eclectic bars like Snekutis, a wooden shack where you can grab a local beer and a plate of pigs’ ears, and Uzupio Kavine, where you can have a coffee and as the river Vilnelė babbles by, as well as Berlinesque grafitti, surreal street art and an overall attitude that proclaims casual civil disobedience. The real irony is that since the rather radical Republic was founded in 1997, it has become increasingly popular among Vilnius’ jet-set yuppies and politicians (even the corrupt former mayor bought a place here, bless his black heart).

In recent years a glut of alternative venues have added a touch of Berlin flavour to the capital, such as Peronas, occupying an abandoned platform on the train station (see our feature photo), and Keule Ruke, where pulled pork burgers are served in an old wagon whilst Putin and Trump french-kiss on the wall outside. During the warmer months the Open Kitchen street food festival (borrowed from Ljubljana) welcomes customers every Friday, creating a cool summer lunch spot for hungry hipsters.

Experience & Events

Lithuania was officially the last Pagan country in Europe to be converted to Christianity, and as they say old habits die hard. There are several major festivals and countless traditions throughout the year that provide ample opportunity for one to get in touch with their inner cave man. The main event however is the Summer solstice, aka The Feast of Saint John (also known as Jonines or Rasos). There is a lot of tossing of wreaths into the Neris River and casting of spells and generally publicly-sanctioned debauchery. If you are fortunate enough to hook up with some locals heading out of town you may get to see some fire sculptures, jump a bonfire or two, hunt a midnight fern, douse a couple virgins and wash it all off with some morning dew! Fun for the whole family.

If you’re up for a great day trip to an idyllic medieval castle on a pastoral lake get thee to Trakai.

Pillow Talk

Like most cities, Vilnius has a variety of options for the sleep seeker. The best backpacker hostel by FAR is HostelGate – with the finest location in town and by far the best crew of locals and travel weathered receptionists (read: vagabonds) who will not only make sure your stay is comfortable but will personally ensure you enjoy your experience (possibly holding your head over the toilet if required). For your fast-talking entrepreneur-types that can’t easily go an hour without blue-toothing your iThingy and tweetering on your FaceSpace – E-Guesthouse is your place. Don’t let the guesthouse name fool you – this is actually a hip hotel that has more amenities than a lot of 5 stars can shake a stick at. If you and your wallet prefer a more bourgeois boudoir, then take up residency at Hotel Tilto just off Cathedral Square. They call themselves a boutique Irish Hotel and they offer elegant but cozy rooms complete with antique furniture and hardwood floors, sublime services and, as you might expect, a hearty restaurant and “Guinness bar”.

Fork Out

Much like their Polish, Belorussian and Latvian neighbors – Lithuanian food is heavy and hearty, earthy and girthy. The breadth and variety of potato dishes alone is truly staggering. We dare you to actually finish two ‘zepelins’ or cepelinai in Lithuanian (and yes these are indeed huge potato blimps stuffed with…?). And if you can get through a whole plate of vedarai (pig intestine stuffed with potato) you most likely have Lithuanian blood in your veins. You can try all of these dishes at Aline Leiciai. Lithuanian food aside, Vilnius is filled with plenty of great other culinary options. Most recently there has been a trend for cozy niche Bistro’s with small but flexible menus such as In Vino (which also doubles as the hottest wine bar in town). If you are looking for something completely different make sure you dine at the surrealistic Belgian beer house Rene. Pan Asian Briusly and Zoe’s Grill are both worth a spin as well. For a hot dog, accompanied by a DJ, in a romantic courtyard try Mano Kiemas.

Drop In

If you haven’t gotten the impression yet, Vilnius is a quirky city with a subtle but incessant charm. The city really starts to shine however, when the sun goes down. Alcohol is a huge part of Lithuanian culture and indeed daily/nightly life. If you are a lover of Lithuanian beer and spirits (triple nine, crazy vodkas and meads) then you are in luck/trouble. For a small city, Vilnius packs a hefty nightlife punch and you’ll be able to find whatever kind of nocturnal entertainment you may or may not be looking for. For starters, head to Cafe De Paris – which is the essential Vilnius pre-game destination. After 8pm it is usually packed to the gills with local boho types getting into it. If you prefer a funky cocktail bar head to the jam-packed Mojitos Naktys and watch Tadas perform his cocktail acrobatics (…the best mojito I’ve ever slurped). And if it’s a straight up meat market your looking for you can ply your trade while sipping watered-down overpriced drinks at Prospekto Pub. Serious clubbers are best making a beeline for Opium or Kablys… the latter even serves up a mean brunch the day after. For a fuller flavour read up on our Editor’s wild night out in Vilnius. (Not to mention his travel memories here!).

