The Final Countdown. Day 40: Mostar, Bosnia - Split, Croatia

Today was our last day in Mostar and I was certainly sad to say goodbye. To the city and to the wonderful hosts at our hostel! And also the lovely people we had met here - this was the first social hostel where we had actually interacted with other human beings.

We woke up (with a bit of difficulty, thanks to the litre of wine the night before), packed a bit, and then went down to breakfast. Majda wanted us to help arrange the cushions on the chairs because they had to be removed the night before when it rained. We failed pretty miserably at following her instructions, and she was [hopefully mock] exasperated with us!

After the lovely breakfast with more of that awesome Bosnian bread, it was time to finish our packing. We shouldered our luggage and headed downstairs to say our farewells. Majda gave us both squeeze and told Dan, “You look after Sasha!” And we said goodbye, and walked out the door. Not before one of the ladies working there opened up the big gates as we approached, which was quite hilarious as we thought it was so we didn’t have to climb through the tiny gate. It wasn’t, but it was good timing!

We walked the few minutes t the bus station laden with our things, and waited for the bus to arrive. It was a little bit late, and Dan bought some soft drinks and chips with the remaining Bosnian convertible mark. He got me a cucumber flavoured Sprite. Interesting, since he hates cucumber. It was very cucumbers. Probably quite good with a gin! Although it got progressively more shit as it got warmer…

I fell asleep for a lot of the journey, as seems to be my want of late. So exhausted that I just pass out the moment I’m on moving transport! Didn’t even take a travel sickness tablet. It wasn’t too long before we reached the border crossing - I jumped off the bus and quickly peed (all that damn cucumber Sprite!). The border crossing here didn’t take all that long as our driver managed to nab first place in front of another bus that arrived at the same time.

We drove down the road a little way after leaving Bosnia, and on entering Croatia it took a little bit longer as one guy on our bus got a good interrogation.

Apparently I fell asleep again, according to Dan, after we left the border crossing and stayed asleep for a lot of the journey towards Split. At least it makes it go quicker! I feel bad for Dan as I’m pretty awful company, but seeing as I’m such an awful sleeper at the best of times, I really do need to take any opportunity I can get. It’s like I’m a baby that needs to be walked around the block in a pram to be able to go to sleep…

We arrived into Split at about 4pm and by now I had a pretty one-track mind for lunch, as we hadn’t eaten anything except the chippies. We had a little bit of difficulty finding our accommodation - this time we opted not to stay in the Old Town because we just wanted to be close to the bus station, but to be fair, everything is pretty close to the Old Town in Split. As we approached Apartment Merika, a lady downstairs spotted us and jumped up - it was the owners sister. She saw us into our room and got us set up, saying that her sister would be around shortly.

Literally a minute later there was a knock at the door and I could have sworn the original girl had just changed clothes - they looked so alike! Dan paid up while I researched where to go for lunch.

I settled on a gastro pub/street food on the other side of the Old City, and the weather was warm enough to don our shorts. We reached the restaurant and found a high table outside and perused the menu. There weren’t a lot of things, and it was a bit more expensive than we thought - but it was cheap by Split standards. We had simply gotten used to the ex-Yugoslavia price tags we had been experiencing the last few weeks!

I went with a raw tuna salad and Dan with a fish stew, which came in a big bread roll. The gastro pub had barely any indoor seating - it was designed to take your food away! We weren’t completely full at the end (we hadn’t eaten all day) so also grabbed some rosemary potatoes, which were delicious.

We figured now would be a good time to enquire about the bus or train to Ljubljana so the plan was to wander through the Old City towards the bus and train station. On the way, we passed a supermarket so we got some things for the next day - as the idea was to go to the Krka National Park, we thought we would take with us a packed lunch.

So we bought ourselves some wine (duh) and ingredients for a salad, and continued towards the bus station. On the way, we noticed that the train station seemed to have a specials notice board for trains to Zagreb. Upon enquiring, it turns out we were eligible for these cheap tickets, so figured why not! Let’s get a train for a change - there’s been oh so many buses, and the train was considerably cheaper.

We continued on to the bus station to get tickets for the Krka NP for the next day. The lady who served us was, frankly, a bitch - even thought the sign said we could get return tickets she refused to sell those, and was not particularly clear about where we would be able to get return tickets, until she spoke loudly and slowly into the microphone “YOU WILL HAVE TO BUY THE RETURN TICKETS THERE.” Thanks. You could have just said that the first time, bitch.

As many tickets got as possible, we found a little gap along the tracks of the railway which would pop us out right near our accommodation. Turns out about 10 minutes walk from where we were was a little beach, which I had no idea was there! Dan had been there before, so we grabbed the bottle of wine, a towel to sit on, the bottle opener which was provided by our accommodation, and walked to the beach.

Beach is a bit of a stretch of the term, it was mostly concrete, but there were still a few people swimming. There as no way we would be swimming with the fading light and warmth, but we thought we would dangle our feet in the water. We walked around the whole bay until we were at a corner, and set up camp here. Shoes off, towel down on the concrete. The water level was too low for me to be able to reach the water unless I perched my bum on the edge and streeeeeeetched, I could dangle my toe in. Dan, of course, couldn’t stop getting his feet wet in the cold water.

