Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina

Friday morning and the minimum of luggage the trip begun, through Croatia – naturally on their highway – with kilometers passing by like the wind. Crossing the border and everything changed. Old and damaged roads, but luckily with light traffic, but our phase has slowed down. So, slowly but surely, we got to Sarajevo.

Unlike our regional capital in the valley of Savinja, with 18 degrees and storms, Bosnia still had a real hot summer with over 30 degrees during the day. But I’d guess guys in Sarajevo feel hot under the color even if it’s snowing, for all those picture perfect beauties in their dressed to kill outfits must have an effect on them. I’ve never seen so many confident high heels parading the promenade with numerous coffee tables. It was like a fashion show that reminded me more of a coastal resort than a capital that not long ago  had to struggle for survive the war.

My spouse had Čevapčiči for diner, with kajmak cheese in a lepinja, while I only asked for cheese and lepinja – which they didn’t even charge. We also enjoyed a home made yogurt with it, because you can’t get any alcohol there – probably due to Islamic religion. But you won’t have that problem in bars. The diner was really inexpensive €5. Since we didn’t exchange Euros yet, we paid in them, although the official currency is the convertible mark – and usually they accept the course of 1:2, although the official exchange rate is somewhat stronger (one Euro is worth somewhat less than 2KM).

In the morning we awoke to the sound of mosques calling to the first obligation of true Muslims. And we heard the water drops on our tent. No, it was not rain – it was just the lady in the house, that watered her plants. Well, it was a slow morning rise, but the third time we got up it was in panic! The car parked above us – due to massive watering – slid down the hill and straight into our tent and we have to thank the friendly bikers nearby that we passed the experience unharmed. So we went for breakfast in the cheese shop in Baščaršija, where we had – as expected – one of the best burek’s ever. Next we had some coffee across the street, where an elderly retired woman soon joined us – she was passing by and had to rest, and oh how she loves Slovenians! Everywhere where they heard us talk they wanted to chat with us, and started telling us when they were last in Slovenia and how much better it is in Slovenia, and how many of their family members, neighbors and friends work in Slovenia… and this kept repeating everywhere, from shops to trams. During our chit-chat a boy came along selling renowned perfumes, in original packages, but the price made me wonder – although after buying a bottle I was not disappointed, the smell really seemed original. It was probably more original that known fashion creations Bosnia is known for. We did not shop much, but my husband got himself a t-shirt with Vučko, the mascot of 1984 winter Olympics in Sarajevo designed by a Slovenian Jože Trobec.

The city beat is very lively in the morning with the young and old, men and women, barely dressed. Young girls and fully covered up Muslim women, everything strolling along at a steady phase. And many women went into beauty salons or hairdressers, which were completely full. All these women were making themselves beautiful for themselves, for their men – who are a minority – for the evening promenade, maybe even for the film festival taking place there and then. The standards are somewhat lower than back home, so you feel the time stopped some 15 years ago. But many highways and business buildings are being built. The shops are very much like ours, and there are some Slovenian shops there too.

After visiting the center – we spent more time soaking in the spirit and visiting the tourist information center than seeing the sights – we decided to visit the famous tunnel, the only connection the city had with the world, while besieged during the war. For better orientation we asked a young weightier how to find the Tunnel. At first he said, he doesn’t even know, where the Tunnel was, but latter he said with sadness in his voice that his father died there and that he doesn’t understand, how something so sad can become such an attraction. And it was only then I realized the bullet holes in the wall are painful memories for the people living there, regardless of how normal or even happy their current life seems like. From the main bus station we took a cab to the Tunnel and the driver spent the war day in the city, so he had a story to tell us about every house in every street, but spoke distant, without anger, saying life goes on and that in Sarajevo there isn’t a person, who wouldn’t have lost somebody near or dear. Visiting the museum made from the nearby houses, seeing the films and walking the tunnel depressed me. Waiting for a cab to take us back, we met a group of tourist talking to a local – via their guide – and he said how he lived in the city during the war too – concluding again how life has to go on, and how he has a Serbian colleague at work and they get along fine – with a quiet agreement of not talking about the war. But after the visit of the Tunnel I simply found a new admiration for Bosnian refugees who came to Slovenia, made a new life for themselves and returned to a damaged home to start anew.

In the afternoon I went to a beauty salon myself, but a woman steped in before me for a pedicure and nail gel, much cheaper than back home in Slovenia. We talked about different things and I found out, she’s about my age, but with a lot of working experience and told me how much mony and time the girls of Sarajevo spend on beauty and clothes and how sociable the people are there. She naturally told me about being in Slovenia, back in elementary school when they visited Lipica. I tried to speak –unsuccessfully- in their language, and was praised anyway. And the brother of the girl also works in Slovenia and the thing he misses the most is the openness of the people, the thing that astounded us most in this metropolis.

Getting back to the tent to get ready for the night, the city started smelling of barbecued meat and we heard laughter and music from everywhere. People simply know how to enjoy life. We spent the evening in the center, even livelier than the night before, so we hardly got a table.

And sadly Sunday – the day of our return – was here, although we’d want to stay in Sarajevo for much longer. We went along the river Neretva (and that’s our next destination to go rafting to), we went towards Mostar, renown for the stone bridge and many mosques, craft shops nad tourist prices. We stoped at Jablanica to see the famous bridge from the Battle of Neretva (from the second world war), the one we knew from the real life even historical movie and continued to Međugorje and finally arrived to Croatia, where we didn’t find a place to stay for the night, so we took a quick dip in the sea and head back home to our own beds, just a few hours away.

And the longer drive along the roads where they sell clay statues, dwarves, Vučko, or čevapčiči is well worth the effort. You should not miss the Bosnian adventure! Prijatno!

Jana Puhar