After six nights of until-5-am partying & travelling, we found our spiritual drug-free haven in Mostar, Bosnia Herzegovina. After a four hour bus trip costing ten euros, we were in the middle of the peaceful atmosphere in Bosnia's culture-capital. Before Dubrovnik we'd surfed hostelbookers.com & found once again a good value hostel, Guesthouse Taso, just a few minutes walk from the historic Old Town. As you know, we weren't supposed to stop at all in Dubro, so we had booked the Mostar hostel for the Dub date. I called already from Dubby explaining the situation. No worries at all, they'd make some room for “the Finnish guys” for the next night. We had booked originally the cheapest dorm, but they were all full the day we finally arrived at Taso. So we got this clean, fresh-scenting private double (at the time we didn't even realize what luxury that would be; Croatia=mucho dinero), for the price of the dorm. Wicked. Before even hitting the guesthouse, we were picked up from the autobus station by the two youngish, fluently-lingua-franca-speaking owners of Taso. Two impeccable guys. Even with our private in the last fourth floor, the over-weight owners both hiked it up huffing & puffing just to make us at home. Physical agony is always a valid meter of preoccupation. Kudos. Shortly after unpacking, the door is knocked. A fiftyish, hale & hearty man enters our room with a tray containing refreshments & a bowl of fresh, finger-licking good papaya. Yummy yummy rubbing tummy.
Mostar is the biggest city in the Herzegovina region, plummeting to fifth in the whole country. Capital Sarajevo, the Jerusalem of Europe, is the headquarters of B & H, rebuilt & revitalized of the Bosnian War. A brutal war that started back in 1992, reaching its' bloodiest peak 1993, & finally ending in 1995 after omnipresent intervention of NATO. The cruel war was sparked by the breakup of Yugoslavia in 1991 into Slovenia, Croatia, Republic of Serbia & Macedonia, with separatist movements gaining leverage over torn-down communist party. Bosnia also followed the likes of Slovenia & Croatia with independence referendums from Yugoslavia, which after the breakup was considered the Republic of Serbia, with Milosevic as master of puppets. The problem with Bosnia was and still is divided into ethnic groups. Bosniaks (in the war also referred as Muslims), Serbs & Croats. Now when the independence referendum passed in Bosnia, the Bosnian Serbs considered it illegal as well as the Republic of Serbia interpreted is a hostile act towards the Bosnian Serb minority. European Union recognizes Bosnia's independence two months later. War breaks out & Serbs, under the leadership of the recently-condemned Radovan Karadzic, siege Sarajevo occupying 70% of the country killing & persecuting Muslims & Croats to carve out a Serbian republic. In 1993 the Muslim-Croatian alliance is finito, with all three parties now shooting against each other. Bosnia was all fucked up, in free-for-all mode; every man for himself. Mass execution, ethnic cleansing & some 50 000 women's raping was conducted. In 1995 NATO starts air strikes against Bosnian Serbs. Finally in December 14th 1995, with the west pressuring the Serbian slobo-leaders, peace agreement was signed in a war that caused some 100 000 deaths, one third being civilian Bosniaks. Later on, there's been clear evidence of Karadzic's systematically planned massacre of ethnic cleansing. In July 2008 Karadzic, by then one of the most wanted men for planning & ordering genocide, is arrested.
Once you enter Bosnia, you instantly feel the raw evidence of the hardiness of human spirit. It could be the big holes in the automobile streets or the machine-gun shots piercing run-down concrete buildings remind you that this place was a messed up war field 15 years ago. For such a short time, Mostar has done an all-bows job. The city is known for its picturesque medieval Old Town, that has this omnipresent, magical feeling. Frankly, it's the most beautiful Old Town I've ever been to. Built by the Ottoman's back in 15th century, it's the perfect scenery for a five-year-old's imagination: horses galloping, swords clashing, blacksmiths carving; in Mostar you really can see into history. The legitimate pearl of the Old Town is the symbol of the city, the Stari Most (the Old Bridge). It's unbelievable, looks straight out of a Lord of the Rings pic. The Neretva river flowing under it, the Old Bridge is an imperial ovation to Ottoman architecture. Nowadays the locals have found a way to exploit the 25-metres bridge. For 25€, one euro for every meter, you can jump off the bridge to the water. It's a pity that we're on a budget, would've been a nice addition to our newfound adrenaline-junkie love. Full of local restaurants, cafes & small souvenirshops, the Old Town is the highlight of Mostar. One thing in particular caught our attention. Everyone speaks good English here. Coming from Montenegro, which was a tourist-hotspot, to inlands Bosnia culture-tub Mostar the English gets a whole lot more fluent. Not only the granny shopkeepers can speak it, but also knee-high kids; admirable.
Basic slavic language, grazie
Little deuce coupe
After a few hours of flip-flopping around the sunny town, it was time for some napping & relaxation back at the crib. Back at the h-quarters we tried to get in contact with a Galego friend of ours from Budva, David. He'd also be in here around the same dates. After a few useless tries we felt our stomachs starting up an allegro concerto, so we headed to the old town to get some affordable dinner (in Bosnia it's always affordable. Just before heading back home we made a visit to the supermarket & piled up food for expensive Croatia, notably tuna & peanuts). We ended up in this local joint just 50 meters from Stari Most. We ordered both the Balkan trademark grub: ten-piece cevapcici, the grilled minced meat sticks in bread (already tried in Macedonia), a legacy of the Ottoman Empire. You could instantly tell the difference eating it in Bosnia, where it's considered a national dish. The Macedonian equivalent kjebapi just wasn't up to the challenge. As we were there enjoying our Ottoman meat sticks & sipping okay-tasting Sarajevska beer, a familiar face passes by. It was David. Coincidence or not, we were there now together, and having fun. After that, just for the experience, we checked out the party-centre of Mostar for a few beers. The place was called Ali Baba & was located on a humid, sinister cave full of treasure-like ornaments. Of course being Tuesday night the place was half-empty, but that was just fine; we were engaged in deep conversation. The place, besides the emptiness, was awesome. It had even these Turkish, silk-curtain, low-rider beds beside it's murky corners for..well it's up to you. Said good-bye to our main man from Spain & got to bed as early as 1am.
Almost over-slept from 10:15am bus, but thanks to the owner duo who dropped us once again to the bus station, we got there in time. The ten-euro bus ride to Split in Croatia didn't even bother us, we were all smiles. The comforting calmness of the enchanting city had infected us, spreading stillness & wellbeing, feeling so much more alive. Bring it on Split, Croatia. Good times up for grabs. So it goes.
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