We sat here and people watched, drinking our 1L bottle of wine (which proved to be a bit too much). A styrofoam box floated over to us, which broke the serenity. Dan fished it out with his long legs and we put it in the bin - doing our little tiny bit for the environment! We poured one final glass into our sippy cups to keep for tomorrow at Krka, and packed up our things and headed for home.

On the way, Dan heard some train noises, and decided he would come back a little later to take some photos. We managed to duck into the supermarket near our accommodation just before it shut and picked up some blue cheese and crackers (because I was desperate for something salty after the wine!) and some puddings for dessert.

Back at the accommodation, I “cooked” the salad (while eating cheese) and while Dan was back at the station taking some photos. I put in gouda, Roma tomatoes, sausage, green of some description, some mushroom and balsamic salad. We would see how it would go - hopefully a success!

It was time to call it a night - it had been yet another long day of travelling and we would have a big day on the morrow.

Til next time,
xx

The Final Countdown. Day 39: Mostar

I was woken with a shock when Dan's alarm went off, making me a bit grumpy as I didn't see any reason why we couldn't sleep in. I had slept like a log after the massive day yesterday, and could have kept sleeping for a lot, lot longer. The breakfast window isn't huge at Majda's, so probably for the best that we went down - and that way the food is still nice and hot too.

Breakfast today was scrambled eggs and a veggie patty with some bread, which was a good base for the day! Today was going to be a seriously lazy day - I was still so tired I couldn't think straight!

Eventually Dan and I wandered down to the river and the bridge again, this time so we could dangle our feet in the water. After the r-r-r-r-refreshing waterfalls yesterday, we decided not to wear our bathers as the water would probably be pretty cold. We were not wrong. IT WAS FREEZING. Our feet INSTANTLY hurt, it was actually incredible how cold it was. Also, the water level had risen even higher and we were dangling our feet in water where yesterday we had been standing, dry.

On our way down to the wading area, we heard a giant SPLASH and knew someone had jumped. While we sat there with our feet stinging in the water, occasionally wading out to our shins for photo opportunities - definitely not smiling but grimacing in the photos - we waited and waited for someone to jump. Eventually, I noticed someone at the little diving board to our right. A tourist, practicing! There was some shouting from the locals, and the tourist started to make his way towards to bridge.

Excellent - we got our cameras out and ready. It seemed to take an age, and in the meantime we chatted a little bit with a guy sitting next to us who was just in Mostar for the day (who also learnt the hard way how cold the water was!). I did not envy anyone jumping - not that I ever would even CONSIDER doing that myself - as the water was just so, so, so cold. I'd probably have a panic attack and never make it up to the surface.

Finally, the tourist was in position. Aaaaaaaaaand, jump! Arms outstretched to the sides, and then halfway down - he moved his arms to cover his privates. Because could you imagine hitting the water at over 20m high if your willy has flung out a little bit? It would be like slapping your tackle on concrete. In fact, two of the Aussie bogans who had been at the hotel had jumped - one had landed awkwardly and had hurt is coccyx. It's really like landing on concrete if you don't completely pin drop.

Anyway, this jumper seemed to land nicely, not hurt himself, and swam out of the water to some cheers.

We had sat in the sun for quite some time and we were very ready for lunch by now. We ate at a restaurant next to the river, without a view of the bridge (but we could hear the rushing water) called Hindin Han. Dan had eaten here previously and said it was ok, so we just went with it because prices were also good. Turned out to be quite excellent, and glad we stopped here! For less than what we had paid in Sarajevo, we got a giant serve of cevapi with chips and a salad, and I got a giant serve of mushrooms with chips and a salad and we shared the two dishes. Dan threw what felt like most of his cevapi to the cat that was on the level below us, until it was full and fell asleep.

Our next stop was to check out the view from the mosque opposite the bridge. It claimed to have the best view in Mostar, and Dan had been up here last time. We bought our tickets, I had to put on a green skirt to cover my legs but I could keep my hair free and we could also keep our shoes on. The mosque itself was tiny, and I don't think it's really functioning as a mosque anymore. Some men were praying outside but no locals were going inside at all. To the right was a steep, stone staircase up to the peak of the minaret.

It occurred to me at the time that this was the minaret we would be climbing! We had seen so many on our tour so far but had never climbed one. The steps were very steep and slipper, and there were no hand rails and twice I stubbed my toe on the stone as it was higher and slightly out of sync. Eventually, legs a little like jelly, we made it to the top and were presented with a spectacular view. We were also completely alone, although I don't know how you'd fit more than about 6 people up there anyway!

We stayed up here for as long as we could, clouds rolling through and sun peeking out, then back behind the clouds. It was beautiful, and so peaceful. I kept expecting someone to try to come up the stairs, but no one joined us and we had the minaret to ourselves.

Eventually it was time to go back down - the weather was supposed to turn rainy and we wanted to be back at the hostel before it hit. We almost succeeded... Once down from the minaret, we also had access to another area with a beautiful view, and while we were there we saw an amazing bright blue and green lizard. He wasn't afraid of us, and let us come right up to him for a few photos before scurrying away.