Getting There

It wasn’t long ago that a sum total of zero budget airlines made their way to the Lithuanian capital, but thankfully you can now reach Vilnius courtesy of Ryanair and Wizzair, whilst a number of traditional carriers also touch down here. Many travelers, on a grand tour of the Baltics, arrive via Eurolines (or their evil Russian cousin Ecolines) from either Warsaw or Riga depending which direction they’re headed, whilst its worth Googling around for other coach and bus options too. There has been talk of a high speed train (140 km+) that will eventually connect the Baltics with Warsaw but the crisis has set back the project.

More Juice

City Spy website has an interactive Vilnius map with extensive guide and recommendations. Print the map before you go. Vilnius Life is a great online portal for all things Vilnius with a strong focus on nightlife options and reviews. The Vilnius Official Site is an increasingly great resource with all the general what, where, when and hows and some inspirational ideas as well.

Hard Copy

Few people know that the reliable city guides In Your Pocket.com actually started off in Vilnius. The bi-monthly print guide stays up to date about all the new openings and candidly shares their sometimes condemning and always irreverent reviews.

Silver Screen

Lending credibility to our assertion that Vilnius is one of Europe’s most romantic cities the film 2 Nights Til Morning chronicles the brief love affair of a French architect and Finnish DJ, when they get stuck in the Lithuanian capital due to the timely appearance of a volcanic ash cloud. Meanwhile scenes of the lavish BBC adaption of Tolstoy’s War and Peace were shot in St. Nikolai’s church, Lukiskiu Monastery and Gediminas Castle as well as several other locations around the city.

Soundtrack to the City

No Front Teeth – Metal on Metal
Stargazing – Flamingo
Juoda Juoda Juoda Juoda Naktis – Solo Ansamblis
Bango Collective
Old Dudes singin’ folk songs

Vilnius is considered by Urban Travel Blog as one of the best affordable city breaks in Europe! Read up on all our selections here.

About Thymn Chase

Thymn Chase is an American writer, journalist and musician living in Krakow, Poland. He has contributed as a writer and editor for magazines such as Lost in Krakow, B East, and the Krakow Post among others and is the Central & Eastern Europe Editor of City Spy Map.

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The post Long Weekend: Vilnius appeared first on Urban Travel Blog.

Vilnius’ Capital Days festival finds the city in fine fettle. The broad pedestrianised Gedimino Prospektas – the main shopping street that leads all the way to the city’s startling ice-white Cathedral – is abuzz with traffic that slows down to admire street exhibitions of pop art, or else pulls to the kerb for grilled sausages and beers, drinking in the last of the day’s glorious September sunlight along with the ale. Amongst that traffic, Lineta, Virgis and I are hurrying along to the Veiksmai stage to catch a concert by Solo Ansamblis, a local band that are playing as part of the festivities.

“I’m jealous of you being a tourist here in Vilnius,” says Lineta… “The city is alive again!

“I’m jealous of you being a tourist here in Vilnius,” says Lineta, clearly enjoying the hustle and bustle on the street. “The city is alive again! In summer time Vilnius is empty – only tourists are going around, nothing is happening. The real fun begins from 1st September, when the Capital Days start. All the students come back, all the workers are returning from their holidays – the city is again how it is supposed to be, with everybody who belongs here.”

The Capital Days Festival (Sostines Dienos in Lithuanian) is a three day event with art, workshops and entertainment, but most of all music. Six stages line the Gedimino Prospektas, continuing into Bernadinai Gardens, with the main stage occupying none other than Cathedral Square. Taking place at the start of the September the festival symbolises the start of the cultural year, after the summer hiatus, and offers a spotlight for homegrown Lithuanian bands to showcase themselves, with a sprinkling of international stars thrown in for good measure. All of the concerts are free.

If I was nervous that Lithuania’s “local bands” would share a standard with sixth form school boys belting out rock covers during Rag Week, then it didn’t take long for Solo Ansamblis to assuage my fears.

