Split has a different feel from most of the other places I’ve visited on this trip. It receives a large number of tourists (primarily day visitors on cruise ships), but the old city is not the exclusive domain of visitors. The residents of Split still celebrate their downtown and their love for their city is apparent…particularly in the evening, when they completely reclaim it for themselves.
View of the Riva (Split, Croatia)
It’s fun to be in a real city again. You can find record stores (always a plus for me!) and other hallmarks of a city that is not entirely given over to tourism. There are also restaurants in the downtown area that locals can actually recommend. You’d think this would be true anywhere, but the sobe operator in Dubrovnik had a very hard time coming up with recommendations for me. Other travellers told the same story: eating in Dubrovnik is a necessity but not necessarily a pleasure.
The Riva in the evening (Split, Croatia)
Now that I’ve entered the third week of this trip, I find the realness of Split appealing. In a way, it’s like being back in Sarajevo. There were some tourists there but at night the streets were filled with Sarajevans. As I prepare for my return to Canada in a few days, I am craving that reality more than I did at the beginning of this trip.
Part of the “Green Market” in Split, Croatia
Split does have a “wow” factor to attract all those day tourists, of course. The core of the old city is the massive Diocletian’s Palace, which the former Roman Emperor had built as his retirement home. While it used to be a stand-alone structure, it eventually began to crumble and local residents began to build over parts of it. As a result, parts of the original structure still stand (especially the external walls) but other parts have been creatively adapted into new streetscapes.
St. Domnius Cathedral, which is built using parts of Diocletian’s Mausoleum (inside Diocletian’s Palace)
My soba is located within Diocletian’s Palace, although the upper floors of the building are obviously from a later era. However, the foundation (and probably other parts as well) is Roman. In some places, the city has different tiers: streets go in different directions, depending on how high above the original palace you are. It’s fascinating to see how nearly 2,000 years of history can collide in such a small space.
In the middle of Diocletian’s Palace – my soba is just down the alleyway in the centre left of the picture (Split, Croatia)
Only two full days remain in this trip. I hope to see the nearby town of Trogir…and then it’s time for a very quick tour of one of Europe’s great capital cities!
After my far-too-exciting road trip to northern Montenegro, I decided that it was time for an important part of any extended trip: a vacation from the vacation. It’s important to recharge every once in a while, even though it is tempting to maximize the sightseeing every day. With the sun shining in Kotor, I decided to enjoy the nice weather, stay close to my hotel, and take care of some more mundane matters.
My “hotel” in Kotor – my room is on the third floor (with open shutter)
I had fallen behind in my postcards, so I picked up a few of those and also found the appropriate stamps. Instead of just asking “Engleski?”, I graduated to asking “Govorite li engleski?” I probably butchered it quite badly but I still think it is important to make the effort and acknowledge that you are not in an English-speaking country.
Inside the walled town of Kotor, with some of fortifications visible above the city.
One of the challenges with the language here is that the emphasis often falls on the first syllable of a word – it’s completely different from Italian, for example, where the emphasis is usually on the second-last syllable of a word. I also tried to communicate in the Montenegrin language at the bus station, where I figured out the schedule and bought a ticket for today’s bus trip to Dubrovnik and then Split. The ticket seller appreciated my linguistic effort, but was much less appreciative of my use of a 100-Euro note to pay for a 14-Euro fare. Unfortunately, bank machines here dispense very large denominations and it’s really overkill for most purchases.
View from my lunch table, overlooking the Bay of Kotor (Dobrota, Montenegro)
I then decided to wander around both the old town of Kotor and the newer town of Dobrota. No shocking discoveries, just a pleasant Mediterranean afternoon. After catching up on some e-mail, I decided to return to my vacation and stopped by the hostel. There is usually a special event of some kind at 8:30 each night: there was a free dinner twice, while the other two nights featured free sangria and cocktails. It was a chance to say goodbye to my fellow “road trippers” and to swap travel stories with some new hostel residents. Several were from France, but there was one from Lithuania and one from New Jersey! You never know who you are going to run into or where they have been.