After we had turned the corner from the mosque, we happened to see Lee ahead of us! How funny that we had now bumped into each other in the next city along. We stood and chatted for quite some time, learning about what she got up to in her extra days in Sarajevo and what we had been up to in Mostar. The first couple of raindrops started to fall, so we bid our farewells - this time, likely for the last time - and headed our separate ways.

The rain started to come down in chubby droplets, and we ducked straight into the DM for a few much needed supplies. Next up, the grocery store for some wine (do I even need to say it anymore?) and some snacks for the trip the next day. The rain continued on but it wasn't cold, and soon we were back at the hostel where I promptly fell asleep.

Ah. We had forgotten to get bus tickets! Knew there was something we had to do, so blinking the sleep from my face we walked to the bus stop. We could have gotten tickets the next day, but we like to be prepared, and the bus stop was only 5 minutes walk away. They only took cash of course, and we naturally didn't have enough on us, so I had to run to the nearest ATM to get it out.

Tickets got, we returned to the hostel. We had completely intended to be social but once up in our room, we both just settled down with our wine and didn't really feel like talking. The wine tonight was a little bit off, which was disappointing, and also unfortunately Dan broke his laptop! It slipped off his lap and something went wrong with his hard drive. So that was a bit of a bugger to end the night on (although by the time I've written this, a week later - he's managed to fix it! Clever guy!!).

And so it was time to go to bed. We didn't pack a thing, and left all that delightful business to the morning.

Til next time,
xx

The Final Countdown. Day 38: Mostar

We had been looking forward to today for literally months. Hostel Majdas run a tour every second day, I think it's just called Bata's Crazy tour, and I had heard so much about it. Dan had unfortunately missed out on joining it last time he was in Mostar and at the time had been told that if he had let them know in advance, Majda could have put his name down! So this time, the moment we booked our accommodation (back in March sometime), we asked immediately if we could be put down for the tour.

But first: breakfast. Majda was busy cooking breakfast and soon after 9, we were called to collect our plates. One of the tables in the sunshine had been set up to eat at, and so with the Aussies from the day before we all hoed into our meal. It was some kind of delicious french toast type bread - which Majda would only call Bosnian toast, and that red paprika stuff I had been enjoying the day before. Majda came over and gave those doing the tour some instructions: take some money with you, take your passport as you will be going close to the Croatian border, and grab a beach towel - don't take the one from your room!

To be honest, I don't want to talk too much about the tour for a few reasons.

1. You just need to experience it for yourself and I don't want to give too much away
2. Bata is amazing and, as per the tour's namesake, it is a crazy tour, and I don't want anything I write to possibly unhinge that!

I will write a few things though. Bata is Majda's brother and, as we learnt later, was actually the one who started the hostel. He has been doing the tour for 13 years. He himself (and his family) was personally very affected by the Bosnian war - Sarajevo was under siege for 3 years, 8 months, Mostar for at least 3 years and is still having some significant issues. He was 21 when the war began, and was of Bosnian Muslim descent, and if you've read any of my previous posts - this means that he was a target, as were his family. He fled to Norway, his sister to London and his parents to Sweden (I think). They reunited back in Bosnia after the war, and started the hostel.

The tour consisted of:

• squeezing more people than we thought possible into Bata's "girlfriend" Bella, his mini-van
• learning a little bit about Mostar, before, during and after the war
• Driving out to the Kravice Waterfall for a swim
• visiting the old town of Pocitelj and climbing all over the ruins and experiencing the view - also learning about the devastation that happened here during the war
• Bosnian cordial, coffee and sweets at Grandma's house! (This was a massive highlight)
• Finishing up at the Blagaj Dervish House, where a river literally comes gushing out of a sheer rock face as if by magic.

Bata was equal parts completely, utterly, dead serious and could flick in an instant to ridiculously hilarious, and back again. I managed to get myself two mythical euros off my tour by teaching him a few things - the word "immerse", as in "backpackers immerse themselves in a culture" and the old Aussie slang, owyagoinmateolright? 

The waterfall was very beautiful, and we were told to swim over to the waterfall and explore it for a little while. I was a tad surprised by this, and then when it was explained that it was very....r-r-r-r-r-r-refreshing and has a quick current I got quite concerned. I needn't have been concerned about the current, but the .... briskness of the water literally took my breath away! I jumped in in such a way as to not get my head wet (as I still wanted to wear my contact lenses) and had to immediately come back to the side to hold on the catch my breath. 

At the very end of our tour, as Dan and I were walking with Bata, he turned to me and said (NB, it was bout 9pm by this stage, and we had been on the road since 10.30am), "Sasha! Why are you still smiling? You shouldn't be smiling anymore!" to which I quipped, "It's all that sugar and coffee!" to which he laughed. As we approached the minivan, and tiny, weeny teeny tiny puppy came running wobbly legged out of no where and up to Dan (of course, damn Snow White that he is!). IT WAS SHO CUTE. One of the members of our bus picked it up despite Bata's wishes and tried to take it to the van, but another puppy appeared and so the mother must have been somewhere close.

