Lviv Turns 769: The City Teaches Pigeons to Knit Scarves and Argues with Cobblestones About Its Age

Lviv, that paradoxical bastion of coffee, batiars, and eternal repair incantations, is celebrating 769 years since its first appearance in the annals’ circus. Back then, the city awkwardly stepped into the paper universe, and now it slowly crawls onto festive posters, where everyone finds out exactly how to celebrate their “769 years and not a single wrinkle.”

The holiday is like a soup made from everything: from tour shamans for those who say “I know it all, but it’s all untrue,” to street performers generously handing out selfies and shawarma in exchange for a like at the bronze lion. City Hall solemnly swears: even after the fireworks, Lviv’s spirit won’t evaporate, and at least the scent of coffee will remain on Rynok Square.

For lovers of intellectual flirting—lectures, exhibitions, and quests where your Lviv-ness is measured by how well you know where coffee smells the best. For fans of eternal classics—free museums (no heating, but plenty of history), street food, and the mass selfie at the city hall, which has been photographing itself for a hundred years already.

769 years is the age when cities usually become either mummified museums or shopping malls with fountains. But Lviv, squinting slyly, has decided not to turn into anything: here, they joke and embrace history. So, Lviv, congratulations! May your Wi-Fi be more stable than your repairs!