And I still remember it for the 1984 Winter Olympics . . . but how much has happened in this beautiful mountain city since them. I hate to keep giving Wikipedia links for information on the places I go, but it's conscise and pretty darn accurate. The stories and still clear evidenc that this place was the target of some of the worst attacks in during the Bosnian/Serbian conflict add so much to the experience that goes beyond the river, mountains, cool clubs, great restaurants and cobblestoned old roads. Living in Kosovo where the Serbian population is marginalized and living in harsh conditions compared to the Albanian majority here skews the perspective a bit on who deserves the term "victim" here. Traveling to Bosnia/Herzegovina gave me a perspective of the conflict that I don't get here in Prishtina. The Serbian government of the 1990s did some disgusting and horrifying things to people and it is all there to be seen.
We were fortunate enough to have a friend with a flat right in the center of Sarajevo, who happened to not be in town when we were there, so he left us his keys and we moved ourselves in for two days. Once we found a place to park pumpkin, we were free to roam the city. The historic city center is not all that big, but there are a lot of sites to stop at. Huge cathedrals, mosques everywhere, jewelry shops and the old market, which is still remembered for the bomb that was dropped on it in 1994 killing almost 70 people and injuring at least 200. It's back in action now, and unless someone tells you that it was the place, you'd never know it. Then you walk to the other end where the national library sits. Obviously not open for business, this was also a Serbian target due to it's housing of so much Bosnia history and culture. It remains with pullet holes and bombed out holes, open to the public only for special occasions. The Sarajevo film festival was there right before we were and the library was open during it.
The tunnel museum is about 20 minutes drive from the city center. It is the home of a bosnian family who risked their lives and their realestate to save the people of their city. it was the city-side of a 800 meter tunner that went under the airport away from the war zone. It was the means of transport of food, weapons, fuel and electricity while the people of the city were being beseiged by the Yugoslav army. The tunnel museum c ommemorates what the tunnel meant to the survival of hundreds of thousands of citizens of the city. You can walk the first 25 meters of the tunnel yourself to get a sense of what these people had to count on.
This all happened in my lifetime while I was graduating from high school, attending my first college classes, going to house parties with my friends, starting my first job, going to graduate school . . . All of this happened in my life while people were being attacked and killed by what was meant to be their own government. Until this trip, Sarajevo was simply the sight of the 1984 Winter Olympics.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Driving along the Adriatic
A broken down rental car, cops and out of date car registration, no insurance at the border . . . we laughed at the little orange Chevrolet Matiz when we first saw it. All right, so maybe it wasn’t clean and it had a few dents in the doors, but it had Albanian license plates which was enough for us. A road trip to Bosnia and Croatia could not happen with Kosovo plates which most European borders do not recognize. The down side to that is Countries might recognize them and accept them through their borders, but they’re not often recognized and liked. And on top of it, taking a short-cut through Serbia was not a plan because the company said that it would not support us if anything were to happen in Serbia. But, we were renting form Hertz and figured a reputable company like Hertz would rent out well maintained and reliable cars.
NEVER assume!!! We hadn't gotten 50 kilometers before the little pumpkin started making a banging noise, would not accelerate and started to smoke. turned out there was no water in the radiator. We had to sit on the side of the road and wait for Hertz to drive out with another car which ended up being the twin sister of car number one. Needless to say we were a bit wary of taking pumpkin #2, especially since its "check engiine: light was on . . . but we were already 3 hours behind and had a lot of driving to do, so we were off up the mountain into Montenegro where we had to stop for our first night. After one night in the classic communist Hotel Palace, it was off to the Croatian Border!!!
As soon as we saw the blue water of the Adratic the worries about the car vanished. We had entered an unreal Disney World type dimension that was unbelievable to look at. Despite the two cruise ships filled with people that had just entered the harbor, Dubrovnik was like a fairy tale. An old waalled city with narrow cobblestone streets that took you up into nooks and crannies where people actually lived real lives. Church bells rang and street performers played traditional music while the people walked by on their way to cafes and restaurants.
After a night we started up the Croatian coast to Bosnia. I have driven the highway coast road down the Pacific to San Francisco, but the site wasn't even close to what this Balkan shoreline had to offer. Colors, mountains and islands got more breath-taking with every turn. I was the lucky one behind the wheel that made Bram take pictures, but none of them does justice to what my eyes saw. I wish everyone I know to be able to see the site.