We arrived back to the hostel at almost 10pm, with a massive cooked meal waiting for us made my Majda. I wish I could tell you all the stories Bata told us, but I simply won't do it justice, and how this man has seemingly boundless and unlimited energy. I don't know how he does these tours!

We crashed hard into bed that night, and I had the best night's sleep I have had for a long time, I was so exhausted.

Til next time,

xx

The Final Countdown. Day 37: Sarajevo - Mostar

Checking out was as simple as dropping the keys in the letterbox. As we had a couple of hours still until our bus to Mostar, we went around the corner to a coffee shop I had seen the previous day that looked really adorable. It was amazing! I don't remember the name of it right now but hopefully I can add that to the blog later.

As we approached the coffee shop, an elderly man with amazing, flowing, yellow-white long hair came out to greet us, and invited us to sit where ever we liked. We chose outside because there was more space, and we had all of our luggage. We plopped ourselves down onto the low pillowed seats and ordered two coffees. He apologised initially, saying it would take about 5 minutes to prepare, and was that ok? Absolutely fine by us. In the meantime, he gave us a couple of books to read about Bosnia and pointed out some things of interest. Sadly we were leaving that day, but we also had a peek at the section about Mostar where we were about to head.

Well! This coffee was quite the performance. It wasn't the ritual that Dan had experienced before - it was quite different. Each of us was brought a tray with a little pot brimming with coffee, a glass of pale yellowish water, a little coffee cup and some sugar cubes. The gentleman demonstrated what needed to be done - first, you scoop of the crema from the top of the coffee pot. Then you pour the coffee into the little cup. You take a sip of the water, which he called sherbet and was flavoured with honey, cinnamon and many other sweet spices, and then you take two sips of the coffee. If we needed sugar, it was there, but the sherbet should be enough.

Oh my it was so tasty! I liked to leave a little bit of the sherbet in my mouth as it sweetened the bitterness of the coffee. We tried to take our time as we were in no rush, but it was very tasty and I was having trouble pacing myself. The whole thing only cost us 7KM, about €3.5, which seemed ridiculously cheap so we left a bit of a tip too.

Getting the tram to the station was reasonably easy - we bought a ticket from a nearby stand and hopped on the next one that came along. We were able to get seats which was pleasant, and the gentleman who sat next to me helped me deal with my things when I went to get off at the bus station. The trams are very old, and reminded me of the old trams we saw in Berlin. We got to the bus station pretty early so just hung around until our bus to Mostar showed up.

The bus journey started off  pretty uninteresting but soon became really stunningly beautiful. All I could think was - if this is the un-scenic journey by bus, how beautiful is the train journey! We tried to take a lot of pictures out the window, some worked... The journey was about 3 hours and the second half was truly spectacular.

When we arrived in Mostar, it was quite hot! We walked to our accommodation, and were instantly greeted by some bogan Aussies playing darts. Soon one of the ladies working at the hostel came out to get us started with the check in process. The hostel is called Hostel Majdas and it's a no brainer - this is the place to stay when you are in Mostar! The rooms are amazing, the breakfast each morning is fantastic but most of all the hospitality is second-to-none.

The lady grabbed some paper and some textas. "People," she said, "People. Please draw your names on the paper, which we will then stick on your door. Be as creative as you like!" She got us coffee and, bringing all the other people over to join in, showed us how to drink it the proper Bosnian way while she checked us in. This was slightly different to the coffee we had had in the morning, however the crema and the pouring ritual was the same. Instead of sherbet, though, you took a sugar cube, dunked the corner in the coffee, nibbled on the sugar and then drank the coffee through the sugar in your teeth. After two coffees today, I was surely buzzing!

Now we were taken to our room which was upstairs from the bunk rooms, and was absolutely lovely! There was no one else until our last night here in the privates section.

After a short rest, we went for a walk into the old town - we needed lunch and dinner and I had found a place that was supposed to be cheap called Tima Irma. We meandered through the Old Town - despite how touristy it was I still felt pretty relaxed and enjoyed the atmosphere - there was a lot of beautiful things surrounding us. It wasn't long before we came across the amazing Old Bridge - it's very slippery and very steep! With my bad shoes I had to be extra careful not to slip over on the downhill, but thankfully it's got foot holds along it to help prevent this.

On the other side of the river we found the place I had researched - they did a huge platter for 2 people for 25KM, which was about 12.50€. When it was presented to us, I was pretty sure she had given us the one for 4 people, it was so massive. It was filled with all sorts of local meats - cevapi, cheese filled meats, chicken, skewers, the amazing bright red paprika sauce that I grew to become obsessed with and what excited me the most - roasted tomato and zucchini (I felt like it had been weeks since I had a vegetable!).

After working through as much of the food as possible (we never quite finished it), as well as some local beer and cider, we went down to look at the bridge from the wading area beneath. The water level was a lot higher than when Dan was here last - and there used to be a small bridge connecting the two wading areas which is no longer there.

We sat here for quite some time, taking photos and just soaking it all in. The sun was setting and the bridge was no longer lit up, but it was no less beautiful. When the sun had fallen and there was no light on the houses opposite, we made our return to the hostel.

