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Arriving into Mostar in the evening, we were surprised, but very pleased to find a young girl – Nina - there to meet the bus and offer us (the only tourists) accommodation. At the bargain price of 10 euros each, we agreed to get in the car with her and her mum to check it out.
On the short ride to her place, we noticed many destroyed buildings, untouched since the war. Nina told us that they relied on foreign aid in order to rebuild their town, so there were many buildings still waiting for the funding! We asked them if they were here during the conflict, and they said they had to flee to Croatia initially, thinking they could seek refuge there, but when the Croats started fighting with the Bosnians (Muslims), they had to seek refuge in Norway, where they stayed for one year. They said that upon return to Mostar, they didn´t recognise anything, but they are trying to get on with their lives! It got us thinking about refugees in our own country and thinking how they suffer enough to become refugees, and the Australian system only seems to make them suffer even more, locking them up and treating them like criminals....
So we wander down to the area around the old bridge – Stari Most, to see what the food prices were like. Being a Friday night, it was somewhat busy, mainly with teenagers standing around drinking soft drinks.
The old town has a lot of character, with cobbled streets, some very old buildings housing numerous shops and restaurants and a handful of 16th century mosques, all lining the banks of the rushing Neretva River. We are stoked to find that prices are very reasonable and select a riverside restaurant for some grub. Ordering the trout from the river, and local favourite Cevapi (spicy meat sausage), we may have been ripped off here, over confusion with the currencies, but we´ve chosen never to speak of this again!! (Mark is annoyed this is mentioned here).
The currency in Bosnia is the KM (konverted mark – or Killer Mark´s as Mandy referred to them) which is practically 1:1 with the AUD. But they also accept Euros, which is 2KM=1Euros. Being told that the KM could not be exchanged outside of Bosnia, we chose to avoid the ATMs and just use euros.
We strolled around the rest of the old town and were struck by the number of very new graveyards around, all bearing similar dates. The stark white headstones and shelled buildings are a constant and shocking reminder of the recent violence this country has encountered.
In the morning we sought out the MM Restaurant for brekkie – how could we not, right? After our first bought hot brekkie of the trip, we returned to the old town to find bustling activity at the many stalls lining the streets and the numerous cafes that were filling up on this sunny Saturday.
We learned a bit about the history of Stari Most (the bridge), built by the Turks in 1556 and giving the town of Mostar it´s name, meaning ¨keeper of the the bridge¨. Sadly, it was destroyed on Sept 11 1993, after a direct hit by a Croatian bomb – an event which was caught on film! The town immediately decided to rebuild it as a symbol of hope and unity. The new bridge reopened in 2004 and is an exact replica of the old one.
We were also fortunate enough to see one of Mostar´s Diving Club members jump from the 22m tall bridge – check out the video! Apparently many tourists try this feat (paying 300 Euros), and not all come away unscathed.
We settled into one of the busy cafes for a traditional Bosnian lunch – veal skewers, grilled vegetables and a Sarajevo beer before heading to the post office to send some gifts home. The unfriendly lady behind the counter advised us that we were unable to post anything to Australia as we don´t live there!!! Go figure huh!
We continued on to the bus station and purchased tickets to Sarajevo, grabbing the front seats in the top of the double decker bus for the best views! Good choice too, considering the scenery on the 4 ½ hour bus ride. The road hugged the river for most of the way, in a wide gorge that provided some pretty stunning scenery.
A number of trout farms spotted the river, tempting motorists from the roadside - including our bus driver, who pulled in to purchase his share. Having front row seats, we watched in wonder as the trout farmer selected the live fish from a tank, knocking each fish over the head to kill it, before weighing them for sale. Not something we particularly wanted to see.....poor fishies...
Link to bus video:
http://picasaweb.google.com/mandyrogers/BusToSarajevo
Sarajevo
Arriving into Sarajevo on a Saturday night, we were keen for some action in this young capital city. Our first stop was tourist info for hints on where to stay and we were greeted by a very friendly lady who offered us her own hostel for 10 Euros or private accommodation for 15. Seemed like an easy enough decision for us so after a welcome shot of Rakijeh, we were led out the back and up the stairs into a somewhat seedy place, and shown to our room. We met our room mates – Luic and Gregory from France, who were also getting ready for the night ahead. We agreed to meet downstairs for pre-drinks.
