Užupis declared itself a republic on April Fools' Day and wrote a constitution guaranteeing everyone the right to be idle, to be happy, and to love a cat. This road ratifies all three articles. The paperwork is Lithuanian and open: the company register answers in JSON, the state address register hands out its own coordinates, and the city publishes every pavement table permit with dates on it.
- 1 · The Cold Open
Šnekutis
The chatterbox kept three rooms once; the Užupis original on Polocko street went under the wreckers in 2020 and the Šv. Stepono room poured its last in 2021, so this low house by St Nicholas church is the one door left. Order what the house exists for: farmhouse beer from village breweries that never signed a distribution contract, and a bowl of cold beetroot soup pink enough to read as a treaty flag. Thirty odd beers rotate, most straight from the barrel, by whatever the countryside sent that week. Founder Valentinas Vaškevičius, moustache first, was pouring this stuff before the phrase craft beer reached Lithuania. The benches are rough oak, the portions are rural, and on big nights a screen now shows the basketball, the one modern concession. The city has licensed its pavement tables through October, so ratification continues outdoors.
the brand from about 2004; the sole door since July 2021 · daily 11am till 11pm · verified Aug 2026
- 2 · The Detour
Špunka
A bar the size of a constitutional amendment, one room at Užupio 9 on the republic's main street, and that address matters: the family has since annexed two rooms across the river, but this is the original door. It opened as the Dundulis brewery's embassy in Užupis, when the Panevėžys brewers needed somewhere in the capital to pour their darker experiments, and Lithuanian craft still runs the taps. Order whatever is newest on the chalkboard, a Dundulis pour if one is up. Locals will recite the constitution from memory if you hesitate over a glass. The city stamped the terrace licence for 2026 in March, which is as official as proof of trading gets in this republic. Cross the bridge, salute the mermaid on her pillar, and squeeze in.
the company 2011, the bar open by 2014; the exact year is folklore · Mon from 5pm, otherwise 3pm till 10pm · verified Aug 2026
- 3 · The Anchor
Lokys
The Bear has fed hunters since 1972, which makes it Vilnius old guard, but the house is older by five centuries: a Gothic merchant's pile on Stiklių street with brick cellars below and an eighteenth century fresco upstairs in the baroque hall. The kitchen works game the way the forest sends it. Order the beaver stew, twenty five euro of dark slow meat, or the boiled potato cepelinai stuffed with game if you want the dumpling end of the argument. Venison, boar and a shared feast plate carry the rest of the card. The second generation of one family runs the room, their company registered back in 1992, and historians tagged the menu with the century each ingredient reached Lithuania. Doors at noon, cellars till midnight, appetite accepted as legal tender.
the restaurant 1972 by its own telling; the Gothic house is the venue's claim too, and the two dates never fuse · daily noon till midnight · verified Aug 2026
- 4 · The Wildcard
Užupio Kavinė
Port, parliament and home is how the café styles itself, and the neighbourhood lets the claim stand: the Republic of Užupis declared itself on 1 April 1997 with this riverside room already three years old, open since 1994. The building is older business, a goldsmith's house of 1748 that burned in 1776 and was rebuilt by the baker Heydas in 1796. Take a beer, or a glass from the wine card, out to the big terrace where the Vilnelė argues with its banks; the bronze mermaid has watched from the embankment since 2002. The constitution itself hangs ten minutes up Paupio street in more than twenty languages, so idle here first and read your rights after. Open eleven to eleven every day, diplomatic immunity included.
the café 1994, the republic 1997, the house 1748 by the venue's own history · daily 11am till 11pm · verified Aug 2026
- 5 · The Last Call
Alaus Biblioteka
The Beer Library files its collection properly: seventeen taps of living texts and three hundred odd bottled volumes shelved behind the bar like a reference section you are allowed to drink. The room belongs to a company literally named Sixty, for the sixty recognised styles of beer the founders set out to keep in catalogue. Order a guided tasting if the librarians have a table free, otherwise take the newest acquisition on the rotating taps and let the staff annotate it. Scholarship starts at five in the afternoon, Monday through Saturday, and the Sunday chapter is unwritten, so check before crossing town. Group tastings run in a separate reading room. The catalogue updates constantly; the case law never settles. Ratified by the glass.
est. 2014, the year its company Sixty was registered · Mon to Sat from 5pm; the closing hour is the operator's secret · verified Aug 2026