View of the walls of Kotor and the fortifications above the town
I’m pleased to report that my two bus trips today were very much in control and I didn’t have any concerns about my safety. Sadly, though, we were delayed for nearly two hours just past Dubrovnik because of a serious traffic accident. We saw the ambulances racing to the scene and then saw them leave about half an hour later. When they left, the ambulance lights were flashing but there was no siren and they weren’t going too fast. A traveller on the bus from Colorado thought it meant that there had been fatalities. Needless to say, I couldn’t help thinking about the dangerous road trip from a couple of days ago.
More than 5 hours after departure (and after passing through Bosnia & Herzegovina’s 10 km strip of Adriatic coastline – see photo of the resort of Neum at the top of this posting), I finally arrived in Split.
Split is a vibrant city with thousands of people on the streets. You couldn’t move! I’ve never seen a city with so many people in the downtown core. After eating at a restaurant near the fringes of the old city, I emerged to fireworks above the waterfront area. Well, it turns out that today was probably the biggest civic celebration of the year for Split: the Feast Day of St. Domnius. While the intense crush of people was kind of intimidating when I first arrived, tomorrow should be much calmer in Split. I can do some proper sightseeing then.
Eager to see some remote corners of this rugged and mountainous country, I signed up for a group tour of Durmitor National Park. It is located quite some distance to the north of Kotor, but on the map it looked “do-able” in a day.
Overlooking the Tara River Canyon – northern Montenegro
It is only appropriate that I cut to the chase: it wasn’t a crazy road trip because of the extreme scenery (although there was plenty of that)…it was a crazy road trip because of the way we travelled. Four of us, plus our driver, were crammed into a VW Golf. As three out of the five were 6’3″ or taller, it was never going to be a comfortable ride. But I certainly didn’t expect it to be such a terrifying ride.
Basically, the whole day was like a video game: let’s see how recklessly and dangerously you can drive on narrow mountain roads! Blind corners, doubling the speed limit, passing transport trucks, tailgating so closely that you could read the newspaper in the car in front of you, racing through unlit tunnels, making and taking phone calls and text messages while driving…bonus points for all! I’ve never been so exhausted by a vacation day. I honestly felt like kissing the ground when the tour ended 13 hours later. It also seemed so unnecessary: we took long coffee breaks in each direction and still arrived back in Kotor well ahead of schedule.
An upstream view of the Tara River, as seen from Curevac. (northern Montenegro)
When we were walking back to the hostel afterwards, I told the other guys (two from England, one from Hong Kong) that I might not quite be myself at dinner, as I was a little shaken up by what I thought was a scary ride. After all, in addition to having a crazy driver, we had passed an awful lot of roadside memorials to car accident victims. To my surprise, the other guys didn’t seem to think the day’s driving was particularly noteworthy. One of them shrugged it off and said that “you get used to bad driving in Europe”.
This really made me think, as my reaction was so markedly different from theirs. I suppose that it can be explained by personal factors as well as cultural ones. Personally, I like to be in control of my own destiny. I once lost control of my vehicle on a remote icy road and , as a lawyer, I’ve often dealt professionally with the aftermath of automobile accidents. Lawyers are also trained to identify every possible negative outcome of an arrangement, so that risks can be identified and appropriate contracts can be negotiated.
Looking straight down at the Tara River (northern Montenegro)
From a cultural perspective, I think that Canadians are (perhaps excessively) polite and tend to follow rules more. We’re also taught “defensive driving” when we learn how to drive a car: you always need to be prepared for a mistake that the *other* driver might make. By contrast, our driver seemed to assume that the car coming the other way would always get out of the way in time. Canadian roads are also engineered for optimum safety, something that is made possible by (most of) our terrain and the relative abundance of space. Other countries, especially very mountainous and/or densely populated ones, may not have that luxury.
Black Lake, Durmitor National Park (Montenegro)
Anyway, I survived the trip and managed to take some pictures as well. The bottom line is that northern Montenegro is a beautiful riot of mountain scenery with a lot of sheer drop-offs. The Tara River Canyon reaches a depth of 1300 metres at one point.