A couple more Canadians and one more Frenchie (Benedict) joined us in the downstairs bar before we moved onto the second pub – Babylon, a teensy tiny smoky bar with cheap beer and flavoured brandy shots. Here, we experienced our first time of getting drinks the Bosnian way. There was one guy for the whole place keeping track of who was drinking what!!! He hands you your drinks and keeps a written tab on what each table is drinking – which could get kind of dangerous if someone decides to slip off halfway through the night.
We break away from our crew to check out another bar recommended by Lynney, City Pub. This turns out to be a pumping swanky bar full of dressed up locals. Despite being 1am, everyone appears to be very lucid. So we stay for one drink and head back to find our friends.
Unfortunately the promiss of everyone knowing the bar we were aiming for appeared over confident. So we couldnt find bar Keno and we head for Burek (meat filled pastry/Bosnian meat pie) instead.
We then made friends with a few local girls and headed to a busy bar for another shot. Not lasting too long here, we headed back to our beds.
The next day was a late start with a moderate hang-over. So we enjoyed the cooked breakfast put on by the hostel. Turns out daylight savings kicked in over night, so we were up an hour earlier than we expected. Bonus.
We walked out to the Bosnia History Museum, recommended by a few travellers. The exhibition in a war damaged building contains an assortment of seige artefacts and wartime snapshots (pardon the pun). The display was very graphic and provides a rare and raw insight of the tradegy affecting the 300,000 people living here between 1992-95... Think sad stories, critical event records and explosion damage... Some exhibits had actual dried body parts on school books from a fatal strike... A bit gruesome, but it happened that way. They have avoided taking sides in the exhibition and presented only the artefacts as they were found. A very impacting look at a very difficult time.
From here, we walked back to the Latin bridge. Where a young serb found himself holding a gun when the Austrian Franz Ferdinand drove past in 1914... Hence the heir to the central European Empire was assassinated in this obscure corner of the world and the event triggered WWI. From little things...
We then found an awesome chavapi shop... Turns out there are several in this area and the locals love them. 3 dollars for 5 sausages on a roll... Mands loves them.
We browse the many shops in the old market quarter. The goods have a very appealing persian quality, and we are very tempted on a number of occasions. However, we manage to resist some of the finer items and occupy ourselves with sampling the famous food on offer. We indulge with coffee and cake, in one of the many cafes. Delicious... We are getting worried about degrading diet and exercise levels. So we are doing more talking about running in the morning...
We try again to post to Australia... Not very helpful. We end up getting a result on the fourth visit. Hopefully it gets over there... It cost us enough.
We end the day with dinner of beef/chicken on potatos roasted in a pan with coals on the top. A little expensive but the potatoes were absolutely delicious.
The next morning we find out a traveller friend (Benedict) working at the hostel has had her bag and laptop stolen from her locker... We got the feeling this place was dodgy. She has the shits and wants to leave immediately as the owners don't seem to care. --- A strange follow-up to this story happened when we mentioned the event to a traveller in Belgrade. The Hostel owner heard the comment and quickly added that Benedict actually made a mistake and was in the wrong room. So the owners we getting her computer to her. Not sure about that, but we are more careful now ---
On our last day we head out to the Tunnel Museum. Avoiding the tourist tours, we travel our on public tram and foot, thereby saving 8 Euro each. During the war, the Serbs surrounded Sarajevo. One of the only achievements of the UN was an agreement with the Serbs to take over the airport for shipments of humanitarian aid. On the condition that Bosnians were not allowed to cross. Hundreds of people died trying to run over the run way to supply food and munitions to the beseiged city. So the Bosnian Army built a tunnel under the airport, 800 metres to the edge of town that Bosnia controlled. Hence, for 3 years the town was supplied through this single life line. The tunnel is partly intact and the museum presents very interesting footage of film and collection of materials about these activities. Real perseverance in the face of extreme adversity.
Link to tunnel video:
http://picasaweb.google.com/mandyrogers/TunnelInSarajevo
We end the day with an overnight bus to Belgrade... Even though we try to avoid these services, 7.5 hours is too much of the day to waste on a bus. So we find our way to the bus station on the edge of town and board at 10pm with the hope or some kind of sleep before we arrive at 5:30am the next day. Having worked out a ¨bag in the sleeping bag¨ technique in South America, we are happy to dose off in our cocoons. Other than the grumpy border guards at 2am, the trip wasn´t too bad.
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