If I was nervous that Lithuania’s “local bands” would share a standard with sixth form school boys belting out rock covers during Rag Week, then it didn’t take long for Solo Ansamblis to assuage my fears. Their brooding industrial beats overlaid with guitars (played by extravagantly quiffed hipsters) wouldn’t sound (or look) out of place at Barcelona’s notoriously hip Primavera Sound festival and I soon find myself doing my best emo-nod along to the rhythm.

A few years ago, I might not have been so lucky to hear this type of music, as Virgis explains. “There were always talented [Lithuanian] artists, but they were more in the underground – only a few were in the big stages. On the big stage and on TV everything was dominated by mainstream pop music. I mean music made with little talent, that is mostly marketed, mostly commercial. But now it’s changing. There are so many talented people using the Internet and social media to reach people that these bands are growing from the underground… they are getting invited everywhere, music festivals, everything. As a result the Lithuanian public are changing their taste and they start to understand what is good music as well.”

“There are so many talented people using the Internet and social media to reach people that these bands are growing from the underground… the Lithuanian public are changing their taste and they start to understand what is good music as well.”

If Virgis is more interested in contemporary music trends, Lineta is more attentive on the subject of fashion. “Everyone is looking so nice,” she exclaims, after running the rule on the crowd’s clothing choices. “In Vilnius in downtown you can see just nice people. They look very fashionable, especially the young people, and whenever I’m in the centre I feel like I’m Vogue magazine pages – everybody is so stylish and I love it. Maybe we cannot win a competition with London or Milan,” she concedes, “but anyway we have really good taste of style.”

As Solo Ansamblis wrap up it’s time to head down to Cathedral Square for the main concerts of the night, starting with Beissoul & Einius, a bombastic electro duo whose Kate Bush-esque dance moves in a Macklemore thrift shop style fur coat caught my attention as much as the music. These were followed by the internationally renowned German electro outfit Digitalism, who funky dance-friendly beats proved a great way to round off the programme for the night.

I joined my travelling partner in crime Pierre Le Van from Voyage Forever at Kablys, an out-of-town nightspot where walls of speakers pound out dark techno and drum’n’bass in curtained off rooms full of wide-eyed party animals…

After Digitalism it was time for Lineta and Virgis to go home and, whilst it was nothing to do with the festival, my journalistic integrity behoves me to mention that I did not go to bed… but rather I joined my travelling partner in crime Pierre Le Van from Voyage Forever at Kablys, an out-of-town nightspot where walls of speakers pound out dark techno and drum’n’bass in curtained off rooms full of wide-eyed party animals. After several hours of drinking, dancing and chatting to girls literally half my age, I stumbled home with the happy reassurance that Vilnius’ nightlife was just as entertaining as when I was last here…

The next day there was time for dinner and drinks in the uberhip courtyard of Mano Kiemas before Pierre, myself, Lineta, Virgis and other assorted Lithuanian friends made our way back to Cathedral Square this time for a concert by none other than Andrius Mamontovas. As people sang and swayed along, cheered, clapped and held lighters in the air, Lineta briefed me on the importance of this semi-mythical musician.

“They had such a strong voice, they made such a big difference, everybody, my parents, my grandparents, everybody knows them… it wasn’t about a political agenda, it was about the voice that said you should do something.”

“During the Soviet Union this guy was creating our spirit, saying that we should do something and fight for our independence. He had a band called Foje, which is so important to us that we study their music at school. They had such a strong voice, they made such a big difference, everybody, my parents, my grandparents, everybody knows them. The difference was because of his lyrics, it wasn’t about a political agenda, it was about the voice that said you should do something. When you listen to his music and you understand what he means to us, you are transported to such a special mood, you are dreaming and you are just remembering all these times”

As we dance, sing and joke and drink an overly strong mix of rum and coke from a seemingly never-ending bottle, it’s hard to imagine life here in Lithuania before the collapse of the Iron Curtain. Those difficult years did however give rise to a special form of creativity, explains Virgis. “Our independence was peacefully fought for one or two years. There were meetings of people, and different kind of events, including concerts and music festivals. Soviet police would try to stop them somehow, but there were bureaucratic ways how to avoid them… for example Western music like hard rock was forbidden, so what they did was they created music so that it sounded like a parody, with sarcastic lyrics. They wanted to hold a music event that was on ‘the allowed list’, so they said to the authorities ‘it’s a parody of the west.’ It’s actually very interesting to listen to those songs, because they all sound a bit funny. It’s a very peculiar thing because all songs from that period have some irony and sarcasm – but also a lot of metaphors. For example everyone knew that when they sing about zombies, they were singing about Russian soldiers. But in that way they could sing and they could perform publicly.”

