Sarajevo, Bosnia
Let me begin by telling everyone that my brother and his girlfriend are fine after the London attacks, and I am safe and quite happy in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I hope that everyone else's friends and families are safe as well.
I am now without my wingman, my ace, my Chino cabron, and travelling alone is different in many ways. We split up last week in Ljubljana, Slovenia and I have since been down through Croatia and on the island of Hvar. It didn't take long to make friends almost everywhere, and there is so much to tell I could write for hours. But Sarajevo is a more intense and interesting story than the leisure of Spielberg and Madonna's yachts on the Dalmatian Coast. I will tell just one lively story of regret from the islands to cheer everyone up, and maybe get back to that later. Saddened by the events in London,I'd rather talk about the tragedy in Bosnia because the 11th marks the tenth anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre here where over 9000 Muslims were slaughtered in front of their families in one town. Even the head prosecutor at the war crimes tribunal at the Hague is saying she will not attend because they have yet to arrest Mladic or Karadzic (former President)...
Under a temporary bout of insanity I passed on a golden opportunity on the morning of July 5 on the Croatian island of Hvar. I had the chance to get naked with a girl before I even knew her name, Sarah. Allow me to explain. I knew Sarah for just 10minutes. I met her in line for a Jadrolinija ferry ticket back to the mainland when she laughed at me for missing my 6:30am boat due to an irresponsible night of 4th July driking (I met some Americans from New Orleans and NorCal) and a subsequent failed attempt at setting my alarm clock. Naturally I was explaining all this to the lady who spoke no English and would not let me transfer the ticket. But I digress... Sarah and I walked along the waterfront talking,and then she promptly jumped into a boat along the dock. "Where are you going?" I exclaimed. "Don't leave at 1pm with your new ticket," she replied. "We can get naked at the nude beach on the next island and you can leave at 7pm." (But I just bought another ticket and I need to catch a bus to Sarajevo!!!%$%@%) Ahhh, you only regret the things you didn't do.
Armed with bread, cheese, cherries, and peaches from the lovely morning market in Split, Croatia (former summer palace location of the Roman Emperor Diocletian) I hopped on a bus along the coast for the 7 hour journey to Sarajevo, Bosnia. On the bus I met Igor, a Sarajevo resident now going to school in Akron who recently gained US citizenship. Good conversations followed and I began my education of Bosnia while staring out at turquoise rivers and green mountains.
I am still confused about the history of Yugoslavia and even the current political structure. Paddy Ashdown is the high representative here appointed by the international community to be Bosnia's benevolent dictator. His sweeping powers allow him even to fire the president, which he has done twice already. But the mix of Orthodox Serbs, Muslim Bosniaks and Christian or Muslim Croats is inherently combustible, each with their own leaders and a rotating presidency system. It is a fragile peace in most places outside of the main cities.
In Mostar we stopped, and I witnessed the lingering evidence of the war ten years ago. I have never seen evidence of urban warfare like Mostar, the second largest city, buildings strewn with mortar and bullet holes and badly damaged roads from raging street battles. I would guess that it probably only compares to something like Jenin, West Bank, or perhaps Baghdad. Mostar was the front line between Bosnian Muslims and Christian Croats, and the city is still divided by neighborhood along its river, where even a famous Turkish bridge that once symbolized peace and harmony was blown up. It's still easy to spot the Croat side - a large cross looms on a nearby hilltop. Ironically, these groups first fought along side eachother against invading Serbian units after both countries declared independence. But ethnic tensions and economic disparity throughout the country, no longer reigned in by Tito's brand of communism, erupted in cities and villages all around.
Sarajevo is a similar story, under siege for 3 years during the war. Igor recalled staring out the window of his grandfather's apartment building when a rocket exploded in the window above him. The Serbian army simply surrounded this georgeus city of 300,000 in a beautiful valley, and from the tree lines and Jewish cemetary above, bombarded its inhabitants from 360 degrees of hills with tanks, rockets, snipers, and mortar fire.
I took a tour of the tunnel the army and townspeople built under the UN-controlled Sarajevo airport (only for humanitarian aid to both sides) to smuggle in and out people and supplies and weapons from the northern part of Bosnia. There we were shown a video of the seige and how the people coped, and later I was driven through "sniper alley," where the worst of the damage to buildings like the Parliament along the river is still visible. Even the Hoiliday Inn, once the comfortable refuge for attendees of the 1984 winter olympics, stands completely burnt out, a large concrete skeleton. I often wonder about the UN and what they are truly capable of or obliged to do in these situations.
There are photo galleries, cemetaries, and museums all around, including the mine museum (landmines are a gigantic problem now, with next generation cluster mines littered across the country and slowly being cleared.) It is hard to imagine how people went on with their lives and settled back in with their neighbors in divided towns. In Sarajevo over 10,000 were killed until the UN, NATO, and international community finally took a side (after Srebrenica and the shelling of Dubrovnik and evidence of genocides they finally had to). And yet after the holocaust were we not all taught "NEVER AGAIN?" My father recalls Nobel laureate Elie Weisel standing up in front of President Bill Clinton and boldly challenging him to take action in Bosnia. It is only the west's lack of action that causes traces of resentment here.
