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  Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Monday, February 5, 2007

It was another early start in Mostar as Chris and I made for the small train station to get the only train to Sarajevo for the day. Unfortunately we were misinformed about the departure time, and to our disappointment we found ourselves standing at the end of the platform as the train passed us. We'd been told the journey along the Neretva River to Sarajevo was spectacular, but we were going to have to make do with the bus instead. It didn't take long for our disappointment to dissipate though, as the bus wound its way along the river between huge snow-capped peaks. The scenery was really stunning, complimented by the emerald green water of the Neretva River. The journey lasted a few hours, and shortly before midday we found ourselves in the western outskirts of Sarajevo.

Famous throughout the world for hosting the 1984 Winter Olympic Games, and later for the infamous Serb siege of 1992 to 1995 (the longest siege of any city in history), Sarajevo was a city I wanted to see more than almost any other in Europe. As soon as we arrived I found myself surprised by what I saw. The city was nestled in a wide valley, with the mountains of Jahorina and Bjelasnica flanking it to the south. Small houses lay on the hillsides, and the bright sun gave the snow covered hills a glistening aura. I knew it was a special place, and I hadn't even left the bus.

After having a surprise when a boisterous lady asked me if I was 'William' as we left the bus station (our host in Mostar had called her friend to meet us), we checked into a small hostel, managed to get lost for half an hour and then finally met Nick and Jess by the fountain in Bascarsija, the bustling old Turkish Quarter of the city. As we sipped on one of the best coffees I'd ever had, we made ourselves comfortable in a prime people watching location at an outdoor café as we told each other about everything we'd seen in the week since we'd left Belgrade. Ducking to avoid the thousands of pigeons flying around the square, we watched all manner of people walk by, some tasting the water from the small wooden fountain of Sebilj. Many of the women wore headscarves, and the tall minaret of the nearby mosque reminded us that we really were in a part of Europe where east and west met.

Following a delicious 'Burek' for lunch (a typical Bosnian cheese and spinach pastry) the four of us went for a walk down the pedestrian thoroughfare of Ferhadija and then south to the Miljacka River. A number of bridges crossed the river but we were looking for one in particular. The Latin bridge wasn't nearly as interesting to look at as the crescent shaped Stari Most in Mostar, however it was the site of one of the most significant assassinations in world history. It was here on the 28th of June in 1914 that a Bosnian Serb named Gavrilo Princip shot and killed the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, sparking off a war by the Austro-Hungarians against Serbia, which in turn led to the First World War. You wouldn't have guessed it today, as the plaque commemorating the incident was removed during the siege of Sarajevo and people now crossed the bridge and went about their daily business, giving no indication of what happened.

The four of us spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around at a leisurely pace, along the river, past the shelled National Library, through some of the new graveyards and up a hill where we were rewarded with a fantastic view over the city. As the sun began to set we made for a small café back in Bascarsija where I tried some Baklava for the first time, an insanely sweet apple pie of sorts, brought to Bosnia by the Turks. It must be said that the food I ate in Bosnia was the best I ate during my short stay in the FYR. The roasted vegetable dishes and pastries were just delectable. The rest of the night was spent hopping from pub to restaurant to pub to café to pub until well into the next morning. As much as we tried to convince Nick and Jess to join us on our journey to Slovenia the following evening, they were determined to go off on their own, so we celebrated my birthday a few days early.

Before meeting them again in the morning, Chris and I went for a short walk around the corner from our hostel to get a closer look at the bright yellow Holiday Inn. This was the home to international journalists during the siege. It was situated along the road into the city from the airport, dubbed 'sniper alley' because Serb snipers in surrounding hills picked off civilians crossing the road. The hotel had since received a full facelift, although many nearby buildings were still riddled with bullet holes. In fact, the damage caused during the siege could still be seen almost everywhere we looked. As we made our way back to Bascarsija we passed a number of 'Sarajevo roses' on the pavements. These were indentations where a shell had exploded, symbolically filled in with red cement. Later in the day I saw a local spit on one of them, either showing his disregard for the Bosnian killed there, or the Serb who fired the shell, the fact that he just didn't care or didn't even notice.

After another delicious cappuccino the four of us jumped aboard a cramped, rickety tram bound for Ilidza, a suburb on the south-western outskirts of the city near the airport. The lady who rented a room to us told me that we wouldn't have seen Sarajevo if we didn't see the tunnel, and I was intrigued to see what made the 800m tunnel beneath the airport so special. During the siege, Serb tanks in the hills picked off anyone crossing the runway, meaning Sarajevo was sealed off from the rest of the world. Some determined Bosnians dug a tunnel beneath it, allowing food and provisions to be brought into the city from the outside. It was the city's lifeline, and essentially it was the reason it was saved. The entrance was in the side yard of a house, inside of which was a small museum displaying photos and memorabilia from the years of the siege, as well as a short film showing footage of the crisis. I was certainly moved by the place, but I couldn't help but chuckle when Jess excitedly told us that Daniel Craig had visited the museum just a month earlier as she pointed at a picture of him in the same room we were in. A small section of the tunnel was open for us to have a walk through, and from the yard behind the house we had an incredible view, over the airport runway into the city, and south into the hills where the 1984 Winter Olympics were held and later where the Serb tanks sat. I can't describe the feeling I had, standing there and looking out over the scene of one of the worst conflicts of my lifetime.

We met an Australian couple at the tunnel museum, who by coincidence were the same couple who were living in Olomouc in the Czech Republic who owned and ran the hostel we stayed in. Turns out they had been travelling basically the same route as Chris and I, and we were surprised when they told us that they saw us in one of the small squares in Kotor, looking up three girls laughing at us out of a third story window! We got another slow, rickety tram back to Bascarsija where we again went our own ways. The rest of the afternoon passed quite quickly as the four of us whiled away the time in a few cafes and later a small restaurant before Chris and I bade goodbye to Nick and Jess again. It would be less than a week before we would catch up once more though, most likely back in the teacher's room at our school in Opole.

Two days certainly wasn't enough time to spend in Sarajevo. I felt I'd barely scratched the surface, and everywhere I looked I couldn't help but be intrigued by the place. The clash of cultures, east and west, Muslim and Christianity. The old Turkish Quarter had a unique atmosphere all of its own, and I admit I was a little excited when an attractive brunette handed me a flyer for the International House School in Sarajevo. I couldn't think of any other place I'd seen in Europe that I'd rather live in, given the history and culture. However while there had been peace in Sarajevo for almost a decade, I still couldn't help but wonder what people thought of what happened, and how it must be for the Serbs and Muslims to once again live together given the recent history. I guess all hasn't been forgotten, as some time later in the afternoon a cargo plane of sorts flew low over the city, and a great deal more than a small number of people stopped what they were doing to gaze up, with a not altogether unconcerned look on there faces. Oh Sarajevo...

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More Pictures

06 - Cemetary	07 - Holiday Inn	08 - Sarajevo Tunnel	09 - Airport and Sarajevo
10 - Mount Trebevic	11 - Team Opole

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