“It’s a very peculiar thing because all songs from that period have some irony and sarcasm – but also a lot of metaphors. For example everyone knew that when they sing about zombies, they were singing about Russian soldiers.”

After Mamontovas signs off with a crowd-pleasing finish, the night is still relatively young. A short drive away in an old factory complex, there is another music festival running concurrently with Capital Days called the Loftas Fest. You need tickets for the main acts, but I’m assured that plenty will be going on in and around the complex for us to check out, so we hop in a taxi. Well all except Pierre, who rather overdid it the night before.

If Capital Days is mildly geared towards the mainstream, Loftas is about as hipster as it gets. Around the industrial complex various art installations are on display, from mannequins perched on wheelie bins to dangling light cables, this would be a fun place to explore, with or without a fiesta going on. After refuelling at the street food trucks, we find ourselves drawn towards the circus tent, erected in the middle of the zone, which surprises us by housing an actual circus (I was sure it was going to be ironic!). And so we settle down to watch flamethrowers, knife wielders, clowns and acrobats do their thing. Once the show is over, we seek out some music and chance upon a garage-esque opening, where a DJ is spinning twisted electronica at the bottom of a concrete slope. We take the chance to use the luminous chalk provided to draw pictures on the wall. Finally we decide to follow the throngs as they head into one of the zone’s larger buildings and descend into a James Bond villain’s lair of subterranean passages that finally lead to sweaty, cramped and airless stage. I’m glad we do though, as the Russian DJ – Oligarkh – accompanied by two maniacal drummers, proves to be a musical highlight of the night, creating an intense mosh pit of energy in this musty cavern of a room.

After refuelling at the street food trucks, we find ourselves drawn towards the circus tent, erected in the middle of the zone, which surprises us by housing an actual circus…

By now we’re pretty much done with the festival, but I’ve heard about this club I want to check out and so I persuade Virgus and Lineta to accompany me to Opium back in the centre. The atmosphere is electric, but it turns out that whilst my mind is willing, my body is out of battery. Besides as a sober, nearly 40-something, average Joe I feel distinctly out of place amongst the elegantly-wasted, intimidatingly-tall Lithuanian elite party people. It’s time to retire to my comfy chambers at the Artis hotel and I leave the more spritely Virgus and Lineta on the dancefloor.

It’s been an epic couple of days, but it ain’t quite over yet. My Lithuanian buddies need the night off – it’s now Sunday after all – but thankfully Pierre has recovered from his Friday night exertions, so we brave the rain and head to Cathedral Square once more for the Capital Days closing concert: Jazzanova. Understandably, given the weather, the crowd is a small fraction of the Friday and Saturday night turnout and Pierre and I decide to stand back, observing the concert from a distance in the dry spot under the eaves of the Cathedral. However a few songs in, seduced by the lively energy of the band, we decide to muck in under the rain, stomping our feet to electro-jazz rhythms right up to the festival’s finale. It was the least that Capital Days deserved.

Duncan’s trip to Vilnius was kindly assisted by Go Vilnius together with the four star Artis Hotel, which is perfectly situated just a few minutes from Gedimino Prospektas and the Cathedral Square (with pool and saunas for detoxing). All views are his own. Click here for more stories on the lovely Lithuanian capital.

About Duncan Rhodes

Duncan is the Editor-in-Chief of Urban Travel Blog, a born and bred city slicker who loves urban adventure, street art, killer bars and late night hotspots. More about Duncan here.

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Maybe it’s because it is still flying underneath the radar of mainstream tourism, perhaps it’s because it is home to such offbeat treasures as a statue of Frank Zappa (who has nothing to do with Lithuania) and the Republic of Uzupis (an independent district whose constitution asserts that every “dog has the right to be a dog”), or maybe it’s simply the fact that it seems to be populated solely by girls aged 18 to 25… but I can’t help but love the Lithuanian capital of Vilnius.

After pootling around Poland in my friend’s 20-year-old campervan during Euro 2012 last year, I decided it was high time I revisited the Baltic States and specifically the cities of Vilnius and Tallinn, which I had first explored back in 2002. It turned out to be a fantastic decision. Apart from finding plenty of enthusiastic people to watch the remaining games of the Euros with, I was able to party in true Lithuanian fashion… which basically means overindulging in alcohol, embracing the spirit of adventure and revelling in complete randomness. And quite what happens during one blurry night in Vilnius you can read about right here in my latest post (clue: it involves toxic soup, terrible chat up lines and armwrestling)!

