Between sirens & street songs: three days in Lviv, the European Youth Capital
In April 2025, Lviv officially opened its year as European Youth Capital – the first city in a country at war to ever hold the title. The European Youth Forum joined the opening ceremony thanks to a common delegation with the Council of Europe. We were represented by our president and two board members. Among them was Sina Riz à Porta, the board member responsible for the European Youth Capital. What follows is a personal memoir from Sina’s three days in Lviv – a city where joy and grief, resilience and routine, street music and sirens all coexist. This is not a report, but a reflection, a series of moments and feelings documented as they were happening.
Written by Sina Riz à Porta.
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Day 1
We start our day at the Molodvizh youth centre, being welcomed by the European Youth Capital team. Before diving into the programme, I remind our delegation why we are really here – not just to show our support, but to witness what Lviv’s young people have managed to build here, under circumstances that none of us can fully comprehend. Their work is the best answer to those who still claim that youth participation is “too difficult” to achieve.
As we wrap up our introductory session, a group of older women enter the room like they own the place – and in a way they do. This is their regular meeting place, and today, just like any other week, they’re not about to give it up. It’s a small reminder that youth centres belong to the community as a whole and even though young people are in the spotlight, they also cultivate intergenerational solidarity.
At the opening ceremony, that very same evening, a quote sticks with me: “Yarina dreamed of the youth capital. Today, others are bringing that dream to fruition”. Later that night, I find myself sitting on the windowsill in my hotel room, looking towards the city. At midnight, most of the street lights are turned off and the city goes dark. Under the martial law which is currently in effect all across Ukraine, curfew is to be observed between 00:00 and 05:00 every day. Silence settles. Occasionally, a car passes, and I wonder who is still out and for what reason. I can’t help thinking that I would be extremely stressed if I didn’t make it back in time. Then again, after three years, this has probably become normal life for those who don’t get to go home to another country after just a few days.
Day 2
This morning is all about exploring the city and it feels like everyone is out and about enjoying the warm sunny weather. Cobbled streets, impressive architecture, street musicians, and our lovely guide, who knows all about the history of Lviv, “the city of lions”. But behind this beauty, reminders of war are omnipresent: boarded up windows, sandbags and statues wrapped for protection. When we pass by the church where military funerals are held, our tour guide tells us that, “The war is geographically far, but emotionally close”. At 11AM, everything quiets down for a funeral procession that passes through the town square. The mayor comes out of city hall to pay his respects, accompanied by the city trumpeter, who plays a lingering melody. It is a daily occurrence that life stops like this, with everyone on the streets taking a moment to honour the fallen. So do we.
In the afternoon, we visit the Unbroken rehabilitation centre – a space of healing designed to help those who have lost a limb or suffered brain injuries. We admire state of the art technologies like eye tracking computers and driving simulators, but also patient’s paintings from art therapy, a tapestry they are weaving collectively and their video gaming corner. Every room shows resilience. Our tour guide – a young Ukrainian woman who returned to Ukraine to do something useful, as she says – greets every patient like a family member.
While the rehabilitation centre showed us the strength of those who have survived, the evening is spent honouring those who have been killed by the Russian aggression. I don’t need to understand what is being said in Ukrainian to know when Yarina’s name comes up. I question the validity of my own emotions as an international guest. Where is the line between showing support or empathy and appropriating a grief that is not fully ours and that is certainly so much bigger than anything I could understand? I don’t know. The remembrance evening ends with the name of every person from Lviv who lost their life being projected one by one onto the church ceiling. The list is unbearably long.
Day 3
What we expected to be a youth event turns out to be a vibrant festival, the biggest in the TVORY! network’s history, with 11.000 young people registered. During the evening concert, the huge hall is so packed, I can barely move. All day long the venue is full of energy – matching our experiences in the entire city. We explore stalls with artisanal and artistic products, buy Youth Capital merch, and decide between a multitude of coffee options – who knew that Lviv is the hidden coffee capital of Europe. I keep thinking that in another time, this would really be the perfect destination for a city trip with friends.
At nearly 2AM, the siren goes off, waking me up. A minute later, one of my colleagues bangs on my door, telling me to move. I am awake, I am coming down to the basement now. In the shelter, some of us are still half-asleep, some wide awake. People are chatting and someone puts on Halo by Beyoncé. One of us says “maybe we should be quiet”. The only Ukrainian woman present answers: “Everyone is sleeping. We get used to that shit”. After an hour and 45 minutes, the air alarm app on our phones informs us that the alert is over and we head upstairs. We’re barely back in bed, it’s another hour later and the siren goes off again. I don’t remember whether I was even really asleep. This time, it’s me banging on someone’s door. When the person takes a bit too long to open up, my mind immediately goes to a worst case scenario, even when logically, I know that Lviv is relatively safe when compared to other areas of the country. Finally, we make it downstairs. This time everyone is quiet. I’m trying to fall asleep lying across a row of chairs. It takes another two hours. This time we don’t go back to bed, we need to get on the road. I’ll carry this exhaustion for days. And still, I know: for those who live here, this is just another night.
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