While many of the mountains were folded up and very close together, some of the mountains in Durmitor National Park reminded me somewhat of the Canadian Rockies – they were large, but they also had relatively more space around them than one normally sees in the Alps. Black Lake felt like Lake Louise, Alberta from certain angles.
It never hurts to consider the cultural and personal factors that may impact your trip. In this case, I don’t think I was fully prepared for what was going to happen…and my immediate enjoyment probably took a bit of a hit as a result. But I do have fond memories of the mountains…and the Bečka šnicla at lunch was really good!
In this part of Europe, they call it ” Bečka šnicla” rather than Wienerschnitzel. (Durmitor Restaurant, Žabljak, Montenegro)
I’m not literally off the radar, as this place is quite wired. But I think it is safe to say that I am off the Canadian tourist radar. Part of that is probably because Montenegro has only been independent since 2006. It also wasn’t in the headlines as much as Dubrovnik or Bosnia & Herzegovina during the war years, nor is it a very large country (in either size or population). What it lacks in size and profile, however, it makes up for in natural beauty and history.
My base for the next few days is the town of Kotor. It is almost as disorienting as Venice, although thankfully it is not as large and you can try to get some guidance from the surrounding mountains to help orient yourself. Those mountains are ridiculously steep and rise out of the bay like shark fins. While not technically a fjord, it looks and feels like one.
Like Dubrovnik, the old town it is also surrounded by a wall. But, as a bonus, the wall also goes up the mountain to the Fortress of St. John which looms high above the town. You can climb all 1500 steps – I suppose this is what the Great Wall of China would be like if it were built on the Norwegian coast. It took a millennium to build, although work was often suspended for long periods of time. I managed to climb it today, despite the misty and occasionally rainy weather.
Clouds and rain can’t diminish the joy of being high up in the Montenegrin mountains
A personal injury lawyer might describe the walls above Kotor as “a lawsuit waiting to happen”. All sorts of hazards and dangers lurk in the crumbling walls and buildings. But what a thrill to climb it! The views over Kotor, the fjord and the mountains are fabulous as well. The photo at the top is from about halfway up the wall – the old town of Kotor is on the left.
Climbing the walls above Kotor
I also visited the nearby village of Perast today. There are only 300 people living here now, but 16 churches and 17 palaces still remain. It looks Venetian (minus the canals) and is good for wandering. There are also a couple of small islands nearby that you can visit. I took a boat to “Our Lady of the Rocks Island”, which is built on an island created by dumping rocks, shipwrecks, etc., where a picture of Mary was found hundreds of years ago.
Our Lady of the Rocks Island, Bay of Kotor
As for being off the radar, I wonder if one reason might be the brutal border crossing on the main road between Croatia and Montenegro. It took the bus 90 minutes to get through yesterday, as all passports needed to be checked at two separate places. Montenegro wants to join the EU (Croatia is already a member) so hopefully this notoriously bad crossing becomes obsolete.
I wonder why it was necessary to post this sign (above Kotor, Montenegro)
My accommodations are once again different. I had reserved a place at the Kotor Old Town Hostel; a highly-regarded hostel housed in a 13th century palace. However, I was “upgraded” to a private room with private bathroom in a nearby building (also called a “palazzo”) in the Old Town. I’m still affiliated with the hostel (they served a free dinner last night for all guests) and I will be joining one of their tours tomorrow to see the even-more-rugged mountains of northern Montenegro. After fairly solitary accommodation up to this point, it’s been good to meet more fellow travellers. A fellow from England joined me on the wall climb and the trip to Perast today. I’m not sure who will all be on the tour tomorrow but it promises to be a multicultural assortment of mountain-seeking people.
Perast, Montenegro (and its islands) on the Bay of Kotor
When I went to Lokrum Island, I did not expect to be confronted with the above creature right off the dock. Thinking that I had stumbled upon the only one, I took lots of pictures. But there were more: in the gardens, in the palace, on the rocky beaches, everywhere. If you want to see peacocks (and peahens), this is your place. They wander freely and have little fear of humans. I’m somewhat surprised that neither one of my guidebooks mentioned this; personally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a peacock wandering around humans like that before.