But now I have a confession. That was only my second best night out in Vilnius.

My friends decided it was high time to catch up on some Zs, but this party was so pre-hipster hipster that I decided to grab myself a few tinnies from the offie and try to make some new friends.

Because ten years ago I enjoyed such a bizarre night out that I still smile to myself now when I recall it. My travelling companions and I had arrived in the Lithuanian capital sometime in April 2002 in bad shape after five nights partying in Krakow and an excruciating nine hour wait on a cold spring night at the city’s then shelterless bus station. Exhausted and half dead we dragged ourselves out of our cosy hotel (we couldn’t find a hostel) and went to the nearest Irish pub for some comfort food after our demoralising journey. It was something like a Tuesday night and the city was stone dead, with barely a soul in sight, so on the way back from the pub we were pretty surprised when we stumbled upon a large throng of hip young things spilling out of a warmly lit doorway.

“We’re only in Vilnius for one night,” I reasoned with the others.

And so we wandered into this urbane space full of retro designer furniture and Bohemian-looking locals. After nosing around in vain looking for a drink, eventually I had to ask one of the punters: “Excuse me where is the actual bar, in this bar?”

“This isn’t a bar,” he smiled. “It’s a private party. But there’s a shop around the corner. You can buy something to drink and come back.”

Pulling up into the shadows of a Soviet high-rise estate didn’t make me feel much better, especially as a group of bored-looking skinheads were milling around glaring at us with hostile intent.

My friends decided it was high time to catch up on some Zs, but this party was so pre-hipster hipster that I decided to grab myself a few tinnies from the offie and try to make some new friends. The same guy who had pointed me in the direction of the liquor store shortly informed me that five of the six most important contemporary cultural figures of Vilnius were at this party, and I was pretty pleased with myself for having gatecrashed the best shindig in town. Indeed I was chatting to the gorgeous and debonair lady who owned the design store we were partying in, when someone grabbed me by the shoulder. It was the DJ.

“Hey Duncan, we’re going to my house to smoke a spliff. Are you coming?”

I was surprised to hear him address me by name, because I was pretty sure I hadn’t spoken to him all night. But hey when in Vilnius…

What I didn’t realise at the time of accepting the invitation was that “we” was just the two of us, and, wherever his house was, we were driving there in his beat-up car.

“I have to go the long way around,” explained Rufas (real name long forgotten), “because the police station is right over there.”

We drove easily long enough for me to feel very uncomfortable that I was in a complete stranger’s car, in a still wild Eastern European city (to my eyes at least), and that the aforementioned stranger was far from sober. Pulling up into the shadows of a Soviet high-rise estate didn’t make me feel much better, especially as a group of bored-looking skinheads were milling around glaring at us with hostile intent. Rufas however simply acted as if they weren’t there and led me to his groundfloor flat. His friend unbolted the door, revealing a disgustingly messy living room saturated in a thick haze of marijuana smoke. Well it was safe at least.

Rufas then proceeded to roll a joint the size of Duke Gediminas’ moustache and tell me, start to finish – in between protracted giggling sessions – the entire history of dance music in Lithuania.

Rufas then proceeded to roll a joint the size of Duke Gediminas‘ moustache and tell me, start to finish – in between protracted giggling sessions – the entire history of dance music in Lithuania. He finished with a sermon about the future of electronica and a new concept of club night he had started called Never 130 (ie. never music of 130 beats per minute, the standard BPM at the time).

I listened patiently for at least an hour, before I ventured: “Shouldn’t we be heading back to the party?”

“Good idea!” he said as if it had never occurred to him until now. We managed to drive back safely and Rufas took straight to the decks and laid down one of the best sets I’ve ever heard. Shame no one except me was listening by then… but I definitely appreciated it.

And whereas the cute designer I had been chatting too earlier had fallen unconscious by now, my love affair with Vilnius, at least, was consummated.

And whereas the cute designer I had been chatting too earlier had fallen unconscious by now, my love affair with Vilnius, at least, was consummated.

*******************************************************************

Ok ok enough story telling already, but safe to say Vilnius is a place where awesome things happen. Where else would the female-deprived University Physics Departments build a motorised dinosaur to capture a fair maiden from the overstocked Philology building? Only in Vilnius folks! And if you haven’t read Thymn Chase’s excellent insider’s guide to the Lithuanian capital then you really should.