On the way, we grabbed a beer in case there would be socialising. Everyone we had met that afternoon as well as a few others were sitting there, so we decided to join them. We all chatted for some time, and Dan even went to grab a bit more beer for us as we stayed longer than we had intended. They all went to a nearby bar but we weren't willing to leave the hostel again, and when they left some more people arrived. We continued chatting with them until the outside area closed (11pm), so Dan and I called it a night.

I was really happy I'd gotten to see Mostar already - the original plan wouldn't have had us arriving until that night so being able to see the bridge and wander through the old town already was lovely. The next day would be our crazy tour - and we needed to be well rested for that.

Til next time,
xx

The Final Countdown. Day 36: Sarajevo

Today was a big, big, big day. I've been dreading writing this day as it was so full on with such a massive amount of information and emotion overload. It was a fantastic day, just big! So big.

The weather forecast for our time in Sarajevo was meant to be pretty crappy - lots of rain and thunderstorms. Thankfully, all our timing ended up pretty perfect which meant we were never really encumbered by the rain when it did fall.

One of the first things we wanted to do this morning before the rain started was go to the Yellow Fort as Dan had been here previously and it had a pretty spectacular view over Sarajevo. I had worn my rain jacket and as we walked (uphill) I became increasingly hotter - even if it was going to rain later, it was certainly warm and humid now! When Dan had visited before, there was a little coffee shop at the fort, however when we rounded the corner this was under construction so sadly no coffee break for me this time.

But we had something even better - a kitty! Actually a kitten. I'm getting distracted, though. Before the kitten, we stood on the barrier surrounding the fort and took many photos of the clouds rolling into the Trebević Mountain, with the beautiful lush green landscape dotted with red roofs. It was really very pretty. The sun peeked in and out from behind the clouds, and we watched as the route to the top of the mountain slowly became less encumbered by clouds.

And yes, there was a very, very, very affectionate kitty here which distracted us for a long time!

Our next stop was to be the cable car up to the top of Trebević Mountain. We would have still done this had it been under cloud because it is quite symbolic - the cable car was built in the 50's, and during the Bosnian war of the 90's, was destroyed. It was only opened a single month ago (to the day we went up it, I think) after having been closed for a couple of decades. Tickets weren't cheap - especially for tourists - €10 return for tourists, €3 return for locals. But I had no qualms about pumping some money into this economy - hopefully it goes where it is supposed to go.

From the Yellow Fort we made our way to the base of the cable car. I got into a bit of a situation getting onto the cable car - I gave my ticket to the young man and didn't expect him to turn the turnstile first before I pushed through it, and instead ending up getting myself wedged between the machine and the turnstile with it digging into my upper thigh. It was all a bit embarrassing! The journey was quite beautiful as we crept higher and higher, realising that the clouds had lifted and we had a pretty clear view all the way across the city. Another thing we noticed was that the gondalas on the cable car seemed to be on the opposite side to every other cable car I think we've ever taken!

At the top we had one main objective: find the old, abandoned bobsled track from the 1984 Winter Olympics held in Sarajevo. As we learnt later, this whole area was the strong hold of the Bosnian-Serbs when they were bombarding the city. However at the time, it was just a cool thing to do!

As we were walking down the path towards the beginning of the bobsled, we passed a little parking lot where an enterprising man tried to sell us soft drinks and water out of the back of his car. Turning the corner, we saw a big concrete structure and knew we were close to the bobsled start.

The walk was fascinating and strangely beautiful, eerie as well. The concrete structure was almost completely untouched, and in places still had what might have been padding or insulation around the outsides. The entire length was graffitied - some quite beautiful, and also in places we could easily see where different tracks were able to be switched between, the mechanics long gone though.

We only saw a handful of other people the whole time, and we either kept ahead of them or stopped to let them pass. We also took a lot of silly photos of us sitting on the ground pretending to be in a bobsled! At one point, we took the path less travelled - a section that went uphill and must have been a run off but while most people don't go down, so it was very sludgey. It became a deadend, so we had to go back and rejoin the original track.

Each time we came to a bobsled turn, we could hear the voices of the other people on the track echoing back to us. They could probably hear us too! And be able to understand us...while we couldn't understand them. We eventually reached the finish line, and the track took a steep uphill turn (to stop the bobsleds), and now we had to make our way back up to the top.

This didn't take all that long, but it was very humid and seemed quite steep, so we were both pretty sweaty by the time we got to the top again. The man was still selling drinks, and had been joined by a few other enterprising individuals. On our way down, I couldn't imagine he would be selling very much as there was practically no one around, however on our way back up again we realised the place was now swarming with people. Probably mostly locals, as the journey was so inexpensive!

We praised ourselves and our timing for getting up and out of there before the crowds, and noticed that the city looked hazy again. On the cable car on the way down, we drank our wine. Yes, our wine. This morning we had poured some wine into our sippy cups so we could have it at the top - we had forgotten, so the cable car journey back down was the perfect opportunity!

As the cable car pulled in, we notice some big spots of rain beginning to appear, and as we started to walk out into the open the heavens opened up and it began torrentially downpouring. Torrential. We took refuge under a small alcove because despite our rain jackets, we were still getting soaked - our legs and our back packs in particular. It didn't take long for it to stop and turn into a light drizzle, and then stop altogether.