A peacock, when it is not showing off (Lokrum, Croatia)
Having already wandered extensively among the walls and the back streets of Dubrovnik, the past two days have been devoted to boat trips…and laundry. Laundry is one of my favourite travel experiences, because (in addition to refreshing my wardrobe) it often brings me out of the tourist zone and into a truly local environment. Alas, there aren’t many locals in the old town of Dubrovnik and everybody I met at the laundromat was also a traveller. That was OK, though, as we all enjoyed swapping travel stories and giving warnings/recommendations as necessary.
Today’s Laundromat (Dubrovnik, Croatia)
Yesterday’s boat trip was a true adventure. I decided to visit the town of Cavtat, which is a much smaller resort to the southeast of Dubrovnik. Instead of taking a bus, I opted for the boat. How could I pass up an opportunity to sail the shimmering Adriatic? I didn’t see the boat before committing, nor did I see the weather outside of Dubrovnik harbour.
Well, it was a very small boat. Even worse, the winds really whipped up the waves outside of the harbour and we were travelling directly into them. The next 45 minutes could be best described as “violent turbulence” with additional “violent side-to-side movements”. I’ve only been on one boat ride like that before, when Louise and I took a three-hour ferry from Iceland’s north coast to the remote island of Grimsey (I shall spare you the details, except to say that even some crew members were ill).
I began to wonder about the etiquette of being seasick in a small space but fortunately it remained a theoretical question for me and the other 6 passengers. The weather improved marginally while I was in Cavtat and the return trip was also improved (although I was prepared to forego the return ticket and take a boring but safe bus back to Dubrovnik). As for Cavtat itself, it is a quaint, cobbled town with many cats and is a nice change of pace from Dubrovnik. Lunch was once again “al fresco” on the waterfront.
One of many cats living on the streets of Cavtat, Croatia
Today’s trip to Lokrum Island was a last-minute decision but I made a point of checking out the boat first. I also knew it was a much shorter journey and that the winds were much calmer than yesterday. In addition to the proliferation of peafowl, the island is a forest preserve and has a vast network of hiking trails through the woods and along the rocky shoreline. It also has a collection of huge, crumbling buildings in the middle of the forest, including a palace and a fortress. I wandered happily for a couple of hours and returned to Dubrovnik by a satisfyingly large boat.
The boat I took to Lokrum, as seen from Lokrum
I forgot to mention that my Dubrovnik soba is located in a 600-year old building. It was damaged during the siege of Dubrovnik but has been very well restored. As you can see from the photo below, even the streets are gleaming.
Stradun, the main street of Dubrovnik’s old town
Tomorrow I will be on the road again. I’ll be in another new country, although I will be back in Croatia in a few days.
Finally – a note to the subscribers of this blog. It seems that the “cover photo” at the top of every posting does not get included in the blog entries that you receive by e-mail. All the written content is there, however.
While I was excited about moving on to Croatia from Bosnia & Herzegovina, I was a little worried about the process. I had heard some traveller stories about the border formalities, especially as Croatia has recently joined the European Union. However, I was even more concerned about what kind of bus driver shenanigans I would be subjected to this time, especially once I saw the “well used” vehicle that was taking me to Dubrovnik. Fortunately, the driver mostly stayed on his side of the road and didn’t try to overtake anybody on blind, downhill, cliff-side hairpin turns. I arrived in Dubrovnik with a great sense of relief.
View of the old town (and Lokrum Island) from the city walls in Dubrovnik, Croatia
Nothing prepares you for Dubrovnik. It has the same “wow factor” as Venice, one major difference being that Dubrovnik has hills instead of canals (and apparently it had canals once too). Dubrovnik also has these incredible walls that completely surround the old city. You walk on them just like the Great Wall of China. The Dubrovnik walls are HIGH – I’m usually pretty good with heights, but in some places there were huge drop-offs on either side and not too much in the way of railings or space to manoeuvre. It was almost like being on top of the Mostar Minaret again. However, this also means that you can get some pretty sensational photographs. I must have taken about 200 in the hour or so that I was walking on top of the walls.