What else has been happening on Urban Travel Blog as of my last update? Well since we launched Urban Travel Blog “On The Road”, Vince Robbins has returned from his Asian Odyssey to his native Los Angeles… but his journey is still very much alive. The last stop saw him reach Kuala Lumpur, although if you haven’t been following every step of the journey (shame on you!) then I’d recommend going back in time a bit. Some of my favourite ‘episodes’ so far have seen Vince get attacked by a monkey in the ruins of Hampi, pen his reactions to visiting India’s legendary Taj Mahal, experience an insider view of Bangkok, and recount his 200 mile trip by motorbike from Ho Chi Minh City to the Mekong delta. All great reading for the vicarious traveller!

We’ve also considerably bolstered our selection of City Guides, with new guides to Cairo, Cardiff, Helsinki, Timisoara and Dubai (by the way did you notice the new navigation icons at the top of each of our guides? I hope they’ll help you quickly find the info you want on each city!). The Emirati capital of bling in fact is flavour of the month on UTB and my little brother found that there was plenty of fun to be had dune-bashing in the desert (where bromance blossomed) and exploring the city’s nightlife (…and you thought Gangnam was passe!?!). Naturally there’s plenty more great stories and guides sitting on my desk right now from me and my team and I’ll be publishing them soon… Be sure to subscribe if you don’t want to miss a thing!

In my next update I’ll also share some stories of a recent visit to Holland. But for now you can check our exclusive-to-the-Urban-Travel-Blog-Facebook-page mini-story on the official Games of Thrones exhibition which fortuitously happened to be passing through Amsterdam during my visit. Perfect if, like me, you’re suffering from withdrawal symptoms after this week’s gap in the GOT airing schedule.

Until next time Urban Travellers!

Feature photo by Jean-Pierre Dalbera.

About Duncan Rhodes

Duncan is the Editor-in-Chief of Urban Travel Blog, a born and bred city slicker who loves urban adventure, street art, killer bars and late night hotspots. More about Duncan here.

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“We’re going to a concert?” I repeat with barely disguised dismay. It’s my second night in Vilnius and I’ve arranged to go out with Lineta and Sarune, two Lithuanian friends of mine I met back in Barcelona. Normally I’d be more than happy to entrust my nightlife plans to two hip young locals, but a) I’m fucking starving and b) Italy are playing Germany in less than 1.5 hours in the semi finals of Euro 2012. And after all, what venue is so great that it hosts live music events, serves up cheap and delicious food and screens ridiculously important football matches?

Teacher’s House, as it turns out. And we’ve got a reservation.

Two steps into the courtyard of this romantic cultural / nightlife space and I’m in love. The pastel pink walls of this academic cloister are covered with clinging ivy, whilst a central stage is flanked with canopied lounge area and bar, and Vilnius’ cool kids are out in force to enjoy the free live music on this still bright Baltic summer evening. We shuffle over to our table reservation on the right of the stage and – keen to go local – I order a šaltibarščiai… which turns out to be a radioactive Lithuanian beetroot soup, served cold for good measure. It’s actually not too bad, but I can’t help but look enviously at the Australian couchsurfer who had the good sense to order a chicken sandwich.

I order a šaltibarščiai… which turns out to be a radioactive Lithuanian beetroot soup, served cold for good measure.

Encouraging me to eat up, Lineta tells me that šaltibarščiai is a staple dish at every good grandmother’s house and is “made from special Lithuanian cream. I think you can’t buy it in any other European countries, except maybe Ukraine and Poland.”

“Why is it special?”

“No it’s not special, you just don’t have it.” Well there you go.

As we tuck into our nosh washed down with a palatable Svyturys Ekstra beer, suddenly the crowd start singing along to the music. Lineta explains that the band, a husband and wife team called Ball and Chain, are belting out a classic Lithuanian crowdpleaser… which they promptly follow with a very decent cover of Rolling in the Deep. Just as I’m getting nervous that this concert is going to extend past kick off the band finish their set, the Bohemian section of the crowd disappear, and Sky Sports is projected on big screens around the courtyard.

As the German and Italian national anthems ring out, talk turns to national sports.

“You are crazy about football,” say Lineta. “But we are crazy about basketball. We are really looking forward to the Olympics. Basketball is like our second religion. Have you ever heard of the other Dream Team?”

“You are crazy about football,” say Lineta. “But we are crazy about basketball…. Basketball is like our second religion.”

