Vilnius is a contradiction. One minute I’m ducking into a centuries-old church that smells like candle wax and dusted prayers, the next I’m sipping espresso next to brutalist concrete that whispers Soviet ghosts.

The capital of Lithuania is a beautiful mess of Gothic spires, Catholic sanctuaries and Communist leftovers. I ascend the hill to Gediminas Tower, an old watch post from where I take a good look at the city. Vilnius seems like a place with one foot in medieval myths and the other stomping toward something that looks suspiciously like hipsterdom.

Užupio Republika Entering the republic of Užupis.

I quickly leave the gentrified neighborhoods, passing the statue of Frank Zappa and head into the Republic of Užupis. This is a self-proclaimed independent state residing inside Vilnius, which reminds me of Christiania in Copenhagen. I find the golden angel who watches over them all.

Frank Zappa statue Frank Zappa tucked away on a parking lot.

Vilnius has a lot of churches, cathedrals and ruins. It feels like I’ve explored them all. Entered the white tower of Kathedrale Sankt Stanislaus to find the impressive sarcophagus of Saint Casimir. Walked through the darkness of the Gate of Dawn to gaze upon the miracle painting in the chapel above. Tried to count the red bricks of St Anne’s Church which Napoleon supposedly wanted to bring back with him to Paris.

Church of Holy Trinity Church of Holy Trinity, perhaps in need of a paint job.

After all this culture and holiness, it ain’t exactly a long shot that I soon will land my buttocks somewhere for a piece of hearty food. Just keep those vile Zeppelins, that traditional Lithuanian dish, away from me.

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