The Holiday Inn, which became home to wartime news reporters
Bashcharchia, Sarajevo
Chevapchichi, sarajevo
Turkish Coffee in Bashcharchia, Sarajevo
Sarajevo
This house was on the front line, the highway, between Croat and Muslim forces, and still acts as an ethnic divide.
1993 graves
View of the Stari Most, Mostar, from the minaret
Just arrived in Mostar!
Neno's lorry, where I spent a very pleasant night
Petar and Neno
Into Bosnia-Herzegovina
The canyon the next day
The mule and his mule!
Philip, and his muleOn the 17th April, I didn´t actually get going until 2pm, as errands (such as writing this blog! and doing my laundry) delayed me. The ride south of Split was very beautiful as the road clings to mountain sides that soar up directly from the bright blue Adriatic.
The late start meant that without realising it, I cycled later than I normally do, and was caught out slightly by the fading sun at 7.30. I asked a farmer if I could camp in their field, and they turned me away to my utter disgust! I continued a further half a mile to the next settlement, Zadarje, where I met a friendly group of young people. Maria suggested that the best place to camp was near the spectacular canyon which runs 20 km all the way to the coast, and boasts an enormous waterfall. I therefore went up, and set up my tent.
As soon as I had finished setting up camp, I was rather alarmed by an approaching car, and the tepping of the horn. I went over to say hi, and it turned out to be Maria's brother Philip. He is a maritime student, extremely tall with a deep Croatian voice. He was extremely friendly, and interested in my travels, and suggested that I move my tent to his barn. The panniers went in his car, and I set up camp in a barn comfortingly laid with hay.
We then went down to the village where all the young, between the ages of about 14 and 35 gather around a low wall (which serves as a bar), and the locak "Market" that sells the beer. They plied me with strong, tasty Croatian beer and refused to let me pay for anything. They were all very interested in Football, and I found my lack of knowledge of the Premiership a little embarrassing!
Philip, and his best friend rather comically and affectionately refer to eachother as "My Mule", and we briefly went to visit Philip's friend's real mule, Victor. He was a large beast who makes a grunting noise if grunted to!
They tried to get me invited to a wedding they were going to the next day but unsurprisingly the groom, when consulted by phone on the eve of his wedding day did not want a random British cyclist gatecrashing his big day.
I slept rather well, but was woken various times by the guard dogs. In the morning, Philip kindly brought me a huge ham and cheese sandwich and some milk.
The following day, I cycled up to the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina which was a steep climb. I was chased by a vicious dog for the first time (all the others have been restrained so far!). I managed to outpace it.
In the Croatian border town, just before the border I ordered a large ice cream and a baclava for which the chap would accept no payment. Ice cream in the Balkans is truly special, especially when my cycling routine means I can eat as much as I like!
On entering Bosnia, I was rather struck by the fact that as far as I was concerned, there could have been land mines anywhere that was not on the road. It was a little chilly, so I opened a pannier to don my fleece.
I cycled past a couple of children who screamed, "What's Your Name! What's your name!" I slowed, without stopping and sais "Humphrey, what's your name?" to which they just kept repeating themselves. I sped up, and the fat one lobbed a small stone that hit my panniers.
Fifteen minutes later, I discovered I had neglected to do up the pannier, and had lost my down jacket. I decided to turn back to look for it, and luckily the children were not there, and I found the jacket. On the return leg, however there was a group of 7 or 8 of them, and they appeared a little more menacing. I sped past them, shouting friendly pleasantries and the same fat kid lobbed another small stone that missed. A couple of them had bikes, and rode behind me for a little bit but lost interest after fifty yards.
I don't genuinely think they would have hurt me - they could have pelted me with stones at short range instead of halfheartedly lobbing one solitary small one, but it was a bit of an eye opener! Dogs and kids should be banned!
As it approached the time when I was looking to stop, I went past a house with a friendly looking chap (Petar) who asked me where I was going. I explained I was looking for a place to stay, and he said I could camp on his brother's land no problem. He explained that this part of Herzegovina has no land mines, and that it is a very safe country, which was good to hear! I was invitred in for Turkish coffee, dried ham and Bosnian savoury pancakes, which were all lovely. Each brother has 4 happy children, and a wife, so there was quite a crowd! I was given a large package of pancakes and ham, and they suggested that instead of sleeping in my tent I should sleep in Neno's lorry, to which I jumped at the opportunity!
After a lovely, comfortable night's rest I was invited inside in the morning for another sandwich and more Turkish Coffee, and plain drinking yoghurt, which is delicious. Neno is typical in that although they are Bosnian Croats (catholic), they try as much as possible to play down differences with Bosnia's other nations. I thought it was interesting that Neno was watching the Orthodox (Serb) Easter celebrations on TV in lieu of going to church as it was his turn to babysit the baby.