But you should not have an impression of Sarajevo as a dangerous, ugly place. Yes, there are terrible scars, but they are rebuilding with international help and a permanent EU police presence (EUFOR). It is one of the most beautiful places I have seen. The center of the Muslim-dominated city, the Turkish Quarter, is lovely and romantic with fountains and bazaars and winding streets with cafes and United Colors of Benneton. For 2 bucks you buy a chevapa, a pita overflowing with diced onions and spicy sausages, no sauce. All the houses, with mosques interspersed frequently, line the valley and are roofed with red tiles, making for a pretty postcard picture against the backdrop of green mountains.
At the Jewish museum - also still used as a sephardic synogogue - I learned about the population of 12,000 jews (pre-WWII) who settled here after the Spanish Inquisition and even more throughout the balkans. Today there is one ashkenazi and one sephardic synogogue for a community of just 700. Many left or were wiped out by Hitler. But the Jewish history here is rich, and evidence of jewish culture in buildings and cemetaries and shops is widespread. It was heartening to learn that the jewish population endured the siege and fought right alongside their Muslim brothers against invading Serbs.
I have met wonderful people at the [sub-par] hostel, including a Canadian girl who invited me to a party tonight with her friend who works for UNICEF here, and a group of Quebecans speaking a brand of French I have never encountered and cannot understand! But the Aussies, Japanese, Brits and many Americans are all here as well, and there is much to see. Last night we all went to a great brewery for liters of dark beer and tasty sausages, led by two young Irishman determined to live up to their reputation.
This city is intense, but wonderful and very relaxing at the same time. The locals are warm and there is a feeling of safety that does not exist in most American or other European cities. Still, underneath the surface, you can sense some lingering ethnic tensions and can see that people are still living in homogenous neighborhoods. Eastern europe, and particularly the Balkans, continue to simply knock me on my ass with startling surprises!
I miss many of my friends and family at times like this; it is difficult to be away from home during a tragedy. But know that travelers are a family as well - you make friends very fast and learn about eachother and yourself. In ways that are not possible at home, I am utterly content.
HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY ERICA!!!
Let me begin by telling everyone that my brother and his girlfriend are fine after the London attacks, and I am safe and quite happy in Sarajevo, Bosnia. I hope that everyone else's friends and families are safe as well.I am now without my wingman, my ace, my Chino cabron, and travelling alone is different in many ways. We split up last week in Ljubljana, Slovenia and I have since been down through Croatia and on the island of Hvar. It didn't take long to make friends almost everywhere, and there is so much to tell I could write for hours. But Sarajevo is a more intense and interesting story than the leisure of Spielberg and Madonna's yachts on the Dalmatian Coast. I will tell just one lively story of regret from the islands to cheer everyone up, and maybe get back to that later. Saddened by the events in London,I'd rather talk about the tragedy in Bosnia because the 11th marks the tenth anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre here where over 9000 Muslims were slaughtered in front of their families in one town. Even the head prosecutor at the war crimes tribunal at the Hague is saying she will not attend because they have yet to arrest Mladic or Karadzic (former President)...
Under a temporary bout of insanity I passed on a golden opportunity on the morning of July 5 on the Croatian island of Hvar. I had the chance to get naked with a girl before I even knew her name, Sarah. Allow me to explain. I knew Sarah for just 10minutes. I met her in line for a Jadrolinija ferry ticket back to the mainland when she laughed at me for missing my 6:30am boat due to an irresponsible night of 4th July driking (I met some Americans from New Orleans and NorCal) and a subsequent failed attempt at setting my alarm clock. Naturally I was explaining all this to the lady who spoke no English and would not let me transfer the ticket. But I digress... Sarah and I walked along the waterfront talking,and then she promptly jumped into a boat along the dock. "Where are you going?" I exclaimed. "Don't leave at 1pm with your new ticket," she replied. "We can get naked at the nude beach on the next island and you can leave at 7pm." (But I just bought another ticket and I need to catch a bus to Sarajevo!!!%$%@%) Ahhh, you only regret the things you didn't do.Armed with bread, cheese, cherries, and peaches from the lovely morning market in Split, Croatia (former summer palace location of the Roman Emperor Diocletian) I hopped on a bus along the coast for the 7 hour journey to Sarajevo, Bosnia. On the bus I met Igor, a Sarajevo resident now going to school in Akron who recently gained US citizenship. Good conversations followed and I began my education of Bosnia while staring out at turquoise rivers and green mountains.
