A walk through the changing landscapes of the Lithuanian capital.
I take my first, glorious swig of Svyturys on a wooden deck overlooking the River Neris. Lithuania is far from ‘Baltic’ amidst an August heatwave and ice cold beer is like nectar. As I lower my glass, I notice the mermaid across the river. She is perched in an opening in the stone riverwall, resting on her hands with her tail poised to one side. She does not meet my gaze but stares upwards to the sky, her dark green hair falling down her back in stony spirals. To her left are painted canvases and before her, a wooden swing chair painted with flowers of every colour. A dream catcher dangles above it. They hang from the bridge which joins Vilnius to the Independent Republic of Uzupis, the district of bohemians and artists. Uzupis has its own flag, anthem, currency and president, not to mention a now retired army of 11 men. So far, Vilnius has been full of surprises.
Historic Vilnius: between saints and deities
Vilnius’s historic centre is an elegant mix of gothic and baroque between Italian-esque cobbled alleyways, which lead me down to Old Town Square. A white neoclassical build of colonnades and niches, former Soviet warehouse and old pagan temple site, Vilnius Cathedral is a multipurpose building if there ever was one. It was constructed in the 14th century when reign of the Baltic Tribes was coming to a close, shortly before Lithuania’s conversion to Christianity. Alters recovered in a later reconstruction suggest that, even after this decree, loyal followers continued to pay homage to Perkunas, the Baltic God of Thunder. From 1950, under Soviet rule, the sacred space was put to use as a warehouse, gallery and, finally, a concert venue, before its reconsecration in 1989.
Today, the cathedral stands opposite a blue-roofed bell tower in the centre of Old Town Square. On top of the cathedral are three saints looking out towards the tower. Sculpted by Kazimierz Jelski, the statues are of common origin but represent different elements of Lithuanian identity. Saint Casimir of Lithuania stands on the southside, and opposite, St. Stanislaus of Poland on the northside, symbolising their countries’ longstanding friendship. In the centre, strong and confident, with a golden cross raised, is St. Helena, the empress of Orthodox Christianity. She is Russian dominance; a prominent feature in Lithuania’s recent history. Towering above the saints is Gediminas Castle, a three-storey, pale red brick tower atop the hill rising behind cathedral. Though little remains of the old fortress besides the tower itself, the hill offers a spectacular view over Vilnius as the evening light graces terra cotta rooftops with oranges and pinks.
Undiscovered Vilnius: wood, steel and concrete
The following morning, I’m back at Old Town Square to begin my tour of ‘Undiscovered Vilnius’. As I approach the monument which marks my meeting point, I notice a petite woman with long, shiny dark hair, wearing flares, a floral crop-top and black, thick rimmed glasses. She is sporting a branded lanyard and scanning the group gathering before her, silently counting heads. Once satisfied, she introduces herself as Ugne, a bright and bubbly Vilnius local. Ugne leads us around Castle Hill and across King Mindaugas’s Bridge to the other side of the Neris River. With the historic centre and castle at our backs, we are now walking towards a very different part of town; a mix of concrete blocks and shiny new skyscrapers, tinted blue by the cloudless midday sky.
We stop briefly at a Vilnius’s first power station, which is barely distinguishable from the other houses on the street, save for a statue of a topless woman waving a lantern. ‘Why do you think she was taken down and hidden under Soviet rule?’ Ugne asks us. ‘Because she is a woman?’ I respond quickly. ‘Um-hum’, Ugne concurs, ‘it’s because of the boobs!’ Further along the riverbank, a giant copper tube emerges from bank. It reaches several feet above the pavement before it bends and disappears into the sidewall; the premise for another ‘guess what’ game from Ugne. The group offer half-arsed suggestions of ‘waste pipe’ and ‘water filter’ while anticipating a surprising revelation. ‘It is a one million euro art installation’. Nobody comments. The giant, snake-like drainpipe undoubtedly creates intrigue but a one million euro price tag seems a bit ridiculous. ‘Critics like it’, Ugne explains, ‘they say it inspires debate about the sensible use of public funds.’