As we had eaten a lot of local cuisine lately, I was feeling ready to try something a bit more bland, and there was a place near the centre of the Old Town that was called Chipas (chicken and pasta) where all the main dishes were 4.50, or the equivalent of €2.25. Dan went with the spicy chips, while I had some veggies and chicken. We finished off with their dessert, which was a huge range of cakes, quite sizeable, for €1. This prepared us well for the walking tour we were about to embark on.

The tour is called War Scars and New Times by Neno and Friends, and I highly, highly recommend you join this tour if you ever visit Sarajevo! We had one of Neno's friends and she was sensational. I don't know quite where to begin. I took a lot of notes during her tour because I was simply so uneducated about the whole business that all of the information was new to me.

Our guide was 6 and a half years old when the war broke out in 1992, and she remembers it all. As she said, "You're a child until your mum tells you what a sniper is!"

Sarajevo endured the longest siege in modern warfare, about 3 years, 8 months of constant shell fire and sniper fire. The average shell fall onto the city was 300 shells per day. Some days more, some days less. Some days may only be 100, other days 1000. On the 22 July, 1993, 3777 shells were dropped on the city. That's 157 shells every hour. That's 2.6 shells every minute.

As I have never seen or experienced a shell exploding, I obviously can not fathom what this would have been like. But just hearing it all made me shiver. I urge you to do some research into why all this happened as I will probably make a hash of it trying to explain with my not-fully-comprehending knowledge.

One of the biggest things I got out of the tour was the Bosnian and the Sarajevian resilience. Our guide would repeatedly say, "Oh well!" which at first was a little grating, but later on she explained, what could they do but keep living? They had no weapons, no way to fight back, so the biggest and best thing they could do was to survive and keep on going like nothing was happening. Oh well! Shit happens.

At one point during the siege, one of the Bosnian-Serbs graffitied on the post office:
This is Serbia!
To which a local  person spray painted underneath:
No, this is post office, you fool!

That sort of sums up the attitude of the people. It's incredible. Our guide said that once the siege started, she continued going to school. The school was transferred to a pub, and it was only for a few hours a day, but education continued. People continued going to work, even though there were no pay cheques. People continued to get dressed up in their finest clothes because, well, if today is going to be your last day, you might as well look good!

Here I learnt all about the Republic of Srpska - this is the land that the Bosnian-Serbs had claimed as their own, and were essentially rewarded with at the end of the war. They keep to themselves, there's a peace agreement. The Srpska people and the rest of Bosnia don't necessarily want to kill each other any more, but there's not a particularly good relationship there.

We visited the main market in Sarajevo. It was in a little bit of a blind spot of the snipers and the shells - or maybe it was just pure luck that it took so long to get hit. The market continued on during the whole war - it was a place to buy a few little extra things but also a place where people could socialise a little. One day, it was finally hit by a shell - and you can still see the shell tail today. 67 dead and 150 wounded. The next day, the market reopened and continued on like nothing had happened. They had to keep going, no matter what.

We also visited the memorial for all the children who died as a result of this conflict. Our guide explained the snipers to us here. You have to remember that the majority of the people fighting in the hills were originally Sarajevians, who wanted the land to remain Yugoslavia/Serbia. Therefore they knew the people below them that they were shooting or targeting. Some of the snipers never shot women or children. Some snipers wouldn't shoot their neighbours or friends. Some were so focussed on the cause that anything was a moving target, women, children or otherwise.

There were 3 main types of shells, too. Small ones, piggies (these were the big ones and looked a bit like a pig in shape) and at night - the witches would fly at night. These would make a cackling noise as they flew through the air. As our guide explained, if you hear a shell launch, but then stop being able to hear it flying through the air - you ran. You ran because if you couldn't hear it anymore, then you were in its flight path.

Our guide also explained the current political climate in Bosnia. They have 3 presidents, one for each "religion" or "region". A Serbian president, a Croatian president and a Bosnian president. This means nothing ever gets done. Oh well! They survived 400 years of Ottoman rule. They survived the Austro-Hungarian rule. They survived Yugoslavia and the war. They'll survive this parliament situation!

Close to the end of the tour we approached the parliament building, surrounded still on one side by big sheets of corrugated iron. This was Sniper Alley - the metal in place to try to help hide people who might have to run across this area. Sniper Alley began here and went all the way, 12km, to the airport as it housed all the main offices in the city and was an easy target from the hills. Our guide showed us a picture which said "RUN OR RIP", which completely blew my mind.

Residents tried to avoid this section of course, but if they had to take it, they would try to run between the UN vehicles stationed along here - because they were bullet proof. If someone was known to be shot here, their friends and family would be compelled to think - was it suicide? Why else were they there? Directly in the middle of it was the Hotel Holiday (or Holiday Inn as it was at the time), which is where all the journalists stayed. It was all fine and well for them to arrive - the UN vehicles would take them right up to the door unharmed. But once the journalists were out on the street they looked like anyone else - so our guide said she had respect for them!

But, she assured us that this was a Sniper Free Walking Tour, and indeed it was! She told us about the Bosnian flag and that they didn't even have a flag for 3 years, in the end the UN just made them one. It means nothing to the people, and the amount of stars also means nothing - and so there is a different number of stars on every flag. I kind of noticed this, but I want to do some more research! She said that if they wanted a flag to really represent Bosnia, it should be "cevapi and cigarettes"!