I confess I haven’t, but as she goes on to explain in the 1992 Olympics (ie. the same Olympics when the American Dream Team of Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan won gold) the Lithuanian national team managed to break free of their Soviet identity and beat the Russians to a bronze medal (In fact they recently made a film commemorating the achievement), cementing the sport’s popularity in Lithuania’s hearts for all time.

By the time the Italians have booked their place in the Euro 2012 finals it’s decidedly nippy in the courtyard of Teacher’s House and Lineta and Sarune lead us to where the bars are most plentiful…

“This is the main nightlife street, which one year ago became really popular,” says Lineta. “The name is Island Street. It is a really short street but there are a lot of bars, and usually you are going to different places, having fun, meeting a lot of friends. We are going to one place that is like an international bar: you don’t need to have friends, you can go alone and you will have a conversation there… everybody is welcome there, it doesn’t matter how you look.”

This is in contrast to another nightspot on the same street called Buddha, which Lineta reliably informs me is a “fish market” for good looking girls and guys trying to buy their attention.

I fall in with a couple of Lithuanian dudes who are keen to extol the values of two of their nation’s greatest assets, starting with their local brews…

In Vilnius’ Piano Man bar the atmosphere on a Thursday night is rowdy. Lineta orders a fish-bowl-sized glass of Hoegarden, and I grab a tasteless Cuba Libra for 12 Lt. I fall in with a couple of Lithuanian dudes who are keen to extol the values of two of their nation’s greatest assets, starting with their local brews.

“Hoegarden is a woman’s beer,” asserts Darius. “You should try a Lithuanian beer like ‘Lighthouse’” he says giving the famous Svyturys brand its English name. “We also have a lot of really good small independent breweries in small towns. You can try some at Snekutis bar in Uzupis.” Quite a legend in Vilnius, Snekutis is a ramshackle bar that I’d happened to pass by day on by bike in the free district of Uzupis (think Lithuania’s very own Christiana). I make a mental note to go back sometime.

Meanwhile Ilya is keen to impress on me the virtues of the local girls – which naturally doesn’t interest me at all -but I indulgently listen.

“The Lithuanian girls are nice girls… Maybe there are 60% of women in clubs. For example I went to clubs in Rome and the majority of people were guys. I was shocked!”

“The Lithuanian girls are nice girls. They are not looking for rich guys, just normal guys… and it’s easy to meet them. Maybe there are 60% of women in clubs. For example I went to clubs in Rome and the majority of people were guys. I was shocked! In Lithuania all the time you enter a club you are in paradise. You are surrounded by beautiful girls. They are very nice, you can speak to them.”

Before I can add my own observations to this intellectual conversation Lineta grabs me… she wants to show me a nearby bar. But we are not going there by conventional means. We head out of the back of Piano Man into an internal courtyard, which seems to be the inside of a small shopping mall. We cross through it and arrive at the window of another bar.

“At night it’s much more fun to jump through the window,” says Lineta when I ask if we couldn’t have just walked around to the street entrance. “But if we’re doing it we should order two shots.” And so ushering the punters of Gringo out of the way of the window we clamber through – with some difficulty by now – and make our way to the counter. I order us two “Mad Dogs” and Lineta tells me about her time living in the UK… it isn’t long before she’s screeching a loud rendition of I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles. The bouncer doesn’t find this as entertaining as we do.

“Don’t worry he’s new. He doesn’t know the traditions of this bar,” she assures me, before collapsing out of her chair and sending us both crashing to the ground. No harm done.

“At night it’s much more fun to jump through the window,” says Lineta when I ask if we couldn’t have just walked around to the street entrance.

After repeating our Houdini window trick we’re back in Piano Man and unfortunately it’s time for Sarune and Lineta to go home. It is after all a Thursday night and they have to go to work tomorrow. As for me… maybe it’s the booze, or maybe it was all this talk of young approachable nice girls but I’m keen to make my blurry night just a fraction blurrier before turning in. So taking a tip from my friends I head off, Spy Map in hand, in search for Artistai, a famous student club and the one place guaranteed to be rocking late on a Thursday night in Vilnius. It’s closed.