I cycled through the rain to Mostar, which is an incredibly beautiful city. The old part has been restored, save the ubiquitous ruins that still pepper the streets. As I crossed the Stari Most, the famous bridge that was rebuilt after the war, I heard the Muslim call to prayer. I scanned the cityscape, and noted minarets from mosques in all directions, and it dawned on me that I was in a truly muslim city. That said, if you cross the highway that acted as the Front Line with its honeycomb blasted buildings, you enter the Catholic (Croat) area. A large cross, erected controversially after the war, glares down on the city from this area.
A girl in the free photo gallery explained to me that her father, a muslim had lost a kidney trying to save a croat. A serb was then shot trying to help her father. This shows how pointless the whole thing was. It is extraordinary talking to other young people who have lived in the heart of a battlefield for four years. The chap in the pensione where I stayed is 23, and a muslim. He said that his father, a doctor, once came home covered from head to toe in blood, having tried to help a pregnant woman who had been shot. The town is littered with cemeteries, which are still surrounded by ruins, and the date on the headstone is nearly always 1993. The same young chap, on observing that I was using my bungee cords to hold my trousers up hung a leather belt on my door, saying that I could have it as he doesn't need it anymore.
I had supper with a view of the Old bridge, and it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever dined.
This morning, I woke up early and bought a return ticket for Sarajevo. An American missionary helped me with my bike, and we shared a cubicle. He further enlightened me to Bosnia's complicated history, and the cultural resonances that remain. For example, the word you use for bread is different depending on which community you are in, and if you use the wrong one, they will pretend they don't understand you! Also, if you buy a stamp in the Muslim area of Mostar, they will not allow you to post it in the Croat area!
Sarajevo has been much more cleaned up than Mostar, and there are nearly no ruins in the old part of the city. There are however bullet holes in the walls of many of the buildings. The old Ottoman area is a lovely bustly place where you can get great turkish coffee, and čecapčiči, Bosnian BBQ meatballs served in a greasy pitta with onions and Kajmak, young cheese. I have eaten very well!
I have also been to the town museum, and viewed the pistol that killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand. I have also stood in the place where the shots were fired, near the Latin Bridge. It is a truly extraordinary city. I have become very attached to Bosnia, and especially Mostar and Sarajevo- I will be very sad to leave.
I have encountered extraordinary generosity wherever I have been for the last week. It has been truly humbling.
Tomorrow morning, I will head back to Mostar to continue my cycle ride towards Dubrovnik- if the weather improves. It is currently raining cats and dogs!
The late start meant that without realising it, I cycled later than I normally do, and was caught out slightly by the fading sun at 7.30. I asked a farmer if I could camp in their field, and they turned me away to my utter disgust! I continued a further half a mile to the next settlement, Zadarje, where I met a friendly group of young people. Maria suggested that the best place to camp was near the spectacular canyon which runs 20 km all the way to the coast, and boasts an enormous waterfall. I therefore went up, and set up my tent.
As soon as I had finished setting up camp, I was rather alarmed by an approaching car, and the tepping of the horn. I went over to say hi, and it turned out to be Maria's brother Philip. He is a maritime student, extremely tall with a deep Croatian voice. He was extremely friendly, and interested in my travels, and suggested that I move my tent to his barn. The panniers went in his car, and I set up camp in a barn comfortingly laid with hay.
We then went down to the village where all the young, between the ages of about 14 and 35 gather around a low wall (which serves as a bar), and the locak "Market" that sells the beer. They plied me with strong, tasty Croatian beer and refused to let me pay for anything. They were all very interested in Football, and I found my lack of knowledge of the Premiership a little embarrassing!
Philip, and his best friend rather comically and affectionately refer to eachother as "My Mule", and we briefly went to visit Philip's friend's real mule, Victor. He was a large beast who makes a grunting noise if grunted to!
They tried to get me invited to a wedding they were going to the next day but unsurprisingly the groom, when consulted by phone on the eve of his wedding day did not want a random British cyclist gatecrashing his big day.
I slept rather well, but was woken various times by the guard dogs. In the morning, Philip kindly brought me a huge ham and cheese sandwich and some milk.
The following day, I cycled up to the border with Bosnia and Herzegovina which was a steep climb. I was chased by a vicious dog for the first time (all the others have been restrained so far!). I managed to outpace it.
In the Croatian border town, just before the border I ordered a large ice cream and a baclava for which the chap would accept no payment. Ice cream in the Balkans is truly special, especially when my cycling routine means I can eat as much as I like!