Unbelievably, this is one of the “lower” sections of the wall around Dubrovnik’s old town. Not much in the way of guardrails, as you can see.
I could go on and on about the visual impact of Dubrovnik. The main street in the old town is made of marble. Most of the side streets are incredibly steep and narrow staircases. Clearly, this city was once very powerful. In fact, it was apparently the first nation (called Ragusa at the time) to recognize the independence of the U.S.A.
One of the many side streets, as seen from the Dubrovnik city walls
Dubrovnik also has a tragic recent past. It was bombarded during the breakup of Yugoslavia and a huge number of buildings were destroyed. However, it was rebuilt incredibly quickly and there really aren’t any physical signs of the war. The reminders are much more subtle here than in Bosnia & Herzegovina.
Dubrovnik’s Cathedral
I also visited the Fort of St. Lawrence (Tvrdava Lovrijenac) later in the day. It’s somewhat reminiscent of a smaller, emptier Fort Henry (for those of you from Kingston, Ontario), so it wasn’t too exotic for me on that level. However, it provides an outstanding location for photographs of the city and the incredibly blue Adriatic Sea. The photo at the top of this blog posting was taken from the Fort.
Looking toward the Pile district of the “new city” from the Dubrovnik city walls (Tvrdava Lovrijenac on left)
I’m staying in a “soba” here – a room in a private house, as opposed to a hotel. In this case, the owner doesn’t live here but stops by from time to time in order to check people in and out. I have to share a bathroom with one other person on my floor. While a private bathroom is a nice luxury to have, doubling the cost of your stay really can’t be justified for the sake of some convenient plumbing. (Dubrovnik is a very popular destination; hotel rooms are both scarce and fiendishly expensive in the old town.) The alternative was to stay in a nearby town and commute into Dubrovnik. While I would consider that in a more modern city with less character, Dubrovnik’s old town is so unique that I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to stay in it. I will not be traumatized by sharing facilities for a couple of days. My expectations for food are also lower here, as the tourist volume drives up prices…and often puts downward pressure on quality. I know that I will eat better in other Croatian towns.
After a wacky bus ride from Mostar, I’m staying briefly in the small city of Trebinje. It’s located very close to the borders of both Croatia and Montenegro. However, it’s also located in the “Republika Srpska” (“RS” for short) and I should briefly explain that.
Mepas Mall in Mostar. I took a quick look here just before leaving for Trebinje
The country of Bosnia and Herzegovina is actually comprised of two entities: (1) the “Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina”, which is largely made up of Bosniaks and Bosnian Croats, and (2) the “Republika Srpska”, which is largely made up of Bosnian Serbs. Furthermore, there is one small region that belongs to both the Federation and RS, as no satisfactory division could be made. Sarajevo and Mostar are both in the Federation, while Trebinje is in the RS. The borders correspond more or less to the front lines at the time of the ceasefire in 1995.
It’s quite different here: the Cyrillic alphabet dominates and there are many signs, etc., reminding people that they are in the RS. As Trebinje is a smaller city and does not attract as many tourists, I seem to be more of a curiosity here. Many people speak only Serbian. There also isn’t much war damage here as the front lines were farther to the west.
There are at least three major sights in Trebinje: the “monastery” of Hercegovacka Gracanica, the Arslanagic bridge, and the walled old town.
Hercegovacka Gracanica, atop Crkvina, as seen from the Arslanagic Bridge
I first visited Hercegovacka Gracanica, a small monastery located at the top of a small mountain called Crkvina. I made the 2km walk in record time due to the heavy rain. The walk was worth it, though, as there are fabulous views from the top. The monastery is also fascinating: it is an exact replica of a monastery in Gracanica, Kosovo that is very important to Orthodox Serbs. A wealthy Bosnian Serb expat financed the construction of this replica (and you can even see his picture in the artwork that covers the interior walls). I’ve never seen such a colourful interior, even in other Orthodox churches. Alas, because it is quite small, it was almost impossible to take a photograph that properly captured the interior. The photo at the top of this post shows one small part, while I’m also posting a more expansive picture from a larger downtown Orthodox church that shares some of the basic colour themes (although the style is actually quite different).