So I back up to a bar I passed on the way, which may or may not have been called Brodvejus. A photo near the entrance of a toothless black grandpa smoking a fat cigar hints that this is supposed to be a Cuban bar, but right now it’s looking like an archetypical discotheque wreck: wall-mounted TVs are screening MTV videos, whilst the DJ is pumping out crap R’n’B music and a smoke machine belches out wisps of white vapours. There are no more twenty people in the place, most notably a group of trashy-looking Russian girls tottering around the dancefloor in high heel boots, two drunkards sitting in front of an empty, tripod-mounted ten litre beer glass and two very cute girls who appear incongruously sober and well-behaved given the hour and the surroundings. I wait for the drunkards to try their luck first, in the hopes of seeming attractive by comparison, and it’s not long before I’m at the bar with my new friends Eva and Indre, two cosmopolitan sisters of 24 and 27 years, drinking shots. I enlist their help in selecting a Lithuanian spirit.

I wait for the drunkards to try their luck first, in the hopes of seeming attractive by comparison, and it’s not long before I’m at the bar with my new friends Eva and Indre…

“Try 999,” says Eva. “It’s something of a mix between vodka and Jagermeister. It’s lovely, it’s delicious. You should do a live commentary.”

“Unfortunately my tastebuds are not very refined.”

“What kind of journalist are you?” they come back, refusing to let me off the hook. And so taking a sip I switch on my voice recorder and record my observation that “it’s very spirity.”

There’s a chorus of boos and Eva is forced to take over. “It’s sweet and it tastes of berries. It reminds me of a shady woodland… I can imagine a deer running in a forest at dawn, the sun is rising and the birds are chirping…”

“Can I use that in my article?”

“Try 999,” says Eva. “It’s something of a mix between vodka and Jagermeister. It’s lovely, it’s delicious. You should do a live commentary.”

The girls disappear to the bathrooms and I order another 999… it’s only 6 Lt after all. Meanwhile the music has gone a bit Shakira-esque, with a donk on it, which has somehow brought the dancefloor back to life. When my new friends return, I decide optimistically that it’s time to steer the conversation in a sexual direction. Noting the lack of great specimens in this particular bar, I ask them what they think of Lithuanian men?

“I don’t like them that much,” says Eva. “They are too macho.”

So far so good, I think to myself.

“Also, they drink a lot.”

I thought we were talking about their bad points!

“And a lot of them are sexist.”

I decide it’s time to speak up. “I am definitely not sexist. I’m a feminist,” I declare. “I always go down.”

Somehow this declaration of solidarity doesn’t earn me an invitation for a threesome which it clearly deserved, and – with the pub disco now on its last legs – we swap Facebook profiles and bid each other goodnight. It’s nearly 5am now and there’s plenty of light in the summer sky, which is always a sensible person’s cue for bedtime. Somehow or other though I manage to find myself chatting to two more friendly girls (Ilya was right, they’re everywhere!) on the way home who invite me to accompany them for breakfast at a 24 hour restaurant/bar nearby. It turns out to be a pretty upmarket traditional Lithuanian restaurant, decked out in a kind of medieval tavern style. As we three disco casualties tuck into some stomach settling cuisine we’re treated to an equally amusing and disturbing sideshow of two enormous drunk guys arm-wrestling on the table opposite. The fatter and hairier of the two decides to strip off his shirt, which was obviously impeding him, and I watch in fascination as this human bear fight goes on without a word from the staff… who wisely decide against intervening. My fellow breakfasters meanwhile munch away non-plussed. Clearly it’s just another blurry morning in Vilnius.

As we three disco casualties tuck into some stomach settling cuisine we’re treated to an equally amusing and disturbing sideshow of two enormous drunk guys arm-wrestling on the table opposite.

As we polish off our dumplings and soup I glance at my phone. It’s somehow nearly 7am. By now it really is time to go home. After all I’m meeting Sarune and Lineta again in just over 12 hours and they promised to take me on a big night out. Still, this was a good warm up…

Duncan would like to extend his heartfelt thanks to the Hostel Gate for accommodating him during his stay in Vilnius. Apart from the great staff, he enjoyed the heated bathroom floors and the use of their rental bikes to explore the city, and the location is perfect for stumbling home from any of the aforementioned bars/clubs. If you’re heading to Vilnius be sure to check out our weekend guide to the Lithuanian capital which has a tonne of great tips for exploring. 

For more vicarious nightlife stories, check out what happened when Ben Rhodes enjoyed big night out in Dubai and James Pengelley went partying in Bogota.

About Duncan Rhodes

Duncan is the Editor-in-Chief of Urban Travel Blog, a born and bred city slicker who loves urban adventure, street art, killer bars and late night hotspots. More about Duncan here.

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