We passed the Romeo and Juliet Bridge (as it has been nicknamed), and this story brought tears to my eyes, and our guides, and almost everyone around. You can even find the pictures online if you so wish to look them up. I don't want to go into too much detail, but two lovers, who thought they were safe, were shot by snipers within seconds of each other on this bridge and died in each others arms. Their bodies were unable to be retrieved for 8 days because the area was so unsafe.

Our tour ended at the Canned Beef monument, which Dan and I had been wanting to find. Built by the "grateful citizens of Sarajevo", it was a tongue in cheek representation and a thank you to the food that was delivered to the starving people of Sarajevo. Our guide said it was quite telling that no cat ever wanted to eat it, it was probably tinned cat! Often, the tins of food would have dead (not alive) worms inside, it had deteriorated that much. She said that you knew you were back to your normal self after the war when you find a work and don't want to eat it! Either way, being skinnier was better. You moved quicker and it made you a smaller target.

It truly was an amazing tour, sniper free thankfully, and although I've probably completely quoted the whole thing here - I highly recommend you go do it when (not if) you visit Sarajevo! It was really amazing. I have even more notes from the tour written down but my account of it was already getting a bit too long...

BY now it was almost 6pm. We ended near the train station and so we wandered over there to get tickets to Mostar for the morrow. Dan had taken the train before, and it is supposed to be one of the most scenic journeys in the world, however it only runs once or twice a day. When we got there, the ticket office was shut already, but we could see the train times. They were pretty inconvenient. The 4.50pm one would have been fine, but it would have meant leaving our luggage at our accommodation - and seeing how disorganised they had been the day before we were loathe to do that. Imagine them not responding and we being unable to get our stuff back!

We wandered to the bus station next door and noticed that the buses left every 30-60 minutes. I made the snap decision that we just get one around midday and be done with. The bus journey takes mostly the same path as the train, and it eliminates any faff. And so the tickets were purchased.

There was a museum/gallery that Dan had visited previously and which he wanted to go to again if possible, and I was interested in it too, but we were running out of time and daylight hours. I was also interested in visiting the "World War 1" bridge - the Latin Bridge, where Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand was shot, sparking WW1. The museum shut at 8pm, though, and in the end we decided to leg it to the museum as we could possibly fit in the bridge on the morrow if needed.

It wasn't a short walk, but thankfully I had put the wrong address in my phone and so we arrived where we needed to be a lot sooner than I expected. The museum is called Gallery 11/07/95, and is dedicated to the Srebrenica Massacre, where over 8000 Bosnian muslims were killed in the town on that day in an attempt of ethnic cleansing.

The gallery is quite small, and the majority is 2 screens playing videos, the longest being about 30 minutes (so we just had time to watch them all through). The rest of the room is full of photos. It's harrowing. And the videos are simply heart wrenching - the bit that got to me the most was how many bodies are still missing, and how many families (only women left) are unable to find any kind of peace as they have not found any body remains. In some cases, a finger, or a single bone is all they have been able to identify of a body, but it is something for families to bury. Mass graves continue to be found all over Bosnia, and I was told later on that many graves were actually dug up and moved elsewhere so that they would never be found.

8pm came around and we were asked to leave the museum as it was closing. We hadn't quite finished all the movies so we took a photo of their names and hopefully we can find them online somewhere. We weren't far from the Latin Bridge, so we had a quick peek at it. But somehow I wasn't so interested in WW1 anymore, not after everything I had learnt had happened in Sarajevo in recent history. I took a quick picture and that was it.

On our way back we thought we'd grab an icecream, and as we were trying to choose from a vendor we weren't particularly interested in, we spotted Lee from our transfer and said hello. It was cool catching up with her and finding out how she had filled her time, and we were able to give her some advice (like the War Scars tour!).

In the end we forewent the icecream and grabbed some cheese and hummus to go with our wine and had dinner back at our accomodation. It had been an extraordinarily big day. Overwhelming. So many things I learnt. But it was amazing and I recommend you do everything we did! But maybe stretch it over two days so your brain doesn't get overloaded...

Til next time,
Xxx

The Final Countdown. Day 35: Belgrade, Serbia - Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Our transfer this morning was going to be some time between 7am - 8am, so we had to be ready in case it was 7am. Which it turned out to be, as at 6.55am there was a knock at our door from the hostel reception, saying our ride would be arriving in 5 minutes.

Shouldering our luggage we went out and shortly after a mini van pulled up. The man motioned to us to climb in the very back, which did not suit me at all. He started driving off quite erratically, and so I popped myself a travel sickness pill and proceeded to zonk out.

We had been told this transfer would take approximately 4 hours and would take us through Croatia as it would be quicker. NONE OF THIS WAS THE CASE. We were still fart-arseing around Belgrade at 8.30am (one and a half hours after we had been picked up) still collecting people. Soon we had a full van, and the last person to be collected was a lady who joined us on the back seat.