The next stop was Mostar, Bosnia which was even more unreal. I can't even begn to explain the set-like surroundings with true turquoise blue rivers flowing hrough stone built homes, restaurnts and cafes built on the river's cliffs. The new "Old Bridge" perfectly arching 21 eters above the river that begins with an N, mosques and calls to prayer on one side, churches and bells on the other. First the Bosniaca and the Croats fought the Serbs Yugoslav army together which united the city divided by a river. Then something happened that turned them against each other as well. Their guns then pointed across the river. The bullet holes and mortar wounds still exist everywhere here. Seems as though a limited amount has happened to bring it back, other than the bridge and the perfect setting surrounding it. Shooting from inside out, inside in and outside in, all still very visable. Strange how they keep the memore of the anger aorund them while trying to rebuild and reconnect this little town in the middle of a valley.
We stayed in the home of a man named Omer who is a retired French and German professor at the University in Mostar. Bram called him and asked iin French if there was a room available. As he talked, Bram started laughing when Omer identified immediately that Bram was from Belgium and that Flemish was his first language. For some reason Omer who was frail and nearing 80, opened up his home to travelers roaming through his town. he had 2 rooms with 4 beds and the sharing of a bathroom was compensated for by the hominess of his residence.
These first few days of our trip might have strted out rough, but pumpkin #2 rolled us through this amazing countryside and these amazing towns that I never expectd to exist in this area called the Balkans on the Adriatic coast that a year ago I would never have imagined I'd ever be.
NEVER assume!!! We hadn't gotten 50 kilometers before the little pumpkin started making a banging noise, would not accelerate and started to smoke. turned out there was no water in the radiator. We had to sit on the side of the road and wait for Hertz to drive out with another car which ended up being the twin sister of car number one. Needless to say we were a bit wary of taking pumpkin #2, especially since its "check engiine: light was on . . . but we were already 3 hours behind and had a lot of driving to do, so we were off up the mountain into Montenegro where we had to stop for our first night. After one night in the classic communist Hotel Palace, it was off to the Croatian Border!!!
As soon as we saw the blue water of the Adratic the worries about the car vanished. We had entered an unreal Disney World type dimension that was unbelievable to look at. Despite the two cruise ships filled with people that had just entered the harbor, Dubrovnik was like a fairy tale. An old waalled city with narrow cobblestone streets that took you up into nooks and crannies where people actually lived real lives. Church bells rang and street performers played traditional music while the people walked by on their way to cafes and restaurants.
After a night we started up the Croatian coast to Bosnia. I have driven the highway coast road down the Pacific to San Francisco, but the site wasn't even close to what this Balkan shoreline had to offer. Colors, mountains and islands got more breath-taking with every turn. I was the lucky one behind the wheel that made Bram take pictures, but none of them does justice to what my eyes saw. I wish everyone I know to be able to see the site.
The next stop was Mostar, Bosnia which was even more unreal. I can't even begn to explain the set-like surroundings with true turquoise blue rivers flowing hrough stone built homes, restaurnts and cafes built on the river's cliffs. The new "Old Bridge" perfectly arching 21 eters above the river that begins with an N, mosques and calls to prayer on one side, churches and bells on the other. First the Bosniaca and the Croats fought the Serbs Yugoslav army together which united the city divided by a river. Then something happened that turned them against each other as well. Their guns then pointed across the river. The bullet holes and mortar wounds still exist everywhere here. Seems as though a limited amount has happened to bring it back, other than the bridge and the perfect setting surrounding it. Shooting from inside out, inside in and outside in, all still very visable. Strange how they keep the memore of the anger aorund them while trying to rebuild and reconnect this little town in the middle of a valley.
We stayed in the home of a man named Omer who is a retired French and German professor at the University in Mostar. Bram called him and asked iin French if there was a room available. As he talked, Bram started laughing when Omer identified immediately that Bram was from Belgium and that Flemish was his first language. For some reason Omer who was frail and nearing 80, opened up his home to travelers roaming through his town. he had 2 rooms with 4 beds and the sharing of a bathroom was compensated for by the hominess of his residence.
These first few days of our trip might have strted out rough, but pumpkin #2 rolled us through this amazing countryside and these amazing towns that I never expectd to exist in this area called the Balkans on the Adriatic coast that a year ago I would never have imagined I'd ever be.
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