Inside the “Svetog Preobrazenja” in downtown Trebinje (Bosnia & Herzegovina)
From the top of Crkvina, I descended to the Trebinsnica River and the Arslanagic Bridge. This bridge also dates back to the Ottoman period (1574), but it has little else in common with the old bridge in Mostar. The Arslanagic Bridge was not harmed in the war but it was relocated in the 1970s from its original location in the downtown core. I should mention that I narrowly missed stepping on a (presumably) dead hedgehog as I neared the bridge. I have a photo if anybody wants to see it.
View of Trebinje (including Arslanagic Bridge, at centre-right),from top of Crkvina
Finally, I wandered through the walled old town. It’s quaint but not as prettied up as some other old towns: many people still live within the walls and I discovered that it attracts attention if you take photographs.
View of the old town, Trebinje
As for the “wacky” bus ride…it was normal for the first hour or so. The driver then seemed to be running a lot of personal errands, so he made up for lost time by driving exceptionally fast on narrow mountain roads. He also smoked, made phone calls, did paperwork, drank water, snacked and repeatedly spit out the window while driving. Strangely, I preferred it when he did these other tasks, as it seemed to slow him down a bit.
I was the only passenger who actually crossed the Federation/RS border. There were a lot of other passengers on either side but they only travelled within their own entity. Even though the two entities belong to the same country, there appears to be little interaction between them.
I’m leaving Bosnia & Herzegovina tomorrow morning. I hear that the weather will improve…just in time for me to appreciate the legendary Dalmatian coast!
After some gritty images in my last two posts, I’m looking at a more tranquil side of Herzegovinian life today.
I began by visiting the nearby village of Blagaj. To be honest, I had never heard of it before coming here. However, I wanted to explore outside of Mostar and Blagaj was the only vaguely touristy place that I could reach by public transportation. I had hoped to go on a group excursion to see an assortment of local attractions but there were no spaces available.
Of course, the journey is often just as important as the destination. I had to take a local bus to get to Blagaj. When it’s not your country and not your language, something as simple as taking the local bus becomes a real adventure. Finding and figuring out the bilingual (Croatian/Bosnian) city bus schedule, for a Sunday, proved to be a worthy challenge.
Alas, the bus was late and a local gentleman began asking me questions about Blagaj in Bosnian (or was it Croatian?). I was glad to be mistaken for a local, but could only mutter “Engleski?” in response. He shrugged and walked away. Hoping that nothing was wrong with the bus, I boarded it apprehensively a few minutes later when it finally pulled up to the bus stop. The bus driver sure seemed determined to make up for lost time, so I held on tight and hoped that the bus had functioning brakes. I hopped off the bus at what seemed to be a more-or-less central location in Blagaj and began to explore.
The Tekija in Blagaj, Bosnia and Herzegovina
As it turns out, Blagaj really has only one major attraction: the Tekija, a “monastery” for Turkish dervishes. I had to remove my shoes and leave them outside, as per the custom for Muslim buildings (I have to do the same thing in my hotel). TheTekija was peaceful and well-suited for quiet contemplation. It also has a spectacular setting: immediately below a cliff face, out of which roars a turbulent river. So turbulent, in fact, that a number of the nearby restaurants had their patio seating (unintentionally) under water. I took a few pictures and, after a cursory look around downtown Blagaj, managed to find my way back to Mostar.
The Tekija, the Buna River, a very large rock, and an almost submersed bridge (Blagaj, Bosnia & Herzegovina)
After buying and writing some postcards, I decided to do something that I have never done before: visit a mosque and climb to the top of its minaret. The Koski Mehmed-Pasha Mosque in Mostar is a national monument, so non-Muslims are allowed to go inside, to climb the minaret, and even to take pictures (something I confirmed with the attendant, as this is usually not the case). They even allow you to keep your shoes on, as a special covering is on the floor where tourists walk. The mosque was relatively austere inside; like almost all religious buildings in Mostar, it had to be rebuilt after the war.