We turn off the riverbank and enter a quiet quadrum of outlets; some are open for business but many have been replaced by steel shutters and boarded up windows. They are housed in grey office-like blocks, all right angles, with uniform windows like a thousand eyes. The signature brutalism of the Soviet Union. Outside a small supermarket, Ugne shares us a story from her grandfather. ‘In Soviet times, there were many things you could not buy at the shop and one of those things was bananas. When this shop got its first bananas in stock, the queue wrapped around the building three times! People paid a fortune for just one bunch of bananas. They sold out before my grandfather could get any and he was so disappointed he wept.’ There is humour in Ugne’s storytelling but she conveys a reality closed off from freedoms and simple pleasures. Before we move on, Ugne points beyond the concrete blocks to a navy blue skyscraper sporting a banner which poignantly reads, ‘Putin, the Hague is waiting for you.’
Our next stop is Central Šnipiškės, the ‘village inside the city’ which is comprised of 19th century wooden, suburban homes. Some show signs of recent renovations with glossy wood and painted shutters, but many are untouched and still without plumbing or central heating. ‘It’s just a way of life’, Ugne shrugs, ‘my mum’s friend lives here and she says there is absolutely no way she would have a toilet inside her home!’ Southern Šnipiškės, designated to be Vilnius’ new city centre in the 1980’s, is the antithesis of its old timely counterpart. It is modest but has all the features of a modern metropolis; shopping malls, offices, a gallery, and – as Ugne boasts – ‘the largest skyscraper in the Baltic States.’
The castle on the lake
My final outing is one hour southwest of Vilnius via a crowded train to Trakai National Park. I am off to a late start, having arrived at the train station to join a heaving queue of city-dwellers looking to escape the muggy urban heat, and boarded a morning service by the skin of my teeth. On arrival at my destination, I join a steady stream of fellow passengers headed to a pathway which lines the shore of a giant, unmissable lake. Trakai is Europe’s only ‘historic national park’, earning this impressive credential through its combination of historic buildings and beautiful natural landscape. Though far from wild and rugged, Trakai is like a holiday resort during summer months. Along the walkway I pass sunbathers lounging lazily on boardwalks, children building sandcastles along the shoreline, and canoes and pedalos taking flight. Luxury lodges line the banks; traditional wooden houses which have undergone a glow-up and a few coats of vibrantly coloured paint. Three kilometers later, I reach Trakai’s main event.
Trakai Island Castle, a UNESCO world heritage site, is an orange-pink gothic stone castle on an island in the middle of Lake Galvė. A long wooden bridge joins it with the mainland, allowing visitors to cross over and into the castle. The complex was built in the 14th century and served as a residence and medieval stronghold of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, before it became a prison for the aristocracy, and finally a museum. As such, the castle has been privy to many important matters over the centuries, from battles to political treaties. Despite clear historical significance, I’d wager that most visitors are drawn to the castle because it truly is breathtakingly beautiful. Its idyllic island setting and Disney-like pink glow – all the more striking against the blues and greens of its surroundings – earn it the nickname, ‘fairytale island castle.’
Essentials
Getting there & around
Fly directly into Vilnius International Airport (VNO) from most major European cities. While renting a car will give you more freedom, Lithuania has a reliable transport network which includes daily trains and buses from Vilnius to Trakai, Kaunas and Klaipeda.
When to go
May to September is a great time for a longer stay in Lithuania, especially if you’re going to be visiting some beaches, but Vilnius can be enjoyed year-round. Visit Lake Trakai in winter to enjoy the natural ice-rink around the fairytale island castle.
Where to stay
Vilnius is a relatively small city and there are plenty of affordable accommodation options in walking distance of the town centre. I stayed in the Stay Express Hotel on the outskirts of the old town which was clean, comfortable and a perfect self-contained budget option for a solo traveler just after a place to sleep.
Where to eat
Lithuanian cuisine is known for being traditionally meat-heavy, with popular dishes including salted herring, potato sausage and dumplings stuffed with spiced ground meat, but a decent veggie offering can be found. Classic vegetarian options include copious amounts of fried cheese and borsch: a bright purple cold soup of shredded beetroot and kefir, seasoned with dill and a hardboiled egg placed on top.