After the new year 2008 spent in Dubrovnik, Croatia, with Charlene and her friends, we took the first bus to Mostar. My first step in my trip.
I dont know anything about Bosnia, the history, the last war. I have to learn everything.
Mostar is a city divided in 2 parts: the croatian part and the muslim part. The river (Neravna), is the official separation between the 2 parts, but the real separation, the no man's land, is one street up to the river. How didn't I know this part of the History of the Blakn. The war. You can feel the last war all around you. Buildings still destroyed. City divided into two parts.
We wa
lk into the town, we visit the old town, the Most, which has been destroyed in 1993 during the war. A real symbol of Mostar and of all Bosnia.
Charlene explains me the town. On the top of the muslim part, the orthodox chuch, ruined. One of the rare serbian monument I saw here.
We stop in pubs. Depending in which part of the town you are, you would have different beers, muslims (from Sarajevo), or croatian one.
I realize the complexity of this region, the Balkan, I understand the jungle.
It's already time to go.
Sarajevo, by train from Mostar. I keep in my mind the old woman in front of us, so smiley, who looks so peaceful. The train (rare in the region) is quiet and comfortable. We arrive (I and the 2 belgian fri
ends of Chica and P-Matjin) in Sarajevo 2 hours after. Direction the old town. We find a crappy hostel. Enough for one night. We go to eat in a small restaurant. I discover the old town by night. Loads of mosques (surprising for a unintellectual girl living in Serbia!), even more than in Mostar. The style of the city is completely different of what I saw since now in the balkan (croatian cost, and Serbia).
The belgian Dudes leave at 5AM, Irene comes at 6AM. We visit the town. It's cold and our foot are frozen. But we manage it by going regularly in coffee, and visiting museum. How to describe the town. Muslim style. Very traditional, the old city is like a village, small street and mosques in almost every corners. People are so friendly (they seem to love italian people!!), walk slowly (Polako!!), and old people seems to all know each other.
Sarajevo is also the town of the traditional jewellery, and I have to follow Irene, who loves shopping, in all the shops of the town!.
Next night, a friend of Irene find for us a great hostel (http://www.hcc.ba/), where we spend nice time, get a bit of warm. We have been visiting the Tunnel which has been build during the last war, under the airport controlled by the UN Force, to have a link between Sarajevo and the part of the country that was free. Interesting visit, again i;portant to understand and to learn about the war.
Then, after to had a lift by a young bosnian guy to a bus station where we wait a littel while to get the bus to reach the city center of Sarajevo, after few drinks, a nice meals and a cute nice spend in our small hostel, it was already time to leave again, direction Sretvenica.
Srebrenica: When people speak about Srebrenica, they slow down their voice. Srebrenica, the town where an horrible genocide has been done by the Serb in 1995. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Srebrenica_massacre). The town has seen killed 8000 muslims people, majoritary boys and mens. For a short story, during the war in Bosnia (1992–1995), the Srebrenica region saw heavy fighting. Hundreds of victims fell in the first years of the war, also among the civilian population. The town at the centre of the municipality became a Bosnian Muslim/Bosniak enclave surrounded by Serbs. In April 1993, the United Nations declared Srebrenica a UN safe area, guarded by a small unit operating under the mandate of United Nations Protection Force (UNPROFOR). Nevertheless, the town was captured by the Army of Republika Srpska in July 1995. Approximately eight thousand Bosniaks were massacred by Serbian forces in the aftermath.People we met during our trip were surprised that we have been There by bus. Noone seems to go There, and actually, after reflexion, we realized we were the only one in the bus. People who have been to this town told us the town was sad, and you could feel the pain and the sadness of the genocide. It's true. we have been to the Memorial, where thausend of boys and mens are there. Their names are listed in a long, too long, pier, all around the Memorial.Then, we met those muslims women. How to explain. My hands are still shaking remembering them. The wife and mother of some of those mens and boys. They made a presentation of the genocide, of the Memorial, of their family, their history... They were amazing, strangely full of life. They were sad, but not angry. they dont hate the serbs, not all of them are criminals, that is what they are thinking...We go with them to the Memorial room, keep by policemen. A huge room, cold. There you feel the death. The Muslims Women explain us it was the room where people were stock and killed. We can see the hole by the guns in the wall. It's almost impossible to not cry. The Women hold our hands, stay close to us. Drops are falling in their smiley faces.There is in this room a little room, a black room, with pictures of boys and mens who are in the cimetary. One of the woman "presents" us her son... With each picture, there is the story of the person, and also one of the object we find on the dead body. Her son was carry his school homework. We can see his grade: 5, the best grade you can have in Bosnia. He was 11 years old, and he was a good pupil...
s not so long. Morning oblige, we are, Irene and I, the only one to walk in a huge puddle of water on the floor. Maybe 10 centimeters deep. Our foot are more than wet. I'm sad thinking that I wore this morning 3 peers of socks (it is REALLY cold!)... that means 6 socks to dry before 11AM. We go to the first pub, my socks go fast on the heater, we wait, and wait again. I'm not in a good mood to speak. I don't think it's a problem for Irene, she is quiet also (even if she is keeping trying to make me smile... good dude!). We finally take our bus. Short time after, Irene really need to pee. This make me laugh inside myself, poor little girl she is and bitchy girl am I. We stop 4 hours after in Zenica, Irene runs to the toilet... dirty one, but what ever. We arrive in Travnik at 3pm. We find a flat to spend the night in, again we have been lucky to get in!, We go to visit Travnik, it's already almost dark. We are in a better mood compare to the morning, we walk a lot in the town, but strangely, we are always in the same street, Bosanka. We visit the multicolor Mosque (what?? where are the colors...ahhm it is a old Mosque... thanks Irene) Mostar: the trip finishes where it started. La boucle sera bouclee.We take the first bu to Mostar from Travnik. at 7. difficult to wake up.We think one second to stay in bed and go later to Mostar, but motivation is our leitmotiv since now, and it's not time to loose the challenge. We arrive at 11 in front of the 5 stars hotel that i know because Chica is living 5 minutes to it. We make a surprise to Chica... and she was... still sleeping. Sick since my departure, poor little girl!
We give to her a bit of our energy, and go in town few hours later. It shiny and our foot feel much better now. Chica presents the town to Irene, who looks passionated. We go in the old town, on the muslim part, and then go inside the hall of a mosque. We meet one commercant who seems to be also a guide for the tourist who want to visit the mosque. By speaking a bit german, a bit bosniak, a bit italian, he purposes us to visit the mosque. He opens the door, We keep our shoes (I dont understand why), the guy shows us the minaret, et tell us we are free to go up. And then he leaves us.
It is the first time for all of us to be in a mosque. It is colorfull and cold. The door to go to the mosque is really small (as tall as Irene actually!). The stairs are very small. Big enough for one person, no more. We start to go up. We dont see the end, and we already dont see anymore the beginning of the ascenption. After 89 steps (I count on the way back!), we arrive on the top. It's amazing, beautiful, so high. Chica is almost crying because of all the emotion we feel. We imagine ourself being a imam and singing. We look at the big highspeakers and my only thaugh is to not be here at the time of the prayer because those highspeakers could kill our ears...
We stay a bit, laughing and happy. We look down and see all Mostar. The Most seems to be very small (or we seem to be wery tall!)
Amazing and magic moment that we share all together...
This is Bosnia and Hezegovina, This is the jungle, a hard but wonderfull jungle.
Often people asks me how it is to live in Serbia, and more precisely in the country side. Because, even if Kruševac has 65000 people who live there, people here always told me "Kruševac is boring because it is a small city".