I wasn’t feeling too great - all the winding and stop starting through the backstreets for an hour and a half - and still not leaving the city - wasn’t sitting so well with me. After a little while, Dan roused me to sign the passport form, and in doing so we discovered the lady next to us spoke English, and was from Canada. Dan and she started talking, and occasionally I woke up enough to throw a few words in too. The chat helped pass the time, and Lee (as we later discovered her name) was lovely - we would see her a few times over the next few days!

The day before I had sent an email to a tour company - I had discovered a tour in Sarajevo called War Scars and New Times that would start at 3.30pm - we would surely arrive in time to be able to do that. Not the case. At one of the stops when it looked obvious we were never going to make it to Sarajevo in time, I found some wifi to let them know as we had pre-registered to attend.

We stopped a few times on the way and each stop seemingly took forever. I don’t think anyone else in the bus was in a particular rush. At one stop, the driver came up to us and in halting English asked where he could deposit us. This was a surprise as we had been assured it would be door-to-door, so we gave him the name of our accommodation (Lee also) and he had no idea where it was. Another lady in the bus said that there are no house numbers in Sarajevo so our best bet would be to get a local taxi driver to take us to our accommodation. Not going to happen! We found a square on the map that was supposed to be near us where both us and Lee could be dropped off, and had some choice words about the service.

We had a few border crossings on this trip. First from Serbia to Croatia, and then Croatia to Bosnia. We didn’t any stamps for Bosnia or Serbia, but got ourselves plenty of Croatian stamps. The border crossings didn’t seem to take all that long. Eventually, we were in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Immediately across the border into Bosnia we were greeted with giant Welcome to the Republic of Sprska. At the time this didn't register anything to me other than "oh maybe that's like the Republic of Užupis in Vilnius". What was to happen over the next few days in Bosnia was a huge and incredible education for me - there was so much I had never even realised I had never known.

We eventually get dropped off in Sarajevo at about 4pm. Definitely no opportunity to go on the walking tour! As Dan had been here before he was able to point Lee in the right direction (Altho we had spotted her hotel on the way) and we set off towards us. Mostly uphill.

And then downhill again. Then sideways. We couldn't find it, of course. And now it started to chubby rain. We took refuge under the alcove of another hotel and tried messaging the accommodation. Earlier in the day when our arrival time was going to change they had been particularly responsive, but now they were not replying to messages or picking up calls. Shit. We didn't know where we had to go.

I eventually went into the hotel that we were sheltering under and asked. They said it was House number 1 up the little side street right next to us. Fantastic - a lead! Up this street and there's no signage, no "Apartment Nina". Dan went up the first time and tried ringing the doorbell to no avail. We waited. I went up, rang the doorbell and knocked on the gate. I asked a passing gentlemen and he confirmed this was Apartment Nina.

Finally, umbrella shielding me from the drops, I knocked with force and anger on the gate, which caught the attention of a dog inside and a man opened the gate.
"Apartment nina?" I asked angrily.
"Ah yes!" Was his reply.
"We have a booking. We've been trying to contact you for 45 minutes. I'll get my things." And stormed off.

We are let inside by a very confused lady. Turns out someone else had been past previously whom they thought was us - they were shown our room and declined in. Fuck knows what would have happened if the other people had chosen to take the room? I was like, "you didn't even check?!"

We eventually got it all settled, we were charged less (as we were supposed to have a private bathroom but they'd messed that up to) and we were all sorted. The daughter of the adults seemed to have her head screwed on, but the other two were utterly hopeless.

Between the 9 hour transfer and the ballache getting checked in, I was pretty damn unimpressed with Sarajevo. Thankfully my opinion changed over the next day and I was sad to leave! First things first: food. We were located right on the corner of the old town so we had a small wander through the streets and back alleys before returning to the main square again where we found a cevapi place Lee had been recommended and which I had also seen on tripadvisor.

Once inside, it was cevapi time. We ordered a late each (7 marks, or €3.50) and the famous sour cream/cheese stuff. These cevapi were markedly different to the ones we had in Belgrade - much much better! And the pita was nice and soft too. We sat here for a long time as it started raining outside - quite heavily! Dan had warned me that it downpours around here then stops, then pours again - it usually passes quickly.

When it had eased up we jumped back out into the streets. During our previous walk we had passed a cool looking cocktail bar called Tesla with a statue of him holding a lit globe outside. It seems everywhere wants to claim his as their own, too! Inside we sat in an open window but soon it started pouring again and we were getting a fraction wet, so we moved a bit further inside the bar.

There were a few crazy looking cocktails on the menu. Dan ordered the Tesla, which was every conceivable spirit combined including absinthe. A bit of a heart starter. I got a Mai Tai to start, and both of the cocktails were very good and strong - a change from the poor ones we had in Belgrade!

Looking around the bar, there were crazy lightbulbs hung sporadically from the ceiling, and Tesla quotes all along the wall. I noticed a man at the bar smoking, and then realised he was a waiter waiting to be summoned! It took a little getting used to, the indoor smoking.

We enjoyed our cocktail so much that we ordered another round of slightly less strong cocktails. Finishing them, it was time to call it a night. We noticed a small shop near our accommodation so we popped inside for some supplies - namely cheap wine!

Til next time
xxx