Inside the mosque
The climb to the top of minaret was quite a challenge. Very narrow, very steep, very circular, and even very wet as you neared the top. Reverting to a legal frame of mind, I briefly considered the liability issues. When I finally emerged from the stairs, there was a frighteningly narrow viewing platform that was drowning in at least one inch of water. I’m so glad that I bought waterproof hiking shoes for this trip! Holding on tightly to the railing and taking very small and splooshy steps, I then enjoyed the most fantastic 360′ view of Mostar (the photo at the top of today’s blog post is from here). Of course, my sensations may have been “heightened” by the challenging conditions I endured to get to and move around the top of the minaret.
Mostar’s East Bank, from the Koski Mehmed-Pasha Mosque’s minaret
All in all, it was a mostly peaceful day. However, I readily admit that it might not have been so peaceful for somebody with a fear of heights, water, watery heights, enclosed spaces and/or excess speed. There is always another side of the story, even when visiting tranquil sites!
Koski Mehmed-Pasha Mosque (Mostar) – was the minaret really leaning that much?
From Sarajevo, it is a 3-hour bus ride south through the mountains to the historic city of Mostar.
Like many communities in Bosnia & Herzegovina, Mostar is known to many people only as the scene of horrific fighting during the war of the early 1990s. It had a remarkable 400+ year-old bridge but that too was destroyed during the recent conflict. The bridge has since been rebuilt in accordance with the original design (see above) and using the same materials. Many hoped that this highly symbolic reconstruction would accelerate the patching up of relations between the former adversaries. I’ll return to this question later.
But first – some background information on the conflict in the Mostar area. At the beginning of the war, the Bosnian Serbs were essentially driven out of the city by the combined Bosniak (Muslim) and Bosnian Croat forces. However, conflict then arose between the Bosniaks and Croats. The Bosniaks controlled the east side of the Neretva River, while the Croats controlled most of the west side. In 1993, the worst year of fighting, the bridge was destroyed. The cemeteries are filled with those who perished that year.
Looking down Onešćukova ulica in Mostar’s old town
Even after only one day here, it seems to me that Mostar was affected by the war even more than Sarajevo. Many buildings in the city still lie in ruins, although some tremendous restoration work has been done. The old town is an incredibly picturesque place, with narrow, twisting streets and stairways and bridges leading in all directions. The old bridge truly is something to behold – both as a sight to be seen from a distance and as something to cross. The views from the bridge itself are also spectacular.
View from the old bridge in Mostar (Bosnia & Herzegovina)
There are quaint restaurants appearing all over the “tourist zone” – and, if you avoid one notorious area with great views but poor food, there are restaurants that even locals can recommend. It also is even cheaper than Sarajevo, although I think that many restaurants are still out of reach of the average local resident. As you can see from the photographs, there is a purely aesthetic reason that tourists are showing up here in increasing numbers.
However, Mostar is not as big as Sarajevo (the capital) and does not have as many foreign residents. There are fewer buffers and intermediaries. As a result, the “war reminders” that I described in my posting on the Sarajevo Siege seem even more intense here. Despite the undeniable beauty and the reconciliation efforts that have been made by both sides, one still feels tension. Of course, I just might be more aware of it now that I’ve been in the country for a few days.
Hotel Neretva – luxury hotel destroyed in the early 1990s (Mostar, Bosnia & Herzegovina)
As a result of this tension, I’m glad that I splurged a little on my accommodations. It’s very peaceful and relaxing, as I’m staying in a mansion that was originally built during the Ottoman period by a wealthy family. It is a “national monument” with impenetrable walls that started as a museum and subsequently became a hotel as well. My room is furnished (with original items!) as it was a century ago. There are “curtains” around my bed, oriental carpets, a ceiling intricately carved out of wood (!), and arches over each of my 5 windows. If you want to see more pictures and details, check out the website at http://www.muslibegovichouse.com.
