I only had a single day for Sarajevo, so I decided to make as much of it as I could. I went to the tourist office and got their brochure for a self-guided day in the city. I tried sticking to it, minus going inside half the museums, and only in the morning... They were more like guidelines...
I saw various places of worship that they had deemed significant enough to put on the map. I stood for a while on the spot that Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sofia, were assassinated, where WWI basically started. I stood on the famous Latin Bridge, which leads right up to that fateful street intersection. I saw what remains of the city’s historic library (it was a town hall before), which was burned in the war along with the over 2 million books inside it. And, I got a cevapi (grilled meat sausages with onions and yogurt in a pita-like bread) to go (so no yogurt) and had a picnic along the river. As a side note, their river isn’t really even close to spectacular - you can’t see the bottom, which is really bad considering it’s artificially tiered and is fairly shallow.
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| Not the Latin Bridge, it's the bridge that's one away from it... |
After lunch, I wandered around Old Town, exploring the bazaar there and listening to artisans pounding away at their sheet metal. From this metal, they create elaborately decorated (all by pounding by hand) plates, coffee cups, tea sets, and jewelry boxes. Then I headed back to the tourist office, where they were just starting their “tunnel tour.” Our driver and pseudo-guide took us past the old front line, well the part that actually was in the city and not just around it, and brought us to an old house near the airport. This is where the “tunnel of hope” from Sarajevo to the free Bosnian territory outside of it was dug. It was about 5 meters below the then UN-protected airport, so the Serbs couldn’t really destroy it. This tunnel was used to transport military supplies, medicine, and food into and out of the besieged city and was under Bosnian military control to keep it secured. There were also artifacts (so weird using that word for less than two decades ago) and photographs, as well as a video about building the tunnel.
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| I think these are coffee grinders... not quite sure though... |
After that, I befriended the tour guide and picked his brain over things to do in Mostar the next day over drinks at Tito’s, a café decorated with Marshal Tito paraphernalia. I then walked by the yellow Holiday Inn, home of international journalists during the war, and back towards old town. I then planned, well thought about briefly, Mostar over a half liter of Sarajevska Piva (beer) before I had a delicious dinner of goulash, finished of with a Bosnian coffee (amazingly similar to Turkish coffee).
Day 14
I got up extra early for the early morning train to Mostar, and because of this persistent lack of #1 trams I barely made it on time. I managed to find a seat in a compartment, but I was far from the window. As the gorgeous scenery flew by, punctuated by brief blackouts from being in tunnels, I grew more and more anxious to capture some shots of the mountains, lakes, rivers, and villages. Luckily, every respectful photographer recognizes this, and the group sitting next to the window, among whom was a Nikonian, granted me some space by the window. By the end of the almost 3 hour trainride, I knew why guidebooks had recommended this train segment as a don’t-miss.
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| The ephemeral countryside as the train zoomed by... |
I waited at the train station for a pickup from the hotel (i had decided to splurge a bit for Mostar since it was near the middle of my trip) and checked in. I talked to one of the waiter/receptionists at the restaurant/hotel I was staying at about trips in the area, but although he was friendly and comp’ed me a coke in the heat, he didn’t tell me much more than I already knew. So, I set off to see Stari Most (old bridge) and managed to catch a couple of the divers plummeting off of it. Every year, daredevils and divers from around Europe (and I think the world, at this point) come to this bridge to flaunt their diving abilities. There was a brief hiatus in this annual event though, between the 1991-95 war that destroyed the bridge and 2004 reconstruction of the new Old Bridge.
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| The new "Old Bridge" |
After the bridge, I wandered Stari Grad (old city) and avoided buying random trinkets, except for postcards. Then, I checked the times for the bus to Blagaj (pronounced blah-guy), a small town known for the source of the Buna river and a Dervish monastery that is built right next to the cave over the source. After having a spinach pie-like item for lunch, I wandered through the city, through the old front line of the war, and to the bus stop. This is time #1, when I just went to check where exactly the bus stop, in Spanish square, was. After that, I wandered back to Stari Grad to see some of the sights, including a Turkish house, built in the 1600s and furnished in the Ottoman style, and one of the historic mosques along the river. This particular one had a minaret, inside of which I wound my way up to the platform for a tremendous view of the city in all directions.
Afterwards, I decided to pass some time over a slice of chocolate cake at a local café near the bus stop. Half an hour before the scheduled bus arrival, I head towards it to wait. Time #2 was spent waiting up to an hour (maybe more? I lost track) after the scheduled bus arrival. I spent this time writing postcards, updating this blog, and trying to avoid being in the sun. It was 39 degrees and about 35% humidity - not comfortable. After giving up on the bus (I even checked with another bus driver if it was the correct stop), I headed back to Stari Grad for more people-watching and trinket-avoiding. I was about to call it a day and get back for a shower when my stubbornness got the best of me.
Time #3! I got there only 10 minutes prior this time and gave myself a limit on how long I’d wait. While waiting, I met a Norwegian woman who also was going to Blagaj. She had stayed an extra day just to go, but then her local guide flaked on her. We decided that we’d take a taxi if we had to, but luckily the bus came! We got to the Tekija Dervish temple, dangled our feet in the very cold water of the Buna (10 degrees), and then went to see the small monastery. Since it was still an operating place of worship and meditation, we had to put on long skirts and headscarves, which were provided. I honestly have no idea how Muslim women keep those scarves on because it kept slipping off my hair (which is what I’m not supposed to be showing) and had to hold it with one hand while trying to keep a hold of my camera with the other. I’m sure we looked ridiculous, and we both have pictures to prove it. We talked to one of the guys that worked there about the history of the place and tried to understand a bit more about the Dervish sects.
Afterwards, since the next bus wasn’t for a while, we grabbed food at a restaurant near the monastery (too close for the monastery to be peaceful, if you ask me) and tried some local dry white wine. The wine was nothing to write home about, so I didn’t even ask its name or varietal. After we got the bus back to Mostar (it was late... surprise!), we headed to Stari Most for the music festival. They had built a platform almost right under the bridge, and there were two groups every night, for the three nights of the fest. We got there in time for the second hour of the Argentine group and then stayed for an hour and a half of the Macedonian performers. That brings me technically into the next day after the first set though!
Day 15
So, the morning was rather uneventful, so maybe you’ll just have to wait until I get to writing about Dubrovnik. On a side note, I managed to use all the converted marks I withdrew, minus a souvenir 20 feninga piece.
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