I am still confused about the history of Yugoslavia and even the current political structure. Paddy Ashdown is the high representative here appointed by the international community to be Bosnia's benevolent dictator. His sweeping powers allow him even to fire the president, which he has done twice already. But the mix of Orthodox Serbs, Muslim Bosniaks and Christian or Muslim Croats is inherently combustible, each with their own leaders and a rotating presidency system. It is a fragile peace in most places outside of the main cities.
In Mostar we stopped, and I witnessed the lingering evidence of the war ten years ago. I have never seen evidence of urban warfare like Mostar, the second largest city, buildings strewn with mortar and bullet holes and badly damaged roads from raging street battles. I would guess that it probably only compares to something like Jenin, West Bank, or perhaps Baghdad. Mostar was the front line between Bosnian Muslims and Christian Croats, and the city is still divided by neighborhood along its river, where even a famous Turkish bridge that once symbolized peace and harmony was blown up. It's still easy to spot the Croat side - a large cross looms on a nearby hilltop. Ironically, these groups first fought along side eachother against invading Serbian units after both countries declared independence. But ethnic tensions and economic disparity throughout the country, no longer reigned in by Tito's brand of communism, erupted in cities and villages all around.
Sarajevo is a similar story, under siege for 3 years during the war. Igor recalled staring out the window of his grandfather's apartment building when a rocket exploded in the window above him. The Serbian army simply surrounded this georgeus city of 300,000 in a beautiful valley, and from the tree lines and Jewish cemetary above, bombarded its inhabitants from 360 degrees of hills with tanks, rockets, snipers, and mortar fire.
I took a tour of the tunnel the army and townspeople built under the UN-controlled Sarajevo airport (only for humanitarian aid to both sides) to smuggle in and out people and supplies and weapons from the northern part of Bosnia. There we were shown a video of the seige and how the people coped, and later I was driven through "sniper alley," where the worst of the damage to buildings like the Parliament along the river is still visible. Even the Hoiliday Inn, once the comfortable refuge for attendees of the 1984 winter olympics, stands completely burnt out, a large concrete skeleton. I often wonder about the UN and what they are truly capable of or obliged to do in these situations.
There are photo galleries, cemetaries, and museums all around, including the mine museum (landmines are a gigantic problem now, with next generation cluster mines littered across the country and slowly being cleared.) It is hard to imagine how people went on with their lives and settled back in with their neighbors in divided towns. In Sarajevo over 10,000 were killed until the UN, NATO, and international community finally took a side (after Srebrenica and the shelling of Dubrovnik and evidence of genocides they finally had to). And yet after the holocaust were we not all taught "NEVER AGAIN?" My father recalls Nobel laureate Elie Weisel standing up in front of President Bill Clinton and boldly challenging him to take action in Bosnia. It is only the west's lack of action that causes traces of resentment here.
But you should not have an impression of Sarajevo as a dangerous, ugly place. Yes, there are terrible scars, but they are rebuilding with international help and a permanent EU police presence (EUFOR). It is one of the most beautiful places I have seen. The center of the Muslim-dominated city, the Turkish Quarter, is lovely and romantic with fountains and bazaars and winding streets with cafes and United Colors of Benneton. For 2 bucks you buy a chevapa, a pita overflowing with diced onions and spicy sausages, no sauce. All the houses, with mosques interspersed frequently, line the valley and are roofed with red tiles, making for a pretty postcard picture against the backdrop of green mountains.At the Jewish museum - also still used as a sephardic synogogue - I learned about the population of 12,000 jews (pre-WWII) who settled here after the Spanish Inquisition and even more throughout the balkans. Today there is one ashkenazi and one sephardic synogogue for a community of just 700. Many left or were wiped out by Hitler. But the Jewish history here is rich, and evidence of jewish culture in buildings and cemetaries and shops is widespread. It was heartening to learn that the jewish population endured the siege and fought right alongside their Muslim brothers against invading Serbs.
I have met wonderful people at the [sub-par] hostel, including a Canadian girl who invited me to a party tonight with her friend who works for UNICEF here, and a group of Quebecans speaking a brand of French I have never encountered and cannot understand! But the Aussies, Japanese, Brits and many Americans are all here as well, and there is much to see. Last night we all went to a great brewery for liters of dark beer and tasty sausages, led by two young Irishman determined to live up to their reputation.
This city is intense, but wonderful and very relaxing at the same time. The locals are warm and there is a feeling of safety that does not exist in most American or other European cities. Still, underneath the surface, you can sense some lingering ethnic tensions and can see that people are still living in homogenous neighborhoods. Eastern europe, and particularly the Balkans, continue to simply knock me on my ass with startling surprises!
I miss many of my friends and family at times like this; it is difficult to be away from home during a tragedy. But know that travelers are a family as well - you make friends very fast and learn about eachother and yourself. In ways that are not possible at home, I am utterly content.
HAPPY 21st BIRTHDAY ERICA!!!
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