Muslibegovic House in Mostar – my room is on the 2nd floor (1st floor in Europe), closest to the camera.
I went on a guided tour today that was based on “The Siege of Sarajevo”. The city was besieged for almost 4 years in the early 1990s, until an internationally-facilitated peace accord finally stopped the hostilities throughout the new nation of Bosnia & Herzegovina.
I am really trying to avoid taking sides or politicizing this blog. However, I should provide at least a little bit of non-contentious, factual background to help contextualize what I’ll be seeing on this trip. There are many stories arising from the Bosnian conflict of 1992-1995; today, I’ll just focus on the Siege of Sarajevo. I also won’t speculate on the causes, the blame, or any of the external issues that affected the conflict.
Bosnia & Herzegovina was one of the independent nations that emerged from the breakup of Yugoslavia in 1991-2. While there is at least one exception (Kosovo was part of Serbia when Yugoslavia was still united), each independent nation that exists today was originally a republic within Yugoslavia prior to its breakup. Bosnia & Herzegovina was somewhat different, though, as it contained significant populations of three major religious groups: Bosnian Croats (Catholic), Bosnian Serbs (Orthodox), and Bosniaks (Muslims). Ethnically and linguistically, these groups are basically identical. They have also lived together for many hundreds of years with very few disputes. However, from 1992-1995, these groups were in conflict.
During the Siege, Sarajevo was virtually surrounded by Bosnian Serb forces. Life in Sarajevo during the Siege was very hard and there was no real connection to the outside world. Imagine not taking a bath or shower for 3 years because there was no running water (or electricity, for that matter) and no access to the rivers…but there were much more serious dangers.
Looking northeast from Sarajevo
Our guide talked extensively about the snipers positioned throughout the mountains surrounding Sarajevo. Because the mountains are so close (the city is actually located on the lower slopes), venturing outside one’s home raised the very real possibility of death or grievous injury from sniper fire. You basically lived in your basement and hoped to survive until tomorrow. Our guide was a teenager at the time and lost both his grandmother and uncle, as well as numerous cousins, to such sniper fire. His childhood best friend was killed by a grenade. Over 11,500 Sarajevans, of all “groups”, died during the Siege.
View from mountains above Sarajevo (note cemetery)
As the war went on, the besieged city eventually became tenuously connected to the outside world through the daring construction of an 800 metre long tunnel under the UN-controlled airport. We walked through a small portion of the narrow tunnel (1.0 by 1.6 metres) – it was hard enough without carrying 70 kg of supplies or dealing with the deep water that flooded the tunnel. However, even if you could get to the tunnel entrance and then make it through the tunnel itself, you still needed to cross a further kilometre of extremely dangerous land before reaching an area that could be considered “safe”.
The Tunnel Museum (Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina), end of the tunnel and pockmarked by bullets
After viewing the tunnel, we went back into the mountains where snipers were based…and where the 1984 Winter Olympic bobsled and luge events were held. It was startling to see the sports facilities lying in such desolation. They haven’t been used since the war started, nor have they been maintained. The mountain lifts, hotels and restaurants were shattered concrete shells that were being swallowed up by the encroaching weeds and forest (the photo at the top of this post is actually the top station of a cable car). Our guide took us to a place where we could safely walk down the crumbling bobsled track for about 15 minutes. Instead of being invigorating, however, it felt dangerous…almost like the war was still going on. The mountain was silent, abandoned, and shrouded by wild vegetation and a thick mist. It was impossible to conceive of this spot being the site of a joyous Olympic celebration.
1984 Olympic bobsled run (Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina)
We saw and heard much more. We began to lose track of the cemeteries, explosion sites and “former buildings”. Yet this was only one location: similar stories, with different parties and roles, occurred throughout the dissolving Yugoslavia. It was hard to reconcile this with the safe and comfortable feeling I had yesterday in downtown Sarajevo.
Looking for some balance, I treated myself to a nice dinner afterwards. I can’t imagine facing the reminders of this conflict on a daily basis…but, despite ongoing reconstruction efforts, that is precisely what many residents of Bosnia & Herzegovina still do.