On entering Bosnia, I was rather struck by the fact that as far as I was concerned, there could have been land mines anywhere that was not on the road. It was a little chilly, so I opened a pannier to don my fleece.
I cycled past a couple of children who screamed, "What's Your Name! What's your name!" I slowed, without stopping and sais "Humphrey, what's your name?" to which they just kept repeating themselves. I sped up, and the fat one lobbed a small stone that hit my panniers.
Fifteen minutes later, I discovered I had neglected to do up the pannier, and had lost my down jacket. I decided to turn back to look for it, and luckily the children were not there, and I found the jacket. On the return leg, however there was a group of 7 or 8 of them, and they appeared a little more menacing. I sped past them, shouting friendly pleasantries and the same fat kid lobbed another small stone that missed. A couple of them had bikes, and rode behind me for a little bit but lost interest after fifty yards.
I don't genuinely think they would have hurt me - they could have pelted me with stones at short range instead of halfheartedly lobbing one solitary small one, but it was a bit of an eye opener! Dogs and kids should be banned!
As it approached the time when I was looking to stop, I went past a house with a friendly looking chap (Petar) who asked me where I was going. I explained I was looking for a place to stay, and he said I could camp on his brother's land no problem. He explained that this part of Herzegovina has no land mines, and that it is a very safe country, which was good to hear! I was invitred in for Turkish coffee, dried ham and Bosnian savoury pancakes, which were all lovely. Each brother has 4 happy children, and a wife, so there was quite a crowd! I was given a large package of pancakes and ham, and they suggested that instead of sleeping in my tent I should sleep in Neno's lorry, to which I jumped at the opportunity!
After a lovely, comfortable night's rest I was invited inside in the morning for another sandwich and more Turkish Coffee, and plain drinking yoghurt, which is delicious. Neno is typical in that although they are Bosnian Croats (catholic), they try as much as possible to play down differences with Bosnia's other nations. I thought it was interesting that Neno was watching the Orthodox (Serb) Easter celebrations on TV in lieu of going to church as it was his turn to babysit the baby.
I cycled through the rain to Mostar, which is an incredibly beautiful city. The old part has been restored, save the ubiquitous ruins that still pepper the streets. As I crossed the Stari Most, the famous bridge that was rebuilt after the war, I heard the Muslim call to prayer. I scanned the cityscape, and noted minarets from mosques in all directions, and it dawned on me that I was in a truly muslim city. That said, if you cross the highway that acted as the Front Line with its honeycomb blasted buildings, you enter the Catholic (Croat) area. A large cross, erected controversially after the war, glares down on the city from this area.
A girl in the free photo gallery explained to me that her father, a muslim had lost a kidney trying to save a croat. A serb was then shot trying to help her father. This shows how pointless the whole thing was. It is extraordinary talking to other young people who have lived in the heart of a battlefield for four years. The chap in the pensione where I stayed is 23, and a muslim. He said that his father, a doctor, once came home covered from head to toe in blood, having tried to help a pregnant woman who had been shot. The town is littered with cemeteries, which are still surrounded by ruins, and the date on the headstone is nearly always 1993. The same young chap, on observing that I was using my bungee cords to hold my trousers up hung a leather belt on my door, saying that I could have it as he doesn't need it anymore.
I had supper with a view of the Old bridge, and it was one of the most beautiful places I have ever dined.
This morning, I woke up early and bought a return ticket for Sarajevo. An American missionary helped me with my bike, and we shared a cubicle. He further enlightened me to Bosnia's complicated history, and the cultural resonances that remain. For example, the word you use for bread is different depending on which community you are in, and if you use the wrong one, they will pretend they don't understand you! Also, if you buy a stamp in the Muslim area of Mostar, they will not allow you to post it in the Croat area!
Sarajevo has been much more cleaned up than Mostar, and there are nearly no ruins in the old part of the city. There are however bullet holes in the walls of many of the buildings. The old Ottoman area is a lovely bustly place where you can get great turkish coffee, and čecapčiči, Bosnian BBQ meatballs served in a greasy pitta with onions and Kajmak, young cheese. I have eaten very well!
I have also been to the town museum, and viewed the pistol that killed Archduke Franz Ferdinand. I have also stood in the place where the shots were fired, near the Latin Bridge. It is a truly extraordinary city. I have become very attached to Bosnia, and especially Mostar and Sarajevo- I will be very sad to leave.
I have encountered extraordinary generosity wherever I have been for the last week. It has been truly humbling.
Tomorrow morning, I will head back to Mostar to continue my cycle ride towards Dubrovnik- if the weather improves. It is currently raining cats and dogs!
Nice to hear your tour is going well.
ReplyDeleteCheers,
Primoz "Slovenian bloke with Thorn"